#woah its writing for once

[dailydegurechaff]

Honestly, Zettour, Rudersdorf, Ugar, and Lergan all trying to co-parent Tanya is good culture.

Zettour is the indulgent one that's far too much like her for the other comfort.

Rudersdorf is the dotting one enabling Tanya and Zettour.

Ugar is the one that spoils her rotten with gifts and tries to invite her to his family's dinners.

And Lergan is the token responsible one whose attempts at discipline are sabotaged at every turn.

In my eyes, every character in the Imperial Army is just one massive found family dynamic. No you cannot change my mind.

I thought just a bit too hard about all of their differences in trying to take care of Tanya, and suddenly instead of drawing, something else came out. Oops. This isn't edited very strongly, very sorry.

Through the walls, I can hear the sound of voices arguing. It’s getting late, and I really would prefer to be sleeping right now, but here I am listening to the unpleasant sound of annoying old men. This sucks.

“I’m just saying, with the way you act sometimes, I find it hard to believe you have her best interests in mind!”

“Oh would you relax, Lergen? You really need to take that stick out of your ass, I’m only letting her have a little fun.”

It seems that tonight’s two combatants are Colonel Lergen and General Zettour. I sincerely hope it stays between just them, but I get the feeling my hopes are going to be for naught.

“A little fun? You’ve been letting her have unimpeded access to your wine cellar! It’s completely irresponsible—”

“Tanya knows how to moderate herself.”

“Does she now? She’s still just a kid, you know!”

“Well, even if she doesn’t, she’ll only make the mistake once after giving herself a horrible hangover.”

“Have you considered you may end up making her an alcoholic?”

Ugh. I’m not sure why they’re arguing in just the next room over like this. It’s not their intention I don’t understand, I’m pretty sure I get that part. I think they might expect Tanya to feel bad if she overhears them fighting over her, so they’re trying to shelter her from it. It’s a nice thought, even if doesn’t technically matter because I don’t actually care. No, the confusion I have is stemming from their choice of location. Do they know how thin these walls are? I don’t think they do because I can hear just about every word perfectly fine.

“Oh, don’t think you’re completely off the hook, Rudersdorf! While we’re on the subject of things we shouldn’t be allowing Tanya to do, you need to stop bringing her to live fire exercises and weapons tests.” Oh, it sounds like Lergen’s moved onto the next target to harangue.

Rudersdorf is quick to clap back and argue his defense, “What? Why? Do you really someone like her could possibly get hurt watching a few little tests?”

“Yes, actually! Because the second Tanya walks onto the grounds, everyone is clamoring for the famed ‘White Silver’ to participate!”

“That only happened once!”

“Once that you told me! I have it on good authority you keep doing it!”

“Tanya herself said she loves flying!”

“Yes, well, she doesn’t like nearly getting blown up by experimental weaponry!”

“Who told you about that?”

I’m wondering about that myself. Lergen honestly has the tendency to be a bit of a mother hen, so I’d avoided telling him about it. Really, it was also for his benefit as well as mine, the poor guy gets terribly sick when he’s anxious. I thought I was being merciful when I decided to tell only Zettour that I’d recently flown for Elenium Arms again.

Ah, wait a second. Zettour. He’s been suspiciously silent now, hasn’t he? He hasn’t said anything in a while, so he’s probably just listening to Lergen and Rudersdorf argue. Considering he was just getting reamed out for the whole ‘letting Tanya have wine’ thing, he’s probably enjoying the fact that Lergen’s anger isn’t directed at him anymore. I wonder if it was him…

“Oh, Zettour, you bastard!”

Ah, it seems that Rudersdorf caught on to the same realization I did. Now the two generals are going to argue. What a joy. Lergen at least has the decency to keep his volume at normal conversational levels, even if his tone gets rather accusatory. The generals do not have that decency, so this is going to devolve into a shouting match. I really do not want to, but I’m going to have to go out there and tell them to shut up, aren’t I?

Uger, the only person speaking at a low volume and therefore the only person who I can’t hear well, says something unintelligible. Following that, I just barely hear Lergen’s sigh and the resigned words, “Alright, go ahead…”

In the next few seconds, I hear footsteps and then my door opens. Colonel Uger appears in the doorway.

“Tanya… are you still awake?”

“Yes, sir. Did you need something?”

There’s a loud noise, like someone just slammed a table with their fist, and Uger hurries to step inside the room and shut the door behind him. It does very little to mute the din of the argument.

There is a beat of silence as we both listen. Uger looks like he’s cringing.

“It’s uh… Have you been able to hear this whole time…?”

“Yes, I have.”

“L-Listen, Tanya… you should know that this isn’t your fault. They love you, and want the best for you. It’s only because they care so much that they disagree—”

Knowing where this conversation is headed, I cut off the incoming lecture he’s about to give me, “It’s fine. I know they’re only arguing out of love for me.” A bold-faced lie came out of Tanya’s mouth just now. It’s not something I believe at all, but I also know saying that will end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Right… so long as you understand—”

“Oh, shut the hell up! What would you know about parenting?!” Uger’s kind words are unfortunately interrupted by one of the Generals yelling.

There is another awkward pause.

After a second, it seems like Uger has come up with a resolution, “Uh… You know, Tanya, my daughter has been wanting to see you again. Did you want to have a sleepover with her tonight?”

Yeah, I’ll take hanging out with a toddler over listening to this go on for who knows how long. You know it speaks to the maturity level of those old men that a little girl is more well-behaved than them.

Mind made up, I give him my assent, “Yes, sir, I think that’d be pleasant.”

“Alright, I’ll give you a second to get your things together while I go talk to them about the new plans.” With that Uger leaves the room, a stormy expression on his face.

Ahh, now they’ve done it. You know it’s bad when even kindhearted Colonel Uger gets irritated. It’s because he’s so compassionate that it’s always the worst getting reprimanded by him. If you can manage to piss him off, it generally means you deserve what’s coming.

I hope he doesn’t take too long guilt-tripping them, I really would like to go to bed soon.

[dangerous-advantage]

I don’t know much about rottmnt but origami ghost au? Do tell!

(for context: this ask is referring to this post.)

this was actually an idea recommended to me by (i think) @noodlenoodlenoodlenoodle, so credit where credit is due.

the basic premise is pretty angsty (paraphrasing what i remember):

one of the (rise) characters gets hospitalized, and all the others make little origami animals (one per day) out of little notes they write for when said character wakes up. (they don't wake up.)

now, i do like me some good ol' angst every once in a while, but i could not help myself with this idea. hurt/comfort is my specialty.

so, if i ever do write this, i think I'm gonna twist it around a little to be something more... convoluted.

one of the characters gets sleeping-beautified (ie put in a coma by magic means) and it is assumed they will never wake up again. meanwhile, said sleeping-beautified character wakes up in what appears to be... 16th century japan?? with a limited vocabulary, they must fend for themselves while figuring out wtaf is going on and how to get home. cue shenanigans as our real-world companions start to get "signs" that something is amiss. in order to not cause false hope, they keep it to themselves but begin their own, separate investigations. they learn that, through vague notes folded into terrible approximations of origami art (in their defense, origami is a bit harder with three fingers), they're able to communicate. but they have to hurry-- time is running out, and if they don't figure it out fast, our cursed character might actually never wake up again.

[osamucide]

⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹

[onlineufo]

i need the blue paintings of women being intimate together that used to hang in my gay homophobic catholic grandmothers house asap....

[shortnspidey]

SILENT RIFT

jj maybank x fem!cameron!reader || WC: 4.5K

SUMMARY: The Pogues finally find the gold they've been searching for after countless obstacles. However, when it comes to actually succeeding, the universe has other plans. Held at gunpoint in the middle of nowhere, a spontaneous decision changes everything. In the heat of the moment, words are said that reveal hidden feelings. Emotions run high, leading them to confront not only their enemies, but also their own emotions.

WARNINGS: established relationship, cursing, mild angst, talks of drugs, typical OBX level violence, suggestive towards the end but no smut!

A/N: Happy OBX 4 release day! This one shot is one of my old Wattpad drafts from when I was writing a JJ story. Enjoy this drabble as I try to publish another chapter of broken record or collateral hearts soon! This ended up being a long one, enjoy! Divider by @marvelstoriesepic

➩ main masterlist

➩ obx masterlist

"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr. Frankenstein," JJ scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Kiara as he stepped out of the Twinkie. He clutched the melted piece of gold tightly in his hand, its weight a tangible reminder of what everyone was expecting him to do. As the group arrived outside a shabby pawn shop on the outskirts of the Outer Banks, the rundown aspect and the graffiti on the walls made your skin crawl. The shops window's were smeared with grime, making it impossible to see inside, and the peeling paint revealed patches of weathered wood.

Kiara shot JJ a glare, her frustration evident in the tight set of her jaw and the clenching of her fists. "Like you could have done any better." She retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. JJ stepped closer, standing toe to toe with her, not backing down from her challenging gaze. "I could have done much better. I took a welding class," He sassed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Woah, woah, hey!" John B chastised, stepping in between his two friends.

His presence seemed to diffuse some of the tension, his calm demeanor acting as a buffer between the two. You followed his lead, grabbing JJ by his arm and rubbing comforting circles with your thumb on his forearm knowing that he was anxious. You could feel the taut muscles in JJ's arm slowly beginning to relax under your touch, the rhythmic motion of your thumb providing a small measure of comfort.

"Chill out, okay?" John B coaxed, his voice gentle but firm. You watched as Kiara's eyes softened slightly, her earlier anger giving way to a mix of concern and frustration. She took a step back, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled deeply. "It's easy for you to say that," JJ scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You're not the one that has to pawn off this piece of shit." He emphasized his point by holding up the gold bars that were now melted in a unrecognizable shape, the once gleaming metal was now a twisted, misshapen lump.

"How did I get this job anyway?" JJ muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Cause you're the best liar." Pope replied nonchalantly, his tone matter-of-fact. Letting out a sigh JJ turned to you, his cerulean blue eyes locking with yours. His eyes were a stormy sea, filled with a mix of frustration and determination. He turned his head, tapping his cheek. "Kiss, for you know, good luck." He grinned, his usual mischievous spark returning momentarily. You rolled your eyes at your boyfriends antics yet leaned in to kiss him nonetheless.

Just as your lips were about to collide with his cheek, he turned his head at the last second, smashing his lips with your in a kiss that was way too passionate for it to be in front of your friends. The warmth of his lips, the sudden intensity, made your heart race. You could have sworn you heard your sister mutter an "aww" while everyone else fake gagged, their exaggerated sounds filling the air. Pulling yourself away from the kiss, much to JJ's dismay, you smiled, leaning up and pressing one more chaste kiss to his pouting lips.

The brief contact left a lingering warmth, a promise of more to come. "You got this," You reassured him, squeezing his bicep in emphasis, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Showtime," He mumbled to himself, mentally preparing. Straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath, and gave you one last look before stepping forward. Behind you, Sarah reached out and squeezed your hand, her grip offering a silent message of solidarity and support. The warmth of her touch was comforting, grounding you in the moment.

Everyone followed JJ into the empty shop, the jingle of the bell on the door announcing your arrival. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet space, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. "Afternoon, ma'am." JJ greeted, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of anxiety. The shop was dimly lit, with dust particles dancing in the beams of barely there sunlight that filtered through the windows. Shelves lined the walls, filled with various trinkets and curiosities, each one telling its own story. “Afternoon.” The pawnbroker, an elderly woman with a stern face and piercing eyes, looked up from behind the counter.

Her gaze swept over your group as you spaced yourselves around the room, lingering on JJ for a moment longer. JJ stepped forward, trying to maintain his composure under her scrutinizing gaze. "I see you buy gold," He emphasized, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "That's what the sign says, don't it?" She retorted, her lips curling into a sneer. She glanced at the sign hanging in the window, its letters faded and worn. "Well, I sure hope you buy a lot of it, because I am about to blow your mind." JJ carefully opened his bag, revealing the items inside. The pawnbroker's eyes never left his hands, watching his every move with a hawk-like intensity.

"I ain't got much mind left to blow, so have at it," She challenged, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "How about them gold apples," JJ replied, his voice steady as he placed the melted gold onto the counter with a thump that echoed throughout the shop. The sound seemed to reverberate off the walls, adding a weighty finality to his action. The pawnbroker chuckled cynically, shaking her head. "That ain't real," She declared, her voice filled with disbelief and a hint of mockery. Her eyes flicked to the gold, then back to JJ, as if daring him to prove her wrong.

"That ain't real?" JJ scoffed, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "It can't be," The pawnbroker pressed, her voice faltering slightly as doubt began to creep in. She reached out a tentative hand, her fingers hovering just above the gold, as if afraid to touch it. "Feel how heavy it is," He countered, his voice firm and confident. He nudged the gold closer to her, the metal glinting under the dim light. The pawnbroker hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked on JJ's, searching for any sign of deceit. Finally, she picked up the gold, her fingers curling around it.

Her expression shifted from skepticism to surprise as she felt the weight of the metal in her hand. The shop fell silent, the only sound being the faint creak of the floorboards as she adjusted her stance, the gold weighing heavily in her grasp. "Mhm, here let's get some light on that." The group watched intently as she narrowed her eyes, but nevertheless picked up a nearby magnifying glass with a light, inspecting the chunk of gold closely. "Spray-painted tungsten." She concluded, her voice laced with doubt but still firm.

"Really, okay?" JJ rolled his eyes. "Why don't you see how soft it is." He suggested. "You mind?" The pawnbroker asked, holding up a small mallet, her eyes seeking permission. "No, go for it." JJ urged, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. She brought the mallet down gently, making a small dent in the gold, then pushed down on it for further inspection. "Wow. Would you look at that." JJ remarked sarcastically, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hold your horses, we ain't got the acid test yet." She shot back, her confidence wavering slightly. "Ooh, the acid test," He turned, his eyes locking onto yours, a mischievous glint in them.

"My favorite, baby." He added with a wink, grinning as he noticed how the simple action made you flush. You pretended to be distracted by a limited edition book on the shelf, your heart racing as you tried to avoid his piercing gaze. This was certainly not the place or time. Everyone held their breath as the woman dribbled a few drops of acid on top of the gold. The liquid sizzled slightly, emitting a faint, acrid smell that filled the small shop. "Well, it ain't plated, and it ain't painted," she assessed, her tone now more serious. "Ma'am, I'm telling ya, this is as real as the day is long," He insisted, growing tired of the back and forth, his patience wearing thin.

"It looks like someone tried to melt it down," she raised a brow, her eyes meeting JJ's in a challenging gaze. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken accusations. "My mom," You stepped in, linking your arm through JJ's as the pawnbroker eyed you both suspiciously. "She had all this jewelry laying around the house, and she thought it was best to melt it down to "consolidate" it." You tried to sound as convincing as possible, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. The lie felt heavy on your tongue, but you pushed through, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sarah bite her lip to stop the laugh that she almost let out at your evident lie. The pawnbrokers gaze flickered between you and JJ, her skepticism evident. The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity. Turning around with a sigh, she placed the gold into a small scale behind the counter, the scale creaked under the weight. "Seven pounds," Her eyes widened. "That's a lot of earrings." Her voice had a hint of disbelief, and you could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to piece together your story.

"Okay, to be honest, ma'am," JJ spoke, clearing his throat and adopting a more somber tone. "It's really hard to see my fiancé's mom fall apart with Alzheimer's. Breaks my heart, truly." His voice wavered slightly, adding an authentic touch to the fabricated story. "Give me a minute." She tsked, walking towards a secluded office. JJ nodded solemnly, playing into the act of the heartbroken fiancé. "Take your time, ma'am." As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to give JJ a look of disbelief. "Alzheimer's really?" You whispered, trying to keep your voice low. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to handle, and you could feel a nervous giggle bubbling up inside you.

"So I talked to my boss, and this is what I can do." The pawnbroker returned, holding a piece of paper with a price written on it. Inspecting it, JJ raised his brows. "Fifty thousand?" He repeated, his voice tinged with incredulity. The offer was far lower than what you had hoped for, and you could see the frustration building in JJ's eyes. "You think I walked in here not knowin' the spot price?" JJ retorted, his voice firm. "I know for a fact this is worth 140 at least." His confidence was unwavering, and you could see the pawnbroker's resolve starting to crack. "Well sweetie, you in a pawn shop. This ain't Zurich." Her voice was firm, but there was a hint of concession in her tone.

"Ninety, or I walk," He bargained, his voice steady. "Seventy, half price, and I don't ask questions about where you got this.” JJ clenched his jaw, looking over at John B, who nodded his head, giving him the green light. "I'm gonna need that in large denominations, please," JJ agreed, his voice calm but resolute. "Well, here's the snag, I don't have that much denominated. Not here anyway, but I can write you a cashier's check." JJ immediately shook his head. “No ma’am, I want the cold hard, that’s what that sign says. Cash for gold, and that’s what I expect.” He pointed to the sign on the wall as emphasis.

“Well, I have to send you to the warehouse. I have the money there. Is that alright?” Everyone in the room held their breath, watching as JJ mentally weighed his options over in his head. “Where’s this warehouse?” He finally asked, his voice steady but with a hint of skepticism. That is how the group found themselves further into the middle of nowhere following the pawnbroker's instructions to the supposed "warehouse". The road was rough and winding, lined with tall, ominous trees that seemed to close in on them as they drove deeper into the unknown.

To say you were on edge would have been a complete understatement. Every creak of the van and small jolt from where you were seated on JJ's lap made your heart race faster. "So, they keep money out here?" Pope voiced aloud the question everyone was probably thinking. His voice broke the silence, but instead of easing the tension, it only seemed to heighten it. The unease in his tone mirrored the anxiety that had settled in your chest. JJ shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood. "That's what she said," He chuckled at his own joke. "That's what she said." His snicker was met with silence, the gravity of their situation overshadowing any chance of humor.

"Stop," Pope warned, his expression hardening. The seriousness in his eyes was a stark contrast to JJ's attempt at levity. "That was cute, but definitely not the time, J," You exasperated, your voice barely above a whisper. The fear and uncertainty in your tone were unmistakable. The blonde boy nodded, his playful demeanor fading. He held onto the melted gold in one hand, the other resting reassuringly on your thigh. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort in the midst of the overwhelming tension. "I've never even heard of Resurrection Drive." Sarah inquired. "That's cause your rich." JJ mumbled under his breath.

"You've never heard of it either." Both you and Kiara retorted in unison. "Thank you." Sarah replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "There's nothing but weeds back here." Kiara informed the group, looking out the van's window and seeing nothing but shrubbery. JJ was about to retort with another sarcastic comment, yet he was interrupted by the sudden, piercing sound of a siren. The noise sliced through the tense silence like a knife. Sure enough, John B looked in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening as he saw the flashing lights of a car behind them, signaling for them to pull over.

"Cops? Out here?" Kiara questioned, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Are you kidding me!" JJ fumed, his grip tightening on the gold and your thigh, the panic in his eyes was evident. "What did we do?" Sarah questioned, her voice small and wavering, the fear clear in her tone. "Stash that," John B whispered urgently to JJ, who was still holding onto the gold in his hand. You quickly got off his lap and sat next to Kiara, your heart pounding in your chest. The van's interior felt even more confined as Pope and John B coaxed JJ to hurry up. The oppressive weight of the situation pressed down on you, making every second feel like an eternity as you waited for what would happen next.

Your heart sank in your chest upon hearing the cock of a gun and seeing a rifle a few inches away from John B's face. The metallic click echoed ominously in the confined space of the van. "Why don't I go ahead and see them hands in the air?" A gruff voice declared, belonging to a mystery assailant who wore a bandana on the lower half of his face. The fear that gripped your heart quickly morphed into a seething anger. You knew that voice. "All of y'alls hands up in the air right now." Oh hell no, you thought to yourself. This was going to end here and now. "No," You seethed, making direct eye contact with your assailant. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew you recognized him, and his cover slipped slightly.

The tension in the van was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Every muscle in your body was tense, ready to spring into action. The familiarity of the voice only fueled your anger, making it harder to think clearly. You could feel the eyes of your friends on you, their fear and confusion mirroring your own. "Just do as he says, Y/N," John B urged, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his fear. He slowly raised his hands, setting an example for the rest of you. "No," You shook your head, challenging him. The defiance in your voice was clear. The assailant's eyes narrowed behind the bandana.

"Alright, tough girl, come on out here then," He taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Y/N, what are you doing?" Sarah whimpered, her voice trembling as she watched you step out of the van, the barrel of the gun trained on you. "It's gonna be okay, Sarah," You reassured her, trying to keep your voice calm despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "Y/N!" This time it was JJ. His voice cracked with desperation. As your eyes met his, you could see he was barely holding it together, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "JJ, trust me, stay here," You coaxed, trying to project as much confidence as you could muster. The last thing you needed was for him to do something reckless.

"I'd listen to the lady, unless you want your brain scattered here on the side of the road," The assailant threatened, his voice cold and unyielding. The weight of his words hung in the air, adding to the already suffocating tension. "I'll be okay, I'll be right back," You promised, hoping your words would be enough to keep your friends from doing anything rash. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever was to come, and stepped further away from the van, feeling the eyes of your friends burning into your back. Once you were a safe distance away from the van, Barry lowered his rifle, letting out a surprised chuckle. "Mighty brave of you, Cameron, especially 'cause I'm the one holdin' the gun." He mocked.

"Oh please," You rolled your eyes, your voice laced with disdain. "Drop the act, Barry," Addressing him by his name with a tone of authority, you crossed your arms over your chest, standing your ground. "We both know Rafe will kill you if you so much as lay a finger on me." You smirked confidently. "Now, why don't we cut to the chase, shall we?" You proposed, your eyes never leaving his as you reached for the shiny gold diamond ring that adorned your knuckle. Barry watched in disbelief as you slipped it off and held it out to him. "Here," You coaxed, handing him the ring. "This will get you a couple thousand dollars if you pawn it off right." Barry took the ring, studying it in the sunlight. "This covers what you and your friends got, but not what country club owes me, you feel me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest once more, the frustration evident in your posture. "How much does he owe you?" You asked, your voice tinged with exasperation. "At least two hundred," Barry replied, a smirk playing on his lips. Sighing, you reached into your back pocket for your wallet, picking out two hundred dollar bills. "Are we free to go?" You huffed, knowing that if this deal took any longer, your boyfriend would most likely come and take matters into his own hands, whether Barry had a gun or not. "Tell your boy toy that his attitude's gonna get him in trouble," Barry sneered. "Don't," You spat, your eyes narrowing. "If you even think of touching him, we're going to have a problem. You feel me?" You threw back his previous words with a defiant glare.

Raising his hands in mock surrender "Damn, looks like I hit a nerve." Barry chuckled. "I mean it, Barry," You insisted, your voice steady and unwavering. With one final smirk in your direction, Barry pockets the cash and the ring and climbs into his car without a single look back in your direction. You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and turn back towards the van. As you approached, the tension was palpable, hanging thick in the air. "What the hell was that?" Sarah was the first to question you, her eyes wide with concern as you climbed into the backseat as if nothing had happened.

"I handled it, it's over." You shrugged nonchalantly, but the tightness in your chest betrayed your calm facade. Sarah scoffed, clearly unconvinced by your bravado. "That was pretty stupid, Y/N," Kiara scolded, her voice filled with frustration. Everyone nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of worry and disapproval. You shrugged them off, trying to meet JJ's eyes, who had yet to say anything. You could see the worry and anger battling for dominance in his eyes, the tension in his jaw making it clear just how much he was holding back. "Let's get out of here," John B broke the silence, his voice a calm command that cut through the tension. Everyone was unharmed, yet you somehow knew this was far from over.

Arriving back at the Château, you watched JJ throw open the door before John B even parked his van. The sound of the door slamming against the wall echoed through the air. You watched as JJ stormed inside, his movements quick and agitated. One hand was gripping his chest, his knuckles white from the pressure, while the other was balled into a tight fist, veins visible under his skin. He didn't look back, his anger propelling him forward. John B, Kiara, Sarah, and Pope turned to you, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. It was as if they were silently asking if they should get involved, their eyes darting between you and the direction JJ had gone.

"I'll handle it," You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. You stepped down from the van, the gravel crunching under your feet. "Good luck," John B sing-songed, a teasing lilt in his voice. You flipped him off with a smirk, hearing Sarah and Kiara scold him in unison. Their voices faded as you walked through the door, the familiar scent of the Château enveloping you. You found JJ in the spare bedroom, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His footsteps were heavy, each step reverberating through the wooden floor. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a storm of emotions - anger, frustration, and a hint of vulnerability.

"JJ, talk to me," You urged softly, stepping closer. Your voice was calm, trying to soothe the tempest within him. He stopped pacing and turned to face you fully. His expression was a mix of anger and hurt, his jaw clenched tightly. "What the hell were you thinking, Y/N? You could've gotten yourself killed!" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear behind his anger. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you took a deep breath to steady yourself. "He's the scumbag who sells coke to my brother. I know him and what he's capable of. As much of a psychotic asshole as he is, he wouldn't hurt me. Not without facing Rafe's wrath." That only made JJ angrier. "How are you so sure?"

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. "Maybe next time you won't be so lucky, or I won't be there to protect you." His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could see the worry etched into his features, mingling with the anger. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his breathing was ragged. "I'm fine," you replied, trying to sound reassuring. "It's over now." "Over?!" JJ's voice rose, and he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Dammit Y/N, you don't get it!" He screamed, pulling his hair in frustration. "I was fucking terrified. Did you know how scared I felt, watching the woman I love being held at gunpoint?" His voice broke, and you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, though he tried to blink them away.

You opened your mouth, but nothing seemed to come out. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and significant. "What did you just say?" You finally managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. JJ stayed quiet, almost as if processing the words himself. His breathing slowed, and he looked away, his shoulders slumping. The vulnerability in his stance was palpable, and it hit you just how deeply he cared. This was more than just anger; it was fear of losing someone he couldn't bear to lose. "JJ," You coaxed to stop him from overthinking, knowing that his flight or fight mode was kicking in.

JJ's confession hung in the air, the raw emotion in his voice making your heart ache. You could see the fear and love in his eyes, and it made everything else fade away. The room seemed to shrink, and all that mattered was the two of you, standing there, vulnerable and exposed. "I love you, Y/N," He repeated, his voice softer this time, filled with a desperate need for you to understand. He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. Your breath hitched, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, JJ," You whispered, your voice trembling.

"I didn't mean to scare you, but I couldn't just stand there and do nothing either." His eyes softened, the anger melting away as he leaned into your touch. "Just promise me you'll be more careful," He murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I can't lose you, Y/N." He whimpered leaning his forehead against yours. "You won’t lose me, ever, I promise," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Without another word, you both closed the distance between one another, your lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and fervent. It was a kiss that spoke of all the fear, the love, and the relief you both felt. Bodies pressed together, seeking comfort and connection, hearts beating as one.

“And I love you too,” You grinned the second he pulled away giving you both a moment to catch your breaths. “In case that kiss didn’t make it clear enough.” JJ shook his head, only pulling you closer. "What do you say we seal the deal?" JJ grinned suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're lucky I love you." He didn't even give you a chance to finish his sentence before he kissed you again, wanting to show you just how much he meant it. His hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer, the heat between you growing more intense. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that promised so much more to come.

[bluebeary-jay]

Guys I'm sick :((((

I tried working on requests but I feel horrible and staring at the screen and willing myself to write doesn't work so a small break is in order :((

[yan-randomfandom]

Hi! Is it possible to get a platonic Yandere Stanford with a teenager reader? The reader likes mysteries and monsters and all that just like him, so Stanford sees them and he’s like ‘yup. That’s my kid now’ lol

P!Yandere!Stanford Pines & Teenager!GN!Reader

warnings: violence(toward monsters), implied abuse

[THIS IS PLATONIC] I think I made this a tad too long... it's not even in bullet form anymore. thank you for the request! I love your idea sm 😭 [Word Count: 1047]

Stanford Pines has completed another mission. He lifted his head, his eyes squinting at the sight of the looming trees. The sun peeked between them, visibly on its way down.

To keep it short, he had to chase a dangerous, vile monster into the woods and take its life.

He probably saved thousands of lives. It's just that... it came down to the price of being lost. Ford has never gone this far from Gravity Falls before.

That's totally okay. Curious, even! This is perfect material for his research! He'll have to use a makeshift one for now—this cheap notebook he got from the gift shop.

As he was about to start writing, a panicked roar reverberated throughout the forest. Such strong growls—enough to blow away his clothes and body! Ford had to see it with his own eyes!

He ran and ran until he finally saw the giant. A single, widened eye stared at him, and suddenly he couldn't move anymore. Heavy breaths rose and plunged from his chest.

But he didn't have to worry any longer. A figure hopped down, continuously slicing the middle part of the eye as they descended.

Ford grunted, falling on his back as its blood squirted and leaked, even having some splatter on his nose. He watched the monster turn and run away, knowing that it'd die soon enough.

"Woah! Grandpa, you okay?" A small hand filled Ford's vision. "You froze up pretty quickly. I bet you'd be dead if I wasn't here!"

Once his vision finally cleared, he paused at the sight of a teenager. He's never seen this kid before. Ford cleared his throat, accepting your hand and standing up. "I'm fine. And don't call me that."

You hummed, tilting his open wallet with a nod. "I dunno. Being in your sixties sounds pretty old to me."

"What? How— When— Give me that!" Ford swiped his wallet out of you, to which you respond with a silly grin. He scoffed, crossing his arms. This is such a Stanley thing to do. "Who are you even, kid? Why are you out here?"

"I'm out adventuring!" you declared, placing your fists on your hips. You do certainly have equipment fit for an adventurer. "I mean, did you see me back there? Killed that monster with one swipe!"

Ford rubbed his chin in deep thought. He smiled. "That was pretty impressive. It reminds me of my nephew. You've gone straight towards the monster's weak point."

Unbeknownst to him, your face starts heating up from the praise. You've never received positive reactions from your oh-so-dangerous hobbies. "Well, yeah! It's no big deal. Eyes are usually common for being weak."

Ford chuckled. "Anyway, do you know the direction to Gravity Falls? I may be a little lost."

"Course, duh! It's like... that way! Opposite of the sun," you grinned, pointing behind him. He turned around to check, his shoulders slumping. You touched his nose with a grin when he looked back at you. What a Mabel type of personality. You were really just removing the monster's blood, though. "Boop!"

...Okay.

One glance at the sky, and Ford knew that there's no way he's going to go home at this time. While he loved adventuring, especially at night, he's still in undiscovered territory and would very much like to go home in one piece.

"Alrightnicetomeetyoudude! Byeeee! Good luck!" you exclaimed, already waving at him and walking away.

Wait! You're his only ticket out!

"Pray tell, kid, are you alone? Don't you have guardians or friends tagging along?" he asked hastily.

"Naw. I have parents waiting for me back home, though," you smiled.

Ford somehow convinced you to bring him home to yours.

Now, you stood in front of your house with him by your side. The older man couldn't help but notice that you looked a bit anxious, weirdly enough. You're scratching your arm.

The door finally opened. The first thing Ford saw was a frustrated face of an older woman, which was swiftly wiped when she took note of his presence. How odd.

"Oh, sweetie, who's this with you?"

"Found him in the woods! Isn't he neat?"

"Let's talk for a bit. Please give us a moment," the woman smiled at Ford, grabbing you before closing the door on him.

Ford awkwardly stood outside the house, checking his watch. Faint voices reached his ears. That's your mother, yes? She sounded upset. You sounded upset. He hasn't been in this dimension in a while, but would it really be so bad to take home a man you haven't met? He's just literally lost!

You opened the door. He froze when he met your tear-filled eyes.

"Sorry, whatever-your-name-is. I can't let you in," you muttered meekly. "But you can wait for me tomorrow. I'll help you go home. Bye."

The door closed. Why were you crying? That's not right.

Next day.

Ford waited for you on your front porch, mindlessly writing in his notebook. He had to sleep on a makeshift cushion of laundry. It wasn't the worst place to sleep, and he's just glad he didn't get caught.

"Good morning! You're early today!" you beamed, already walking.

"Is there anything I should know about your parents?" he deadpanned, trailing next to you.

You got uncomfortable quickly. "Uh, next question? Hey, look, a parasite! So weird!"

"Don't touch that! I can't believe it ranges up to here!"

The journey towards Gravity Falls felt long and tiring. But it simply made you and Ford closer.

"What's your name again?"

"Ford. Just call me Ford."

"For— Holy shit! I didn't even notice earlier! You have five fingers and a thumb!"

"Please—" he hid his hand in reflex.

"Six cylinders on your hand! That's so cool, Ford!"

Ford simply sighed, a smile growing on his lips.

Eventually, you both reach the mystery shack.

"Woah... That's yours? No wonder why you're so used to being in the woods. You live in one!"

Ford chuckled, opening the front door. "I can safely say you're going to get along with my family, kid."

...

You paused, hesitating. "I can't. I have to go home."

...

He smiled sweetly. "Not even for dinner? It'll be quick."

Your stomach growled quite loudly, causing your cheeks to heat up. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little."

Stepping right into the shack, Ford shuts the door behind you. He can't let you go back in that godforsaken house. You looked too miserable.

You can be happy with the Pines family here.

[lowkeyremi]

Bakugo with the kids >:3 (bakugo x fem!reader)

This post was possible bc of @shima707 they commented on my bkg dad post for more so i decided to write more :D

"Daddy, Shoko's cryin' again." Mayako says shaking her father. Katsuki usually sleeps in on Sundays with you by his side but for some reason he's waking up upon the fact that the newest addition to the family is crying.

"Where's mommy at? Tell her to get Shoko." He mumbles under the covers. Mayako gets off the bed to open the blackout curtains which causes Katsuki to groan loudly.

"I looked for mommy but she's not here!!" Katsuki perks up at those words, where could you be early on a Sunday morning?

"She's not here? That's weird, she woulda told me if she was goin' somewhere." Mayako glares at her father, it's actually pretty ironic. Katsuki feels like he's staring at himself.

Your blond husband rises from bed to brush his teeth, this was not how he imagined his day would start.

"Can you get one of Shoko's clean bottles off the rack, Maya?" he asks between brushes.

"Mommy already made a bottle for her its in the fridge left with a note to warm it up." Katsuki finds it strange that you left without saying anything. The hero jogs his memory trying to remember if you said anything about going out on Sunday.

Once he's freshened up, he makes his way to the nursery with Mayako by his side like a little assistant or something.

"Your brothers 'wake yet?" He asks opening the nursery door, he is met by loud cries from his little one.

"I think Kaien is awake, not sure about Kitaro." Katsuki nods, he picks up his daughter with his washed hands. He wanted all of his kids to have K names like him but you argued it'd be too confusing. You agreed on both your sons having K names but you named Shoko and Mayako.

"Alright Shoko, that's enough crying." She's only about four months old which means aside from eating, pooping and peeing, crying is all she can really do. He cradles her and puts the bottle in her mouth. The cries stop immediately and she sucks on the bottle harshly.

"Daddy, please don't get mommy pregnant anymore. I'm tired of hearing crying everyday." She admits in a tired tone as if she's the one who cares for all the children. She does contribute to her siblings care though.

"Hah? I hafta hear crying every day, more than you did and how do you even know I'm the reason mommy has babies?" He's shocked to say the least, Mayako is only nine.

"Well for one mommy was always like 'I swear on my life all that man wants to do is get me pregnant' or 'I'm not having anymore of his kids after this one' so I asked Aunty Mina what she was talking about and she gave me as she called it 'a watered down version of how babies are made'." Mayako explained to her father. He should've known it was Mina.

He switched Shoko's postion so he could burp her, then he realized he needed her towel or he'd have spit up on his shirt.

"'N what exactly did Mina say?" He completely ignores that fact that you've complained about pregnancy, he's heard it all before. Whatever Mina told his daughter was something ridiculous he already knew it.

"She said that you slid your hotdog into mommy's bun and the mayo created a baby hotdog." Katsuki cringes hard. Out of all the things Mina could have told his daughter it had to be that.

"I hate that idiot so much." He mumbles. Shoko gives a good burp and a few coos. Katsuki adores the fact that Shoko has your eyes and your nose.

"Go tell Kaien to brush, Kitaro too if he's 'wake." Mayako gives a silent nod and stomps out of the nursery. Katsuki predicts that Kaien will come crying in a little bit, he and his sister clash often due to Mayako's firey temper and his softness.

He's determined to change Shoko's diaper and clothes before Kaien comes in crying.

Katsuki gets lucky and is able to start breakfast when Kaien comes crying in the kitchen. "Daddy, Mayako's being mean. I hate her!" He yells folding his arms.

"Woah kid, we don't say hate. Especially not about family." Katsuki says, he's in his 'Kiss the chef' apron in courtesy of you.

"You say hate all the time!" Kaien argues, and well, he's right. Katsuki doesn't want his child outsmarting him, though.

"That's cuz I'ma grown up." It's the best thing he can come up with at the moment. A father of four with his wife away can only do so much. He's got Shoko strapped to his chest while he's cooking.

Katsuki gets no respond from his son, so it's time to do some digging.

"What did your sister do, Kaien?" He was not at all prepared for Kaien's answer, he expected that she was bossing him around or something.

"S-she said that I can't use the spicy toothpaste because I'm a baby!" Spicy toothpaste? Oh, he must mean the mint toothpaste.

"What did you tell her?" He quickly scarmbles the eggs with the cooking chopsticks.

"I told her six isn't a baby and she said it is." Katsuki almost laughed, not at Kaien. It's just that cute little pout he has on his face.

"Maya-"

"Yeah?" She responds before her father can finish calling her name. He had a sneaking suspicion that she was lurking around the corner waiting to interject and say that her brother was wrong.

"Why can't Kaien use the spicy toothpaste?" The eggs are done so he plates them and checks on the rice. Shoko was drooling all over his collarbone even with her baby towel.

"Cuz he's only six, he should use the kid toothpaste." She says in her 'as-a-matter-of-fact' voice.

"Are you Kaien's ma?" Katsuki asks, he doesn't miss a beat while chopping the spring onions.

"No but-"

"Aht, no buts. You're not his ma so you can't go around telling him what to do. Unless of course, you're babysitting 'em." He sets the chopped onions aside and puts the rice and eggs into bowls. He makes sure all the servings are equal or he'll get complaints from his mini critiques.

"Mkay." She's sour right now.

"Where's Kitaro?" Katsuki garnishes the the food and sets it on the table.

"We both tried to wake him up but he kept saying he was tired." Mayako comments and sits in her normal spot.

"Ain't nothing for him to be tired for, he's eight." Mayako shrugs at her father's words and says thanks for the food. She and Kaien dig in.

Katsuki heads up the stairs, Shoko still strapped to him. His eyes scan the hallway and it's covered in toys. The blond makes a mental note for his kids to clean up later.

He walks over toys to reach Kitaro's room, the door's closed which isn't normal. You enforced the 'no closed doors' rule, unless someone's in the bathroom or changing.

He opens it half expecting Kitaro to be doing something bad. Instead the eight year old is snoring like he hasn't slept in years.

"Get up kid, time to eat. Go brush." He shakes Kitaro.

He just groans, pulls his covers over his head, and yawns.

"I'm tired." Katsuki raises a brow.

"Tired from what?" Once again, Kitaro's only eight, he can't be doing anything that energy consuming.

"Video games." He mumbles from under the covers.

"Tch, 's why you don't needta be playin' them. I don't know why that old hag got you a gaming system." Kitaro is sluggish getting out of the bed. Katsuki's watching him like a hawk. He watched him all the way until he was at the table.

He sees you sitting with Kaien in your lap eating some of his food because he's not likely to finish it.

"There's my baby girl!" You coo to Shoko. Katsuki undoes the baby carrier and takes her out of it. Those ruby red eyes scan your body for any indication of your activities this morning.

"Where have you been all mornin'?" Shoko babbles while Katsuki starts eating breakfast.

"I went to the gym, I'm trying to lose baby weight." You explain with a small smile.

"Tch, why's it matter? I'm your man 'n I like you the way you are." He never understood why you were so insecure.

"I'm not doing it for anyone besides myself." Kaien whines when you pick at his eggs.

"You aren't gonna eat them, little boy." You boop his nose and he tries to bite your finger.

"Too slow, Kai." He pouts, and it looks just like when Katsuki pouts.

"Why didn't ya tell me you were leavin'?" He huffs.

"Cuz you'd tell me I look good and convince me to stay." You're met by his silence which tells you you're right.

"Date night?" Katsuki asks with a sly smirk.

"No more babies!" Mayako protests.

"I agree- wait how do you-?!"

"Mina." Your husband and eldest daughter say at the same time.

"Oh I love her." It doesn't take a genius to know Mina probably told her some crazy watered down version of sex.

"Ki, hon, you look tired." He yawns at your words.

"He stayed up all night on that gaming system the old hag gave him." Your eyes widen.

"Katsuki! Your mom is not the 'h word' and I've been meaning to put parental controls on that thing." He rolls his eyes at your pg language when you normally have the mouth of a sailor when the kids aren't around.

"Whatever." The hero scoffs.

"Love you too, Kats!" You wink at him obnoxiously and he groans.

Thanks shima707 for giving me the motivation to write more, and I'm glad you enjoyed the first part! Love you guys and see ya next time <3

[pin-k-ink]

synergy // ushijima wakatoshi

tw ⇢ mild sexual content/suggestive themes, non-sexual nudity, ushijima and the reader being oblivious to their own feelings, this whole story is an emotional rollercoaster, reader is written in third person since its easier for me

wc ⇢ 3.7k

a/n: i actually enjoyed writing this one. has to be one of my favorites

Ushijima sat up against the headboard, his mind weighed down by a nagging sense that something was amiss. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the constant questioning from his friends had begun to seep into his thoughts, making him second-guess the nature of his relationship with the woman sleeping peacefully by his side.

For nearly an hour, he had been sitting there, dressed only in a pair of boxers, while she wore the shirt he usually slept in. Her cheek rested on his meaty thigh, a small pool of drool forming on his skin, but he paid it no mind. This was their normal, a comforting routine that he had grown accustomed to over the years. Waking up on a weekend to an empty bed would be far more unsettling than finding her there, wrapped in his clothes and seeking solace in his presence.

Without realizing it, Ushijima's world had long since begun to revolve around her. Every aspect of his life was intertwined with hers, and he had never once questioned it. Sharing everything with his best friend seemed as natural as breathing. But now, with the seeds of doubt planted by his teammates, he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to their bond than he had initially believed.

A soft sigh escaped his nose as his phone buzzed with a message from Tendou, inquiring about the keys to the gym. Tendou... he was the one who had first sparked this internal conflict, causing Ushijima to question the depth of his friendship with her. With a snap, he closed his phone and placed it back on the nightstand, settling against the headboard once more. As if sensing his unease, she stirred, and Ushijima instinctively reached out to card his fingers through her luscious locks, gently lulling her back to sleep.

This was their normal, and he couldn't understand why his friends couldn't see that.

His mind drifted back to their first year of high school, when he had initially introduced her to Tendou and Semi. Ushijima had breezed through the practice match set by his seniors, even though he had forgotten his application form. His reputation preceded him, and they already knew who he was.

"Woah, who's that chick?" one of his seniors had whistled lowly, his gaze fixed on the gym entrance. Ushijima followed his line of sight, curious as to what had captured the attention of his teammates. His eyes widened slightly as he spotted her peeking out cautiously from behind the door. Without a second thought, he abandoned the ball and jogged over to her, oblivious to the questioning stares of his teammates.

She held out his forgotten application form, explaining that he had left it in her classroom that morning. Ushijima nodded appreciatively, his expression unchanging. What baffled his teammates, however, was the way he leaned down to peck her lips, just as she instinctively tilted her head up to meet his. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but it was far too long to be considered purely platonic.

"Ushi-waka, is that your girlfriend?" Tendou teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He seemed almost proud that the seemingly robotic Ushijima had managed to catch the attention of such a cute girl.

To everyone's surprise, Ushijima appeared genuinely confused by the question. "No, she's my best friend," he stated simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

As time went on, the team struggled to wrap their heads around the nature of Ushijima and her relationship. She would often drop by the gym, delivering small items that the seemingly scatterbrained Ushijima had left behind. Each interaction followed the same pattern: Ushijima standing too close for comfort, though she never seemed bothered by it, and the two sharing a kiss that lingered just a bit too long to be considered friendly.

The team eventually came to the conclusion that Ushijima was simply shy and unable to admit his true feelings. They reasoned that, given his stoic nature, this must be his first relationship, and he was struggling to come to terms with it.

"I'm not in a relationship. She's my childhood friend. We're neighbors too," Ushijima insisted, his tone firm and unwavering. The team decided to drop the subject, realizing that he was far too stubborn to convince otherwise.

It became clear that Ushijima spent his lunches in another classroom, never appearing in the cafeteria or his own classroom. Semi deduced that he must be visiting her, and so he and Tendou decided to investigate. They weren't surprised to find Ushijima sitting across from her, engrossed in reading something while she occasionally fed him small bites of food. When he failed to pay attention, she would lean in and gently wipe away stray rice from the corner of his mouth. The intimate moments they shared seemed far too personal for mere friends, yet Ushijima remained steadfast in his assertion that she was nothing more than his best friend.

The final straw came when Ushijima, with genuine curiosity, asked Tendou if he liked her. His sincerity was enough to make Tendou reluctantly agree that perhaps Ushijima truly did see her as just a friend. But what about her feelings?

Semi took it upon himself to approach her, befriending her and welcoming her into the club as an unofficial manager. Once she seemed comfortable enough, he finally asked the burning question: "Are you and Ushijima-san dating?"

She blinked, confusion evident in her expression as she tilted her head to the side. "No, he's my best friend. We've been together since we were kids since our parents are also friends."

It dawned on the team that perhaps both Ushijima and she were equally dense when it came to matters of the heart. From that point on, they found themselves more invested in the pair's relationship than in volleyball practice itself.

One evening, they stumbled upon Ushijima and her in the gym after practice. She was helping him perfect his spikes, tossing the ball up for him to slam down onto the other side of the court. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until Ushijima accidentally sent a ball straight into the net, which then bounced off and hit her square in the face. She let out a soft yelp, crouching down and clutching her bleeding nose.

Ushijima was by her side in an instant, kneeling mere inches away and gently prying her hands away from her face. He clicked his tongue as he watched the crimson blood cascade from her nose and over her lips. With an apologetic look, he scooped her up like one would a toddler and carried her to the bench. Kneeling between her legs, he tore a piece of cloth and tenderly wiped away the blood, his palms smoothing up her thighs in a comforting gesture. Once the bleeding had stopped, he remained in his position, seemingly unwilling to move away. When she assured him that she was okay, he kissed her lips once more before standing up, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The team confronted Ushijima about the incident later. "I like kissing her. Is it wrong to?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

Tendou and Semi exchanged a knowing look. "No, it's not wrong. But it is something that people who are dating do," Semi explained gently.

"Dating? But she's my best friend," Ushijima countered, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Well, yeah, but haven't you ever felt like you wanted something more with her?" Tendou pressed.

"Why would I want something more? It has always been like this between her and me." Ushijima's bewilderment was palpable, and Semi and Tendou decided to let the matter drop, realizing that he was not yet ready to confront the depth of his feelings.

The team's suspicions were further confirmed when they witnessed Ushijima and her saying goodbye before he left for a two-week training camp that coincided with her birthday. Ushijima pulled her aside, apologizing for missing the special day they usually spent together. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close and nuzzling his nose into her hair. They stood mere inches apart, gazing at each other with a look that the team could only describe as love, even if the two were too oblivious to recognize it themselves.

Throughout the training camp, Ushijima spent every free moment texting or calling her. When he couldn't do either, he would prop his phone up on the bench, leaving her on a video call so she could watch him play. It became increasingly clear to the team that the two were emotionally dependent on each other, their bond so deep that they struggled to spend even a moment apart.

Their theory was proven correct when Ushijima fell into a state of depression after she stopped answering his calls. Her grandmother had passed away, and she had retreated into her room, shutting out the world in her grief.

As soon as the training camp ended, Ushijima raced to her house, desperate to be by her side. He arrived to find the house empty and dark, the only light filtering through the curtains coming from the moon above. He made his way upstairs, his heart heavy with worry, only to discover her bedroom vacant. A soft sound coming from the bathroom caught his attention, and he gently pushed open the creaky door.

There, in the darkness she so feared, he found her lying in the bathtub, staring blankly at the moldy ceiling as tears streamed down her face. The water was frigid, but Ushijima paid it no mind as he knelt beside her, brushing her wet bangs away from her forehead. Without a word, he reached into the water and gathered her into his arms, cradling her close and not caring that her bare, wet body was soaking his clothes.

He wrapped a towel around her shivering form, holding her tightly and rocking back and forth in a subconscious attempt to soothe her pain. Gently, he removed the towel and dressed her in one of his shirts before slipping under the covers with her, holding her close throughout the night.

When Ushijima recounted this story to Tendou, the redhead was left speechless. Not only was it the most emotion he had ever seen Ushijima display, but it was also a testament to the profound love and connection the two shared, even if they couldn't put a name to it.

During their third year, the arrival of new first-year players brought about a shift in the team's dynamic. Coach Washijo had specifically requested her presence to take notes, and she had obliged, her keen eye for detail and understanding of the game making her an invaluable asset.

Among the fresh faces was Goshiki, a boisterous and attention-seeking young man who seemed to gravitate towards her warm and nurturing demeanor. She found his enthusiasm and charm endearing, and she readily showered him with compliments, knowing that it was exactly what he craved.

The rest of the team, however, could only watch in trepidation as they noticed the darkening expression on Ushijima's face. It was a look they had never seen before, a mixture of jealousy and possessiveness that seemed to radiate from his very being. Tendou, ever the opportunist, seized the chance to probe Ushijima about his feelings, but the stoic captain remained tight-lipped, refusing to acknowledge the green-eyed monster that had taken hold of him.

It came as no surprise to the team when Ushijima, in a display of his newfound authority as captain, suddenly banned her from entering the gym. The self-satisfied look on his face was unmistakable as he watched Goshiki's crestfallen expression upon realizing that the object of his affections was nowhere to be found.

The crushing defeat against Karasuno had been a blow to the entire team, but none felt it more keenly than Ushijima. He had maintained his composure in front of his teammates, his stoic mask never slipping, but she knew better. She had been there, watching from the sidelines, her heart aching for him as he shouldered the weight of their loss.

That day, Ushijima had actively avoided her, and she had returned home with a heavy heart, wondering how she could ease his pain. It wasn't until the middle of the night that she was roused from her sleep by the sound of her window sliding open. She watched as Ushijima's familiar form slipped into her room, his shoulders hunched and his eyes downcast.

Without a word, she lifted the covers, inviting him into the warmth and comfort of her bed. As he settled beside her, she wound her arms around his neck, holding him close as he nestled his cheek against her breast, inhaling the soothing scent that was so uniquely her. His hand found its way to her waist, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her soft skin as they both drifted off to sleep, entwined in each other's embrace.

Ushijima had never given much thought to the nature of their relationship, content in the knowledge that she was his best friend, his constant companion. But that all changed the day he received a confession letter from a girl in his class. Unlike the countless anonymous notes that flooded his locker, this girl had mustered the courage to approach him directly, her handwritten letter trembling slightly in her grasp.

As he stood there, the delicate paper in his hands, Ushijima found himself at a loss. His eyes remained fixed on the letter, but his mind was elsewhere, filled with thoughts of her—his best friend. He couldn't understand why, in this moment, when faced with the prospect of a romantic entanglement, all he could think about was her.

The girl before him was undeniably pretty, but she paled in comparison to the one who had captured his heart so completely. He couldn't fathom a future where he devoted his time and attention to anyone else, where he shared the same intimate moments and unspoken understanding with another woman. The very idea felt like a betrayal, a violation of the bond they had spent a lifetime cultivating.

With a heavy heart, Ushijima had rejected the girl's confession, his words gentle but firm. To her credit, she took the rejection in stride, as if she had already prepared herself for this outcome. As he walked away, Ushijima found himself inexplicably drawn to her, his best friend, his other half.

That night, he had taken her home with him, and they had fallen into their familiar routine, laying side by side in his bed as they had done countless times before. But sleep eluded him, his mind racing with questions and doubts that he had never before entertained.

As the first light of dawn crept into the room, Ushijima found himself propped up against the headboard, his gaze fixed on the woman slumbering peacefully beside him. In the stillness of the early morning, he allowed himself to imagine a future where he woke up to her every day, not just on weekends. A future where he could kiss her for as long as he desired, hold her close and never let go. A future where their outings were no longer just hanging out, but proper dates, filled with romance and intention.

His mind wandered further, to visions of making love to her, of joining their bodies and souls in the ultimate expression of their devotion. He pictured marrying her, watching her walk down the aisle towards him, radiant and resplendent in white. He imagined her round with his child, her belly swelling with the life they had created together. He saw them growing old side by side, their love only deepening with each passing year until they took their final breaths, forever entwined.

With sudden clarity, Ushijima understood why Tendou and Semi had been so persistent in their questioning of his relationship with her. He had always known that he loved her, but he had never fully grasped the depth and magnitude of that love. It was a love that transcended friendship, a love that encompassed every aspect of his being.

He realized that if he were to wake her now and ask for her hand in marriage, she would say yes without hesitation. Their love had become so ingrained, so fundamental to their existence, that the idea of marriage, which held such significance for others, seemed almost trivial in comparison. It was simply the next logical step in a journey they had been on since the very beginning.

And if he were to express his desire to make love to her, would she react with the same easy acceptance as she did to his kisses? Would she welcome him into her body just as readily as she welcomed him into her heart?

Ushijima's heart swelled with the weight of his realization, the full extent of his love for her crashing over him like a tidal wave. He knew, with unshakable certainty, that she was his past, his present, and his future. She was the one constant in his life, the one person who understood him better than he understood himself.

As he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, her face serene in the golden light of dawn, Ushijima made a silent vow. He would cherish her, protect her, and love her with every fiber of his being, for as long as he drew breath. And when the time was right, he would make his intentions known, laying bare the depths of his devotion and asking her to be his, now and forever.

Until then, he would continue to hold her close, to bask in the warmth of her presence and the unbreakable bond they shared. In the end, it had always been her, and it would always be her, his best friend, his soulmate, his one true love.

bonus:

As the morning sun began to filter through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room, Ushijima remained lost in his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the woman who had captured his heart so completely. The revelation of his true feelings had left him both exhilarated and terrified, the weight of his love for her settling deep within his chest.

Suddenly, he felt her stir beside him, her eyelids fluttering open as she slowly emerged from the depths of sleep. Her gaze, still hazy with the remnants of her dreams, met his, and a sleepy smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Good morning, Toshi," she murmured, her voice soft and slightly raspy from sleep. The sound of his name on her lips, spoken with such tenderness and familiarity, sent a shiver down his spine.

"Good morning," he replied, his own voice thick with emotion. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her cheek.

She leaned into his touch, her eyes drifting shut once more as she savored the gentle caress. "What time is it?" she asked, her words slightly muffled as she nuzzled into his palm.

"Early," he answered, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone. "The sun's just coming up."

She hummed in acknowledgment, her body shifting closer to his, seeking the warmth and comfort of his presence. "Why are you awake?" she questioned, her eyes opening once more to meet his gaze.

Ushijima hesitated, the words he longed to say dancing on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to tell her everything, to pour out his heart and lay bare the depths of his love for her. But something held him back, a flicker of uncertainty that whispered in the back of his mind.

"I was just thinking," he said instead, his voice low and hushed in the stillness of the morning.

She tilted her head, a curious expression on her face. "About what?"

"About us," he admitted, his heart hammering in his chest. "About our relationship."

Her brow furrowed slightly, a hint of confusion clouding her features. "What about it?"

Ushijima took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation to come. "I've been wondering if maybe... maybe there's more to us than just friendship."

Her eyes widened, a flicker of surprise dancing within their depths. "More?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "I love you," he said, the words tumbling from his lips with a fierce intensity. "I've always loved you, but I'm starting to realize that it's more than just the love of a friend."

She remained silent, her expression unreadable as she processed his words. Ushijima felt his heart constrict, fear and uncertainty gripping him as he waited for her response.

"Toshi," she breathed, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, mirroring his earlier gesture. "I love you too. I have for as long as I can remember."

Relief and joy surged through him, a small smile breaking across his face as he pulled her closer, their foreheads touching as they shared the same breath. "So, what does this mean for us?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of his emotions.

She smiled, her eyes shining with a love that matched his own. "It means that we've always been more than just friends," she said softly. "It means that our love has been there all along, waiting for us to recognize it for what it is."

Ushijima felt his heart swell, the warmth of her words washing over him like a soothing balm. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both familiar and new.

As they parted, their eyes locked in a gaze that spoke volumes, Ushijima knew that this was just the beginning. Their love, which had been the foundation of their lives for so long, had finally been given a name, a purpose, and a promise.

With a contented sigh, he gathered her into his arms, holding her close as the morning light bathed them in its golden glow. They had a lifetime ahead of them, a future filled with love, laughter, and the unbreakable bond they had forged through years of friendship and devotion.

And as they lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, Ushijima knew that he had found his home, his haven, and his forever in the woman who had always been by his side.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

can we get soft angst hcs of caine comforting a reader who entered the circus but found solace in escaping their old life?

Dang it didn't take long for the requests to come in haha, but yessss I'm eager to write for TADC now!! (just note my hcs/interpretations of the characters will change as more episodes come out).

.......

When you first arrived to the circus not long after Pomni, Caine was worried that you were going to freak out over trying to find an exit (that definitely does NOT exist).

So he just cuts to the chase and states you're stuck here forever. There's no exit doors or hidden portals or secret keys, so you can just give up on returning to your old life altogether.

But you don't look scared in the slightest.

Confused? Yes. Certainly.

However once you've taken in all this information, you just stand there with a smile and a relaxed posture--a display that concerns Caine a lot.

"They seem happy, boss.." Bubble whispers. "Is that a good sign?"

"Not sure. Never seen anybody react this way. Maybe they're just holding it all in and pretending to be fine when they're really no--WOAH, stop the presses!!!" His eyes bulge out of his head/mouth(?) as he sees the tears running down your cheeks. "You're crying more than Gangle does on Tuesday! Is it true that you were masking your emotions????"

"..huh? What..oh no!" You laugh and wipe away the tears, before explaining to the ringmaster that you were indeed very happy.

You spoke of how sad and dull your life was outside of this game.

It was your escape, a comfort, and you've been a huge supporter of its development over the years.

Even in your sleep, you never stopped thinking about it--you always had dreams of being in this very circus, having loads of fun with the other characters and joining their wacky adventures.

So to learn that (somehow) you became a permanent part of the game is literally a dream come true!

Of course, you weren't expecting the presence of the Abstracted and Pomni's constant freakouts, but you couldn't be happier.

Caine was surprised that you remembered so much of your old life (whereas poor Pomni couldn't even recall her own name).

But he sees you're content with starting a new life here in the Digital Circus and grins, eager to plan some exciting fun and games for you to enjoy.

He will, however, make a point to pair you with Pomni so you could help her calm down and show her that being in this virtual world wasn't so bad.

It's probably not the best idea, though, as nothing you say comforts her.

"I mean, your old life could've been really bad and-"

"But what if it was good? What if I had tons of friends and a great family and a successful job and.....oh god..what if I had PETS?!!!" She wails. "Who's gonna take care of them?!!!"

Had she remembered at least one little bad detail from her old life....persuasion would come a lot easier.

But Caine encourages you to keep trying anyways.

[81folklore]

i can do it with a broken heart - f1 grid

parings: gn!driver!reader x platonic!f1!grid x ex!jacob elordi

summary: after yn and their ex break up, they carry on as best they can and no one had any idea how bad they were struggling

type: social media au (smau)

notes: george is in this but he does not drive for mercedes, yn does. i also used a mixture of fem and masc pictures because i couldnt decide and thought you could just imagine whatever you wish!!

notes 2: probably the longest fic ive done so far but im pretty proud of it. the time stamps above each section are semi important so i would keep an eye on them!! also i know ive been gone for so long but i do not promise ill be back. alsoooo i know i only included a bit of the grid but i kept getting distracted and then couldn’t figure out how to include everyone!!

masterlist

march 2024

twitter

charles oh my god i cant believe my cat is finally the pfp

i have been waiting for YEARS

max yes well you better enjoy it because it’ll change soon and you’ll be back to waiting again.

lando jesus max do you have to use punctuation???

alex be glad he doesnt use captials

oscar one thing at a time lando, we dont want to scare him

max ???

lando anyway

yn mate you ok?

yourname im fine? ur scaring me you never ask how i am

lando yeah but usually your not single

lewis oh no! you and jacob split?

yourname yeah, wasnt working anymore

charles ah im sorry, that must suck😣

yourname i mean it does but its been coming for a long time so its not surprising

fernando hello! yn what is wrong? you always use emotes!

yourname theyre emojis nando, and im fine just a bit lost

fernando do not worry, i will come and find you!

yourname no, i dont mean literally just..we were together for so long i dont really know what to do now you know?

lando i get it, you wanna play tarkov with me???

yourname cheers ill get on now

george let us know if you need anything!

may 2024

yourusername

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and 814,583 others

p✌️ was just what we needed this weekend!

thank you to everyone who came out and supported myself and the team and huge thank you to the team for working so hard all weekend⭐️

view comments

mercedesamgf1 mega job this weekend yn👊 *liked by author*

landonorris nice to share the podium with you mate

yourusername same time next race?

user33 loved seeing you back on the podium

user2 absolutely smashing it this season

user21 more podiums please🤲 *liked by author*

user3 fourth podium of the year first p✌️*liked by author*

twitter

*pretend it says after march i changed dates around last min*

august 2024

yourusername

liked by lukehemmings, charles_leclerc and 1,124,642 others

did some reading, painting and writing

baked some good food and spent time with some good people, also got a cat…not bad for summer break☀️

view comments

user66 AHHHHHH

yourusername ahhhhhhh

user26 cats name plsplspls

yourusername norman🐱

lukehemmings nice music👍

yourusername woah arent you the guy who wrote mum?!

mercedesamgf1 ready to see you back on the podium

yourusername always!!!!

user74 have you had funnnn??

yourusername yesss!! ive been doing lots of things i enjoy, basically treating every day as my birthday😋

twitter

*was supposed to write them instead of her sorry!! was doing two stories at once and kept getting mixed up😅*

october 2024

yourusername

liked by mercedesamgf1, gracieabrams and 1,291,638 others

p☝️ for the 3rd time this season, very very pleased

huuuuuge thank you to the team, every single one of you who worked tirelessly over the summer break and every moment since then, these have been for you⭐️

view comments

user55 what a good season to be a yn fan *liked by author*

user6 these races have been incredible to watch, so proud

yourusername ⭐️⭐️

gracieabrams woop woop!!!!

yourusername 😝😝

user2 gracie??

user41 why have we not had any personal photo dumps yet😕😕

user88 right we miss seeing you yn!!

yourusername sorry guys😣ive been suuuper busy working on something i just honestly forgot

user41 NEW PROJECT?? WHEN?? (also pls dont feel bad we love u)

yourusername soon!! (and i love u guys too)

twitter

november 2024

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, lewishamilton and 3,689,921 others

tagged: taylorswift

i cannot believe i get to say this, but my new friend taylor just released a new album and i was able to write a song on the album

im honestly not sure how this came about but i had so much fun writing this and expressing all my thoughts and feelings in a way ive never done before

i poured my life and soul into this song and im so glad taylor is the one who is singing it and really bought it to life

send some love to my friend and go and stream THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT (most importantly i can do it with a broken heart😉)

comments have been limited

taylorswift thank you for trusting me with this song, so much love🤍

yourusername NO THANK YOU!!! i will be forever grateful⭐️⭐️

twitter

yourusername added to their story

seen by taylorswift, lewishamilton and 729,282 others

charles i feel completely betrayed yn

fernando oh no😟! what did yn do?

charles THEY DIDNT TELL ME THEY WERE WRITING A SONG??

AND WITH TAYLOR SWIFT HOW COULD YOU☹️☹️

yourname sorry charles, surprise?!

charles ill forgive you because its a good song

yourname thank you my life just got infinitely better!

yuki very good song yn! has been on repeat☺️

yourname thanks yuki, glad you like it!!

lando I LOVE IT TOO

but seriously are you ok?!

yourname yeahhh im better now

was just a lot to navigate

lewis glad you found an outlet! but remember you can always talk to any of us

yourname i know and i appreciate it, i really do

alex yn was that twitter thread right?

yourname mate youre going to have to elaborate

alex user56tweetlink

yourname oh pretty much yeah

some things were changed with taylor but not much

fernando just listened to the song yn! very nice👍well done!

yourname thank uu

max good song yn!

now

lando can you please tell me what you meant on your twitch stream!

oscar max is kind of scary

max dont make me talk about that interview next oscar!

[arcadia-of-pluto]

In High Cotton || Rafayel (m)

Paring(s); LADS Rafayel x reader

Word count; 3,626

Themes; swearing, smut, plushie turning human (??), I write the word plushie a lot (I'm sorry), porn with a smidgen of plot, alternative universe

Warnings; Cunnilingus, fingering, slight choking, smidge of hair pulling, some degrading (if you squint), unprotected sex (wrap it up), some boob play, (do not expect a masterpiece of a smut— I didn't realize how rusty I was at writing them until I actually started 😞)

Notes; woah, 700ish notes on my most recent drabble! That's insane tbh. It almost feels like I should only write drabbles, and it wasn't even a smutty drabble either 🤔 I thought people were usually into smut?

Either way, I'm glad yall are liking it while I readjust myself to writing smut once again! I used to write smut SO much when I was younger and then I just stopped– but when I do write it again, it might have too much detail and I do apologize beforehand for that...speaking of, it's happening now btw! I'm going to try to write good smut for this. I got this idea for a short, one-shot hentai-ish Manga (it's called…”my plushie turned into a human” or something like that)

Also, lowkey, cotton doesn't even feel like a real word anymore 😭

|| Main Masterlist ||

In High Cotton;

//this Southern idiom means “to be doing well or living a comfortable life”; in comparison, to be ‘in low cotton’ would mean you're having a bad day//

“What are you, a child? Stop carrying around that stupid plushie! It feels like you care more about that damn thing than our relationship.”

Your head whips around to stare at your partner through a glare.

Oh really now?

You care more about a stuffed piece of fabric in comparison to your almost five years of dating this person?? Yeah, right.

Your partner was just trying to deflect this situation away from the fact that you caught them cheating.

They were grasping at straws to throw the blame on you and your cherished plush was the only thing they could throw at you…pitiful.

You've had this little plushie since you were little and, honestly, you didn't even remember what show it was from– if it was on one. Your childhood friend gave it to you shortly before he moved away and you've since forgotten what he even looked like.

The only memory of him being the purple haired, humanoid plushie currently clasped between your hands as you fought the urge to throw it at your partner.

And, tired of your silence, your partner left your apartment shortly after.

Now, you were left alone with your plushie.

You slowly swipe your thumb back and forth over its pinkish-blue eyes as you ponder just why you cherished it so much. Why you cherished Raf so much.

Yeah, Raf. That's apparently the name of the plushie. That's what your mom claims you called it throughout the years, so you had no reason to change it.

But yeah. You were unsure why it never left your side.

You always kept it in your purse, in your shirt pocket– it almost felt like an emotional support doll, at this point.

Anyway, you stand up from the floor and go lock your door so your partner couldn't barge back inside the apartment, even if they wanted to. Then, you decide to go to bed. You were off work for the next few days, so you could finally get some well deserved rest.

You quickly get changed into your pajamas and curl up in the bed with Raf in your arms. Your hand resting against the red beret on its head, thumb gently brushing over the small black bead on top of the hat as you drift off to sleep.

You wake up feeling…warm? Too warm, in fact.

You know you fell asleep with the air conditioner on, so there's absolutely no reason for the room to feel as warm as it does.

You grumble under your breath, wanting to go back to sleep as quickly as possible, and keep your eyes shut as you try to kick out from under the covers. You soon realize you can't do this, because you feel an odd weight holding you down.

If your partner snuck back in, you swear to god—

But when you open your eyes, you're met with an unfamiliar sight.

It's…a stranger. In bed with you.

Their hair, however, was oddly familiar.

Purple hair…

Nah, no way. There's no way your plushie suddenly turned into a human, but that would definitely make you feel less anxious than assuming a stranger was in your home.

You take a deep breath and glance around for your plushie. If you can find it, then this man isn't your favourite stuffed animal and if you can't– well, it could've fallen into the floor. You won't sink into the delusion that this man was Raf, until that was your final option.

You couldn't find it with just your eyes, so you attempted to wiggle out of the man's grasp. However, this only causes him to hold you tighter, his arms squeezing around your waist as he pulls you further into his bare chest.

…bare chest?

You blink a few times. Your head is close enough to touch the man's chin.

Fuck it.

You put your hands on his chest and desperately try to pull away from him, full on struggling since you've decided to not care if you wake him up or not. He came into your house, why should you be accommodating toward him??

“Hmm?”

You hear his tired voice as he finally removes one arm from your waist to rub his eyes, and the moment he opens then, you have no choice but to accept that he was your plushie.

Seriously, like what normal human has pinkish-blue eyes?? No one. Unless he's wearing contacts, that is literally your comfort doll.

You know it sounds crazy, but how else would this random guy know what your plush looks like?? Especially enough to copy its looks perfectly.

“Oh. Good morning, Y/n.” He yawns, stretching his arms up and that's when you snap.

You quickly sit up and move away from him, holding a hand out in front of you. “What're you doing in my house? You're not…Raf, are you?”

“You recognize me!?” He almost blinds you with his innocently charming smile.

“You're…joking, right? I mean, seriously, how am I supposed to believe that?” You say, half asleep but clearly not buying this act. You run a hand through your hair, brows furrowed and you could feel a headache coming on.

“Oh…you don't believe me..” he frowns, sitting up against the pillows. “Hmm…what can I do to make you believe me?”

“Uh…say something that only someone who knows me would know?” You throw your hands up in the air, exasperatedly.

Come on, how the heck were you supposed to know?? Though, you'd probably believe him if he said something personal.

“Raf” brings his hand up to rest under his chin as he contemplates what to say. After a few moments of silence, you stand up from the bed.

“Alright, if you're not going to say anything, then–”

“When you were seven, you threw up and ran into your mom's room crying because you thought you were dying…uh, oh also, when you were ten, you were trying to ride a bike and busted your knee open when you fell– you have a scar from it. At eleven, you accidentally punched a kid in the face and got into your first fight– that you lost, by the way. And at sixteen, you were going to lose your virginity, but your ex said you had to get Raf off the bed and you said, and I quote, ‘the doll stays’.”

“Raf” looks at you after he finishes talking with an almost proud looking smile on his face and you tilt your head to the side.

You…

…what?

You had no other choice, but to believe him now.

The scar on your knee would've been the easiest to guess, but the others? But you don't want to seem too gullible…

You clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Tell me more before I make my decision.”

Surely he wouldn't say anything embarrassing, right?

“You've faked every orgasm with your current partner. You can only cum if—”

“Okay, okay!” You quickly place your hand over his mouth. Your face turns scarlet as you squeeze your eyes shut. “That's enough. I'll believe you for now.”

You feel something wet against your palm and jerk your hand back. “What the hell– did you just lick my hand??” You drag your hand against your pants to wipe it off, before shaking your head. “Look, go get dressed. I'm sure my ex has some clothes you can wear.”

You put an emphasis on ex, since you decided you weren't going to stay with that cheater the moment they left your apartment last night.

Then, you leave the room.

Honestly….Raf was a pretty decent roommate. Sure, he didn’t work, but you'd come back to a home-cooked meal after work every day. He'd do the laundry, the dishes, and he even painted on the side.

You weren't sure if he'd ever turn back into a plush, but you preferred him this way. With him as a human, you could talk about your day with someone, eat with someone…there's only one problem.

Personal space and…personal time.

You haven't been able to get off in almost a month– that's how long Raf has been human by now– and it has started to get to you. You usually aren't a very sexual person, but sometimes you just need to rub one out every now and again…and you can't with him constantly snuggled in the bed next to you.

Tonight was another night where you wouldn't be able to do what you wanted.

You let out a small sigh as you get settled in bed. The TV played a random show in the background as it illuminated the otherwise dark room. Raf laid next to you, one arm curled under the pillow so he could still watch the TV. He was shirtless too, so that made your conundrum even better.

“What's wrong?” He asks, not looking away from the TV and you quickly shake your head.

“It's nothing. Nothing at all.”

Raf shifts over to his side to look at your face, raising one of his eyebrows ever so slightly. “You haven't…Well, I mean, you usually do it once a week and it's been a month now–”

“Raf–” you sigh, covering his head with a pillow. “Shut up.”

He pulls the pillow down, so only his eyes are visible. “Do you still not see me as a man?”

“I don't want to talk about this right now.” You try to pull the pillow back over his face and he catches you by the wrist.

“I could make you feel way better than your ex did…” he trails off as he guides your hand to the front of his pajama pants.

You could visibly see a bump from over the covers and you choke on your spit as you felt something warm under your palm.

Something big.

“Raf…” you trail off, but you can't find the will to tell him to let it go.

His words made you curious…you wanted to know if sex could actually feel good or if he was just talking a big game.

What could he really know about sex, anyways?

He's only been human for a month now, so there's no way he could actually be good at it, right?

As you're lost in thoughts, your hand subconsciously squeezes his election and Raf tilts his head back, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to hold back a groan.

“Earth to Y/n.” He hums, snapping his fingers in front of your face. “Yes or no, cutie? I want explicit consent.”

You were battling with your thoughts, but you ultimately nodded your head.

“Use your words now. Your pretty lips aren't just there for show, are they?” The man taps his finger against your bottom lip and you let out an impatient sigh, “Yes, now can you please–”

Your words were silenced by Raf's lips crashing down against yours.

One of his hands ghosts down your body, fingers resting under the waistband of your pajama shorts, just a few inches from where you really wanted his touch. His other hand slides up your shirt, cupping a breast.

You feel the bed dip underneath you as Raf swings a leg over your body, fully pinning you to the bed as he continues his assault against your lips.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, but you playfully refuse to let him in. In retaliation, Raf’s fingers pinch around your nipple and harshly tug at it. A gasp escapes you and he takes this opportunity to slip his tongue past your open lips.

The only time your lips part is when Raf leans back to tug his shirt off and takes off yours as well.

Now shirtless in front of the man, you can't help but feel a little self conscious.

Though Raf quickly dissuades your self doubt by dipping his head down to latch onto your nipple. His hand finally moved further into your pants. His index finger resting on your clit and you arch your hips up, trying to force him to move.

Your thigh stings in pain as you feel Raf's palm collide with your skin.

“Patience.” He murmurs against your chest.

His fingers draw lazy circles against your clit and, while it is pleasurable, you want more.

You dip your hand past his waistband and grab onto his dick. Your hand could barely wrap fully around it and you could only imagine how it would feel. It felt like it would hurt…a little. But what's a little pain?

Your hand lazily strokes Raf's dick, thumb dragging over his tip to collect a few drops of precum and that's when the man finally snaps.

His fingers move lower. His middle finger slowly glides inside of you and he gives you a few thrusts with his singular finger, before adding a second one. With both fingers sheathed inside, he makes a ‘come-hither’ motion with every thrust of his digits.

“R-Raf– wa—ah— wait..” Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulder while your other hand pauses its movements. You try to hide your face in your shoulder, but Raf seizes your chin with a hand.

“Don't look away now, princess. I wanna see your face. Wanna see just how good I'm making you feel.” He tsks and pulls away for a moment.

He strips you of your bottoms, tossing them to the side as his big hands grip your thighs. His palm slaps the newly exposed skin before he taps your hands.

“Hold your legs up for me and don't drop them.”

You want to question his words, but don't. Instead, you wrap your arms under your knees and pull them as close to your chest as you can. It was, honestly, a really embarrassing position, but you couldn't help but get even more wet.

Your juices were tacky against your thighs and even dripping down onto the sheets below you.

“Raf…” you whine, wondering what's taking him so long since you expected him to fuck you already. But instead of his cock, you feel something else.

You feel something warm and wet against your clit, and a strangled noise comes up from your throat as Raf flicks his tongue against your pussy. His fingers going back to your entrance to slip inside as he wraps his lips around your clit.

Your head tilts back as moans spill from your lips. Raf's skilled fingers working at your center while he tongue draws figure-eights on your clit.

“R-Raf, inside. ‘Wanna cum with you inside, please?” You finally manage to say, your nails digging into your legs.

Your heart stutters in your chest as Raf makes eye contact as he eats you out. Only pausing to respond to you, his fingers still moving.

“You gotta be more specific, princess. I am inside you right now.” He teases.

As you open your mouth to answer, he curls his fingers and they just barely brush your g-spot.

“I want your di– ah, Raf, right there!” Your hips jerk with every thrust of his fingers and you can feel yourself growing closer to your first orgasm, but Raf has other plans.

As you squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for your climax, suddenly you feel empty.

When you open your eyes, you notice that Raf is licking his fingers clean.

A lazy smirk tugs at the man's lips and his hand disappears into his pants, freeing his dick from its confines.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his angry, red tip. The glistening precum. The way his hand drug against the length of it.

“Hey, my eyes are up here!”” Raf snaps his fingers with a pout. “Geez, you really know how to make a man feel like a pack of meat.” He taps the tip of his dick against your clit and your hips jump.

“Ah, what's the magic word, cutie?” His hand pushes down on your hips, effectively pinning them to the bed as he smears his precum across your clit.

“I…” You grit your teeth, squeezing your thighs before you finally let them go and hold your arms out. “Please fuck me.”

Raf's arms wrap around you as he finally pushes his tip inside and his voice of reason finally snaps. He was originally going to take it slow, to give you time to adjust, but the feeling of your tight, warm walls around his cock makes him unable to think straight.

Your legs wrap around his waist as he thrusts into you with reckless abandon. Though there is a bit of skill to his thrusts, there's also a smidgen of inexperience mixed within it.

“You're so tight, cutie. Do you like my cock that much?” He hums, his lips dragging against the skin of your neck. He firmly presses his lips down, parting them slightly to suck a painful bruise on your neck.

His hips continue to snap forward. His cock languidly pumps in and out of your pussy. The obscene noise of skin slapping against skin, the sound of your bodies coming together, fills the otherwise silent room.

His thumb dips down to make quick circles against your lip as his cock brushes against your g-spot and he claims your lips once more.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, dragging up his skin to leave deep red marks in their wake. Your moans are swallowed by Raf's lips. His tongue collides with yours and you briefly fight for dominance. You ultimately lose, though you didn't put up much of a fight.

The man pulls out and you're about to complain, but suddenly you're flipped onto your knees. Raf presses his palm into the small of your back and your face slams into your pillows.

His cock re-enters as he thrusts, his palm cracks down across your ass. You can't hide the moan that slips from your parted lips and Raf raises a brow.

“Oohh, someone's a bit of a pain slut?”

With this new knowledge, Raf pulls you up by your hair. Your back against his chest and his other hand glides over your body. His two fingers make quick circular motions against your clit and he releases your hair, instead wrapping his hand around your throat.

“R–Raf, please. ‘M so close.” Another noise slips from your lips as his cock just barely kisses your g-spot and you can feel his breath against your ear. “You gonna cum for me?” He presses a small kiss on your shoulder, his hand squeezing around your neck as he quickens his thrusts.

“Uh-huh…” you nod your head, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you try to hold back your moans. You could feel your juices soaking your thighs, could hear the evidence of your arousal with every thrust.

With one last precise thrust that brushes your g-spot, you cum.

You tilt your head back with a choked cry, your hips jerking as your walls spasm around his cock.

“Princess…” Raf groans, his hands tightly gripping your hips as he surges forward. Your body falls forward and your hands go out to steady yourself as he continues to harshly thrust. “Inside or out?”

You take a moment to think before you turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes. “Out, please.”

Raf flips you over onto your back once more and after a few more pumps, he pulls out. His hand quickly strokes his cock before his head tilts back and he moans. His tip shoots out strings of cum, painting your stomach and chest with white ropes.

“Fuck…” he takes a few breathes before you meet each other's eyes.

Then, you both laugh giddily and he dips his head down to gently kiss you.

“I'll go grab a washcloth to clean you up.” He smiles against your lips before he gets off the bed to head into the bathroom.

You sit up and stretch out your sore limbs while you look around for your phone to check the time. “Huh…I could've sworn it was on the bed..” You click your tongue and sigh, sliding off the bed to check if it fell into the floor.

Your hand pats around under your bed and you let out a small squeak of surprise as your hand brushes against something soft. You jerk your hand back, but notice your phone was on the floor. You press a hand against your chest to try and still your fast beating heart. Then, you turn on your phone's flashlight to look under your bed.

“Wait…” you squint, noticing something that looks oddly familiar and once you fish it out, your eyes widen.

It…was Raf.

Slightly dusty since it had been under your bed for a few months, but…this was most certainly Raf, your beloved plushie.

Your head slowly turns in the direction of your bathroom with wide eyes. If your plush Raf was in your hands then…who was in your bathroom?

The door swings open and Raf– no, the stranger walks out from your bathroom with a washcloth in hand.

“I think I'm going to need to do the laundry soon. This is the last clean on– oh, you found it.” The purple-haired man leans against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I– who…” you look from your cherished plushie to him. “You're not even…”

Then, he chuckles.

“You ever noticed the little black ball on his beret?” He taps a finger against his temple. “I gave you that when we were little…been watching you ever since.” He has a smile on his lips as if this was a normal thing to admit.

“You're—”

“Highly intelligent? Devilishly handsome?”

“—insane.”

“No, silly girl. My name is Rafayel. Don't worry, I'll fuck you a few more times so you can remember it.”

I tried my best and that's all that matters tbh 😭 I think it seems so bad because it's in second person and I'm used to writing smut in first. But I'm hoping I'll get better at it with practice!

Either way, I'm sure this isn't the worst smut you've read so I hope you enjoyed it!

Also, sorry there isn't a drabble this week! I might write one soon since I've got two days off 🤔 I'm not sure yet tbh

[lacesoflove]

NOW SHOWING: HURTIN’ DEEPLY

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔

Rating: angst + mild nsfw

Warning: will be taken down for a rewrite to become of a fully fledged series ‼️ mentions of negative mental health, insecurity and substance abuse. also Y/N and Hamzah don’t even talk directly to each other in this lmfao. Brief mentions of religion and Catholic school

A/N: couldn’t think of a title of this but i thought of the song Not You Too from Drake a lot when writing this so that’s the title now 😭

YOUR LIFE HAD ITS WAYS OF SPITING YOU.

You couldn’t entirely fault the universe or God (if you still believed in one anyway), even if you tried your hardest to. Whilst the traps had been set like a predetermined force of nature, you had allowed yourself to fall into them like the hapless fool you had kept proving yourself to be.

And once again, even as you fought against yourself and your fates, you found yourself in another entanglement, this time taking the form of a crowded house party in downtown Toronto with all those people and all their Pinterest-chic outfits and all the loud obnoxious 2010s top 100 hits. You were one replay of Hotel Room Service away from killing yourself, and with the depression blooming in your body, you weren’t quite sure how serious you were with that notion.

In a dull attempt to soothe the irritation, you took a final swig from the red cup nursing your vodka Red Bull. It had quickly deteriorated in taste, going from ‘I’m going to have the best evening of my life!’ to mulling over every life choice you had ever made, with one of said choices being across the room.

His body leaned over hers, and even through his thick mop of curls (the same curls you had remembered tenderly running your hands through in the morning, as the blinds filtered the sun through, casting a warm glow against his honey-browned skin), you could see the puppy dog gaze he held for her as his hands ran up and down against her slim back. She should have been you, and this wasn’t supposed to be the new normal. And suddenly, all at once, you had a void where you should have had a heart.

You placed the disappointingly empty cup on top of the sound system (you had remembered him mentioning he wanted to get one; at the time he didn’t have the funds to— I guess he did now) and decided that the new all-consuming task of the evening would be locating your friend Aisha. Truthfully speaking, you knew where she was—fucking some podcast bro, names of her former exes spilling out from her mouth in place of his—the sad part was that the dude was probably too coked out to notice. It didn’t really matter that you knew that if you walked to the guest bathroom to the right of the front door, you’d find her in a position that went against the very religious ideals that your Catholic girl’s high school had imparted on both of you; what mattered was that it would distract you, maybe even better than the vodka did.

Unfortunately, getting to Aisha meant going past him, and going past him was the new equivalent of death. You’d much rather live, so you decided to head to the kitchen.

It was dim and empty, besides one boy in the corner, his face illuminated by his phone screen. You ignored him and headed to the six-pack of drinks on the counter. You opened a can and downed it fully. It tasted like summers forever ago and peaches. You decided to go for another one.

“Woah—” the boy from across the kitchen exclaimed. Suddenly, you realized how sad you must have looked, armed with one and a half empty cans of alcohol and a face riddled with anxiety.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to look like an alcoholic,” you said, with a nervous chuckle, setting the cans down.

“Nah, it’s chill,” he said. He cocked his head, and his eyebrows knit together—you were familiar to him in a way he wasn’t entirely sure how. You could say the same.

“What’s your name?” he asked; it was a bit pointed but not exactly mean.

“Y/N,” you responded, and you saw him still looking at you in confusion. The bells remained unrung. “My nickname is Dovie or Dove, though.”

As if exclaiming bingo, his brown eyes widened as if he could suddenly place you to someone, and you were hoping it was not him.

He snapped and pointed his fingers at you before asking the ill-fated question, “Do you know Hamzah?”

In an idyllic world where you were the heroine, free with your own tongue, you would have slyly remarked how you wished you didn’t know him—unfortunately, you were not. What you were instead was a girl permeated by suffering and immense heartbreak—so instead, you settled your response with, “Yeah, I do—well did, anyway,” followed up with a quick “do you?”

“Well yeah, I’m Martin; his friend. Me and him do YouTube together,” he replied.

Suddenly, you could place the boy’s face onto the YouTube thumbnails that would occasionally pop up on your YouTube feed, which you’d often have to ‘pre s not interested’ on. Aisha always pestered you to block the channel, but you could never bring yourself to do it.

You were unsure what to say, really; part of you wanted to pry and ask him everything about what Hamzah thought of you, said about you; instead, you settled on asking about Aisha.

“Um, so anyway, have you seen a blonde chick?” In totally seamless (at least that’s what you told yourself) fashion, you managed to get the conversation away from him.

“Unfortunately not,” Martin said with a head shake. “The only blonde here I know is my girlfriend, Mandy.”

You noticed how a small smile crept up when he said the word girlfriend. It was cute in a way that reminded you of how sick you were with your loneliness. You wondered if your loneliness radiated off of you, like a contagion.

“Ah, well, I’m sure I’ll find her,” you whispered under your breath.

Through the open archway of the kitchen, you could see him from the other end of the living room, seating on the couch, smiling and chuckling with the same girl, who was standing, from earlier. His hands inched up her legs, her smooth, buttery legs. Legs that you never had and weren’t yours. You had remembered when he done the same thing to you when you were still together. The way he tantalised you with the idea of public sex as he fiddled with the lace of your underwear, turning the small bow on the front in between his fingers as he pressed soft kisses on your inner thighs in front of a room of intoxicated people. You remembered him leading you from the main leading room and throwing you against the bed. You giggled. He smiled. You had remembered the feeling of total completeness as he entered you. You don’t think you’ve ever been fucked with such purpose and love since then. You wondered if he made love to the girl the same way. Snapping out of your trance, you supposed this was the part of the evening where you finally decided to go collect Aisha and you’d both go home together, and she’d quarrel with you about how you should’ve “gotten your man back,” and you would’ve retorted with some lie about how you’d moved on. But the universe always found a way to ruin you in a new way, and Aisha sent you a text about how she had gone home safely. You didn’t even bother to open the message in full, only reading the first few parts of it on your notification screen.

AISHA: Hey bb <3 going w a guy! Text me when you get back and how your…

When you stared up from your phone, Martin was staring at you, concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, my friend just went home—with some douchebag, I’m sure. I should leave too.”

“Do you need someone to walk you back home or at least out of the building?” Martin asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I can manage; I’m a big girl, after all.” That elicited a nervous but gentle chuckle from both of you. You gave him a small wave of goodbye before you set to leave, but you were disrupted by his voice again.

“Hey, um—Y/N?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you responded.

“He’s sorry,” he said.

“What?” You turned around, confused.

“He’s sorry,” he repeated.

“All he ever tells me about you is that he’s sorry,” Martin explained.

You weren’t exactly sure what to do with that information, but it felt like there was a lump in your throat, and as long as you were in this—no, his—apartment, you would suffocate in your own misery. All you could do was nod before leaving the kitchen.

As you left, you passed through the crowded living room. Sometime during your being in the kitchen, the living room had become somewhat of a small-scale mosh pit. You bumped into multiple bodies on your way out; it didn’t really bother you—you just wanted out—until you bumped into him. His brown eyes locked with yours.

And in the following moments, you realised two fundamentally devastating truths at once.

You were still in love with him, and seeing his face this close might make you fall in love all over again. And secondly, he hated you with every fibre of his being. You saw this in the way his eyes crinkled with disgust, the way in which his smile faltered ever so slightly, and in the way he distanced himself. The last part you weren’t actually sure of; the girl he was with earlier seemed to have taken him away. In that case, he wasn’t protesting, and either way, he didn’t seem to want to get any closer to you.

As he disappeared as quickly as he bumped into you, you took that as your final cue to leave.

You made it to the street and hailed a taxi. It smelled rich and perfumed with the faint hint of food. Part of you thought of what you were going to eat when you got home; another part of you ruminate over the girl’s legs, how Hamzah was so enamoured with them. How thin they were. You decided to get to bed hungry—it’s not like you were that hungry, right?

You opened iMessages and shot a text to Aisha.

YOU: Text me in the morning; also, next time maybe don’t invite me to my ex’s place for a party, then leave me at said party.

You frowned. Too hostile. You added a couple heart emoticons at the end before shutting your phone and dropping it into your brown leather bag and as much as you wanted to let your head rest against the window and let the vibrations of the car lull you into a light sleep - you were disturbed by a text.

HAMAZAH (Blocked Contact): We need to talk.

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･

Sincerely, Mackie

[victoria-grimesss]

locked on target

masterlist

->Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

->Words: 4.7k

->Warning: MDNI! unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, mask stays partially on, dirty talk.

->Summary: Working alongside the 141 for a year now, you’ve grown closer to the infamous ghost. Confiding in Soap about your crush, confession is the only way to rid yourself of the gnawing infatuation. 

->A/N: Despite all my writing being about König, ghost is my all time favorite baby girl, writing for him always intimidated me but I’ll give it my best shot, hope he’s not too OOC.

It’s been a full year on the 141 and you couldn't be happier, well not happy at the moment since you’re ankle deep in sludge. This mission is going as well as any other despite the evac being miles away through humid weather and wet ground. 

“Good thing I packed extra socks.” You muttered, readjusting your gun and pack and unsticking your boot from a deep pocket of mud.

“Oh come on lass it could be worse right? We could be treading through anaconda infested waters huh? Lighten up.” Soap is next to you. He's having an easier time removing his boots from the muck. 

Price is in the front with Gaz next to him talking about the evac and rations, you admire their relationship. Price has slowly morphed into some kind of a father figure to you as you assume he did for Gaz too or at least a mentor. Gaz and Soap are like brothers to you, you bicker like such. You pick on Soap when he gets too drunk to form correct sentences and starts singing songs from his childhood, and you get Gaz too when he laughs so hard you have to remind him to breathe. Like a dynamic triangle the three of you.

Then there’s Ghost.

He stands at the back of the group behind you and Soap, no evident trouble for him when it comes to the mud. He’s sturdy and observant, keeping a close eye on the treeline and behind the group. He's a great soldier and you admire his skills… and him. Ever since you met him you’ve had your eyes trained. 

I mean who wouldn’t.

From his expressive eyes which sometimes you feel look through you, to his broad shoulders where he holds the world on top of them, his strong arms that deal with enemies swifty, to…his… lower extremities that you certainly have only thought of once or twice. Maybe more. 

You should be ashamed of your feelings, and you lock them down deep the only time they have slipped past your lips is when too much alcohol loosens them. 

—

You confessed one night to soap, the rest were asleep and your insomnia was kicking your ass so you went to the parking lot where soap was nursing a bottle on the hood of his car, and you sat down and shared it.

“Something on your mind bonnie?” He hands the bottle to you, concern brewing in him.

“I don’t know, it’s just, Ghost.”

He laughs.

“Yea, I know about him, but what about him?” 

You take a couple large gulps of the amber liquid, it burns its way down and soothes your aching wanting heart, burying the hopeless romantic in you. Tears brew in your eyes and you always forget you either become a laughing drunk or a sappy drunk, seems the latter had won tonight.

“Aye- lass, what's wrong.” His hand is placed on your shoulder offering a comforting touch.

You sob and laugh at the same time, looking up at Soap.

“I think I’m in love with him.” You say quietly through a stream of tears that make their way into your mouth, making a weird cocktail of salty liquor.

“Oh bonnie…” Soap rubs your back, his voice is soft.

“I just, everything about him Johnny! I can’t get him out of my head, and he probably doesn't even look at me that way, he could get any girl he wanted!” You sob.

“Woah there calm down, gonna throw yourself into a spell talking like this. Look. LT cares about ya, truly. He thinks you’re a valued member of the team and I’ve caught him starin’ a few times so don’t be daft now ya hear. You’re a pretty girl and LT would be lucky to have ya.”

You sniff, wiping the tears and snot with a sleeve.

“Really? You think so?”

“Cross my heart and hope ta die. You’ll be alright.”

—

“It’s in my shoes.” You deadpan.

You hear Gaz laugh and Price looks back, checking on the team.

“Don’t worry Y/N, just imagine it’s a mud bath! Your skin will be smooth and shiny before you know it!” Soap laughs at Gaz’s antics, it’s nice when you can all joke around and relax. The hard part is over and now it’s simple evac.

“Right… how soothing.” Your eyes roll and you look back to check on Ghost, your eyes meet and a flash of electric lightning shoots to your heart, it feels good. 

He gives a quick nod and you return to your trudging. You wait till after the mission to pass any other signals, he’s too focused to register any flirting right now. Or that's the advice Soap gave you after that night.

“Right. Keep close by, chopper is land down in 5, need to evac quickly to avoid any unwanted looks.” Price alerts to the rest of the team once you’ve covered ground and are nearing sweet release. Your back and knees ache just at the thought of sitting. You nurse the last of your water and keep walking, you tip your bottle back along with your head to get the remaining drops and you trip over a protruding root.

Other foot trying to catch yourself a hand catches on your upper arm, righting you up.

“Alright there?” Ghost’s dark eyes are steady on you, maybe a bit amused, or maybe his eye paint is creasing.

“Yea, sorry just tryna finish off the bottle, didn't see that there.”

“Careful next time yea?” He releases your arm and waits for you to start walking again to pick up behind you.

“Yea, for sure LT.”

You feel his hand on your arm even after he released you and you want to untie the knot that Ghost has tied there and you know you’re royally fucked.

You’re all on the chopper and your legs just about give out, you always love the euphoric feeling of sitting down after a mission like this, the lactic acid in your muscles making them burn like no other. You sit across from Ghost and he visibly relaxes once the chopped takes off, the breeze from the open doors cooling everyone immensely.

“Good work everyone, I know evac was shit but you all hustled and we got the intel we needed. I think we all deserve a good ol drink when we get back right?” 

Price brings a smile to everyone's face, as tired as the lot of us are. You glance over at Ghost and his eyes look away from you, looking over his gear.

Your heart pains for some kind of acknowledgment that he feels the same, it’s like trying to hold the same fistful of sand no matter how hard you try it seeps through your fingers, you want him so badly you’d tape your fist shut if that meant keeping the sand in.

—

Back to base, ‘same day different shit’ you heard Ghost say one time. You often hold on to everything he says, hoarding each little piece he feeds you and storing it away somewhere special. Like you’re hoarding food for the winter, as if the winter is him falling in love with a woman that isn't you, when that happens you’ll open your little box of his sayings and advice and eat them slowly, savor them until all that’s left to drink is the tears you drown yourself in as consolation. 

A pity party is what you throw yourself that night, showering and getting a once over by the medic then making your way back to your room, Price wants to get everyone together tomorrow night for a drink, wouldn't hurt you think. You sit on the edge of your bed, the silence is deafening after a mission, tinnitus ringing your ears. The bed is cold, you want someone to warm it, you want Ghost to warm it.

The nightmares come to you quickly that night, visions of your team, your friends being ripped apart by bullets as you try to fire back into mist. You hold Ghost’s hand as he fades and you wake up coated in cold sweat and adrenaline.

3:18 a.m.

You toss and turn for a minute before huffing and leaving the bed, you need air. Adorned in sweatpants and a shirt you got on recruitment day you leave your room the sound of your door is loud and you wince as it closes. You go to the parking lot once more, maybe there will be more stars out tonight. 

The air is crisp and cool, you round the corner of the building where a bench sits, a lone figure is sitting and smoking there, you can tell it’s him by his silhouette. He’s broad and his legs spread wide as he sits alone.

“This seat taken?” You ask, scared if you talk too loud he’ll leave.

“All yours” No inflection is evident in his tone.

Silence sits between you two and you take a harsh breath to break it. It makes you uncomfortable. 

“Trouble sleeping?” His voice is deep and low.

“The usual, nightmares again. You?” 

“Not tired, too soon after the mission to sleep.”

“I understand.” 

You watch him carefully as he brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales, you inhale with him. You imagine him inhaling your perfume as his lips touch your neck. You stare, unabashedly, like you’re not scared if he catches you.

He adjusts where he sits, hips rolling to get more comfortable.

“Bloody bench feels like it’s made of spikes.” He mutters, quietly.

You breathe out a laugh as he exhales the smoke.

His eyes look to the side at you and then forward again.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you want something from me.”

“What if I do?” 

Your heart is racing now, faster than it had on any given mission.

He stands, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his boot, he slips his mask down again and his eyes are locked on you.

“I’d say you’d better fuckin’ find it elsewhere, we both know I can’t give you what you want.”

“What do I want Simon?” 

His lips grow sealed when you say his name.

“Things I’m incapable of providing, best leave it at that. Night sergeant.”

His tone meant business, you know better than to chase after him. You sit on the bench, staring at the cigarette on the ground. It’s beaten and crushed like you feel right now.

You wonder if you can still taste his lips on it.

The walk of shame back to your room is humiliating, you pass some others that can’t sleep, nightmares aren't anything special around here and you wish you could pluck the worries from their heads.

Sleep is easy after that, maybe your body wants to make you forget the encounter with him but even so you dream of him. He’s an inescapable phantom.

—

“Aye there she is!!” Soap hollers from across the pub, it’s a quaint place, quiet enough to not be annoying but lively enough to not feel desolate.

A large corner booth is what they occupy and you wave as you make your way over, A few empty glasses scatter the table already you arrived ‘fashionably late’.

“Hey bonnie I gotta take a leak you can have my seat yea?” He nudges Ghost so he can be let out of the booth, Ghost stands towering over you. Soap shuffles over to the bathroom and Ghost  lets you slide into the booth before he follows, trapped between the wall and him. You’d rather be under him…

You greet them all and Gaz slides you a tall glass of something mind numbing, Ghost has his mask down but he’s nearly finished with his glass same with the rest of them.

“You got some catching up to do, miss fashionably late.” Gaz shoots a smile and you clink your glasses together.

Soap meanders back and pulls a chair to sit at the end of the table, you all squabble over what a better drink is and down rounds after rounds. The conversation somehow gravitates to relationships at some point and Soap is going on and on about this woman he met at the pub down the street.

“Oh she’s a real sweetheart, thinking about asking her out later this week when I get the balls to do it.”

You smile at the way Soap talks about her, you’d love to be admired like that, treasured.

“I think you should go for it Johnny! You're a nice guy, I can go in there and talk you up if you want, say you fought off ten men to save my life.”

He laughs, nearly tipping off his chair, 

“You’re a real wingman Y/N, if you can secure a date by all means.”

You smile and the air is joyous, little is heard from Ghost but you know he likes seeing the team happy, he sips his drink and observes, smiles hidden by his mask.

“Have you had any luck on the dating scene Y/N?” 

Gaz questions, eyebrows rising.

“Yea bonnie, never hear a peep out of you when we talk about lovey dovey shit.”

You shrug, taking strong sips of your drink.

“I went on a date a while back, he got me flowers, a real nice guy. Found out he was sleeping with my friend behind my back around the fourth date. Don’t really want to try anymore, end of story.”

You can feel Ghost’s eyes burning into you as you finish the sentence. His gaze is addicting and you feel sweaty locked in his stare.

“Well he’s a proper twat for messing it up with you then yea?” 

Price offers a tip of his head, sympathy in his eyes.

“Ah it’s alright, I’ll just wait for my prince charming to come sweep me off my feet.” You bat your lashes dramatically and fake a swoon, soothing the old memory with jokes. It turns the tide of the table ambiance to a lighter one.

“I need to piss.” Ghost says quickly, you scoot out of the seat and Ghost hurries off to where Johnny has gone to earlier.

“What’s up his arse?” Gaz says confused.

Price downs the last of his drink and slams it back onto the table.

“What do you all say to a game of pool?”

“I’ll watch, cheer ya’ll on.” You still nurse your drink and you start to buzz, worries slipping away like papers, but one it left, weighted down with a large paperweight.

“I’ll be right there, gonna finish this drink off.” Soap says, sloshing the leftover liquid that's in his glass.

“Very well, see you momentarily.”

Soap watched the two walk off, leaving the two of you left alone.

He turns back quickly, you get secondhand whiplash.

“Ghost has had his eyes on you the whole night please tell me you told him and he confesses his secret love for you!” Soaps eyes are huge and he’s pleading for the right answer.

“Not exactly.” He delfates.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“I told him that I kinda wanted him and he said he wouldn't be able to give me what I want.”

“That's bollocks and you know it! He’s always watching you, never seen him doing that for any other lass. Now is the time, he’s all alone. Go on and chat him up, I’ll tell the boys you’ve gone home sick alright.” 

Soap winks and leaves before you can utter another word. You even your breathing and gulp down the rest of the liquid courage before strolling over to the bathroom hallway. It does not take guys that long to pee weird he's not around.

You walk outside, feeling deja vu from last night the breeze hits the same way.

“You should go inside, it’s cold out.” Ghost is standing leaned up against the brick wall next to the door.

“I was looking for you actually.”

He stands up straighter, shoulders held further.

“Lads looking? Not really in the mood to lose another game. Last time was enough.”

You laugh, the alcohol making it easier to relax around him. You're tipsy enough to have fake confidence for the time being but sober enough to make deductions wisely.

“No Simon, I’m looking. For you.”

“And I told you to stop, you don’t know what you’re thinking. You’re a nice girl yea? Find a nice young guy that can take you on dates and buy you flowers-

“I don’t want anyone else Simon. I want you because I’m in love with you!”

It seems like the whole world went silent after you said that. You’re steaming and don’t move your eyes away from him.

“Y/N.”

“I’m tired of pretending. I just had to tell you I couldn't hold it in any longer it was making me sick. I don’t care about fancy stuff, you should know that by now. I just want to be next to you.”

He approaches you, your neck craning to maintain contact.

“Y/N, I’m proper fucked up you know that? You’re too kind, too perfect to be ruined by a man like me.”

You sniff, the cold getting to you.

“I think you’re wonderful Simon really. You look out for everyone and make sure everyone is alright before looking after yourself. Let me please show you you’re worth loving in return.”

Your heart spills to him, spewing it’s contents violently.

“I’m not joking, I'm not ‘prince charming’ like you referenced earlier.”

“Even better.” You smile.

“Fuck it.”

Before you know it, he lifted the small portion of his mask to kiss you and you erupt, wrapping your arms securely around his neck as though you’ll fall if you don’t. His hands hover over your waist and you grab them and push them down onto your body and he pulls you close. He kisses you like it’s the last time, he makes up for all the times he should have, all the time he desperately wanted to.

He’s watched from afar for so long, your laugh creates sparks in his heart, seeing you make it back from another mission safely spurs him on. He would lay down his life for you and you don’t even know it.

He pulled back, mouth in the crook of your neck.

“Your place is nearby right?” You ask, rubbing his neck and down his back.

“Yea, yea it is.”

He leads you back, back to his den where he’ll draw you in with those eyes and that voice, calloused hands exposed from his gloves that will trace over your skin. The walk is in silence but you both are buzzing, the team won’t miss you, probably happy this chasing game is over with so peace can be established once more. He takes your hand as he leads you up the steps to his apartment, you grope his arm and he shoots you a sultry side-eye.

“Have I ever told you I love your arms?”

“You did just now love.”

Love, love, love. You want him to keep saying it.

He leads you in you’re caged in by his arms on the inside of the door. He looks you over head to toe.

“You look fuckin lovely tonight you know that? All I’ve been thinking about is tearing this top off of you and stripping you down.”

You shiver and bring your hands to run carefully from his abdomen up to his chest.

“You think of ripping my clothes off frequently?”

“Very.”

Stunned by his words and your head swimming he places his hands on your waist and lowers his head to your ear.

“Now if you’d allow me, I’d like to fuck you now.”

Hypnotized you speak.

“Yes please.”

His home is lowly lit and sparsely decorated, you assume he’s not here often or for long.

The bedroom is simple, a bed, two side tables, two lamps, and a dresser. An adjacent bathroom you can’t see.

“You have a nice place.”

“Well now I know you’re lying.”

You stand at the edge of the bed and he stands before you and his hands are on you again pushing you onto the bed you are surrounded by the smell of him, the deep umber and woodsy scent. 

“You know how many times I’ve pictured you in my bed?”

He’s inching your pants down your hips agonizingly slow as he speaks.

“How many times I fucked myself picturing you instead?”

“Ghost.”

“Nah none of that here, you’re gonna say my real name from now on and you’re gonna scream it alright?”

“Fuck Simon.”

“Yea. Just. Like. That.” Your pants are off and his hands move from your ankles up to your knees and caress to your inner thighs. His fingers skate your pantyline and your eyes are locked on his hand and he doesn't stop. His hands move over your hips and grip your waist before moving right below your breasts, he checks you with his eyes and you plead silently.

He cups you fully with both hands and you roll your head savoring his feelings.

“So fucking good love fuck.”

He strips you of your shirt and bra and you’re left exposed on his bed. He stands back to stare down upon you and you feel like a spread of food sitting on a stark white table ready to be consumed and ogled. He strips himself of his leather jacket leaving his quite form fitting black tee on.

You adjust under his gaze, his mask hides any expression but his eyes say so much. Raking over your body heavily and his chest rising and falling fast as though he had run a marathon.

“Simon.”

“Yea?”

“Do something.”

“Like what?” His voice is lighter now.

“Anything Simon!”

He laughs and places a knee in between your legs, spreading them wide to accommodate his other leg and hips.

“There we go, fuck all spread out underneath me.”

His hand is placed on your breast and rolls your nipples in his fingers, it moves down never leaving your skin until he reaches your core it’s hot and wet and he collects it on his fingers and when he finally touches you it’s like you’ve reached Valhalla. 

He slips a finger inside and it faces no resistance, you form around him and he slips in another starting a smooth rhythm.

“So tight, you think you’ll be able to take me huh love?” 

He’s pumping in you and you can hear how wet he’s made you, his eyes darting from his fingers to your face, thrown into pleasure.

He brings you to your peak so quickly you’re stunned and you grip his arm as you clench around him, his name being pulled from you like a mantra.

 You regain your mind and look at him as he slips from you and his fingers make their way under his mask, his eyes on your as he licks them clean tasting you on him.

“Sweetest fucking thing I ever tasted.”

He’s unbuckling his belt next, unzips his pants and pulls himself free. He's thick as all hell and a thick vein runs down the underside. It looks heavy and you pocket an idea for next time.

You're staring for a long time and his two fingers that just did unspeakable things to you tip your chin to look at him.

“Think you can handle it?”

“I can take it, just hurry up.”

“You’re always so impatient you know that.”

He places the tip at your entrance collecting your wetness to help with the initial push.

The stretch is delicious and you grip his arm and shoulder gasping at the feeling of being full of him.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so fucking tight, squeezing me so fucking good.”

His one arm is braced at the side of your head, forearm spattered with tattoos burning your peripheral vision. The other holds himself, leading himself into you.

He’s seated fully inside and you feel split down the middle in the best way. Burning fire deep within you and you moan for him to move, creating the friction you need.

He starts moving and you both moan, he tips his head forward to watch where he enters you repeatedly.

“So good, fuck so big Simon.”

“You take it so well, love.”

His hand that once gripped himself holds your hip and moves himself like the ocean, fluid and rhythmic.

“Always dreamt about fucking you, you spread out of my bed while I fuck my cock deep into you.”

You throw your head back and he leans back, the warm air that was between you two leaving for the cold air of the room bringing your nipples to hard peaks which his eyes gravitate to.

“Alright c’mon love.”

He takes your ankles and your legs are on his shoulders. He thrusts that much deeper and hits the right spot to make you see spots.

“You like that, fuck I can see how deep I’m going in you.” 

His hand finds your and puts it on your lower stomach and pushes down so you can feel the way he thrusts within you and how deep he reaches, you clench around him.

“Yea you like that.” He's cocky like this, dominant and all controlling. You’re putty in his hand.

“Simon I’m close don't stop please, fuck please.”

He lifts his mask up over his lips and kisses your ankle, biting your calf when he growls and that's all you need to be pushed over the edge.

“Fuck, yea cum on my cock good fucking girl.”

He fucks you through it and leans down to be face to face again. Your legs draped over his shoulders and he hits the right spot with each thrust now, he’s battering you into the mattress and his growling with each thrust muttering about how good you feel and how nicely you wrap about him.

You claw at his chest through his shirt sobbing and babbling and moaning.

“Can’t even form a proper sentence, so drunk on my cock yea? You gonna be a good girl and cum again for me?”

The graphic noises from where the two of you are joining echos through the room and you hope his neighbors aren't home.

“Yes, yes Simon please please please.”

The bed is an orchestra of noises and he shoots a hand up to the headboard, his knuckles gone white from gripping it so hard. Your abdomen is tight, so tight and your so fucking close you just want to cum at the same time as him.

“Fuck fuck fuck, so tight and wet where do you want me to cum, fucking tell me.”

“Inside me, inside me it’s safe.”

Not a beat after that leaves your mouth he’s seating himself so deep within you, you feel him throbbing deep within you and your vision goes blurry, ears gone fuzzy as you both are thrown into the abyss at the same time. 

You hear a crack from above you but you pay no mind as your neck deep in pure white hot bliss.

“Fuckin hell love, really. Fuck.” He's panting, you’re panting.

You stroke his chest lovingly as he kisses your ankle as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. He lowers his mask once more.

You glace up to where his hand still grips the headboard and a deep crack is ingrained in the wood.

You laugh.

“Jesus Simon, you fucked me so hard you broke your bed.” 

He removes his hand observing the wood and shrugging.

“Well worth it I’d say, I’ll invest in a sturdier one.”

“Are you saying you’ll invite me to your place more often?”

“Your place works too.”

You both banter as you both clean up, you shower and he washes the sheets and hangs around the kitchen, letting you some time to refresh.

You come out of the bathroom smelling like him, drowned in one of his shirts and he's leaned up against his kitchen island gazing blindly at the random rugby channel he turned on.

He slides you a beer and you take it gratefully, bumping your glasses together.

“I mean it Y/N, I’m not the kind of man you might be thinking.”

“No Simon, you’re exactly the man I’m looking for, you’re stuck with me now.”

There's a beat of silence before Simon speaks up again.

“I should probably thank Johnny for tonight right?”

“Yea, he pretty much told me to quit my bitching and confront you.”

He sips his beer, 

“Well, for once I can say thank fuck for Soap and his matchmaking skills.”

You laugh and stare at him in adoration, this is the start of something wonderful.

---

Tag list: @theredviolets

[6ronze]

if u take requests, thought u would write it perfectly- the scene of casey getting the call but its with baji and reader !!

૮ ོ ❤︎ ོ𑁬 ────𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄!BAJI KEISUKE where someone calls you late at night, pulling you in with dangerous flirting. warning(s) -> fem!reader. heavily suggestive. mdni. near on phone-fucking, mean/sassy!baji, stalking, pet names (princess, darling, baby), no killing threats/mentions, voice kink, i played around w it a bit, hope you don’t mind!! wc is 1.2k

author’s comment : HIII!! i was actually thinking bout closing requests for kinktober but THIS got me going. WHDJSJ IM FLATTERED u think i would write this well, hope I did it justice!! + update ab my brahms!baji fic, should take at least another day or two for me to finally finish!

It was late at night, and you were alone, parents out for a business trip for a few days. Like any other young adult would, you took the chance to enjoy the days you had alone with your friends and most importantly, alone.

You laid on your bed, tummy down, legs thrown up and swinging slowly as you gossiped and giggled with your best friend through the phone, fingers idly twirling strands of your hair.

“Sorry, I gotta go. I’m starving,” you sighed with a playful chuckle, pulling the phone away from your ear to hang up the call. You shifted on the bed and slid off the edge of it, getting up to leave the bedroom and sprint down the stairs with a soft hum, happily making your way over to the kitchen.

The kitchen was bright, unlike your backyard. The lights had gone out recently due to some problems with the wires. Dad should’ve done something ‘bout the damn lights before leaving, you thought, walking around the kitchen counter to check the fridge to search for whatever snack that interested you.

Finding nothing much, you grabbed one of the lollipops on the top shelf of the fridge’s door, closing it shut right after. You unwrapped it with ease, popping the sweet into your mouth and walking over to the sliding door that showed your backyard, tugging on the sheer curtains to make you feel less naked.

You backed away from the glass doors with a few steps, eyes lingering on the eerie garden outside as if waiting for something to move or pop up. Despite yourself, you brushed off the paranoia, turning around to exit the kitchen.

But without even being a distance away from the sliding doors, your landline phone rang.

“Who the fuck?” you muttered beneath your breath instinctively, approaching the phone and grabbing it from its base. Without hesitation, you answered it, annoyed at the ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this ___?”

The gravelly male voice you heard from the other side of made you tense, feet rooted at the spot you were in.

“Yeah? What’s it to you?”

Though your retort sounded brave, your brows were already furrowed, fingers gripping on the phone flinching once or twice.

“Woah, no need to get rough on me there, bad girl. Just wanna know who I’m talking to is all,” he scoffed, attempting to make the situation seem harmless.

“Then give me yours,” you insisted, your tone brooking no argument now that you’re feeling as if you’re being pranked by some bored college fuck that had nothing better to do.

“Not happening, princess,” the deep voice scoffed humourlessly, the breathy laugh he exhaled in the end making your heart race involuntary. How the fuck were you finding his voice alone hot?

“Bye then,” you retorted without missing a beat, withdrawing the phone from your ear quickly, finger ready to end the call.

“Wait.”

And you halted.

“What?” You sighed, looking at the phone quizically before bringing it back up to your ear.

“I’ll tell you my name. Only if you tell what’s your favourite scary movie.”

“Very funny. I’m not that desperate to know your name, big guy,” your hand reached up to twirl a finger then two around stray strands of your hair, eyes fixated on the marble kitchen counter as you waited for a response.

“Yeah? Then why you still on the phone with me, princess?” He drawled, the pet name coming off so sickeningly taunting it made your brows scrunch up.

“Shut up, I’m no ‘princess’ to you, mister,” you refuted, feet tapping on the floor, clearly getting agitated at him.

“Answer the question, princess,” he spoke again, ignoring the clear disapproval you had of him calling you that pet name.

“Halloween. That guy with a white mask, walks around and stalks baby sitters,” you finally answered, rolling your eyes at him even though he couldn’t see it. “What’s yours?” you returned the question, stupidly.

“Guess.”

“Hmm.. creepy guy like you would probably like Nightmare On Elm Street,” you answered, fingers curling around your hair still like a girl talking to a blind date behind curtains.

“Ah, is that the one with a guy that had knives for fingers?”

“Yeah, Freddy Kruger,” you pin-pointed, looking around the kitchen with a small smile, finding it pretty fun talking about scary movies all of the sudden, the topic something you rarely discussed about with others.

“I liked that movie. It was scary,” he emphasised, as if trying to scare off a child. Plus, were you crazy, or did he seemed like he was enjoying the conversation as much as you were?

“Well, the first one was, but the rest sucked,” you countered, lips curling downwards in a slight frown as you recalled the rest of the Nightmare On Elm Street movies, the memories not so fond.

“So.. you got a boyfriend?” That question alone caught you off guard, fingers twirling your hair freezing for a moment before you dropped your hand.

“Hm, why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” The way you said that sounded way more interested than you would have liked, but you were more focused on his reply than that at the moment. Were you seriously gonna give this creepy guy hope that he had a chance with you? C’mon, where the hell are your standards?

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?” He asked again, sounding just as intrigued as you were. It made you keep going.

“No,” you uttered, tilting your head to the side before you walked around the kitchen, stepping close to the sliding door that led to your backyard. You added on, “You haven’t told me your name.”

“How about I tell you something way more interesting than my name, princess,” he answered, clearly avoiding the question.

“How about I tell you about the gorgeous girl I’m looking at right now, standing behind sheer white curtains in her kitchen.”

You swore you were about to drop the phone right that moment, a shuddered breath leaving your lips and reaching his eager ears.

“That was a pretty sound you made there, darlin’. I wanna hear it again. Wanna hear you breathless, out of fear—and maybe pleasure.”

Your lips clamped shut, swallowing the saliva in your mouth. You couldn’t budge. The fear you felt initially came back ten fold this time. He was practically telling you he was watching you. Somewhere, somehow, you didn’t know. But now you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed along with the fear. His eyes were on you all along.

Could he have seen it? You twirling your hair and grinning during your little back and forths. Fuck, did he witness the way you bit your lip grudgingly when he kept on calling you ‘princess’ with that voice of his even after you told him not to?

Then you recalled his words again.

‘Maybe pleasure’?

“What do you mean?” you kept on talking to him, like the insistent brat you were. “What do you mean with the last part?”

“I didn’t ask if you had a boyfriend for nothing, baby.”

Your lashes fluttered, turning your back against the glass door and leaning against it, your teeth nibbling on the soft flesh of your lower lip.

“You’re weird,” you mumbled.

“You’re even weirder for flirting with a serial killer,” he grinned behind the phone, gaze utterly fixated on you as you contemplated your choices, pleased by the response your body had to his words.

[rapturously]

can i please request paul from lost boys and stockings, this has been ingrained in my mind, anything else is up to you

➾ pairing ; paul (the lost boys) x fem!reader.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 3.7K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), paul wears a choker in this fic, groping, making out, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cumplay, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), face-sitting, stocking/hosiery kink, scent kink, marking, biting, hair-pulling, paul is a boob guy for sure, dirty talk, fingering (f!receiving), tiddy sucking, body worship

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this request was ridiculously sexy and changed the trajectory of my life ngl :’) so thank you for this because I had a ton of fun writing it !!! as always, thank you all so much for your love and support! I’m still trucking on with requests!

Vibrant strands of ribbon held a sizable black box together as it sat directly in front of you, poised along the edge of your makeshift vanity. It was intended to be a surprise — if you could even call it that.

Paul made some offhand comment about wanting to see you in something sultry, dolled up in lace and frilly garters — you wanted to fulfill that for him. You couldn’t tell if it was serious or simply a colorful joke intended to make you flustered.

Out of sheer impulse and the desire to shock Paul, you’d bought lingerie at a shoddy boutique down at the boardwalk, complete with sheer, black stockings. You wondered if he’d care about it when he saw you — it was going to come off, anyway. What was the use?

Candlelight danced across the cavernous alcove of your nest, casting flickering shadows across the tapestry-covered walls. The box seemed to call to you like a siren’s song, tempting you — you hadn’t even tried it on yet, either.

A gilded mirror sat soundly amongst your belongings, as if coaxing you closer. Curiosity and the desire to see how you looked in such risqué garments got the better of you, prompting you to push yourself up from your mattress.

You had time — Paul was out hunting, and you could do a little twirl in the mirror and take it off.

You clamored toward your vanity, hastily plucking the box from its perch as you unraveled the spool of ribbon that held it all together. It fluttered toward the foot of your bed, preparing to be long forgotten as you unveiled the sheet lace and black fabric.

Satin and lace glided between your fingers as you caressed the material, holding up the set toward the glower of orange light. You promptly undressed, not that there was much to begin with aside from an oversized shirt. It smelled of stale hairspray — Paul, no doubt.

It felt strange, putting on a getup that you never envisioned yourself in to begin with. Admittedly, your confidence had blossomed since being with Paul — he was unapologetically himself, and that had some effect on you, too.

Once you shed your shirt and undergarments, you reached for the lingerie, tugging it on with a bit of brute force. It was tight — unnaturally snug, but you assumed that it was intentional. You sat down on the edge of your bed, tugging the stockings on until they perched around the middle of your thighs.

Your reflection was nothing short of stunning — a goddess incarnate. You stepped closer, twisting and turning every which way, occasionally plucking at the placement of the fabric. Some of it felt itchy and uncomfortable, as if it’d strangle you.

Smoothing your hands across your stocking-clad legs, you continued to twirl, catching glimpses of yourself in the glittering glass. You contemplated keeping it on, maybe throwing a robe over it, but it seemed a little too tacky for your taste.

“Woah,” You nearly jumped out of your own flesh at the sound of Paul’s voice. You couldn’t see his reflection — he ceased to exist in the mirror, standing at the entrance to your nest with a dumbfounded expression. “What’s all that you got on, babe?”

Heat crawled over your flesh, causing you to burn with embarrassment. You bit at your lower lip, deliberately swiveling around until you faced him. “It’s nothing.” You mumbled, reaching for the corner of your blanket in an attempt to cover yourself up.

Paul was swift, as fast as a bolt of lightning as he flicked the blanket aside, circling around you like a wolf would a lamb. He let out a whistle of approval, clearly reveling in the sight of you. “Nothing? C’mon, you’re not serious, are you? You look gorgeous.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” You confessed, twisting your hands together as you rocked up and down upon the balls of your feet. “I know you said something about wanting to see me in lingerie. I wasn’t sure how you’d like it.” With a soft exhale, you felt his hand brush against your waist.

His mouth curled into a lopsided grin, eyes bright with obsession and adoration. There was something mildly crazed about his expression, but he was beyond thrilled with the visual feast he was being treated to. “How I’d like it?” Paul inquired, seemingly bewildered.

There was a sudden softness to his tone, as if he cared little for what he thought. To Paul, you were nothing short of delectably gorgeous — it didn’t matter what you wore.

You nodded, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “I suppose so. I mean, it’s just lingerie. I figured you’d rip all of it off anyway.” You mused, watching with intrigue as his countenance contorted into a look of shock.

“Might rip some of it,” Paul smirked, digits hooking themselves into the front of your panties. “But these?” He gestured toward your stockings, which rose up to the middle of your thighs. “These are gonna stay on.”

With a sense of finality, Paul grabbed your hips, sitting down on the bed with you planted firmly in his lap. He ran his hands over the sheer material covering your thighs, feeling his cock twitch inside of his jeans. You were elated, draping your arms around the back of his neck.

Your fingers dove into his stiff, coarse mane of blonde tresses, raking through until you’d grabbed at the roots. Paul kissed you hard, open-mouthed and deliciously sloppy as he grabbed at the swell of your ass. Your breasts looked perfect in that brassiere, but he preferred to see them unclad.

“Shit, baby, you smell so good,” Paul groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck, littering every inch of flesh with sloppy kisses and bites. “You look so fuckin’ hot like this.” He murmured, and that made you shiver in delight, attempting to press your thighs together.

A swirling, molten heat sank into the pit of your stomach, causing your back to arch into his embrace. Your mouth clamored for his, your lips colliding with one another’s as he groped at your thighs. Paul thoroughly enjoyed the way you looked in stockings — mesmerizing, really.

The gesture was thoughtful — as much as Paul found some sentiment in it, he cared more for fucking you within an inch of your life in those stupid stockings. His mind veered off with lascivious thoughts, all of them purely unholy as he swept his tongue across your lower lip.

Those wandering hands of his immediately reached for the clasps of your brassiere, but instead of trying to properly remove it, he simply tore it apart. You gasped, watching as he discarded the material somewhere on the ground, absentmindedly licking at his lips.

“Paul,” You huffed, able to feel his erection grinding into your core. Goosebumps coalesced along your spine as his hand danced from your back to your hips, digits skirting underneath the waistband of your panties. A soft moan escaped you when he made contact with your aching cunt. “Please.”

A thin sheen of slick coated his eager digits, and Paul wasted no time in touching you. He was grinning, appraising you with a look of passion. “Wet for me already, babe?” He crooned, pressing his mouth against the column of your throat.

Your head bobbed up and down in a lackadaisical nod, lips agape as a simpering moan escaped you. “Feels so good,” Without missing a beat, his thumb grinded into your clit, dragging around the bundle of nerves in agonizingly-slow circles. “I need you so bad.”

“Yeah?” His voice emerged as a tantalizing purr, tongue sweeping across your jaw. Your flesh tasted velveteen, saccharine upon his tongue. There was nothing sweeter than you — his human, his mate. “Need you more.” Paul teased, nipping at your earlobe.

The ghoulish choker adorning his neck served as the perfect anchor as you hooked two fingers beneath it, dragging his mouth back to yours. The enthralled look within his eyes made your breath hitch, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing at all.

Heat and pure tension bled between the both of you, and Paul’s eyes became dilated with lust, glistening with a golden sheen. He kissed you hard, fingers burying themselves between your thighs as he pushed two digits inside of you.

A pleasured gasp escaped you as you rocked atop his hand, savoring the sensation of his fingers pumping in and out of you. The heady, honey-thick scent of your arousal was a delectable smell to him — and Paul wanted so much more.

His attention with kissing was notoriously short-lived as he kissed his way down to your chest — his favorite. Paul licked his lips as if he were preparing to have the most delicious meal, pursing his pouty mouth around one of your nipples.

A calloused palm encircled your other breast, groping and kneading into the soft, pliant flesh. He pinched and tugged at your nipple, mouth suckling at the other. His hand was gingerly rocking back and forth between your legs, pistoning in and out of your tight cunt.

“P—Paul!” A whine tore past your lips, hips jolting and surging into the rhythmic ministrations of his hand. Whatever had gotten into him, you loved it — you wanted him to destroy you. Your hands tugged on his mane of sandy-blonde tresses, head rolling backwards.

“You’ve got the prettiest tits, sweet thing,” Paul groaned against your flesh, mouth hotly returning to your chest. He sucked and nibbled until you were squirming, deciding to switch sides and shower the rest of you in attention. “Wish I could stay here forever.” He mumbled.

Another wave of heat rolled through you, your expression a concoction of pleasure and embarrassment. His compliments were delightful, but sometimes you didn’t believe them. One of your hands fell into his lap, palming at his jean-clad erection.

“Can if you want.” You uttered, feeling his lips curl into a devious grin around your breast. You kept one hand curled into a tight fist, grabbing at his hair as the other wrangled his belt off. It felt unfair that Paul was doing everything.

Paul thoroughly enjoyed listening to your thoughts whenever the two of you fucked — and he didn’t feel like he was doing everything. He wanted to, anyway. “Lookin’ so gorgeous in these,” He huffed, hand dropping to your thigh as he hooked it behind your knee. “Could you wear them all the time? Just for me?”

It was hard not to giggle at Paul’s subtle demand, though the noise quickly tapered off into a moan when his teeth grazed your nipple. His digits slowed, sluggishly rutting in and out of your cunt, thumb focused on playing with your clit. You whimpered, unable to keep from writhing atop his lap.

When he tore his mouth away from your breast, he continued his path of bites and hickeys, leaving behind a trail from your collarbone to sternum. Paul knew what he wanted, shedding his jacket as he tugged his hand away. You groaned, grabbing at his wrist in an attempt to redirect him.

“Please don’t stop,” You whined, feeling his body vibrate with soft chuckles. Paul wasn’t one to edge you like this, but he seemed to have something in-mind. You watched as he moved back on the bed, laying down all the way. “What are you doing?”

Paul grinned, wolfish as could be as he wrapped his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and pulled — the sound of fabric being torn asunder reverberated throughout the alcove. He bumped you up towards his chest, hands hooked behind your knees, digits caressing the material of your stockings.

“Lettin’ you sit,” He mused, and when you were close enough, he kissed your inner thighs. “Unless you don’t want to.” Paul’s nose wrinkled in amusement when you immediately shook your head, knowing exactly what he had intended for you.

“Please,” You bucked forward, desperate to sit on his face. “Paul, please!” You begged, shamelessly pleading with your boyfriend to let you ride his mouth. He hadn’t done something like this before — the opportunity was far too tantalizing.

Through thick lashes and a cheshire smirk, Paul deliberately moved you forward, handling you as if you weighed nothing at all. He bit and kissed at your thighs until he sat you down on his face, wasting no time in lapping at your aching cunt.

If it were up to him, he would’ve stayed here, glued to you for the rest of the night. He was notoriously sloppy and messy, tongue greedily lapping along your slit, hands caging you in behind your knees. You moaned, fingers twisting into his hair, hips rocking forward just slightly.

His cock throbbed within his jeans, feeling confined and uncomfortably snug. Paul was unabashedly passionate, lips sliding from your cunt to your clit, stubbled jaw grinding against your inner thighs. He could feel your nylon-clad knees squeeze toward his head.

Your stomach felt like mush, a pit of heat and swirling warmth as you nearly collapsed altogether. His lips pursed around your clit, suckling and teasing that sensitive clutch of nerves before he returned to lapping at your core, interchanging the two.

“Paul,” You moaned, knowing that you wouldn’t last in this state. Every fiber of your being burned with something incredible, a sense of ecstasy that made you shudder in delight. Paul urged you forward, mouth relentlessly assaulting your cunt until your legs quivered. “Paul!”

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, as if it were the only word you knew how to say. It was a chant, burned into the recesses of your mind as you rocked forward, feeling his hands relocate to the swell of your hips.

In one movement, he had you pinned down on your back, face buried between your thighs. Your legs involuntarily locked him in, threatening to suffocate him — not that he cared in the slightest. Paul’s palms clapped into the pliant flesh of your thighs, fingers slipping against your stockings.

He ate you out like a man starved, tongue raking hot embers across your aching core, hips haplessly rutting themselves against the mattress for a shred of friction. He was painfully hard, getting off on the feeling of nylon pressing into his face and the taste of your cunt.

Your back arched, hands clawing at his unruly tresses as he sucked at your clit again, a low groan stuck within the back of his throat. “M’close,” You slurred, dizzy and drunk with desire as you pushed your hips forward, feeling him drag you onto his tongue. “Fuck!”

Paul loved it when you had a mouth on you — the expletives meant that he was doing a good job. It was all the encouragement and spurring-on that he needed to help you finish, tongue dipping toward your entrance before returning to toy with your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” Paul crooned, licking his lips like a dog as he raked his nails over your leg, letting them snag on the nylon. He was enthralled by the way that you looked — naked save for those stockings of yours. “You taste so good.” He sighed, unbuckling his jeans with a sudden haste.

Between the white-hot explosion of your orgasm and Paul’s manic undressing, you composed yourself just enough to get your hands in his mesh shirt. You wanted it off, tugging at it with a sense of urgency as he stooped down to kiss you — it was hot and messy, accompanied by a barrage of tongue.

His cock was pretty, just like the rest of him.

“You really like these, don’t you?” You mumbled, hooking a leg around his hips. There was a visible spark within his eyes when you did that, chest rising and falling with a flurry of excitement.

Paul nodded, mouth tilting into a dazed, lopsided grin. “Yeah,” He confessed, shamelessly grabbing your other leg in order to hitch it up around his hips. “Fuck, you just look so good in them. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He murmured, hand falling to knead at your swollen breast.

The orange glow of candlelight bathed him in a series of softer hues, igniting his hair with a peculiar shade. You kept your legs locked around him, hands moving toward the column of his throat as he pushed his cock into you, being deliberately gentle, to start.

He looked perfect — that choker he wore around only made him prettier.

You coaxed him close for a kiss, open-mouthed and full of an unrestrained need as he began to fuck you at a steady pace. Paul could get rough and wild if he wanted to, but this time, he seemed fixated on slow and steady — that was more than enough for you.

Your nails raked across the nape of his neck, twining one fist into the roots of his coarse, stiff tresses, the other applying pressure against his neck. The groan he released into your kiss made your cunt clench around his cock, body simmering with another pleasant wave of heat.

Paul bit at your lower lip, sharp enough to withdraw a pearl of blood. He lapped at it before you could say anything, grinning like a wolf, eyes lascivious and stirring with lust as he moved forward. His pace increased into a steady rhythm, fucking you with an incendiary passion.

“Don’t stop.” You whispered, voice hoarse and strung-out with desire. Your chest blossomed with adoration, meeting his cerulean-eyed gaze as your hand trailed from his neck to his jaw. Paul appeared mesmerized and transfixed, hues glistening with a golden sheen.

With another roll of his hips, you lifted your body just slightly, colliding with him. A soft moan escaped you, heat crawling across your flesh, stomach turning to liquid. Your legs tightened around his hips, feeling his lips kiss their way down to your chest once more.

Paul shamelessly took one of your breasts into his mouth again, lips pursed around your nipple as he sucked and bit at the sensitive bud. The steady roll of his thrusts soon increased in pace, cock rutting into you as he reached every perfect spot imaginable.

You whimpered, back arching off of the wrinkled, tousled sheets and into his ministrations, eyes fluttering shut. He showered your swollen chest in constant attention, alternating between suckling and kissing as he hungrily bit at your collarbone. The crescent-shaped indents were merely extensions of his affection.

“So perfect for me, baby,” Paul mumbled against your silken flesh, fucking into you with a noticeable fervor as you squeezed his his hips again. The scratch of your nylon stockings against his skin made him shiver, bucking into you as he kissed at your tits. “Fuck, you’re all mine.” He groaned.

His noises were like music to your ears, breathy grunts and sighs, shameless praises that made your entire body tingle with bliss. You tugged on his tresses again, whimpering when he dragged his cock out nearly all the way before pounding right back into you.

Inch by perfect inch, he filled you up, littering your body in countless marks as if you were a canvas, made just for him. His hands grabbed at your thighs, kneading and groping at the pliant flesh there as he rocked forward, huffing and grunting as he picked up speed.

A dizzying sensation washed over you, ecstasy intermingled with love. He was all over you, consuming you like a fever that you couldn’t sweat out — and you didn’t want to.

Between the flurry, rushed clamor of lips, tongue, bodies, and heat, your scent was emblazoned within Paul’s mind, burned there for days to come. His senses swam with only you, something so overwhelmingly intoxicating for him. The excitable thrumming of your heart made him exhale, fucking into you again and again.

A moan tore past your parted lips, feeling Paul’s rutting slow to a crawl as he pushed into you one last time. A soft grunt escaped him as a few ropes of hot seed filled you, but he pulled out halfway through, painting your stomach and tits in a sticky sheen.

He was aiming for your chest — mostly.

You came in-tandem with him, cunt clenching around nothing at all as you dropped one leg from around his hips, regaining your composure. You caught your breath, letting out a soft huff as you watched him roll away from you.

“You should clean up your mess.” You giggled, grabbing at the corner of one of the blankets strewn across the ground. Before you could clean yourself up, Paul returned with a cloth — wherever he’d gotten it from, you had no idea. He perched himself in front of you, wiping away his cum from your body.

“M’not sorry, babe. You look pretty like that,” Paul smirked, hair a disheveled, crazed mane of flaxen-gold as he tossed the rag elsewhere. He unceremoniously fell onto the mattress in a heap. “You’re keepin’ these on — permanently.” He flicked a finger against your stockings to make his point.

An amused chuckle escaped you as you shrugged your shoulders, settling down beside him. Paul sluggishly crawled over to snuggle, resting his head atop your chest as he’d done several times before. “I don’t know, I like surprising you.” You mused.

Paul snickered, tracing idle, sweet patterns into your leg, other arm hitched around your hips. “Oh yeah? You got any other surprises?” It was an open-ended invoking of a challenge — and you had some ideas.

“A few. You’ll have to be patient.” A gasp left you when Paul playfully bit at your jaw, unable to keep his hands and his mouth off of you. The nest smelled like you — and the scent of sex. Those were his favorites.

“I don’t know about that, sweet thing,” He uttered, squeezing into your hips with a lascivious expression. “I’ve got a few surprises of my own.”