#Trivago Guy

[human-trainwreck]

can this trade deadline just hurry up and pass already

my heart can’t take this shit

[helsex-moved]

[I.D. A screenshot of Welsknight and Helsknight from the recent "Hermitcraft Fam" music video. Hels is standing behind Wels looking mischievous. END I.D.]

YEAHHHH YAHOOOOO YIPPEE YAY AYY LETS GOOOOO💥💥💥💥💥💥💥🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅

HELSKNIGHT SIGHTING IN 2023 BABEYYYY

[jiminsproof]

natalia bestie 21, 56, 89, and another of your choosing please queen <33 ~ @hopeinthebox MWAH

Hi Lizzy sweetheart, so happy to have you in my inbox!! 🫂💗 Hope you've had a lovely day and thank you for sending 🥰

21. good lil boy by ateez (A WHOLE BOP)

56. ... the black cat nero by ateez (damn I surely listen to a lot of them pirates don't I......)

89. LMAOOOO PIRATE KING BY ATEEZ 😭😭😭 I'M GOING TO PASS AWAY i swear i have other bands on my Spotify wrapped fr

I'll go with 14 and IT'S FINALLY NOT ATEEZ!! Very proud of myself. farewell, neverland by txt:

for a second I wanted to go with 13 and it would be ateez AGAIN so I'm glad I managed to defend my honour

send me a number between 1 and 100 and I'll tell you my corresponding Spotify wrapped song. ✨️

[mediapen]

well what if team ferrari are on a learned incompetence kick because they like it when carlos tells them off. unfixable

[kingsragesqueal]

these past few years have produced some amazing horror movies with even more amazing endings tbh. Hereditary? haunting. Midsommar? fuck yes. Pearl? i died. The Menu? stunning.

[the-hairdresser-from-nottinghill]

Kya aapne kabhi online hotel search kiya hai?

[ohlexa]

Lol you’re the best, anon! I’m slowly making my way through your list! Good good stuff! Thank you again!

[scholarhect]

i stride into the room. back: straight. boots: stompy. hair: short, probably, idk. military dress uniform: starched. those military patches or whatever they’re called: so many. sword: strapped on. spear: also strapped on. all eyes: on me. dicks: up when i step in the party. my lame ass boyfriend: waiting outside. i speak. “get ready here comes the most specialest boy ever if you don’t cheer and clap for him i’ll fucking blow this whole building up”

[lovifie]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick always gets draw as the most level headed, more calm and more connected with his feelings. But in my experience, these kind of people always attract those that are more broken on their head (not talking about the 141, just funny it fits.)

Like, he just attract these people that love confrontation and it is always Gaz the one that has to deescalate the situation. Or people that when they notice they are in the wrong simply give him the cold shoulder or just straight up jumps to insult him, and at the end he still needs to apologise.

So yeah, he hasn't had the best experience with relationship. Until you, of course. He is completely smitten with you, delighted by how easy going you are, how easy it is to comunicate with you. But you are still human, and the dreading moment arrives, where you and Gaz get into an argument.

It was about something silly, like how he never cleans the water that splashes when he washes the dishes. You got home from work, took off your shoes and step into the puddle wetting your socks and it sent you into an emotional breakdown.

Gaz is expecting you to just insult him, he is ready, he is going to hate to hear you insult him, but he'll manage, you are worth it. But only then, you say:

"Kyle, I'm sorry but you are getting on my last fucking nerve right now. I had an absolute shit day, and it is not your fault it was. So I'm going upstairs, I'm getting a shower and I'm going to bed before I end up paying it with you."

And Gaz looks at you astonished, so used to people with an absolute lack of emotional intelligence and simple goes:

You don't make it pass him of course, because he grabs you, cupping your face. You look at him confused and he says: "I am going to fuck you so nicely, luv."

"Kyle, no, I'm pissed." You try to explain.

"I know, you can still be pissed when we are done. C'mon, c'mon. I have never been more in love with you, luv. I swear I have been waiting for you my whole life."

And just to be clear, you sock was not the only thing that got wet that day.

1. I know I am reusing the Donald duck photo, I'm sorry for the lack of originality, but it just encapsulates the vibes of the situation so good.

2. I just want to be clear, that I mainly think Gaz gets profiled as the most level headed, calmed and overall chill guy not because he is exceptionally any of them but because everyone else is just worse. I could go onto heavy detail, AND I'LL GO INTO HEAVY DETAIL. Just not today, but one of these days, I promise. Justice for Gaz, my man almost beat up the butcher when he was tied to a chair.

TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @lunari0m

[notjustjavierpena]

Eat

A/N: Pussy? Eaten. Stomach? Butterflies. Hotel? Trivago.  Think this takes place short after Gush.

Summary: You tell Joel that you cannot come from getting eaten out, but he isn’t convinced. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni), dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, soft soft soft and patient joel, nipple play, pussy eating, dirty talk, intense orgasm, pet names , bit of praise kink and body worship

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49669783

Eat

Joel has you completely naked and pinned to his bed. It’s a Saturday afternoon, sun is pining in through the curtains and heating up the room that’s already warm from your bodies being entwined. You have yet to get out of bed despite needing a shower, perhaps some food for your growling stomach, and maybe a glass of ice water from how sweaty your body is when you are in the older man’s proximity. He makes your heart pound.

He hovers over you whilst on his knees between your legs, hands on your wrists and gaze hungry as he contemplates what he wants to do with you. Your stomach drops as he asks, “Will you lemme have it? Lemme eat your pussy, princess?”

It’s not that you don’t think this is sexy. It is just that. Though, despite how many times Joel has made you come during the summer, he actually hasn’t gone down on you yet. 

He has tried a million times though, but you have always playfully pushed his head away every time he has tried to descend on your body, distracted him with a blowjob, or made him finger your cunt instead. At this point, you still haven’t told him that the reason is that you simply don’t like it. 

“Joel,” you avoid his gaze, turn your head away, “I—“

Joel hasn’t heard hesitation from you before, only the jokes that he hasn’t taken to heart. He lets go of one of your wrists, takes hold of your chin, and guides your head back so you face him again. He furrows his brow at the uncertainty in your eyes that meet his, “What’s a’ matter?”

“Nothing,” you play dumb, avoiding his curious look once more but he snaps his fingers in front of you to regain your attention. You groan at how well it works, “Why would anything be wrong? It’s just… I don’t really like it. I can’t come from it.”

Joel narrows his eyes slightly, not convinced, “Why’d you think you can’t come from it?”

“This guy I was with,” you begin and it’s Joel’s turn to look uncertain. You want to roll your eyes; doesn’t he know that he has ruined everyone else for you by now? 

“Years ago,” you add, “He told me I took too long, so maybe I just, you know, couldn’t. I didn’t want to try again.” 

Joel doesn’t get pissed at the guy or start a rant like you expect him to do (something about that boy taking this sort of experience from you and turning it into something negative). Instead, he starts laughing to the point where he needs to rest his forehead against your shoulder to calm himself because the pout you give him just makes him laugh harder. 

“What?” You push at his head in annoyance. He cannot even hold onto your other wrist anymore. 

“Took too long. Jesus,” his laughter is interrupted by a cough. You can feel his chest vibrating against your own, “He was bullshittin’ you, baby girl. What a lazy piece of shit, and what range of stupid lil’ fuckers you’ve allowed to have what’s mine.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I hate it,” you squirm underneath him at his choice of words, reaching for his hair with your hands to pull at it gently, “Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”

“It is kinda funny,” he looks up at you through his lashes. There’s something sweet to his voice whilst his eyes darken, “Hey now. It’s just… ya said ya didn’t squirt either, and then fuckin’ wet the bed.”

You go beet red, “Joel. God.”

“I’m merely a man just tryna prove a point,” he jokes, earning a glare. Something shifts a little in the air and then he isn’t playing anymore, “Will ya lemme try? Just f’me? We can stop anytime you want.”

“I don’t know,” you sound unsure. 

“We’ll go reeeal slow,” he pushes.

“O-okay,” you say. What’s the harm in letting him try? It’s not like it is uncomfortable for you, but rather just slightly boring and awkward. 

“Okay’s not a yes, princess,” Joel crawls up to try to kiss your uncertainty away. He pecks your lips over and over again, switching not long after to pepper your face with more gentle kisses instead. They’re scattered across your cheeks, lips, nose, above your eyebrows, soft eyelids, and chin. He doesn’t let up until you giggle sweetly. 

“Yes!” You squeak and mess up his hair, “Eat some damn pussy, if it means that much to you.”

“Try to relax for me,” he instructs and pushes himself to sit up again. His eyes have darkened further, “How do you want ya legs?”

You bend your legs, planting your feet firmly on the bed and spreading yourself open enough for Joel’s broad shoulders to fit between your thighs. He doesn’t go down yet though, keeping his promise of taking things slow in case you want to stop before it gets too intense. 

His lips connect to where your neck meets your shoulder, pressing his nose firmly into you to inhale your scent. It must be nothing but sleep and sweat by now. He opens his mouth against your skin, sucks across your collarbone until he reaches your jugular notch. He dips his tongue into the dent, and licks off the sweat before murmuring, “I can feel you not relaxin’.”

“I’m sorry,” you say with a pounding heart and you mean it, curl your toes, but he shushes you immediately. 

“No, no. This ain’t on you, baby. Tell me what I can do to make ya relax,” he pulls back to look at your face. He looks so gorgeous with the sun hitting his body like this. 

“Talk to me,” you whisper without knowing why. 

“My baby wants to hear how gorgeous she is?” He asks as he goes back to putting his mouth on your throat. You tip your head back, and he hums against you, “How perfect ‘n beautiful ‘n sexy? Perhaps a little spoiled too?”

“Mhm, yes,” you rest your hand on the back of his neck when he starts to descend. His lips trail down between your breasts, and his huge palm covers one of them whilst he sucks on the other. He is eager, cheeky enough to tug your nipple into his mouth with his teeth. You moan softly.

“Fuckin’ love your tits, Jesus, look at you,” he mumbles absentmindedly to himself before going back in. He dares to suck a light purple mark onto your skin just close enough to your nipple so that you can cover it up and keep it a secret between the two of you even if going to the lake with friends and wearing your skimpy bikini.

You groan and arch your back when he switches to the other one of your tits, cupping it still whilst lapping at your nipple. He flicks his tongue across it just when you think he might pull away, causing you to let out a long drawn-out whine. 

“You fuckin’ love that, don’t ya?” He kisses the swell of your breast, tugs a little with his hand. You close your eyes, bolts of arousal shooting up your spine again when he suckles once more. 

Slowly, you find that much of the nervousness is seeping out of your body with every kiss, lick and suck of your salty skin. It may be the time to admit that Joel knows just which buttons to push to turn you into putty. It may also be the time to admit that you are starting to get excited about what is going to happen. Nervous but excited.

“You’re so soft… like damn silk,” he admires whilst he goes lower. His nose brushes along the length of your stomach, tickling a little to the point where you shiver and let out a soft sigh. He relishes in it, “Damn, baby. Listen to that sound.”

You rake your nails across his scalp when he nips at your skin. Heat is pooling in your belly and you can feel slick drip onto the sheets, running down the cleft of your ass, “Touch my pussy, Daddy.”

Joel tenses visibly at the nickname. He grips your hip, and somehow becomes a little rougher in everything he does, “Gotta wait. Maybe your disaster college boyfriend didn’t get ya worked up enough. I definitely ain’t gonna make that mistake.”

He crawls further down, kisses open-mouthed and hot right below your belly button several times. Even places the flat of his tongue against the skin there to lick long languid stripes, “Won’t start until you beg me to kiss your little twitchin’ clit.”

“But I’m so wet,” you pout, flexing the muscles in your stomach. When you try lifting your hips to find some kind of friction, he pushes you right back down into the mattress. 

“Stop,” he warns sternly. The hand on your hip runs across your belly, teases over your mound and ghosts over your clit until you cry feebly for him, “Do you want me to just touch ya between your pretty legs?” 

“I told you I don’t like the other thing,” you reply to spite him and egg him on. He smacks one of your thighs, wiggling the flesh after. 

“Liar,” he breaks eye contact to look right down at your cunt. You are sure that he can see how you clench around nothing, clit so hard that it is exposed from underneath the hood. You are so ready for him to follow through, no matter the nervousness in your body, “The anticipation wouldn’t have you this excited if yadidn’t care. You’ll fuckin’ let Daddy live between your thighs after he’s done eating.” 

“Fine,” you huff, spreading your legs further to punctuate your sentence, “Put your mouth on my pussy. Prove it.”

Joel groans at the sight of you giving in to him. He gets comfortable on the bed, legs hanging out over the edge. One arm scoops underneath you to curl around your right thigh and the other rests on top of your left. He splays his hand across your sternum, and almost automatically, you reach for it and tug at two of his fingers as if needing something to hold onto for dear life. 

“Now we talkin’,” he smirks. 

“Hold on,” you interrupt, heart almost beating out of your chest with how horny you feel. That, and the fact that what Joel is about to do to you seems to be the most intimate thing you can think of. It feels dangerous, exciting, and scary.

You put another pillow behind your back and head, so you can watch him over the top of your tits and his hand. He grumbles but waits. 

“Go,” you say with an apologetic smile, “Just wanted to see you.”

“Ain’t you adorable?” Joel gazes up at you to follow through on your wish, “Ready?”

“Just wanna come now,” you promise, “‘m just nervous. Makes me fidget.”

“Oh, I know,” he replies, breath ghosting over your pussy as he lowers himself down slowly, “Makes ya toes curl too.” 

You cannot quite believe that you have Joel Miller’s face between your legs right now, and even less so believe the hungriest smile in history that he is sporting. It is enough to make you blush, letting go of Joel’s hand and reaching up to cup your face when the anticipation becomes overwhelming. You rest your pinkies in front of your mouth, palms burning from being clasped around your cheeks but it feels like you might lose it if you let go.

The simple brush of his tongue that he chooses as a starting point has you squirming on the bed. His tongue is warm and flat against you, licking how he had done it against the sensitive skin of your stomach. 

Your stomach muscles twitch. It feels… good. Better than the first time you did it. 

“Okay?” He asks in a hum, looking up at you through his lashes with genuine eyes. You nod slowly, and he lowers again to press a soft kiss to your sensitive clit. 

And then another.

And another. 

You make a noise best described as a soft sigh. 

Then he goes lower, the kisses becoming more sloppy and wet. He stops when he reaches your quivering cunt, lets out his tongue to scoop up some of the slick that has gathered and is spilling down between your cheeks. He then licks a long stripe all the way up to your clit, and laps at it like he is eating a damn ice cream cone. 

“Mhmm, tastes so fuckin’ good, baby, like heaven,” he continues with his small licks, the hand on your chest finding your left nipple. Tugs like he knows you like. 

You moan for the first time, not sure if you have repressed the urge to do so. He takes it as a sign to keep going, stiffening his tongue to run it between your folds repeatedly and eventually settling on your clit again. He flicks the tensed-up muscle against the nub, setting up a pace that suddenly causes you to whine.

“Ohh,” you swallow thickly, part your lips and breathe heavily. A muscle in the thigh that Joel is holding flexes involuntarily, and you can feel him smirk against you when he moves back to open-mouthed kisses. 

“No, go back,” you demand, “Please.”

“Yeah?” Joel pulls back instead to tease you. He removes his hand from your thigh to suck his thumb into his mouth. He makes you tremble at the sight, but even more when he circles your clit with the pad of the finger after, “You like Daddy’s tongue on your pussy, baby?”

You hesitate for a moment.

“Say it,” he still draws lazy circles.

“Feels so good,” you admit finally with a groan, “You’re always right.”

“Know I am,” he kisses your inner thigh. The hand on your breast moves to rub soothingly up and down your belly, “‘bout time you realized.”

“I want you to keep going,” you say with a shy smile, blinking down at him, “Please, Daddy?”

His hands still on you, but then he reaches to place both hands on your inner thighs to spread you out a little further. You fall back into the pillow, and he sinks into you again, “Whatever baby wants, baby gets.”

You have never actually thought about how big his mouth is before. In fact, it is huge in comparison to everything about you. He is able to stretch his lips over every inch of your cunt, and he gladly does.

Your breath hitches before you let out a drawn-out moan. Joel eats you out enthusiastically; he licks, sucks, and even dips his tongue inside of you for a moment too. You can feel the world closing in on you, shrinking to nothing but the pressure that builds. 

“It’s—“ you want to say something that makes sense, because whatever you had done in the dim light of your college dormitory a few years prior was definitely not this, but there are no words that describe how overwhelming his slick tongue is, “It’s— oh God.”

You squeal pathetically as your cunt teeters on the edge of an orgasm. You try to press your thighs inwards to make the intensity go away, but Joel is so much stronger than you.

It hits you then. Fuck, it’s going to happen; you’re going to come with his mouth between your legs, and he is never going to let you live this down. This is not what you had planned. There is a little part of you that knows you would have relished in being right for once, but there’s a much bigger part that thanks the Gods that you aren’t going to live forever without coming like this. 

You close your eyes as you groan, but it makes Joel slow down, “Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart, look at me.”

He sucks again, and your hands fly to his hair, but it only goes on for a second, “Ya doing so well. Does it feel good, princess?”

“You’re being mean,” you whimper, tugging at the strands of hair that you have between your fingers, “Make me come.”

Joel follows through then. He buries his nose in your mound and sucks your clit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks with how much effort he puts into it. When you start thrashing on the bed, he wraps his arms around your legs and holds you tightly in place until you fall apart right below his mouth. 

You shriek as your cunt spasms. If not for Joel’s strength, you are sure that you would have accidentally kneed him in the face, because your legs lose control of themselves as if the orgasm has severed any connection to them. 

“Fuck, Daddy,” you break the swearing rule as your orgasm peaks, pushing and pulling his head away because you don’t have a clue whether you want more or less. Your back arches as Joel keeps licking through your drenched folds, you think you might have started to cry too. 

Shaking breaths echo through Joel’s bedroom as you come down. Joel has removed your hands from his head, and you have slumped into the mattress with a whimper. Nothing has ever felt more dirty. 

“Are you okay?” He asks after crawling up the bed to lay beside you. He rubs your stomach with his broad hand, and even that makes you let out a feeble sigh. 

You laugh with exhaustion, but don’t reply. 

“I do good?” He asks with a lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his hand over his soaked mouth and chin. 

You turn your head to look at him but then start giggling, pointing to your own nose, “You got a little… you know.”

He doesn’t get it when he wipes his hand over his nose the first time. You laugh harder due to the dopamine flowing through your system, and he grumbles, “Well help me then, kiddo.” 

When you beckon him closer, he moves without hesitation, and as you run your index finger down his nose to catch your own shiny arousal, you try to push down the feeling of butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

It’s a feeling that needs to go away. You can’t possibly love Joel Miller and survive.

.

.

.

TAGLIST WILL NOT CONTINUE FROM NEXT MONTH (September 1st, 2023). FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

@elissaaa @queerponcho @casa-boiardi @gracieispunk @hiddenbabynyc @hopelessromantic727 @livingdeadmaria @its-nebuleuse @milly-louise @cool-iguana @pawnshopbluess222 @joeldjarin @queenbrownie18 @scarletsloveletter @ladyburberry @swiftsgirlfriend @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sunnywithachanceofjavi @strang3lov3 @hellishjoel @littlevenicebitch69 @pedropascal-whore @alltheseperfectimperfections

[jessicas-pi]

Bo and the Blueberry AU incorrect quotes

Bo-Katan: How’s school going? Ezra: Terrible. I want to stab everybody there. Bo-Katan: Okay, just don’t get any blood on your clothes. Ezra: …you shouldn’t be condoning this.

---

Ezra: If history repeats, I'm so getting a Mythosaur.

---

Sabine: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done. Ezra: When we were kids, you convinced me eggs weren't real. Sabine: They're not. Ezra: Haha, very funny. Sabine: I'm serious. Didn't you hear? Ezra: No… what happened? Sabine: …Why would you fall for this again-

---

Din (after Ezra becomes Mand'alor): I think I mostly want to see what happens when this whole place breaks apart.

---

Sabine: You know what’s funny about Ezra? He’s my best friend, and anyone who’d hurt him is someone I’d murder, probably.

---

Bo-Katan: We'll talk about this later. Ezra: Ok, I won’t be listening.

---

Tristan: I found an old note that said Note to self: Get revenge on Ezra. Tristan: Except I couldn't remember what I was supposed to get revenge for. Tristan: But I trusted my own judgment, so I went with it. Ezra: Hmm… I don't know what you were supposed to get revenge for, either. Tristan: I can only assume you got what was coming to you. Not 100 percent sure, though. Ezra: Well, whatever I did, I guess I deserved it. Tristan: Let that possibly be a lesson to you.

---

Bo-Katan: Come on, Ursa. Nobody actually believes that Din is in love with me. Ursa, to the other Mandalorians: Raise your hand if you think that Din is helplessly in love with Bo-Katan. *Everyone raises their hand* Bo-Katan: Din, put your hand down.

---

Korkie, looking at his friends: I need to become a therapist faster.

---

Ezra: I’m not being weird. Am I being weird? Tristan: Yes, and that’s coming from me.

---

Ezra, to Sabine: You drink too much, swear too much, and your morals are highly questionable. Sabine: … Ezra: You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a best friend.

---

Ezra: Your smile? It makes my day. Sabine: Your happiness? I live for that. Korkie: A room? Get one. Tristan: Hotel? Trivago.

---

Ezra, texting Bo-Katan: *sends a voice message* Bo-Katan, texting back: I’m a little busy, is it urgent? Ezra: No, don’t worry, just listen later. *later* Bo-Katan: *presses play* Ezra's voice message: THERE’S A FIRE-

---

Sabine: Relationships should be 50/50. Ezra tries to be Mand'alor while I sit on the armrest of his throne looking intimidating.

---

Ezra: I need life advice. Korkie, sipping Space Gatorade and eating cookie dough: You came to the right person.

---

Sabine: Okay, I’m going to make sure the flower decorations have arrived. Ezra: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear. Sabine: … Sabine: You mean ring bearER, right? Ezra: … Sabine: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

---

Bo-Katan: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone. Ezra: Mine just says "Ezra no." Bo-Katan: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

---

Tristan: Why is Ezra making me do the dishes again? You haven’t washed them in a week, Sabine! Sabine: It’s because I’m Ezra’s favorite. Tristan: I hate you.

---

Korkie: I have a bad feeling about this, guys. Sabine: Oh don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Ezra: Yeah, what’s the worst that could happen? Korkie, being bailed out of jail the next morning: I hate you all.

[helsex-moved]

Favorite and least favorite things about Exhels?

I really couldn't pick one favorite thing 😭 I love their aesthetic and the backstory I have for them, of course I love their dynamic and characterization (that are all made up in my mind /lh)

Now if we're talking my exhels I don't have a least favorite thing really, but getting more meta I don't like when people characterize them as genuinely evil and violent and angry especially when those versions are also put in a relationship that's just really toxic and borderline domestic abuse like....that's not them...they are incredibly silly and goofy they are not like that at all

[whinesandwhimpers]

rodolfo parra x f!reader headcanons (sfw & nsfw)

SFW

he loves to cook!! esp for u, loves when u praise his cooking and tells him how the meal he made tastes, hes deff cocky about his cooking tho like he knows hes good but hearing u say it!!

honestly u giving him any type of compliment about anything about him not just his cooking skills is like music to his ears

he is a romantic because i said so and we know its true anyway

gives u flowers, not just on the first date

kisses ur forehead, wrist, palm, everywhere, every fucking inch of u

big on physical touch with u

actually listens to what u tell him!! and remembers!! remembers what u like, dislike, if u have been wanting something for a while he'll surprise u with it before u can get it urself

breakfast in bed providing typa guy, doesnt even have to be a special day

a perfect fucking gentlemen. boundaries? respected. hand? held. home? safely. (hotel trivago)

if a bad guy kidnaps/hurts u, he is seeing red and the bad guy is not walking outta there alive, might even torture him a lil if rudys got time?? no one hurts his girl

will absolutely teach u spanish if u dont know it, gets so happy once u start understanding whatever he says in spanish to/around u, when u respond in spanish hes beaming :)

if hes jealous of someone talking/flirting to u he'll silently watch, knowing u can handle it/trusting u, until he spots any discomfort coming from u then hes coming over, putting an arm around ur waist, making it known to this person that ur his and they have zero fucking chance with u

when he proposes, he gets Alejandro's help, makes it perfect, pulls together all your fav things, fav flowers, fav drinks, fav food - its a priv dinner, not at some fancy restaurant, because he wants it to be personal - fav ring, he either already knows what u wanted or he got Alejandro to pretend he needed ur opinions and outright asked u which one ur fav is before he reported that info back to rudy

NSFW

hes not vanilla because i said so

he'd deff be down to try whatever u wanna try, he'd make sure ur never in pain or discomfort tho

switch

soft dom, wouldnt want to see u in pain or degrade u, ur his whole fucking life, his heart, his sun and moon, he is cherishing u and worshipping the ground u walk on

"look at you, mi amor, taking me so well"

"have i told you how beautiful you look lately?" he asks, his hand on your cheek.

you giggle, smiling softly at him and leaning into his hand, "you tell me at least once a day, my love."

"hm, not nearly enough then, hermosa." he replies, leaning in to kiss you.

orgasm denial tho if ur bratty, asking "are you gonna be a good girl for me, amor?"

...or edging until ur a pathetic blubbering mess pleading with him that u will be good and to let u cum - rare tho because ur normally such a good girl for ur sweet rudy and he hates seeing u cry no matter the situation - afterwards he's taking care of u, kissing any tears off ur face, spooning u

unintentionally leaves bruises on ur hips from gripping u too tightly, he just gets carried away with how good it feels holding on and thrusting into u :(

kisses any bruises the next morning, mumbling apologies between each kiss

likes leaving hickeys on u tho and spotting them later peaking over ur shirt, or the fully obvious ones that everyone can see, loves knowing everyone knows ur taken, ur his

his fav positions are ones where he can see ur face, ur eyes, kiss ur lips, its not just fucking to him, its intimacy, its special, its love

likes cockwarming because it means he gets to be physically close with u, u cradled against him, ur arms wrapped around him - while he's working, he has a strong will so if u shift a lil on his cock he wont let it bother him, "stay still, amor, im not finished with this paperwork", but it will bother u and when u get impatient and needy and start begging in his ear he'll take a break from his work to make u cum

hes the wide eyed, pouty, pathetic, whimpering and begging type mess of a sub, he just wants u so badly :( wants to please u, wants to cum in u :(

if u haven't cum before him he'll beg u to let him help u

if hes tied up he will be pulling at those bonds trying to get free just to touch u

if u tell him "no touching" he'll try so hard to be good but then his will snaps at a particular noise u make or how u work urself on his cock and he WILL desperately beg u whining out a "por favor, i want to touch you, mi vida"

his fucking wide doe eyes looking up at u (i cant-), if ur strong enough to resist that look good 4 u

dom or sub his focus is on u and making u feel good

king of aftercare ofc, hes bringing u some water, cleaning u up, cuddling u, etc, whatever! u! need! after the first few times hes got u figured out and doesnt even need to ask anymore

[butterbabyflapjack]

Brat chapter.2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

sexual content, sexual tension, dominant ghost, power dynamics, messy feelings, voice kink, mask kink, glove kink, dom/sub, indirect daddy kink, biting, rough sex, begging, brat breaking, voyeurism, just a dash of possessive choking, forced eye contact, oral fixation, tactical gear kink

Taglist: @ahoycaptainautumn @your-highnessmarvel @wolfgalsniper @confuseddipshit @prettynalilgay @merzkihstuff @alfie2401 @emberwolfgames @willowbrookesblog @meujias @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @magicgal @verios @flrwpwr @jewelsisurmom @imjusthereforghostsmutt @circuskatt

Chapterlist: chapter.1

You’ve been acting like a brat, and Ghost has had enough of it.

“You can consider this punishment. Can consider it me spoiling your bratty behavior. But you wanted my attention, and you’ve gotten it. So tell me now if you don’t want me to bend you over this desk and fuck you until it breaks, otherwise I’m taking what I want from you, and you’ll accept everything I give like the greedy fucking whore you’re pretending so hard not to be.”

He pauses, as if for your reply, though your tongue won’t move, your heart won’t beat; all of you tangled and drunken and warm; your stomach clenching almost painfully tight as you hear his hoarsened hum.

“I need an answer, love.”

“I…” you swallow, hard. Unable to deny that your panties are steadily soaking through for him, though still you somehow manage to stammer, “I’m not a whore you asshole…!”

You hear the smirk behind his mask. “You will be for me.”

Chapter 2

Authors Note: Guys, I don’t even know what to say, this is indulgent as fuck. Like, this is maybe the horniest shit I’ve ever written.

Thankyou to languidcryptid and tawus for betaing this! I really appreciate it! <3

Also, I used one quote from Ghost in here, because when he says it in-game my horny brain goes off – and if you know which line it is I’ll give you a flashy golden star~! *

ALSO also, be aware there’s elements of dub-con in this – not a lot imo, but just a heads up!

It takes a moment for you to actually obey him. Slowly closing the door behind you; barely removing your eyes from where he stands. Hearing its deafening click, and that sound alone speeds your heart. Feeling something in the air shift the very second you’re alone with him. And for all your unyielding obstinance, you’re still forced to swallow a sudden knot forming in your throat.

Seconds pass. Seconds that seem to last lifetimes, where the two of you merely watch each other. You, shifting nervously by the door, albeit with a stubbornly jutted chin. And he, behind his desk. Tall. Broad. Cut of wood. Watching you. Dark eyes running openly across your face, your throat, down your body. Before once again his gaze catches yours.

You wish he’d say something, anything. You can’t shake the way his eyes seem to sink hungry teeth in you, though you think you must be losing your mind, because he’s never looked at you quite like that, like he is right now – no matter how much you’ve longed for it. So you must be crazy right now, seeing things, making half-baked assumptions. 

“You know why I brought you in here?” he asks at last. Voice thick.

It strikes an electrifying cord through you, his tone, the gruffness of it – vibrating down your spine and into the very tips of your fingers and toes. 

You do know. Or, at least, you’re fairly fucking certain you do.

But of course you still lie about it.

“No.”

You hear a short, bearish breath; one that might accompany a clever smile.

“Ah. So you’re playing dumb, then,” he surmises, and his amusement at this fact has you bristling, resentful to be so easily read.

“No,” you reiterate, more forcefully, “I’m not playing anything.”

“You’ve been playing lots of things,” he counters. “That you’re fine, for one. That you haven’t been thinking about me a helluva lot more than you usually might, for another.”

Heat creeps up your face despite you fighting to stop it – and even though panic seizes your heart to hear him actually say that, and to say it so knowingly, you force your jaw to set rigidly. Because there’s no way he actually knows that you’ve been thinking about him… he’s just trying to get inside your head. This must be some intimidation technique he picked up during his time with the cartel or something.

Even as you tell yourself this, it sorta sounds like bullshit – but it’s easier to grasp than any other alternative.

“Of course I’m thinking about you,” you mutter, arms folding across your chest, “you’re standing right in front of me.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. Drop the bullshit.”

There’s a steady calm about him, one that buries the storm beneath it, and it’s enough to still your tongue.

“I’ve let you get away with playing and pretending for far too long, apparently,” he says. “And with how your little act’s been falling apart recently, I think it’s time I finally stepped in.”

You don’t exactly know what he’s getting at, but it still manages to constrict your ribs. “Did you call me in here just to lecture me about shit you know nothing about?”

“I know enough,” he says. “I almost think you like making me act like your fuckin’ dad, dragging you in here for your lying ass to be spanked.”

The image of him bending you over his lap, spanking and kneading your ass, has you struggling just to blink for a few seconds before you somehow manage to shake yourself, arms folding tighter across your chest. And still a few flustered seconds more to muster up enough sarcasm to reform your defenses, willing yourself with every fiber of your being to both look and sound bored..

“So… are you going to spank me, then?” you ask dryly. “Is that it? Or can I go back to reading and the blissful ignorance it brings to your aggravating existence?”

His eyes glisten like shards of volcanic glass from behind his skull mask; penetrative, yet so difficult to read. “I wasn’t actually planning on spanking you, sweetheart – but that mouth of yours has its way of tempting me toward many things.”

The gravel in his voice has your stomach doing some sort of sticky-sweet summersault that has you swiftly changing the subject.

“Forgive my lack of foreplay,” you snap back at him, “but can you get to the fucking point?”

“I’m on point, love,” he returns, “regardless of how you keep trying to derail me.”

Slowly, he strides out from behind his desk. Dark eyes like arrows in you, piercing so deep you couldn’t hope to pluck them out even if you wanted to. And it takes everything in you not to jolt at the heavy sound of his approach. Not to run from his nearness as he carves through the distance between you. Forcing yourself to stand strong, instead, even whilst nervously eying him. Your arms faltering, unthinkingly, back down to your sides; fingernails scratching at the hemline of your jeans. Feeling very much like prey to a circling wolf, more and more hunted with each step he takes toward you.

His boots stop right before yours. Standing so close his shadow swallows yours. So close you’re forced to crane your neck even higher than you normally would just to meet his smoldering gaze.

“You’ve been acting like a spoiled brat.” 

He’s as brusque as ever. A growl threaded through his low inflection, making his words feel dangerous.

You try to swallow against the dryness of your throat. To appear completely unaffected by how his mere proximity threatens to make your heart take a running leap out the nearest window.

“If this is going into some kind of infraction report, sir,” you reply tautly, staring directly up at him, refusing to look away, “I’m not so sure spoiled brat is really the appropriate term you’ll wanna file with.”

“Don’t act like you give a damn about what’s appropriate,” he coarses, cutting your cheeky antics short. “I’ll only tell you this one more time – I’m no longer interested in playing. You’re in here right now because you’ve been lashing out like a bloody fucking brat all week, looking to get a reaction from people.” 

In his pause, you bite your lower lip harshly, only able to glower as you note the way his gaze trails heatedly over you. His voice a steady octave lower as he adds, “A reaction from me.”

If you felt like he was splintering his way inside your head before, it’s nothing compared to how you feel now. Panic freezing the soles of your shoes to the ground; eyes widening for just a fraction of a moment beneath how his own eyes slowly crease.

Eventually, after what feels like far too long, you force a scoff that lacks any of its desired weight. “You think I have an attitude problem just to get to you… ?” you wonder idly; wanting to tear your gaze from his, but finding yourself unable to. “My, that’s a cocky assumption, even for an ego as big as yours. I guess I decked Soap just to get to you, too?” 

You hear his little smirk. “No. That was just an added bonus. And I know you’re playing dumb, but you seem to be forgetting that I’m not stupid either, love.”

You’re so caught in the intensity of his gaze that you nearly jump when his large hand is suddenly on your hip, strong fingers curling into one of your belt-loops; tugging you close before you can even think to object, jerking you into him, so close your navel bumps into his groin, such is the height of him. And even with his gloves, your shirt, his jeans – the contact is electric.

“You’ve been acting like fucking brat,” his growl reiterates, “because some part of you wants to be treated like one.”   

You can’t move. Can’t respond. Heart throttling you, strangled in your throat. Your body stricken to stone as the tower of him looms over you, dark eyes dancing across your own. And when he leans down, masked face dipping low beside your own, you think you might actually suffer cardiac arrest as his voice pours thick and hot near your ear. 

“You’re overworked,” he murmurs, and even with his mask his words warm your skin, prickling you with fevered goosebumps. “High-strung for a million different reasons, I’m sure.” You feel his fingers, coiling, tangling further in your belt loop. Feel his thumb slip under your shirt, trailing the naked ridge of your hip. “And it seems it’s made you needy.”

It almost sounds like an insult, though he purrs it like it’s not. He sounds almost wolfish. Hungry.

“I’m… I’m not needy–”

“You are,” he breathes. “For attention. For release. That’s why you’ve been lashing out like a rotten little princess, right…? You want the sort of attention I can give you. You need it.” 

His fingers, curled around your belt-loop, slide instead along the front of your jeans, fingertips dipping down beneath your waistband, knuckles coarse along your skin. 

And like this he jerks your body snug against his, so close you can feel how hard he’s getting; a hard, thick ridge trapped within his jeans – and though you’d sooner die than admit it, heat floods your insides to feel him so aroused. 

So aroused just by this. By breathing in your ear. By feeling you against him, beneath him.

You feel his nose brush against your hair. Hear his thrum as he smells you, the ridges of his mask felt against your skin.

“I’ve seen you picturing this inside your head,” he says. His other hand smoothing up your side, thumb tracing the lowest curve of your breast. The fire of his touch threatening to ignite you, making all of you tense, and yet you can’t pull away, can’t even convince yourself to try. Needy, just like he says you are. “Me, taking care of you. Taking what I want from you. Teaching you how to behave.” His thumb rides up along the swell of your breast, squeezing it until you bite back a whimper, teasing your nipple into tightening for him even through all those layers of clothes that separate you. “Lie all you want to yourself,” he murmurs; the hard ridge of his erection twitching at those little sounds you fail to bite back on. “But you can’t lie to me.”

His voice is molten now. So dark, so ruggedly filthy that it clouds your every thought, slipping along your skin, pulling all of you toward him.

“You can consider this punishment. Can consider it me spoiling your bratty behavior. But you wanted my attention, and you’ve gotten it. So tell me now if you don’t want me to bend you over this desk and fuck you until it breaks, otherwise I’m taking what I want from you, and you’ll accept everything I give like the greedy fucking whore you’re pretending so hard not to be.”

He pauses, as if for your reply, though your tongue won’t move, your heart won’t beat; all of you tangled and drunken and warm; your stomach clenching almost painfully tight as you hear his hoarsened hum.

“I need an answer, love. And I need it now.”

“I…” you swallow, hard. Unable to deny that your panties are already soaked through for him, though still, through the grace of some stubborn god, you somehow manage to stammer, “I’m… I’m not a whore you asshole…!”

You hear the smirk behind his mask. “You will be for me.” He thumbs the front button of your jeans. “And that’s not an answer. So let’s try this again – and this time, I’d advise you listen. If you tell me to stop, if you tell me right now – I’ll stop. I’ll send you on your merry fuckin’ way.” His possessive hand, squeezing your breast, slides instead up your chest, up along your neck, coming to grasp your jaw, to tilt your face to his, his eyes like anchors over yours. “Say anything else – anything at all – and you’re not leaving here ‘til I’m fucking finished with you.”  

Your lips barely part. The word stuck to your tongue. Stop. You should tell him to… right? If you don’t… Dammit, you can barely think anymore! Everything’s consumed by him, every inch of you aching, fingers itching to grab hold of him, anywhere, everywhere, as instead your fingernails dig angry crescents against your palms. But even then, even tongue-tied, even trembling, you can’t look away from him. A prisoner to those dark eyes and whatever their intentions.

You should say it. That one word, like a key that would set you free.

“Fuck you,” you hoarsely whisper instead. Words firm. Eyes wavering. 

His eyes flicker over yours. Calculating. Assessing. Before all at once he’s releasing the front of your jeans, tattooed forearm slipping around your waist, lifting you effortlessly up and off the floor. 

“Ah-Ghost–!”

He ignores you, though his eyes hold a little glint that could be amusement. Carrying you in one arm as he turns toward his desk, while impatiently brushing aside everything that sits atop it with the other.

Tactical gear, electronics, folders – a cacophony of valuable military equipment goes toppling to the floor, clattering noisily, the glass of some scope even sounding to break, but he doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving you. Chaos at his feet as he sits you on the edge of the desk, his giant hands encircling your knees, smoothing up your thighs as he spreads your legs for him, as he slots himself between them. Eyes like heated coals within his skeletal mask, so hot they feel to brand you.

“Ghost…” you barely tremble. Not sounding like you’re trying to stop him. Not even knowing what you’re saying, beyond his name, beyond that hush of desperation in it.

A few, firm fingers draw up your inner thigh, and you gasp as they trace the seam between your legs.

“Choices have consequences,” he purrs.

“Ghost–!”

You hear his heated smirk as he unbuttons your jeans. As he unzips them. As he teases the elastic waistband of your underwear. “I didn’t realize I’d have you crying my name so quickly,” he murmurs roughly. “Not that I’m objecting.” When his rough middle finger finds your clit, even with your panties you still moan aloud as he strokes it, as you hear his breath hitch. “Though now it seems you’re speechless… Odd, when you had so much to say before…”

You want to say something, anything, besides his name again, especially since every time you say it you sound more and more helpless – but you can’t exactly help yourself when he slips his giant hand out from the front of your opened pants, ripping his glove off, tossing it aside as his warm, calloused fingers slip down between your legs again. Down beneath your panty’s waistband, coaxing along your folds, middle finger slipping through how embarrassingly slick you are already. 

It feels like you’ve been shocked, like you’ve been drowning until his touch made you gasp – every muscle in you seizing as you unthinkingly grab at his hulking biceps like your life depends on it, fingers twisting so tightly in his shirt it nearly hurts, winding just as tight as that coil in your stomach is, especially when you hear his voice again, so suddenly strained, his forearm between your legs flexing. His free hand taking hold of your waist in a grip that threatens to bruise, keeping your hips from moving as he strokes along your over-sensitive clit, fingers sinking, slipping up and down, teasing your aching entrance without actually dipping inside you.

“Fuuuucking hell…” 

Even with his mask, you can see the way his jaw grits. Can hear the tension in his words, pulling every muscle lining his neck taut. “This wet for me already…? Fuck…”

You can’t exactly deny it, though embarrassment bids you try, even as you feel your thighs tremble, as arousal ties your eyebrows into an agonized knot.  

“Ghost…!”

Fuck, it sounds like you’re begging. And he hums low, like a wolfish beast, like he knows this, like he loves it.

“Just the slightest little touch…” he breathes, circling the aching nub of your clit, and you whimper as your grip on his biceps tightens, “and already, you’re breaking. You really are so needy, aren’t you…”

“Y-you… just…” gods, you can scarcely string words together, “please, stop teasing me…!” you somehow manage to choke. Eyes stinging with the decided effort not to fall apart, this quickly, which you absolutely refuse to do with every fiber of your fucking being – he’s giving you enough shit as it is, and you can only imagine what he’d say, how he’d tease you, if you climaxed at barely a touch. But, fuck – fuck, you feel like you’re burning up already. Like every inch of you is fuel to him, tinder to his touch. Like even the smallest spark would set all of you ablaze. 

“But I like teasing you…”

You bite your lip so hard it nearly bleeds. “You’re a- ahh… a fucking prick…!”

He shuts you up by drawing firm, slick pressure along your clit with his thumb. Fingers sliding lower, teasing your entrance, enjoying the way your body tenses each time he does. 

“Had it with your fucking lip,” he says, his voice to rough it verges on a growl. Taking you by the throat, his thumb tilting your jaw up, his eyes catching yours. “I think we’re past the point of you pretending you don’t want this. So ask me nicely – behave – and I’ll make you cum so hard you can’t see straight.”

Your cheeks singe with flustered heat, not wanting to fold, to do as he says, to give him any sort of satisfaction in it. But as his talented thumb pulls a pinched moan from you, you can only resist for so long before you hear yourself giving in, hear yourself sounding perhaps more broken than you’ve ever sounded in your life.

“Please…”

You know he likes it; you sounding like that, you obeying. He doesn’t tell you this, but his eyes darken, his hold on your jaw growing tense. “Please what…?”

You hate him. Gods, you absolutely hate him. But your body, your traitorous mind – they no longer belong to you. They belong to him, and you both know it. You’re putty in his hands, too far gone to fight it.

You bite your lips closed as harshly and for as long as you’re able to, which pathetically isn’t very long, before you’re whining so quietly you almost can’t even hear yourself, pleading in a wavered string of breath, “Please make me cum…”

Desire smolders his gaze into something harsh, and he thrums his approval, the sound like thunder in his chest. “Good girl,” he breathes. Thumb tracing your jawline, your chin, your cheek, as he admires your pleasure-twisted expression. As he slips one thick finger inside your begging entrance; groaning as he feels your walls tighten around him in response. 

“Ohh – fuck!”

“Just relax…” His finger slips fully inside you, dragging back out again. Stroking, thrusting, as he slips in a second finger. A groan caught deep in his throat as you cry out for him, as your spine arches for more even as some part of you still resists, clinging to him so fiercely you feel your fingers might snap. 

“Gh-Ghost!”

“Stop fighting it. Stop fighting everything.” His voice is ragged as he pumps you full, thumb circling your swollen clit. “Let me in… let me take control… give me all of it, everything…” His pace quickens, his strokes more firm, pleasure squeezing your lower spine, sparking stars across your vision. Your legs falling slack for him as his hips nudge your thighs even further apart. His eyes like firebrands as he watches you crumbling. “I’ll make you feel good… I’ll take care of you…”

Not thinking, hardly even able to, driven only by need, your trembling fingers fumble toward the dark fabric of his mask; that portion which cowls his jaw and throat. And at once his body tenses, his instinct to react, the speed in which he does so uncanny – his hand on your throat snatching up both your wrists in a viperous grip, so swiftly you yelp in surprise.

His hand shackles yours. Eyes shining down at you like arrowheads. “Not happening, love,” he lowly says.

Apparently, he’s deciphered something you haven’t – whatever it was you were after in reaching for his mask. And it takes a few distorted seconds of you hazily blinking up at him before you realize what you were trying to do. That you were trying to drag it off of him. 

Hesitation scalds your face upon realizing. Your hands falling completely limp in his grasp, surrendering.

Of course he wouldn’t let you take his mask, why did you even try it?

Yet… even as you inwardly scold yourself, telling yourself you’re mad, you’re not thinking straight… now that you realize you wanted to kiss him, you can think of nothing else. 

“Please…” you whisper – not really meaning to be so quiet, but the words will barely come out. “I’ll do whatever you want…” 

Even then, it appears he hears you clearly, because you see and feel the broad line of his shoulders tighten at the offer. Though, still, he doesn’t respond.

“Anything, just… I want to kiss you…” You bite your lower lip; stomach clenching as you notice the way his eyes track your mouth's movement. “I want to taste you…”

His lashes grow heavy, gaze half-lidded as he studies you. Dark, thick honey stirring in his gaze, though in every other facet of his being he appears completely unaffected. His hold on your wrists rigid, unyielding.

“Wretched little minx,” he concludes at last. Lust edging with caution, as if you can’t be trusted, as if a kiss alone might be his end.

You purse your lips at him. “Please?”

If you thought you could weaponize your pleading to get what you wanted, you’re soon to find he’ll play just as dirty – weaponizing his touch to silence you, and quite efficiently, too. Stroking his fingers slow and deep inside you again, robbing you of everything but his annihilating friction, your all encompassing need; replacing all your words with whimpers. 

“Greedy,” he hoarsely breathes, pumping into you faster, curling his fingers with every stroke so that he drags against that spot which makes your toes curl, has you begging him for more. 

He seems distracted by all those desperate sounds you’re making, by the feel of your slick heat swallowing him up. Distracted enough not to decently shackle your wrists, even though you know he could, he easily could. But his hold still slips, and the second it does you reach to peel up his mask again, and this time he doesn’t stop you. You just barely raise it high enough to show his muscled throat, his strong jaw, that smart mouth, and the second you do his lips slam into yours, so fiercely you don’t even have a chance to look at him, to see those lips you long to taste, but you feel them, oh how you fucking feel them.; their plushness, their heat, their urgency in parting yours so his tongue can slip inside you, warm and yearning and demanding.

He tastes like honeyed whiskey; like black forest air warmed by savage wildfire. He tastes like someone you could become lost in. Could grow intoxicated on. And already, in a kiss, you’re drowning.

It’s too much, and you want more. His forceful, thrusting fingers. His slowly stroking thumb. His lips as they claim you, make you his.

Euphoric waves crash so fiercely against you that every sticky coil in your belly snaps, leaving you nowhere to go but crashing down, falling apart on his thrusting fingers as your lips fall slack; mouth agape against his as you whine and moan helplessly, pussy clinging to his fingers in desperate waves as you grab his nape, as you pull him closer, hips bucking against his palm as if to take him deeper.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips, maintaining a steady, brutal pace; his tattooed forearm a well oiled machine that never slows, deliberate in its friction. Dragging out the length of your orgasm until your lungs feel fractured, until you can scarcely even breathe, with his own breath growing heavy just at the sound of you. Both your panting mouths tracing across one another’s, lips and tongues just barely touching in the interlude of a kiss. And the very second you’re able to rake down a breath without sobbing, he cards his free hand up the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, dragging you into yet another unforgiving kiss.

His tongue ravishes you, claiming every inch of your mouth as his. And when he pulls away again, it’s only enough to grab your jaw, to speak gruffly against your lips. “We’re not done here yet. So be a good girl and bend over the desk for me. Face down.”

You whimper as his thick, wet fingers slide out of you, but you’re left with little time to object, to say anything even if you wanted to. 

He takes your hips, lifting you off the desk, your tipped toes fighting for balance. His lips trailing to the corner of your mouth, back along your jaw, then down your nape as he slowly turns you into facing away from him. His large hands smoothing around your waist, before taking both your hands in his from behind, guiding them to the edge of the desk. His waist nudging into the curves of your ass, coaxing you into bending over it. 

One giant palm smooths down your spine as he presses you down against the desk's surface. Thrums deep in his chest, enjoying the view of you like this. And though you can’t see him, not with your panting face pressed sideways against the wood, your stomach’s still caught in sticky little knots, all of you weak for him, all of you so vulnerable.

“I’ve imagined what you might look like bent over my desk like this,” he purrs, his resonance jagged. “Daydreams don’t do it justice.”

He takes the waistband of your jeans and underwear from behind; rough, impatient; tugging them down over the curve of your ass, jerking them gruffly down your thighs, the fabric scraping against your skin with his harshness as he leaves them tangled around your knees. A shiver running down the full length of your spine as cool air kisses your soaked and swollen lips, so utterly exposed – a shudder so obvious that it makes him chuckle, his amusement thick.

Your breath grows sharp as you hear the shuffled sounds of his belt unbuckling. Of his dark cargos tugged inch by inch from the firm ridges of his hips. 

“You really have been a fucking brat,” he says. “And I have no intention of going easy on you.”

You can’t fight the temptation to try and glance back at him; attempting to pick yourself up just enough to turn around and look, though he takes a firm hold of the back of your neck before you’re able to, shoving your face back down against the wood as you choke back surprise.

“Still disobeying me,” he lowly observes, fingers tightening around you until you flinch; yet even then his dominion over you has your back arching, your hips squirming, has you fighting not to whine like a needy bitch in heat. “I said face down.”

You feel heat radiating off his thighs as they brush against the naked backs of yours, his hand keeping your face down. And you actually moan when you feel the swollen head of his cock nudge your lower lips, drawing a hot, slick line along their crease.

He groans as your velvet folds envelop him, the head of his cock just barely pushing through. Your body so warm, so wet, so inviting; your needy mewls tempting him to push in more, to fuck in deeper. “I love the way you sound like this… you sound so fucking good…”

You expect him to draw this out, to torment, to tease you, but it seems he’s robbed of restraint to. 

He grabs your neck and waist roughly as his hips flex forward, both of you moaning as he sinks inside you, your walls spasming, straining around his size – and it’s a damn good you’re so wet you’re actually dripping because otherwise he might not’ve fit. His cock’s built like the rest of him – thick, hard, massive – and the way it stretches you is almost too much to take, pain and molten pleasure sinking their teeth in you. 

Your moans grow ragged against the desk as, with a final ruthless thrust, he bottoms out; your eyebrows constricted in a knot, spine arching with the strain to adjust to him.

His hand round your neck relaxes, his other smoothing up the curve of your spine. 

“You’re taking me so well,” he growls. Sliding out just a bit, only to shove his way back inside, making you bite back a haggard whine.

“You might wanna keep it down, love,” he says, thrusting hard and deep inside of you again, his groin wetly slapping your ass as you yelp in pain and pleasure. “Otherwise, everyone else locked in here with us might hear you… and after hearing you like this, they’ll likely want a taste. But you’re mine. I have no intention of sharing.” 

He slides out again, slamming back in ruthlessly, like he wants you to sing for him, and you do, you weakly mewl like you’re wordlessly begging for it. 

“Then again… there’s no way they’re not listening to this, already. Not with you sounding like that. Not with flimsy walls like these…” 

His hips take on a slow, agonizing rhythm that leaves you clinging to the edge of the desk, gasping for breath as coils pull tight in your belly, so fierce they threaten to snap. Trying to contain every sound you make, even the sound of your erratic panting, though it requires so much effort you feel it might drive you mad. 

“Should we give them a show, sweetheart…?”

Under any other circumstances, you might think he was kidding. But with the way his thrusts gradually mount in speed, hammering deeper as his fingers dig into your neck and the plushy give of your hip, bouncing your ass against his groin at a rising pace – you’re oh-so-swiftly reduced to nothing but a needy fucking mess, and you know he’s not fucking around with you.

“N-No! D-Don't!” 

Your pleas fall on deaf ears. And even with him fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked in your life, flustered heat still manages to burn up your neck and cheeks at the thought of what everyone would say to you if they heard this, heard you so pathetically unhinged like this; if they knew how Ghost had you splayed over his desk right now, making you drunk on his dick. 

But even with your begging, his pace doesn’t slow; the relentless creaking of his desk and the wet slap of skin filling up the room. And when you try to smother your own cries with a desperate palm flattened to your lips, he releases your neck to instead snatch both your wrists, wrenching them down behind you, pinning them to the small of your back as the desk rattles with his forceful thrusts.

“I think it might be a nice consolation for how you’ve been treating them all week,” he teases between heavy breaths.

“N-no, ple- ahh– Gh- don’t!” you gasp, words broken with his every thrust. “Ple-ease… don’t, don’t –!”

“You want me to stop?”

You don’t respond, you can’t; and you whine as you feel his heavy weight lean over you, your shoulders wrenched back tighter. His broad chest flush against your back back, pinning your shackled arms between you, as his other hand snakes around your stomach, guiding your hips up higher beneath him. 

“You don’t want me to stop.” 

His weight nearly crushing you, he ruts into you at a slower, deeper angle claws an elongated moan from your throat. His haggard breath drawing close behind your ear. 

“You want more. You need it.”

Even strained as your every muscle is, any semblance of composure cracking, his words still pull a shiver from you, your ragged gasps fogging the wood of the desk. 

“Tell me.”

You want to deny it. But with how delirious you are, how mind-numbingly desperate and near the point of breaking, there’s no way in hell you can.

“Y-yes,” you choke out brokenly. “I need it.”

You feel a rockslide in his chest as he groans; a noise teetering on the edges of self-control. Feel him nipping at your earlobe, lapping at the sting. His breath hitching at the end of every thrust, the momentum of his hips slipping, “You need me to break you in every way imaginable, to make you fall apart again, don’t you?”

Your climax is so close it’s almost painful; your eyebrows twisting. “Y-yes!”

He groans in your ear as his pace quickens; more forceful, hammering that aching place that makes you squeeze him. “Fuck – You make it sound so good.”

He doesn’t even have to tell you to keep going, you keep begging him anyway, you can’t help yourself.

“Please – fuck – Ghost–!” you nearly sob, “Don’t stop, please d-don’t stop, I’m so close–!”

When his tongue traces your ear, you can’t help yourself – crying out desperately, gasping out his name – knees buckling beneath you as your slick walls spasm around him, squeezing tight in wave after wave as pleasure consumes you, makes your lungs seize, makes your mind break. 

His momentum shatters; cock surging hard as iron as he sucks your earlobe between his lips, before his forehead falls heavy against the back of your neck, his length throbbing deep inside you. Groaning like an uncaged beast as he pours himself inside you with every haggard thrust, filling you so completely that by the time his assault slows, both your cum already drips down the backs of your trembling thighs.

You can scarcely breathe as your vision slowly returns. He can scarcely breathe, as he balances his weight on one forearm so as not to crush you beneath the mountain of him. And when he finally slides his cock out of you, cum trails like sticky, melted pearls from your abused hole to his swollen tip. His mouth warm, his lips soft along your nape, trailing your skin with lazy kisses, before his mask is pulled back down in place again.

“You’re a pretty mess,” he softly breathes. Releasing your aching wrists as he lifts himself off of you. Taking your hips firmly, helping you to stand, to face him, though your knees buckle the second he releases you.

His eyes widen as he takes your hips again swiftly, steadies you on your feet, before he lets out a chuckled huff. “Easy there, sweetheart." His eyes crease with what you suspect must be a small smile. "I should help you into a bath.”

Despite how nice any form of bathing sounds, and despite that you definitely can’t take a shower with your bones transformed to jelly like this, you still tense your jaw at him. The reality of your situation, of what the two of you have just done, slowly sinking its claws into you, along with all those feelings you’ve apparently been running from. 

You’re not sure you can run from them anymore, and the thought terrifies you.

This was probably just a quick fuck to him. But to you it's something different. Something much more tangled. Something that squeezes your heart into a glass-like, throbbing knot.

Fuck, what did you just get yourself into…? Why did you let this happen?

“I can get there myself,” you insist; not rudely, just… stiff. Uncertain.

Maybe he really has fucked the brattiness out of you.

As you shimmy up your pants and he buttons up his, you take a tentative step as if to brush past him, to escape this web of feelings you’ve tangled yourself in – only for your knees to wobble and give out again, with him catching your waist easily, pulling you into him.

“Alright,” he says, staring down at you. “But maybe you should wait ‘till your legs are working.”

Despite everything, you feel yourself blush at his nearness. At his teasing. At that way he’s hushly watching you.

“I can’t,” you murmur. More vulnerable than you’d like to. Your eyes passing beneath his own. “If we stay in here too long… people might suspect something.”

You can actually see his eyes crease with a slow and steady grin. “Love… I hate to break it to you… but unless you sobbing my name for the past ten minutes was because we were exorcising some sort of demon, there’s no way in fucking hell they don’t know exactly what we’ve been up to.”

chapter 3

Author Note: I might add another chapter to this next, where you’re forced into dealing with all the messy feelings you have following the famous ‘fucked on Ghost’s desk until you can’t walk straight’ incident ~ OR ~ I might write a Ghost/Soap/Reader threesome. If you have a preference lemme know! 😘~💕 thanks for reading

[mochinomnoms]

Imagine Jade liking someone who is allergic to mushrooms. Like the travesty this guy would go through.

Jade? Devastated. Heart? Broken. Hotel? Trivago.

[honey-stars12318272]

even more criminal minds incorrect quotes

Prentiss: Are you a masochist or a sadist? Gidian, deadpan: I’m a Taurus.

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Hotch: Guys it’s a shooting star, let’s make a wish! Reid: I wish for good grades. Morgan: Nerd. Reid: Nevermind, I wish upon the shooting star to fall down at a 30° velocity aiming for Morgan. :) Hotch: Reid…

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Reid: Some people are like slinkies. Morgan: What? Reid: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. Morgan: Morgan: Please don't push JJ down the stairs. Reid, pushing JJ down the stairs: Too late.

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Hotch: I can't believe you've done this….. Reid: I'm sorry I didn't know-! Hotch, on the verge of tears: YOU CAN'T JUST BUY ME A GIFT OUT OF NOWHERE NOW I FEEL LIKE A HUGE ASSHOLE!

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Prentiss, trying to comfort JJ: What's the problem? Anxiety? Low self-esteem? Obsessive thoughts of random arson? I've been there.

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at a zoo Reid: What are they in for? Hotch: Reid, this isn't prison. Reid: So they can leave? Hotch: No, but- Reid, pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

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Garcia: Okay happy campers! If you were a fruit what would you be and why? Reid: I'd be a tomato because no one accepts me as part of the group. Garcia: … Reid: … Garcia: OKAY HAPPY CAMPERS-

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Morgan: Your smile? It makes my day. Reid: Your happiness? I live for that. JJ: A room? Get one. Garcia: Hotel? Trivago.

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Prentiss: Hey, Joe said he's coming over this afternoon. Reid: Cool. Prentiss: Do you know who Joe is? Reid: JOE MAMA! JJ, not even looking up from her phone: Damn, that backfired.

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The bau is playing Chess Reid: easily beats everyone because they know how to play Morgan: doesn’t know the rules, but wins anyway Hotch: doesn’t know the rules, and loses Prentiss: knows the rules, but still loses to those who don’t JJ: Actually, you can’t do that, because I said so. Garcia: They named a board game after cheese?

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Prentiss: Do you know that we are made out of atoms? Prentiss: And atoms never touch each other. Prentiss: So in my defense, officer. I did not punch this kid.

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Morgan: WHO THE F**K ATE MY BREAD

Morgan: I SWEAR TO GOD WHEN I FIND OUT WHO DID I WILL F**KING KI-

Reid: I did

Morgan: kiss you, you haven’t been eating enough lately<3

*Morgan walks away*

Reid: He’s gone

Garcia mouth full of bread and muffled: thank you!

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Hotch: Something’s off. Prentiss: Maybe you’ve finally developed human emotions and feel bad for hurting people. Hotch: No, but that’s funny.

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Reid: Hello, my name is Failure, and you're watching my life crumble into pieces. Reid: waves their finger and sings like they're in a Disney Channel intro

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Reid: I wish I was a dinosaur. Hotch: Why? Cause they're big and scary? Reid: no because they're dead.