#big boy dabs in my body

[wizard-mp4]

I'm gonna buy some purple later. Will share photos if my adhd allows me to remember saying I will do this.

[aemondfairy]

The Albatross

summary: Originally an unlikely match, you give birth to Aegon’s first child and his entire world changes.

pairing: Aegon x Strong!Reader

word count: 767

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, brief mention of blood, guilt.

note: “Albatross” is used metaphorically as a psychological burden dealing with shame or guilt! (and shout out to Taylor Swift)

Aegon wanted to hate you. He wanted to hate your hair and your eyes. Your thick eyelashes, the freckles that dusted your cheeks, the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. Despite wanting to hate you in your entirety, he found himself physically incapable of doing so. As a young boy he refused to admit it, even going so far as to tease you for your features — but he thought you were beautiful. If anything, you could’ve resembled his mother more than a Targaryen.

It wasn’t your features that were wrong, but who you inherited them from; you and your brother’s served as living, breathing reminders of Rhaenyra’s infidelity.

Alicent Hightower had been sure to remind him and his siblings that you and your brothers were a product of their older sister's infidelity. An embarrassment to the family. An insult to the crown, to the realm. Abominations. Bastards.

Screams of pain shook the walls of the Red Keep.

“I can’t do this anymore, Aegon! Please make it stop, it hurts!” you rasped, clawing at the blood-soaked bedsheets. It had been almost 24 hours since your labors had begun. To everyone's surprise, Aegon had yet to leave your side.

“We’re almost there, my love. You’re doing a great job,” your husband encouraged as he placed a chaste kiss to your sweat-drenched forehead, which you only returned with a death glare.

“I cannot take it anymore! Just get it out! Cut it out if you have to!”

One of your handmaids tried to dab at your forehead with a cloth, but you gripped her hand forcefully.

Aegon gave her a sympathetic look as he got her out of your grasp, locking his fingers with yours.

“You know we can’t do that, my love. I will not risk losing you.”

You winced as your midwife slid a finger around the base of your opening. All day long you had been violated against your will. Childbirth was not only painful, but humiliating. For Aegon’s sake, you silently prayed the babe was a boy. You weren’t sure if you would be willing to go through this again.

“I can feel the head, your grace. Just a few more big pushes for me and the babe will be here.”

You groaned loudly, your teeth grinding together as another contraction wracked your frame. Pain radiated down your spine and into your groin. You felt like you were being ripped apart at the seams. Being eaten by Sunfyre seemed to be a more pleasant fate than this.

“You hear that? You’re almost done. You’re doing so good.”

You squeezed onto Aegon’s hand as hard as you could, pushing with all the strength in your body. The harder you pushed, the sooner it would be over. You needed it to be over. With a final push, your vision began to blur and your mind went blank.

Before you knew it, loud cries pulled you back to Earth, and coo’s from your handmaidens filled the room. You laid back with a sigh of relief.

Finally.

The handmaids quickly handed the babe to Aegon so you could get cleaned up.

“A girl,” she stated proudly, “and she looks just like you, my queen.”

“Like me?” You shot up.

“Lay back your grace, you need to relax,” she scolded you.

Throughout your pregnancy there was a fear in the back of your mind, that if the babe inherited your features that Aegon would be disappointed. Turns out, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Yes,” he chuckled, tears swelling in his eyes, “like you. She is absolutely beautiful.”

He placed the baby in your arms, smiling down at the two of you.

A wave of guilt had crashed over Aegon at the sight of his newborn daughter. As well as your initial reaction to her looks. Thinking about the torment you endured for those same features in a world full of violet eyes and snow-white hair. How could he have been so cruel to you for something so fickle?

He couldn’t help but think about Ser Harwin Strong. And the fact that he probably shared the same thoughts as him the first time he laid eyes on you as a babe. This baby was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and the thought of anyone making her believe anything else made his blood boil. He would simply not allow it. Anyone who even dare whisper a word regarding your daughters features would lose their tongue for it.

Although the responsibility of sitting the Iron Throne loomed heavy over Aegon’s head it wasn’t until this very moment that he had true reason to be motivated to rule: his new family

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader

Ao3 Link

Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans

WC: 18k

Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.

Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?

"I don't have one."

"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.

"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.

"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.

"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.

"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.

"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.

"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."

Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.

"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.

"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.

"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.

"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.

"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.

"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.

"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.

"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.

"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.

"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.

"Told you so."

You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"

"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."

"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."

It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.

"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."

"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.

"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"

"Isn't this illegal?"

"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.

"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.

"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.

Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."

"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"

"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."

"What?"

"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."

Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.

"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.

"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.

"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.

"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"

"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.

"Yeah?"

"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.

"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."

A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.

You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.

"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.

"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.

"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"

"I'm not."

"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"

"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.

"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.

"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."

"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"

"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.

The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."

He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."

"Good."

"Simon?"

The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.

"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.

"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.

Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.

"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.

"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."

You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."

"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."

You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."

"And my dad?"

"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.

You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.

You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.

"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.

"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.

The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.

Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.

You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.

Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."

You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."

You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.

"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"

"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."

Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"

"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."

"That's not true."

"I think it is."

Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.

"Of course."

You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.

Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."

"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.

"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."

You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.

You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.

The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.

"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.

"Then lets go."

You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.

When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."

"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."

"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.

You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.

It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.

Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.

It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.

You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."

You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.

Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.

You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.

The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.

It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.

That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.

No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.

The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”

“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.

“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.

“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.

“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.

The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”

The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.

“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”

“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.

“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.

“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.

“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”

The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.

“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”

“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”

“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.

You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.

That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.

“I didn’t want to lose.”

“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”

“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?

“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.

“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”

“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.

You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”

“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.

At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.

He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”

“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.

Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.

“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”

“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”

“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”

“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”

“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”

“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.

“They gave him a hard time too.”

“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?

Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.

He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.

“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”

“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.

“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”

Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.

Who are you Ghost?

”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”

You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.

“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.

“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”

”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.

“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.

”What are you? My aunt?”

”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.

”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.

”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.

You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.

Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.

He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.

Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.

You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”

You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.

”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.

”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.

”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”

”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”

”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”

”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”

”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.

Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.

It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.

He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.

You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.

You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.

You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.

You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.

Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.

When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”

”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.

”Need to know.”

”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.

”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”

”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.

”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”

”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”

”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.

”What?”

”Forget about it.”

”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”

”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs

”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.

He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.

Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.

”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.

”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”

”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”

”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”

”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“

”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”

”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.

”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.

That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.

He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.

And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.

Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.

The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.

Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.

The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.

He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.

The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.

You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.

You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”

”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.

“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms

Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.

It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.

He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.

Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.

When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.

He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.

”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.

You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.

Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.

He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.

”Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.

He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.

His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.

”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.

He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.

Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.

“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.

You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.

”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.

It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.

It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.

He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.

He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.

“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.

You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.

”I love you.”

Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”

It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.

”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.

”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.

”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”

”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.

”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.

”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.

Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.

God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.

”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.

You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon

”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.

”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.

”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.

”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.

You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.

He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”

”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”

You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”

”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.

”I love you so much Simon Riley.”

His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”

[angeliconstell]

Naughty Brahmsy - Brahms Heelshire x F!Reader

"Right now you're mine, all mine."

A/N:  This is taking place after the first movie when Greta left. I might make this one into a series. Until I get some requests in, I'll be posting some of my own stuff I've written in my downtime. If you do have requests, look at my pinned post on my profile!

Warnings: some nonconsensual grabbing and grinding, blood, tit fucking, facial.

Brahms delt with the psychical ache of wanting to have you all for himself for weeks now ever since you moved in as new nanny. Your smell, skin, everything made him so thirsty for you that he could slit that pretty throat and drink you up. But he needed you alive, alive so he could make you his. In Brahms' mind, as long you lived in the manor, you were his to fuck and breed when desired. He was pathetic for you, spending nights of palming his hard on while watching you through the walls instead of just going out and taking you.

That what was going through his mind when watching you make him a sandwich. The filthy thoughts of bending you over the counter and breeding you until Brahms was collapsing on the floor. To have you shaking and mewling as he ravaged your skin. He never had actually done these things, just thought of it. All he had was the sex doll given to him by his parents so he could fuck out his frustrations and the porno magazines he kept in a messy pile. None of that was compared to the real thing. Brahms looked down from you at the aching between his thighs. The erection that reminded him that he had all the power to make you submit. Brahms had to do something. Even if it meant getting in trouble. Before you knew it, you were shoved up against the counter from behind, Brahms' massive hands gripping the edge of the counter. His nose tucked into the nook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. Each whiff made him whimper, God he was fucking pathetic but it was cute. Brahms pressed his hips up against your ass, his arms coming tightly around your hips, grinding hard against you like the horny bastard he was.

"Brahms, what are you doing?" You gasped out when you felt his erection pressed up against the curves of your body. It was fucking big, and it was needy for a wet hole. "Please...please. Shut up. Let me-" Brahms whined harder, his cool mask pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck. You hands pushed at his arms around his waist, causing the man to growl out and start to whimper like a hurt dog. "Brahms! Quit! You're being really bad!" You shouted out before you were interrupted his Brahms slamming his palm over your mouth to keep you shut. Brahms bent you over the counter, one hand on the back of your head and the other holding you up by your hips.

It all came crashing down when Brahms felt the sharp pain of small teeth digging into the meat of his palm. He smacked your mouth, yelling out in pain as he pulled away. The perfect, bloody indents of your teeth in his palm told Brahms all he needed to know about you. That you were going to be harder than he thought. "Brahmsy! Bad!" You hated being mean to him, Brahms was a sweet boy sometimes. Brahms glared at you like you had just told the man that he was a fucking failure and that you hated him. His eyes going wide under his mask in hot anger and then into sadness. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll be good. I promise I will." Brahms held up his bleeding palm to you like he wanted you to tend to it.

He was a big ol' baby.

"Why the hell would you do that?" You took his hand on frustration, still trying to prod at it with gentle fingers. You used the hem of your apron to dab up the blood that was bubbling up in his palm. Brahms tilted his head at you, those damned puppy eyes. He always tried them whenever you weren't doing what he wanted. "I'm sorry. I just...I want to..." Brahms mumbled off, his eyes darting away quickly from you. You looked up from the crimson blood on his palm as he started to go quiet, only the deep and brooding melodies that came out of the gramophone filled the awkward silence between you two.

"You want to what?" You placed a finger on Brahms' chin, bringing his face back to you so he could look in your eyes. You felt his breath hitch in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Brahms felt so sure earlier, so confident, now he was scared that you were disappointed in him and would leave. "I wanted to touch you." Brahms finally said, hissing through his teeth slightly as you applied pressure to the wound. His words caught you of guard, mostly because Brahms saying that wasn't normal for him. He was a bit weird and said out of pocket things, but he had a filter. "You have to ask to touch." You said firmly, hoping it would get the point across. His eyes lit up as you said that, that was what he wanted to hear.

"Can I..." Brahms held his hand up, making a squeezing motion with his fingers near your breast. You had to fight rolling your eyes, of course he was going for the tits. You just nodded, taking his palm and pressing it against your breast. Brahms' eyes stared at him palming your tit like it wasn't really happening. He eventually gave a soft squeeze, his breathing coming out harder from under the mask. Just a small touch and Brahms was already huffing like an angry bull over it. He reached his other hand up, squeezing the other breast. Brahms was gentle at first, his thumbs caressing your curves, feeling the smoothness of them though your shirt. Brahms looked down at you, his masked face inching closer to yours. It was the exact replica of the once perfect doll that was shattered just months ago. Brahms pressed the lips of the mask against your's. It was sweet, almost like he was kissing you with the small tits of his head. You reached a hand up, touching the bottom of it. "May I?" You asked gently to make sure not to tip Brahms off and cause him to freak out over nothing.

Brahms nodded quickly, he was excited. He never actually kissed someone besides his momma and Greta. But both left him. You lifted Brahms' mask up ever so slightly to just see his lips. They were small, chapped, his facial hair making the pink color of them stick out. You noticed the burn scars on the small bit of skin that was showing, it didn't bother you much, but it was a reminder of what he did. Brahms didn't give you a second to think, just crashed his lips straight into your's. His hands tangled up into your hair, holding it tight in his grasp to keep you in place. The kiss was like two teenagers making out for the first time. Sloppy, needy, breathy. Between each wet smack of your lips was a small gasp of air. Brahms palmed at your breasts again, grabbing them with a new heated fervour. His tongue protruded your mouth, prodding inside your mouth to try to taste you inside and out. His hands gripped the front of your shirt before pulling the front down enough for him to see. Brahms pulled from the kiss, his lips parted and glistening with the mix of your saliva with his.

Your breasts were beautiful to him. It was definitely worth the wait to Brahms, seeing tits out of his porn magazines was so much better. He didn't think before he spoke, the words just fumbling out. "Let me fuck them. Please." You looked up at Brahms with a shocked look, not bad shock, but just shock he would even want to do that. "Please. On your knees." He begged again. Brahms pulled the rest of your shirt up, letting your tits bounce out. You got down on your knees, raising yourself up just enough for Brahms to be able to easily shove his cock between them. Brahms moaned out loud, his mouth hanging open as his trembling opened his pants and pulled his cock out quickly. It was thick, heavy enough for it to still be slumped over when rock hard, a dark patch of curly pubes around the base. Brahms struggled for a bit to get it in position to the cleavage of your breasts before he got it. He pressed your tits together, shoving his cock up between them. The swollen, pink tip stuck out the tops of your breasts, the foreskin hugging slid down his shaft with each thrust.

Brahms was already panting and whining like a dog, his strong hands gripping your tits together. You tilted your head down just low enough to take his cock head in your mouth, making him moan out louder. Brahms watched as his precum built up at the slit of his cock, the sticky fluid glazing over your breasts. He took a hand, pinching one of your nipples roughly, making you yell out in pleasure. You could feel the folds between your thighs growing wetter by the moment as he twisted and pulled at your nipple and sending electric pleasure for you.

With a loud groan, Brahms pulled away, his cum shooting out of his cock in thick ropes onto your tits and face. You felt the warm liquid dripping dripping down your lips and breasts, leaving hot streaks of Brahms' seed behind. He reached to your face, smearing his cum over your lips like it was lip gloss. "Again?" Brahms asked with a tilt of his head, making you laugh softly.

"Later, Brahmsy. You were a good boy."

[empresskylo]

ghost doesn’t realize how touch-starved he is until you are bandaging him up. inspired by this beauty and the beast scene

a/n: i am literally so horny for this man. i have never even played cod lmao. the men from the new campaign just started popping up on my tiktok feed and now here i am. so i apologize if this is ooc for ghost… like i said, i have no idea what this game is about. but i can’t get these big boys out of my head… making me go feral fr.

cw: blood

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓

Ghost laid propped against the wall as you dabbed his wound on his thigh with a cold, damp cloth. He hissed, slightly moving his leg away from your grip. “Hold still!”

You could hear him mumble swears under his breath as you continued to work. “For someone so big, you really are such a baby,” you teased lightly under your breath, the adrenaline rush making you a bit more confident with your lieutenant. “I told ya I can wait till we’re back at base,” his deep voice growled, his teeth clearly clenching as your fingers pried through the exposed tissue searching for the bullet lodged in the flesh.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’ll bleed out everywhere and I don’t want to have to clean it up. And if you pass out from the lack of blood, you really think I can carry you back?” You couldn’t see, but Ghost smiled under his mask at your sudden snarky remarks. He hadn’t seen this side of you before.

He grunted in response. Ghost’s eyes studied you, concentration flushing across your face as you worked at the opening in this thigh. You felt the pressure under his intense watch. His eyes traced up to your forehead where your hair was matted with blood. “Your head,” he muttered, his own hand pointing up by his eyebrow.

“Huh?” you asked, tearing your eyes away to look at him. You mirrored him and reached a hand up and grazed your brow then looked back at your fingers. They were red. “Oh. I… Must have hit my head.” Everything had happened so fast, you didn’t even remember getting hurt.

“You should-“ Ghost began before you interrupted.

“I’ll be fine . I need to get the bullet out of you first. So, for the last time, quit moving!”

Ghost chuckled, “Sound like me.” You rolled your eyes, hearing the irony as you repeated the same thing Ghost had said to you earlier: I’ll be fine.

Your hands were covered in Ghost’s blood as you worked to remove the tiny bullet. Ghost sat perfectly still. You glanced up at him, his face stoic under his mask as he observed, still as he could be. Apparently, he did know how to listen.

“Just pull the damn thing out,” he grunted. You finally got ahold of the metal and tore it from his thigh. You held it up in success, a slight smile on your face. 

“I was about to get it out anyways, this has nothing to do with your demands.”

“Mhm,” he mumbled as he adjusted his position.

Your fingers danced along his exposed skin as you began to apply a bandage to his open wound. Ghost could feel goosebumps rise where your fingers trailed. His body focused on the movement of your fingers, he couldn’t even feel the pain he should definitely be feeling right now.

After you finished, you rested your hands on his thigh a few inches above your work and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. “ There ,” you said with relief. Ghost’s ears pinked under his mask, your warm touch radiating through his trousers, your hands a little too high up for comfort. You, however, hadn’t noticed the intimacy of your touch.

You shifted your stance and sat facing Ghost. You held out a clean cloth, wanting him to clean the cut that sliced through your forehead. He stared at you. You rolled your eyes. Did you have to explain everything? “I can’t see,” you said, pointing to your forehead. Ghost reluctantly took one of his gloves off and grabbed the wet linen from you. You leaned closer and closed your eyes. Ghost swallowed hard. He slowly brought his hand up to the cut that ran from your hairline and right through your eyebrow. After dabbing away the blood you handed him a bandage and some bandage tape. Ghost huffed. “I’m not your bloody nurse.”

“I’m not yours either but you didn’t see me complaining,” you retorted. Ghost refrained from rolling his eyes and slipped off his other glove than took the supplies from you. He was familiar with treating injuries, at least until the person was able to get seen by a proper medical professional. So why was he suddenly acting flustered?

His hand gently rested on your forehead as he lined the bandage up. He couldn’t avoid touching your skin, his fingers being pulled towards you against his better judgment. Your skin felt like fire beneath his fingertips. Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he touched someone this gently. He took the ripped bits of tape and secured the bandage in place. His fingers lingered, then softly skimmed the side of your face and fluttered through your hair. How he missed the warm feeling he got when he caressed someone so delicately. He was so used to vulgar aggressiveness, he almost forgot that he was capable of such embraces. You kept your eyes shut even though you wanted to open them in surprise at Ghost’s lingering touch. Having been away from everyone in your life for so long made you desperate for someone to squeeze you tight. To hold you close. To just keep your bed warm beside you. You hadn’t even realized how deprived of touch you truly were until Ghost touched you with his calloused hands.

You opened your eyes and Ghost’s own locked on yours, both of your breathing the only sound in the small room. He quickly yanked his hand away, clearly embarrassed. He’d curse his hand out later for having a mind of its own. He flexed his hand, rubbing it with his other. He debated on apologizing but found it hard to speak. Before he could finish his thought, you grabbed his wrist.

He mumbled your name, his accent dripping over his words heavier than usual. His gaze was always so intense, but you didn’t back down.

He froze as he watched you, curious of your next move. You both had understood what happened without even speaking—a sort of silent acknowledgment of the way you both were touch-starved, the only connection with another body prior to this being through violence. 

You scooted closer to him and pulled his arm so it draped around your shoulder. You tentatively leaned against his chest, feeling his breathing deepen. Ghost felt tense underneath you, his body rigid. Feeling bold and empty, you grabbed his hand and laced it with yours, the heat transfer from holding someone skin to skin a feeling you hadn’t experienced in months. It was comforting and relieving. As much as it flustered Ghost, he also felt a huge feeling of relief as your hands warmed against one another. His fingers closed and gripped your hand back. You could feel him slightly relax, his body molding to yours.

He could smell your shampoo as your head sat propped under his chin. When was the last time he held someone like this? He couldn’t quite remember. To be honest, he hadn’t thought about these types of things until now.

After a long pause, you felt Ghosts chest rumble as he spoke. “I think this is the longest you’ve gone without rambling on about somethin’.”

Your lips quirked up in a slight smile. You both knew things were going to be awkward the moment you faced each other and made your way back to base. Ghost was especially concerned with the fact that one of his soldiers would know how weak he had acted.

But with both of your faces out of view from the other, softly intertwined, everything felt… good .

“Mhm, don’t get used to it,” you said quietly. Ghost could hear the sleep in your speech. He pondered a moment. At least you were both safely inside the building having already prowled the area for enemies. Maybe it was okay if he let you rest a minute? And not because Ghost didn’t want to break away from your hold, but because both of you were wounded and he knew better than to push through something like that when he had the time to regain his strength.

Ghost hadn’t realized his thumb began absentmindedly stroking circles against your skin, his grip around you tightening slightly.

part 2

[thecapricunt1616]

Daddy!Carmy at his 2nds birth

Call me cringe but fuck it !!!!!

Let’s talk Carmy during an unmedicated birth. Holy shit. He would be… scared. Like. Seeing his girl in such pain would lowkey make him woozy that he couldn’t help. Fr while you were groaning through contractions ofc he would be holding your hand but…(more BTC)

Really as soon as you get to the hospital, bc let’s be real who wants to be there before they’re a minute apart and you’re literally crowning? And ofc by that stage since you waited for so long - there’s no such thing as an epidural so Carmen would be shaking with nerves bc he knows you’ve been grunting and nearly screaming in pain all night and he knows labor only gets worse he’d be mentally buckling In.

You’d call Pete and Nat (or Syd, let’s be real) to watch your first so you could go to the hospital. By the time you’d get there and your doula met you, and told you you were 9 dilated and she just had to break your water and you’d probably be pushing within 30 minutes you were elated considering your first, much like Carmy was a long, intense, and most of all exhausting labor that lasted over 48 hours - so the way this one was ready to head out in less then 24 had you more than pleased.

By the time you really had the urge to push he would be standing at your side knowing the time from your first delivery. The second you told him you “felt scared” he would be at your side, holding your leg and dipping a washcloth in cold water, dabbing it on your forehead and reminding you of how the last time you “weren’t sure you could do it” you delivered a beautiful, healthy baby boy with no problems and that he was waiting at home so excited to become a big brother.

“Shut up. I can’t. I can’t Carmen it’s too hard -“ you groaned, gripping the bedside so hard your knuckles went white and you felt like the noise you let out was something akin to an angry grizzly bear as another contraction washed over your back and stomach. You looked at him, eyes narrowing “you fucking did this to me! Fuck you!” You growled, shifting uncomfortably if you could even call it that.

“That’s normal” one of the nurses that was holding your other leg said and you shot her a glare, quickly losing all other feeling as the overwhelming urge to push washed over you. It didn’t matter how bad it hurt or how hard it was, push was the only thought you had. You were nearly screaming in effort and Carmy was looking at you like he was about to pass out in fear and your doula patted one of the nurses to tap you out and told her it was time for a break and for you to change positions because your back was clearly doing no good.

At this time Carmy would rest his forehead on yours, stroking your cheek lovingly and would whisper “y’doin so good, baby. So good, angel. Princess is jus’givin us a hard time, huh? She’s stubborn like her dad yea?” He joked, earning the smallest smile from you.

“I-i think” you sniffled back your tears “I think- on my knees- maybe? That helped with little dude” he stroked your single tear away with the back of his forefinger.

“That’s a great idea, Angel. Always know what to do, want me to help you?” He asked gently and your lip quivers

“I’m scared” you whisper, tears pooling over your lash line.

“Oh- Angel” he said gently, stroking your tears away “you know there’s nothing to be afraid of, mm? Y’body did amazing the last time- that’s just fear talkin’, your beautiful perfect body delivered baby cub with no issues, so she’s gonna be the same” he carefully stroked your sore belly.

You sniffled, pouting for a moment before asking the nurses for help putting the bars down on Carmys side so he could support you like last time while you sat on your knees. Two stray tears fell from Carmys eyes and he squeezed your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it.

He helped you through another exhausting contraction before helping you ease on your knees and gently rubbing your back as you rocked back and forth groaning through another contraction when the last was less then a minute before.

“Good girl- good breathing baby,” he kissed your shoulder, feeding you more ice chips when you huffed your mouth felt dry again.

“Gotta push- gotta- h-hold my hand” you squeaked, clutching Carmys hand for dear life as you pushed harder then you thought was possible, grunting all the way through and you were honestly suprised when you heard the nurse say

“C’mon dad! Baby’s nearly out come catch her- momma one more big push you can do it -“

And with one more deep breath and a big growl you heard Carmy gasp and your baby start to cry before the nurse said

“Congratulations! It is absolutely still a girl- momma hold on just one more second I’m cutting the cord here and daddy will go ahead and put baby on your chest” you sobbed yourself hearing your little girl cry, falling to your hip as soon as the nurse said it was ok and rolling on your back, unclipping your nursing delivery gown to see Carmy was crying just as hard as you were

“Give her - give her oh my god, hi princess” you cried as Carmy laid her on your chest, kissing her cheeks and forehead as she wailed. “She’s so beautiful-“ you cried, head falling to the pillow in exhaustion

“She’s perfect, she’s amazing princess- look at her her lungs are so strong” he kissed your forehead before hers “strong just like her mama” he sniffled, stroking her cheek as you settled her on your breast to eat.

“I love you, thank you. Thank you for giving me her” you whispered, resting your tired forehead against his shoulder.

He chuckled a bit, kissing your temple “are you kidding? It’s me who should be thanking you for the rest of my life”

[httplvki]

brother lo’ak stirs up some trouble for you, but don’t worry your dad is here <3 (dad jake x teen daughter!reader, brother lo’ak x sister!reader interaction too!, jake tends to your wounds while he scolds lo’ak, also my longest work)

“lo’ak! we shouldn’t be here!” you shouted at the boy that was much farther ahead of you

“c’mon, sis! don’t be a wuss now!” he shouted back while turning around to face you

“you know dad will skin us!” you said worriedly, catching up to your brother

you watch him climb up some rocks to get to a vine dangling in front of him. he slightly crouches and makes a leap to grab onto the vine. you watch him swing to another platform higher than you.

“what's the worst that can happen?” he jokingly shouted

you sighed, not wanting to fall behind. you slowly start to climb up the rocks. you look at your brother, becoming impatient on waiting for you. looking at the last vine to swing from, you breathed in and breathed out before slightly crouching and taking the jump.

you caught onto the vine and tried to swing to the platform your brother was waiting on; while swinging to the edge, you heard snapping right above you. you and your brother look up to see where the sound is coming from.

“sis, grab my hand!” you heard a shout

barely being able to process what was happening. you look at your brother, reaching his hand out to you in panic.

snap!

“lo’ak!” you yelled, reaching your arm out to try and clasp onto your brother's hand.

it was too late to stop yourself from falling. it felt like your soul left your body when you were plunging down to the ground, desperately holding your hands out to grab onto something to stop the fall. to your luck, there were big leaves that slowed your fall to the ground.

the drop ended with you hitting your head roughly on the ground with scratches on your body.

you heard your brother shout your name and scramble down to get you.

“sis!” he cried while patting the side of your cheek

a small groan was the only sound you could let out in a haze

“shit, shit, shit” he looked around frantically before lifting you up and placing you on his back to carry you back home.

you moaned out in pain until you let your head rest on your brother's shoulder and your eyes closed.

you felt your back rest on a softer surface.

“lo’ak! what the hell happened, boy?!”

“i’m sorry, dad; sis got hurt from falling!”

“what did i tell you about going out without anyone else knowing?! is she hurt badly?” the worried voice asked

“i don’t know but she hit her head and has a few scratches!” the familiar voice stuttered out, hearing voices chatter; you frowned before letting out a whine that caught the attention of both voices. you slowly open your eyes and blink a few times before your eyes adjust.

“hey, hey, hey baby, you okay?” jake comes over to you while he crouches and checks your body to look at the injuries.

“eywa, it hurts,” you sobbed out

“lo’ak, go get the healing supplies!” he shouted out

“yes sir!” your brother obeyed and searched for the healing supplies

“oh honey, where does it hurt the most?” he asked with concern written all over his face

“mhm, my head hurts” you complained

lo’ak comes running back to jake with the needed healing supplies.

“here you go, dad” he puts down the supplies next to your father

jake grabs a wet cloth to start to clean all the scratches on your body. you watch jake start dabbing his hands with the remedy. he carefully lifts your head up and slowly caresses the treatment onto your scalp.

“ow, that stings,” you huffed

“i know, baby, but you’re a tough girl you know you can handle it,” your dad softly said

your eyes drifted off from looking at your father to your brother awkwardly sitting beside you, looking concerned.

“i’m fine, lo’ak, don’t worry,” you reassured him

jake looked up at you and turned his attention to your brother.

“you got your sister hurt, boy. you know better than to do that,” jake sternly said

lo’ak looked down at the ground feeling guilty. letting out a quiet “sorry” to you and jake.

“dad, it’s fine; it was also stupid of me to follow him and not stop him,” you defended your brother

you looked at lo’ak and saw a small smile plastered on his face after you defended him.

jake sighs and grabs your arm that's scratched up from the fall. he gently applies the remedy to the smaller wound.

“you both really make me worried every day with your antics, y’know that?” jake spoke up, letting out a small chuckle

both you and lo’ak chuckled, making the atmosphere lighter

“sorry, dad, but you know you still love us,” you cooed

“and that i do, sweetheart” jake muttered with a grin on his face

“but don’t cause more trouble for you sister, you got that?” he sternly said while looking at your brother

“yes sir” lo’ak replied

“sorry, sweetie, could you lay on your stomach?” jake asked sweetly

you carefully lay on your stomach, exposing your back with scratches. you start to feel the wet cloth gently cleaning the wounds one by one. jake starts to use the remedy on your back. his hands were soft and gentle on your back. the repetition of his fingers slowly going over each wound was starting to feel like a spell to put you to sleep by how soothing it all was.

your eyes start to give up on you and slowly begin to close. you were out like a light while your father worked on your scratches.

“baby? you’re oddly quiet now,” your father called for you

lo’ak takes a look at your face to see your sleeping figure.

“damn, she’s knocked out,” he giggled

jake peeked his head from behind to see you sound asleep

“let her rest; you’ve caused enough trouble for your poor sister,” jake said while he cleaned up the healing supplies.

he crouches down to caress your forehead and plants a small kiss on it.

“also, you’re grounded,” jake added

“what?! awh c’mon…” lo’ak sobbed

[4drianaaaa]

You should do a cutsie thing about y/n and hamzahs anniversary going on a date and maybe some nsfw 🫶🏼

omg this so adowable 😙, also I was looking at my posts about Hamzah and I just realized it's mostly smut LMFAOO. YOU HORNY MUTHUFUCKAS (I have no problem with that 👅)

nsfw! 18+ | fem reader!

🎀 | It has been a year since the boy who asked you out in the most puppy love-type way. Bringing a bouquet of tulips and a big poster that you checked 'yes' on to be his girlfriend. Now the two of you live together in his small apartment with his cat peter.

You dabbed on some blush at the apple of your cheek as you saw your boyfriend through the mirror as his warm hands wrapped around your waist "How did I get with someone so beautiful?" he kissed your cheek, "Careful Hamzah I'm gonna stain your shirt" you placed the blush powder on the counter of the sink as you shifted your body to his as he sat you on the counter "So your not gonna answer my question?" he huffed as you kissed his soft lips "Maybe cause' your so hot? I don't know?!" you ruffled his hair.

You wore a simple short black dress pairing it with a small white bag, the both of you were now on your way to the restaurant he has reserved a week prior. You both went to a small booth as the place looked like nothing but rich. You looked at shocked “Hamzah this looks so fancy- where did you find this place” you took a sip of the white wine in front of you prepared at the table once you walked in “i dunno’. I searched up ‘expensive, fancy, romantic restaurant on Google and this one popped up!” He replied as he smirked “just get what ever. It’s all on me baby” he set his hand on top of yours as his thumb rubbed on the sparkly diamond on your ring he gave you in the morning.

The two of you chatted as you both ate the most delicious dinner enjoying your self’s company and laughing about memories of you two.

“I remember the first day I moved in with you, there was a big mess.” You teased as he huffed “alright babe. May I remind you that I barely moved in as well and I was so overwhelmed! Not to mention I was raising Peter too.” He spun the wine in his cup as he took the last sip “and you act like it wasn’t a mess in my bedroom when you barely got here…bra on my floor-“ you cut him off by stepping on his shoe “Hamzah! We’re literally in public” you turned as red as the wine you were sipping on as he couldn’t help but bust out laughing. His thoughts grew as his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “what?” You tilted your head as lustful memories filled his mind. The way he’d roam his hand all over you as you squirmed under him, “nothing” he said clearing his throat as the waiter ended his thoughts “here’s the bill” Hamzah placed his card on to the receipt as the waiter took it off with him.

“Thank you so much baby for the dinner, i enjoyed every second of it” you kissed his cheek as he said nothing. Your eyebrows furrowed. “So you’re not gonna tell me what’s on your mind? Was it because I stepped on your shoe. Crybaby?” You said closing the car door “Fuck, I just need you so fucking bad- I don’t know how I contained my self over there.” He exhaled as you smirked “so that’s what it is hm?” Your hands roamed down his chest as you kissed his lips “I have a surprise back at home too” you whispered into his ear that sent a cold shiver down his spine. He sped through the night Toronto streets as you made it to your shared apartment. His lips not even trying to leave yours as you struggled to open the door

“Fuck” he panted licking his lips as he opened the door shutting it behind him as you walked to your bedroom as your hands wrapped around his neck as he removed his black blazer throwing it onto the floor. Your lips parted as he sat at the edge of the bed “wanna show me what’s under this gorgeous dress princess?” He laid his hands around your waist as you turned your back to him “find out” you said moving your hair to the side as he slowly zipped down your dress as the cold air hit your back causing your breath to hitch. His eyes widened at your white lacy lingerie with little bows everywhere. He practically drooled as you spun back around to him as you smiled as he pulled you into him “your so beautiful baby” he grasped “yeah?” You hummed as he nodded his head twirling his fingers around your lacy panties biting his lip.

He unbuttoned his pants leaving him in his boxers as he laid you onto the bed. As you began removing your bra he immediately grabbed your hand stopping you, “I want to fuck you in this pretty set baby- please just leave it on” he whined as you nodded. His hands palmed his hard dick as you opened your legs just wanting him inside you already. He bit his lip as he pulled down his boxers revealing his erected member as pre-cum coated his tip, “fuck Hamzah please!” You begged as a smile creeped onto his lips. He rubbed his tip against your clothes panties as you cursed under your breath. He looked at you as you moved your pantie to the side begging for his dick to be inside you already, he slowly rubbed his member around your aching clit as small whines escaped your lips. He slowly inserted him self into you as you grabbed onto the white sheets of your shared bed “fuck baby, your soaking” he moaned “just fuck me Hamzah” you squirmed around as he held onto your hips as he entered in and out of you. Your hand flew on top of your mouth as skin slapping against each other and small moans and whimpers escaped both of your mouths filled the room.

He leaned down kissing your neck as your hands gripped onto his hair tightly “fuck Hamzah I’m so close!” You moaned into his ear as he nodded “yes baby” he whined as you felt your self at your highest as you panted, his mouth found your chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck before coming all over him “holy shit.” He grunted as he quickly thrusted into you as your body shook from the over stimulation. He pulled out before coming as he pumped his aching member on your lingerie set.

“Looks so much better coated all over my cum” he teased as you chucked “how about a warm bath? Cause I know you can’t stand” he joked as he noticed your shaky legs “sounds good” you kissed his forehead as he laid next to you.

-

I feel like this was so short omg 😣

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Title: Having Relations

Pairing(s): Bruce Wayne x Female Reader

Warning(s): SMUT!!! MINORS DNI! 18+ only!

One of my first smuts, please don’t hate 😭

______________

It was quiet throughout Wayne Manor, not a single sound could be heard through the home. Damian, Tim, Dick and Jason were hanging out with friends. Alfred was out for the weekend, and that left you and Bruce all alone.

Lately, the two of you have been too busy to spend time together, let alone it being ‘alone time’. That’s why you’re upstairs doing your hair and makeup. At this point, you look like you could be on the cover of Playboy. Your hair was curled in big curls, and your makeup looked like it had been done by a professional.

You fixed the last few strands of hair, and put on a little bit of Bruce’s favorite color of lipstick. You puckered at the mirror, and looked at yourself.

You were wearing a black push-up bra and a pair of black panties. Then you put on a silk robe to cover up with, until you went down to Bruce’s study. A black pair of loubotin heels tied the entire outfit together. As you were walking out the door, you remembered how much Bruce loved Ralph Lauren’s Romance perfume on you.

Quickly you sprayed it all over and dabbed it onto your wrists and neck. After you gave one last look in the mirror, you walked down the long stair case. Before you walked into the study, you adjusted your breasts so they were perky and held up just enough.

You peered around the doorway, and Bruce was sitting at his desk with his reading glasses on. He was sipping on some bourbon, and his attention was completely devoted to whatever paperwork he was looking at.

When Bruce didn’t notice you, you walked up behind him and laid your head on his back. “Hey, doll.” He said quietly, and you breathed in his scent.

“Need a refill?” You asked, and he held up the glass. “Yes. That would be great.” He replied, and you walked over to the liquor cabinet.

Slowly, you poured the liquid into the glass with ice. You walked back behind Bruce, and handed him the glass. He mumbled a quiet: ‘thank you’, and not once did he look back.

You walked over to the front of his desk and stood there, waiting for him to notice. Once he looked up, you smiled. Bruce took his glasses off, “Already going to bed, darling?” He asked, and you shook your head.

Biting your bottom lip, you untied the silk robe, and let it slide down your *almost* naked body. Bruce smiled, “What are you doing?” He asked, and you sat down on the couch in front of him.

You spread your legs just a little bit so he could a glimpse of what he had been missing. Bruce’s cheeks turned red, “The boys and Alfred are all going to be gone for a while. So I figured we could have fun.” You said as you played with your bra strap. “We could have fun like we use to, Mr. Wayne…”

After you said that, Bruce’s eyes darkened. He sat his glasses down, and stood up from his chair. Slowly, he made his way over to you, but you stood up to meet him halfway. His eyes scanned your entire body, “You’re so sexy, Mrs.Wayne.” He whispered as his hand caressed your cheek.

Bruce titled your jaw back so he could kiss your lips. His tongue grazed your bottom lip, and he grabbed your ass. When you let out a gasp, he pushed his tongue into your mouth. He brought his hand down to your neck, and his hand gently rested there.

His other hand cupped your cheek, and his thumb ran over your bottom lip. “You’re so gorgeous.” He whispered as he looked into your eyes.

“I need you Bruce.” You whispered back and his hands slowly dragged your bra straps down your shoulders, revealing your breasts.

Bruce gently pinched your nipple, and began kissing you from your chin, to your neck, and all the way down to the middle of your chest. He made his way down to your navel, and now he was where your panties were.

You breathing was shaky, and he looked up at you. “You smell so good, Y/N. Are you wearing that perfume I got you?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Good girl.” He whispered, as he pulled down your panties, revealing your wet pussy. The cold air made you gasp, and Bruce didn’t waste a minute. He had you pushed down onto to the couch and spread your legs, and placed them over his shoulders.

His fingers ran through your wet slit, “Already so wet for me, Mrs. Wayne.” His tongue delved straight in. Bruce sucked on your clit, making you jump, but his hands held down your hips.

His tongue lapped up all of your juices; he moaned as he ate you out. “So delicious, baby.” He said before going back to work.

You were so close to coming, but you pulled him up to your lips. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, but you were ready for him.

Next thing you knew, Bruce was on top of you. But you took control and flipped him over. He smiled at your dominance, “Are you taking control baby?” He asked.

All you could do was smile. You tore open his shirt revealing his toned abs; you sunk to your knees on the floor. You licked from his chest down to abs, leaving hickies on the way down.

Bruce began to unbuckle his pants, revealing the thick line from his cock. You were already drooling, at the outline of his cock, so you took it upon yourself to reach into his pants and pull it out.

Precum was already dripping from his tip. Before you could get your mouth around him, Bruce pulled you up, “No, I want to feel you.” He pulled you up onto his lap, and you aligned yourself with his thick cock.

You gently started to lower yourself onto him, and Bruce let out a groan. “You feel so good, baby.” After a few minutes of riding him, Bruce flipped you down on your stomach, and began to fuck you from behind.

He gave your ass a slap, leaving a red hand print. The sounds of skin slapping together filled the entire room. You moaned with every thrust, and it encouraged Bruce to keep going.

His thumb rubbed your clit, and you were a moaning mess. “I’m about to cum…” you whined and Bruce stopped.

“Not yet princess.” He said and he flipped you onto your back. “What a pretty pussy…” he said before pushing his cock back into you.

You couldn’t hold it back any longer, your juices coated his cock, and you finally released all over him. Bruce groaned as he came all inside you, coating your insides.

Bruce pulled out of you, and grabbed the blanket lying across the couch. He covered your naked body and laid down next to you. “We need to make more time for this.” He said and you laughed.

“How about every weekend?” You asked, and he looked over and smiled at you. “Do you have it in you to go another round?” He asked, and you smiled brightly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “We better hurry before the-”

“Mom? Father? We’re home!” You heard Damian call out and you rested your head on Bruce’s shoulder. He caressed your shoulder, “It’s not too late to jump out the window and go get in the Benz, and go rent a hotel room.” He said, and footsteps approached the study.

“Boys, don’t come in—-”

Damian flung the door open, “Mom, Dad, Jason is a complete and total— why are you guys laying like that? Why are there clothes all over the floor? Are you guys okay?”

Jason walked in after him and covered his eyes, “OH MY GOD! DAMIAN, THEY’RE HAVING RELATIONS YOU MORON!”

Damian turned pale, “Oh…oh my…” he covered his eyes, and turned to run. But he ran into the wall next to the door, knocking himself out.

“Damian!” You sat up with the blanket wrapped around your body.

Jason grabbed Damian by the arm and dragged him out of the room. The door slammed behind them, and you looked down at Bruce. “I think we scarred Damian…” you whispered and Bruce chuckled.

“He needs to learn how to knock.”

_____

I hope you guys enjoyed this… this was one of my first times writing smut, so please don’t hate on it too much. ☠️😂

[hongjoongsslvt]

ITS YOU -CHOI SAN (MDNI)

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆

Click here for Part-2(Smut)

WC: 1.6k

Pairing: Roommate San X Roommate Reader Genre:University AU, childhood close friemds to lovers, Common best friends, Wooyoung and Yeosang, Reader is taller than San

Warnings: fem! Bodied reader, mild cursing, suggestive, reader is referred as kitten, MDNI

That's all i can think about ≽^•༚•^≼

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆

I have everything I wanted, university's top student in academics, enviously good at both physical and E-sports, basically you name it and I am either too good at it to be called a beginner or I have already learnt about it in my life more than anything I had my childhood best friend and rival who is equally good at stuff.

For as long as I can remember, San and I have been together. We went to the same middle school, high school, and university, so it made sense for us to move into the apartment together. But I had a big problem because of this rooming together.

I've had a major crush on Choi San for a long time. I've had it since we first met, but I made the decision to keep it a secret and carry it into death out of concern that if I ever made a move on him, I would lose our friendship.

---------------------------------

"Ayo Mate! Hurry up! I'm eager to test out this new mouse and write a review". In our shared game room, I yell while reclined in my comfortable gaming chair.

We have saved up enough money to furnish a comfortable apartment with the newest gaming equipment thanks to our accomplishments in hackathons, martial arts competitions, and streaming.

"Dude-c'mere and help me get this!" He seemed to be shouting, but it was barely audible. I moved out of the room to assist him with whatever it was, and as I did, I noticed that the man was in the storage room. He was wearing gray satin pajamas with the top two buttons undone, exposing his muscular pecs, a face mask, and a head band on. He was also tiptoeing to get his new keyboard, which was high on the shelf. "So adorable," I thought.

He jolted forward as I inadvertently brushed my breasts against him as I walked behind him and tiptoed to grab the keyboard. For a brief minute, I swear it felt amazing not having to wear a bra because the dark-colored, slightly baggy pajamas I was wearing nicely covered up my breasts. However, I chose to act like nothing had occurred.

"Having a Giantess in the dungeon is mad handy!" He patted my shoulder in appreciation and said, "Let's review your mouse and keyboard before he leaves the room like a cat jumping."

Yes, I am taller than my crush, but it doesn't really worry me because my 180 cm height got me hired as a model for several local magazines, which helped me be paid for new electronics and gaming accessories. However, I doubt San, who prides himself on being powerful, domineering, and manly, will ever consider dating a woman who is taller than him.

I sighed as I entered the room and saw two familiar faces: Kang Yeosang and Jung Wooyoung, our lads next door. The first had jet black hair, a gorgeous birthmark at the corner of his eye, and a deep, honey voice. The other had brilliant red hair and laughed like a witch.

"Wasssap Female Titan!" Wooyoung said as he got off my gaming chair to dab me up while yeosang nodded and gave me a fist bump and wacked the red haired boy. At the start of the year, the four of us really clicked because they were both excellent game designers. We are currently working together to design and build an independent game.

As I posted the schedule for the weekend in our group chat, I added, "Let's hit the library and the gym after the stream ends." We all four gathered together and began to stream information on products and collaborations, with Wooyoung constantly dropping spoilers and Yeosang and San, as always, delighting viewers with their distinct brand of deadpan humor. and San's sporadic, for reasons I'm not interested in knowing, staring.

By the time we finished streaming, it was close to 5 o'clock, and Wooyoung and Yeosang had to leave me and San alone since they had to pass our study session at the library and attend a significant lecture. It was expected since they both frequently went to seminars to get ideas for their game designs.

As I go into my own room to change and get ready for the night, I playfully tell him, "You better choose your outfit quickly before I barge in and break your kneecaps." We unintentionally became identical in black tank tops and sweatpants, but it didn't bother either of us. Even though I was dressed the same, I felt quite different. His large biceps, slim waist, and broad shoulders were all well-represented by the attire.

I got the other person to laugh as I flexed my biceps, triceps, and lats in front of a mirror, saying, "Oh boy, look at my guns and wings," hoping to release some of the tension building up inside of me. I had the perfect amount of muscle and curves to my body, luckily.

"Bet" he said, flexing his muscles and standing directly in front of me. God, he looks so ethereal and Greek god coded that I've temporarily lost my ability to process things. The doorbell ringing was one of them. San moved back to confront the person at the door, forgetting that I was right behind him. I again felt him brush against my breasts accidently, jerking and acting as if he hadn't touched before continuing.

We have done whatever we had planned for the day, without much convos outside the work, and without knowing a week has already passed already, with the tormenting "accidental" brushing against my breasts and ass, cooking food, cleaning room, doing laundry and other chores despite it being my turn to do. All these felt as if he had some hidden intentions behind them, but i decided to play it dumb till he comes out clear.

I made the decision this Sunday to give Wooyoung a call and tell him about my predicament making it the perfect time as Yeosang had piano lessons to attend and San was preoccupied with grocery shopping.

"HE'S 100% INTO YOU TITAN, TRUST ME" Wooyoung screams making me instantly whack his head.

"What was that for?" Wooyoung snarled and rubbed his head as I struck him. "Do you really suppose San rubs against every girl's ass and tits, remaining courteous and refusing to accept confessions?"-" I could almost see his wolfy, naughty smirk as he was ready to continue when his phone went off. wondering why he did this.

"Titan! Do you have anything sexy to wear? I realize I sound strange but trust me eh?" His hands are already enthusiastically going through my clothes in the closet mid way of the question.

"I don't think I do?" I said "Mate, why all of a sudden?"

He was too preoccupied digging through my closet to respond. A few minutes later, his witchy chuckle took me completely by surprise.

"BITCH- YOU NEVER TOLD YOU OWNED A BUNNY COSTUME?" he screamed, making me go deaf almost.

"It's not that I'm insecure about my height; it's just that I've never tried stuff like that," I remarked, leaning onto the door. "I got that as a gift from a stupid friend of mine," I said.

"let me cook" He said.

After what seemed like an eternity, he made me wear a costume of a bunny, but with cat ears in place of the bunny ears. He also lightly styled my hair, applied smeared lipstick, and made me wear Yeosang's fishnet tights. Upon seeing my progress, Wooyoung seemed happy and led me into the living room, where the lights were dimmed a bit.

"Damn! dude, i thought you were flatboard-" Wooyoung was about to start talking when an obviously irate San stormed into the home, dropped groceries at the door, and came right toward us. I swear, in my twenty years of living, I have never seen San look so upset.

"Too bad, Mate!, too late" Wooyoung said as he gave San's shoulder a pat before leaving the our house.

"San-"

"Is it true that you are sending semi nudes to mr.Lee?" He inquired, obviously furious

I was so perplexed for a moment that I just stood there.

"Yeosang said that Wooyoung was helping you take pics"

Now that it was all coming together, it was clear to me why they were rushing to a lecture on Sunday in the first place—they never go to seminars on Sundays!

"I love you, It have always been you and only you,I loved you since the moment we met in the school"San said in a voice that seemed shattered."Why Mr.Lee? is it because he is taller and much more appealing than me, because he is caring and kind?, I swear atleast I never thought height was a thing to be considered to love a person"

My mind went blank listening to those words, is it for real? or am i tweaking? this must definitely be a dream, there's no way San loves me, but soon i was brought back to reality from my thoughts by the sudden hug.

"Dude, that's why you were fucking brushing against my breasts and ass the entire past week, coz you thought imma date Mr.Lee?" I questioned him "Bitch, no shit my nips were crazy sensitive"

He replied, his tone falling several octaves as he crept nearer and eye-fucked me till I hit the wall. "It's your fault for being irresistibly cute and sexy." He grabbed my neck, held me to the wall, and bent me slightly so he could plant a kiss.

"Kitten you are merely 4 to 5 cm taller, that doesn't mean that i can't lift you up, bend you over and fuck you senseless"

Oh boy, I hope i will make it out alive by tomorrow morning.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆

let me know if you want part two(Smut)~ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Re blogs are appreciated

DO NOT REPOST OR PLAGIARISE

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆

[taintandviolent]

Star of the Show - Jimmy Darling x Reader

warnings: dub-con, drug usage, unprotected sex, orgy, smut (female and male receiving), reader x multiple partners (Amazon Eve and Jimmy Darling). a/n: 3k words! basically, this is uh - y'know. inspired by the orgy scene in Freakshow. this is... shamelessly also me dipping my toes into an Amazon Eve x reader fic because big tall lady make the brain go brrrrrr. that's all I can say about myself here okay? shh. also this was written after a very long bout of writer's block and exhaustion, so i'm rusty and clunky. apologies.

full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

Warm sun filtered in through the canvas, warming your exposed limbs. Lids peeling apart, your first visual was red and white stripes, and the second visual was your own body. You’d woken up in nothing but a satin robe that didn’t belong to you. Still muzzy from sleep and whatever else you’d done, you stumbled around to find your dress and thankfully, it had been thoughtfully draped over a nearby bench. You replaced it with the robe, and made your way outside, pushing the flaps of the tent aside.

You weren’t sure how it started, or what was said specifically to cause your lapse in morals. Normally, you’d never do something like that. Honest. In fact, you were always such a good girl that if you ran home and told your friends what you thought you’d done, none of them would believe you. Not you, they’d titter. You can’t even tell a fella that you think he’s cute!

Last night, once the crowds had cleared the field, leaving nothing but crumpled tickets and popcorn bags, you remember wandering into the main tent. They were all there, the freaks. You remembered the way they’d looked at you, all of them smiling dangerously at you as you stood in your pretty mint-green sundress. For whatever reason, you’d been persuaded to take one, maybe two, maybe three, hits of whatever the nice German lady had offered to you - and that’s where it all went wrong. Or perhaps where it all went right. You didn’t remember much else after that.

Shading your eyes from the sun, you peered out into the fairgrounds. They were empty, save for the smaller tents and caravans that encircled the main big-top tent. Dabbing at your forehead with the back of your hand, you trudged through the high grasses. An eerie feeling settled over your shoulders, sending a chill down your spine despite the heat.

What had happened last night? You racked your brain. Tent full of people… German lady… that guy. The handsome guy with the … oh. Jimmy. His name was Jimmy.  

As you rounded the corner, recalling the most you had since you’d stumbled out into the morning, coincidentally, he was there. Across the field, The Lobster Boy bent down to hoist a heavy-looking bag over his shoulder before straightening back up. He caught your gaze with a grin and winked. The boyish charm he presented skilfully extracted a carnal reaction from your body. Suddenly, you remembered a whole lot more.

Last night…

As someone undressed you, carefully, you stared up at the massive inside of the tent. It seemed to go on forever. You had been looking at - no, gazing dreamily at the world through a sheer, white curtain, like the ones your mother hung up during the summer time; the ones that fluttered in the hot breeze and seemed to make the air that filtered through smell sweeter. Everyone was moving slower than they should have, and you leaned your head back on the curve of the chair, inhaling a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

It felt like there were a dozen hands on you, petting you, skimming the ticklish flesh of your inner thighs and the crooks of your arms. Some of them were cold, some of them were clammy, and some of them felt like they didn’t belong to humans. Everyone was murmuring and someone called you an angel. You threw your head in the direction of the sound, hoping you smiled. Another person caressed your cheek, cupping it tenderly. You hmm’ed in adoration, trying desperately to discern figures. You’d never felt so venerated in your life; everyone was obsessed with you. The star of the show. 

One figure that you could recognise, solely because of the height of them was Eve. Amazon Eve. The tallest woman you’d ever seen, and possibly the most beautiful. She, who you had immediately taken a liking to during the show, was now caressing your bare chest. The delicately explorative way that she handled your breasts, rolling your nipples in her thumb and index finger made you whimper in delight, squirming helplessly on the chair. She pressed a few delicate kisses along your jawline before pulling away to look at you, letting her hands ghost over your exposed flesh. She softly trailed her fingers along your ribs and your sides, fluttered over your hips and neared your centre before sweeping back up along your stomach. Your lids drifted shut, revelling in the sensation.

“Little pretty thing,” she said, very close to your ear. Your brows lifted high on your forehead, pathetically trying to pull your eyelids open again. Eventually, the seal broke and you looked around, focusing gradually.

She was above you with one knee on the chaise, towering like a building. A building that smelled like cherries and flowers. Behind her, blurred dots of string lights, framing her like a picture. She had a pretty face and a warm hand that stroked the side of your cheek. She leaned down, pressing her lips against yours. You melted, wrapping your arms around her soft neck to bring yourself closer, and deeper into her mouth. You’d never really thought of kissing a woman, but the warm, honeyed way that she tasted had you craning your neck to follow her as she straightened up, wanting more.

Eve leaned down, kissing you again. Her large, soft hands dipped in between your legs, and as soon as she felt the slippery warmth that met her fingertips, she looked off to someone. For a fiery moment, her middle finger encircled your clit, sending shivering waves through your body. But too quickly, the moment ended, and her hands gripped your wrists, fingers overlapping as she pulled them from her neck.

“My friend Jimmy is gonna’ take care of you now. Okay, sweetheart?” As she moved off the chair, she brought your hands down to your sides where you flattened them against the textured velvet. You babbled, protesting her leaving, but she shushed you with a single finger, assuring you that she’d be right there. You didn’t want her to – a thought that tantalized you. She was so gentle, but so commanding in her motions. 

At the sound of a belt buckle clanking, your head lolled sleepily to the side, lids heavy. Jimmy? Jiiiiiiimmmy…. you tried to remember who Jimmy was, but your mind was far too busy sounding out the name syllable by syllable, repeating it over and over again like a mantra to even conjure up any mental pictures. Thankfully, standing behind her was an attractive man with thick fingers. Long fingers. But something looked off.

You lifted your head off the chair and blinked heavily, giving him a woozy, half lidded look. His caramel locks were separated with sweat, a few stray strands hanging in front of his brow. You blinked again, clearing your vision. Open pants hung at his hips. Fused fingers wrapped around the base of a thick, red-tipped cock, hand pumping it slowly to keep it hard. Though, as soon as he saw you, naked and sprawled out on one of Elsa’s luxurious chaise lounges, with your legs falling open slightly to expose your cunt, he had little issue with that. 

C’mere, doll face.

He closed in the distance between you two, letting his erection guide him like a compass to what it wanted most. Another man and Jimmy exchanged some words that you couldn’t understand. Frustrated by the lack of attention, you reached out for him sloppily, like a sleepy child. Your hand slapped the air until it found the warm fabric of his cotton undershirt.

“F-feels…. mmmff…”

He chuckled at your avidity, glancing down at you. “Alright, baby, alright…”

You looked dreamily up at him, wanting him to fall on top of you and shower you in kisses. He had the darkest eyes you’d ever seen. The darkest eyes. Like two cups of black coffee, warm and inviting.

Jimmy’s thumb found its way into your mouth, pulling your bottom jaw down to make room for his cock. With peaked brows, you mewled dreamily, wrapping your lips around his single digit and sucking hard. His skin was salty, the sweat of the day settling in the creases of his hands.

“Ohh, god damn - you’re so eager…. Suck on this instead, huh?”

Again, he used this thumb to manipulate your jaw, tugging on it. You opened it further, your tongue lolling out hungrily. The corners of your mouth were pulled upwards; you felt so good, so light and breezy. He was so handsome and you’d do whatever he wanted you to.

You blinked, watching as his cock neared closer. You’d never given a man a blowjob before. For a brief moment, your eyes were wide, pupils dilating in concern, but as soon as the head of Jimmy’s cock was hot against your tongue and warm, salty pearls of pre-cum oozing from the tip, glistening and catching the reflections of the string lights from above, you eased into the action. Your mouth stayed open, as Jimmy was the one guiding his dick inside, knowing full well you didn’t have the strength to do it yourself.

Your lids drifted shut. For a second, he felt bad. You were real out of it, but before he had a chance to dwell on it, a wanton haze consumed him as your pretty lips closed around the blisteringly hot tip, your precious flushed cheeks caving in. Inside, your tongue caressed the slit, lapping up the pre-cum like it was ice cream. You hummed around his cock as he began pumping it in and out. You may have been out of it, but boy were you going at his cock. Your tongue flattened against the thick vein on the underside of his cock, rubbing at it.

He groaned low in his throat, caressing the underside of your jaw, all the while resisting the urge to bring his hand to the back of your head and guide his cock deeper into your mouth. He was weak with arousal. In truth, he was almost embarrassed at how badly he wanted to lose it in your pink, waiting mouth.

“Baby, baby….” Jimmy’s head lolled back on his shoulders, his lids fluttering helplessly as you sucked. You mewled again, the vibrations sending a shockwave through his cock. He bucked his hips in and out of your mouth, focusing hard on the way that your plush, soft lips popped over the head every time he pulled back.

“Take her, Jimmy,” someone said. It was a male’s voice, low and gruff, a slight accent to it.

Though you didn’t know who the voice belonged to, Jimmy hurriedly obeyed it. Whether or not he wanted to stop, the reality was that you had him wound up too tight; he was ready to bust and needed to quickly change positions before the inevitable happened. Sucking in a deep breath, he withdrew his cock from your mouth. Long, sticky strands of saliva and cum strung from your lips, dribbling onto your chin. Moving quickly, Jimmy took hold of his cock and crawled onto the chaise, on top of you, looking fixedly down at your form. You hadn’t quite recovered from the position change, and needed a little help; he let go of his cock, gently pressing his fingers into your cheek, and pulling it to face him. You blinked a few times, before smiling brightly.

“ H-hii …..” You breathed, woozy. “Hi Jimmy…” You were very proud of the fact that his name came out normal. In your current state, it felt like an arduous task. “Hi Jimmy,” you said again, delighted. You laughed girlishly, and Jimmy felt a pulsing heat in his groin. He hadn’t heard a sound as sweet as that in years.

“Hey, baby…” He smiled crookedly at you. Warm and soft like honey. “You want this?”

You knew what he was asking. Your weighted gaze dropped between your bodies. The feverish, scarlet tip of his cock was leaking beads of pre-cum onto your bare tummy, bobbing heavily up and down with each breath he took. You felt your pupils dilate again, hungrily, craving the monster in front of you. You knew what it tasted like, you now wanted to feel it ripping you in two. You gave him an excited nod. The inside of your brain felt like it was jostled around by the action, so you huffed out a steadying breath.

Excited by your consent, Jimmy wasted no time and reached down. The pads of his fingers found your slick entrance, toying with it slightly to spread the slippery, clear fluid around your cunt. He slipped one of his pincers inside, bringing a gasp from your throat. “You like that?” 

You nodded again, much slower this time and reached for his bicep. Once you found it, you gripped it tightly, readying yourself for the oncoming storm. He lined his dick up and brought his eyes back to you.

“Look at me, baby.”

You did. He grinned.

Watching you, he stuffed himself inside, swallowing dryly. His eyes danced over your face, picking up all the subtle, lustful little changes; your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, your brows peaked together in an expression of slight discomfort, your lips parted with a delicate whimper as your slick walls swallowed him whole. This pulled a throaty groan from Jimmy. It was such a display, and for a moment, he wondered if you’d ever been with a man. How obedient and pliable you were underneath him… was that pillowy soft virginity or just the drugs kickin’ in?

Thinking was hard and instinct took over again, wiping all thoughts from his mind, save for the way you felt. You were warm and tight, clenching around his shaft. He jerked his hips up into you, protruding veins massaging your walls. Your attention dropped between you two again, eyes glazed over as his thick cock disappeared inside you, bottoming out each time.

Jimmy, on the other hand, had moved to focus on the way your tits bounced with the power of his thrusts. The visual drove him crazy. Made him hungrier. Craving your taste, Jimmy’s mouth was suddenly on yours, sloppy and hurried. His greedy tongue felt around every inch of your mouth and slipped wetly along your tongue. You did your best to keep up, tasting him all the same, but he was taking the lead. You inhaled a big breath through your nose and moaned into his mouth.

There was a cacophony of pleasure around you, coming from every direction. Wet sounds and hushed moans, peppered with lewd mutterings. Somewhere in your mind, you knew what you were a part of, what you’d stumbled into. Had you been more coherent, it might’ve embarrassed you, but the deep, carnal sounds that Jimmy was making were the only ones that mattered. Suddenly, you furrowed your brows, frowning into the kiss; someone was incessantly petting your hair and grumbling excitedly behind you. You tried to wave them away, but when you lifted your hand above your head, Jimmy reached for you, pinning your hand there.

“Mmmhh…” Breathless, Jimmy pulled away to look at you again, breath rushing out from between kiss-swollen lips. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you harshly onto his cock. You winced, but pressed your legs open further, hungry for the sensation. Eve came from behind Jimmy, pausing to run her hand through his caramel coloured hair, gripping it tightly briefly before letting go. Jimmy moaned above you, and before you could protest someone took hold of your hands at the wrists, holding them firmly above your head. With a little whimper, you tried to wrestle around from them, but failed. Eve’s sweet voice came from behind the chaise then, praises drifting down atop of you. Your head rolled upwards to the sound of the woman’s voice, again trying to find it. You couldn’t, and it didn’t seem like Jimmy wanted you to. His conjoined fingers were on your face again, gently pulling you back to face him.

“Eyes on me, baby… right here… that’s it. Atta’ girl.”

You blinked a few times, refocusing on his face. His tanned skin had a blush to it now, covered in sweat. He humped you furiously, his dick slipping in and out of your weeping cunt, rocking your body back and forth. You were close, there was an unmistakable tightening in your abdomen. Jimmy seemed to know this. More than knowing it, he could feel it; the way your tight little cunt quivered, clenching tighter and tighter around him. “C’mon baby, lemme’ hear that voice of yours…”

You opened your mouth, letting the whining moans free. 

“Good girl,” Eve cooed above you. “Such a good girl…” 

 As you continued meeting Jimmy’s thrusts with moans, he picked up his pace, hands snaking around the back of your body to take greedy, punishing fistfuls of your ass. His hands were so big and seemed to envelop you entirely, kneading your soft curves like dough. He came with a low grunt, gripped you hard and pulled himself into you as he climaxed. Jimmy coated your insides like the glaze on funnel cake, and you got to feeling even woozier than before. The feeling was too much, and pushed you over the slick edge. You let out a shrill cry, pulsing around him, fighting against Eve’s grip, who held you fast. There were sounds all around you as you came, excited murmurs and whispers. As your orgasm ebbed and Jimmy softened inside of you, finally, your hands were freed, and they found Jimmy’s florid, sweaty neck, pulling your forehead to his chest.

You remembered the way his chest heaved laboriously above you with each breath, shaky with expelled lust.

You blinked, your jaw hanging slack. He was still standing there, looking at you with that syrupy flirt in his eyes. You were suddenly dizzy with need. The ache between your thighs was no longer inexplicable, and your heart thudded in your chest.

“Hey!” Jimmy called across the field, one hand extended in a friendly wave. “We oughta’ do that again sometime, baby!”

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz/ @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur

[tteokdoroki]

OCTOBER 31ST. DEADPOOL FT. SPIDER-MAN

"you might be wondering why the red suit. well, that’s so bad guys don’t see me bleed."

♱ — katsuki bakugou ft. izuku midoriya + cucking.

♱ — synopsis; with great power, comes great responsibility— such as one’s duty to pleasure his girlfriend ( though failing ), luckily a certain mercenary is able to swing by and take over such a big responsibility on spidey’s behalf.

♱ —length; 7.8K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, cucking, threesomes, auralism, dacryphilia, voyeurism, cumplay, mutual masturbation, dry humping, body worship, facials, fingering ( f!receiving ), oral sex ( m!receiving ), mask!kink, fem!reader, deadpool!bakugou, spider-man!deku. not beta read !

♱ — notes; and with that, kinktober is over! thank you to everyone who supported me along the way!! please enjoy this last fic, i realy hope that you like it and have a safe halloween!! ily mwah <3 - m.list₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

“yanno,” you say wistfully, dabbing away at a cut underneath your boyfriend’s dazzling green eyes. “i think you got away pretty lightly this time.” 

deku hums, forcing away a wince as the rubbing alcohol seeps into the shallow wound— you let him squeeze your hand instead. “aside from my blood dripping across your floor, i’d pretty much agree.” despite how many times he’d sat on your bedroom floor, letting you coddle him and tend to his scrapes and scratches— the cleaning part never got easier. “deadpool always gets me into extra trouble whenever we work together.” 

your gaze flickers up to izuku’s in concerned warning, having him stumble into your apartment at ridiculous hours was all fine and dandy when he just needed to be babied and had a boo-boo on his head, but ever since working with whoever this deadpool guy was— your precious boy had been littered with all sorts of stab wounds and now your shifty handiwork stitches. today the bank robbery with said mercenary left your boyfriend with the graze of a bullet, and he was lucky to get away with just that. 

“‘m worried about you izuku,” your body keens into his warm hands and soft touch as the superhero pulls you into his lap, fingertips sliding over the curve of your ass and over the fat at your hips lovingly— not even sexually at first, as if each little caress grounds you both, slowing your head beats and filtering out the adrenaline of the night. 

he’s so warm, it reminds you that he’s alive and breathing, safe with you for another night. “i’ll try to be more careful, hm?” sensing the spike in your emotions, izuku leans forward with his nose nudging along yours, his lips dragging over the seam of your own, as if to tease you— a reward to follow if you calm down. 

“i want you safe,” you huff with no fire behind your words, just about pouting before deku has you locked in a soft, barely-there kiss. 

“it’s part of the job,” he says back, quietly, and there’s a beat of silence between you both where longing gazes are cast over features twitching into needy expressions— and before you know it, your mouth is slotted perfectly against his, bruisingly close as your tongue licks into izuku’s hot cavern, searching for is. the once chaste kiss turns sloppy, spit swapped between hungrily moving lips, your noses nudging and lungs burning for the air you won’t get, being joined like this. 

even when you do come up for air, you’re back on one another in seconds— practised hands used to fight crime and save lives, trickle up your spine to the base of your neck, pulling you into deku’s web of wanton, one you don’t see yourself wanting to be free from any time soon. his thumb presses nimbly into your throat, an amused chuckle resounding in the base of his own when your eyes grow misty and your tongue rolls out eagerly— with a hankering to be kissed again. 

“you want another?” 

“i want you.” 

now panting, your fingers surge up into forest green locks so you can tug izuku the rest of the way—your teeth sink into his lower lip for you to pull back slowly, gingerly while you hint at your need for more; giving izuku one last chance to call it quits for the night or kiss you properly like you want. he needs you just as badly as you need him, driving forward with the taste of you crackling like dopamine against the neurons in his brain. his heated pink muscle grazes over the swell of your lips, only just quelling the spark of hunger now pumping from his heart into his blood before you welcome him into your mouth with a debauched little sigh that falls into the tail end of a moan.

deku grunts low, in bliss,  at the noise, hips jumping up as if triggered by your sweet sounds and your tongues dance together instead of fighting— spit slicked and sliding over one another, down each other’s throats until your makeout is far more heated than anticipated. you seize the opportunity to guide your boyfriend’s free latex gloved hand to your waist once more, giving him the control to guide the flow of your hips while you grind down onto him,  grinning at the stiff press of is hard on against your panties through the spider-man suit.

he seems to get the picture, growing handsier by the second and manhandling you back and forth against his swelling cock, izuku’s breath’s much heavier than before. “fuck baby,” he whines into your wet mouth, his lips cherry red and raw, all because of you. “feel what you do to me? so hard…already— for you…” there’s a flutter of pride in your chest, knowing that you’re the one that’s able to make the spider-man a mess like this after he puts on a brave face for the city. only you get to see the cocky, webbed hero hump you like a mangy dog, circling his hips and pushing his throbbing erection against your fat folds in desire— latex covered hands exploring every inch of you they can.

izuku’s lips fall to your shoulder, licking and sucking a trail of kisses up to your neck— nipping here and there, so that bruised blossom under your skin in a signature of off coloured love bites. “wanna fuck you,” he says between the wetter smooches, whispering the words into the junction between your jaw and neck. “gonna lemme, oh shit— fuck you, love?” 

your body vibrates at deku’s promiscuous words— each far from the goodie two shoes persona he puts on for the world. he wants to make you feel that badly despite being beaten to shit, and knowing that is enough to spark a fire in your lower belly, the best shooting down to your pussy which flutters as you drag it back and forth across his hard-on through the blue and red suit. 

running your fingers through his already mask-missed hair, you map out each little detail of izuku midoriya— his sun spotted cheeks, B-road shoulders and muscled arms, that slender waist of his hidden away by stretchy blue and red fabric. he’s yours, and he’s desperate for you, aching and leaky for you. “gonna let’cha fuck me, ‘zu, need you to take me.” 

all of a sudden, he’s like a kid on Christmas unwrapping a present ( in a way you are, his gift after a fucked up day fighting crime ), padding up your spine until you shiver— drawing his name against your back until a finger hooks on the strap of your bra. you’re only wearing a t-shirt, the jagged letters of Spider-Man printed on and peeling off the front, but it’s not like either of you care. the loose fabric gives your boyfriend easy access, unhooking the material with ease and letting it fall down your front. you only part for a moment to let your arms slip through from under your shirt— tossing the sage green garment to the side shortly afterwards.

he can smell you, the salacious and honeyed scent of your sex hanging in the heated, vibrating particles in the air between you. “god baby, how do you always get this wet, this fast.” deku simpers in a tone of awe, two latex fingers pressed into your soaked core, watching you twitch, your body burning up with a new wave of heat. he squeezes your clit, admiring the way you pulse under his hold, tip of his finger then moving to run between your folds to build up the sensation of delightful pleasure inside you. 

“don’t get distracted,” you manage to scold your boyfriend, words falling away into a breathy sigh when his mouth latches onto your clothed and budding nipple from under his shirt—he hums in content around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth, happy to toruture you like this. your hands ground yourself in his wild hair, pushing him back from your stimulated chest. “get naked, i think you promised me some dick, ‘zu,”

smiling, the green haired hero reaches up to peck you on the lips. “you’re right, you’re right…mind helping me get out of my suit?” he asks, pulling his working digits away from your cunt in awe, staring at the clear strings of essence that connect them while you nod. wrapping your arms around him, you catch the zipper on the spidey-suit and pull it down, moving back so izuku can shake off his sleeves.

but you’re impatient when you’re horny, frustration fogging your brain as midoriya struggles to get out of the costume he designed. he flails about, the sight only serving to turn you off even further, minute by minute. you love your boyfriend— you do, he’s sweet and nerdy, and you adore that he saves the world… but things like this happen a lot, and you only wished he would take some time out, putting it aside for you. to separate you from his save-the-world-bullshit.

“here, let me help,” you pout, hands on him once more— tugging and pulling at his arms and chest while izuku struggles against the latex with burning, bright red freckled cheeks. he whimpers at every cascade of your finger tips, breath hitching here and there as you work with each other to get it off.

until deku stills, green forest eyes screwing shut, a warmth flooding his lap. 

“did you just—?” 

“y-yeah?” he stutters, clearly embarrassed by cumming in his pants. “s-sorry, love, i’m sorry—“

with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, you back off of deku’s lap, shoulders sagging with relief as you look for your underwear in the mess of your room. “it’s whatever,” you shrug it off, not finding them before standing up and away from your boyfriend. “‘m gonna grab some snacks and we can watch some shitty cartoons, and pretend this didn’t happen.” 

you leave the room before izuku can catch wind of how disappointed you really are— knowing he might struggle to get it up a second time. the stress of saving the world can do that to you apparently. usually he’ll make it up to you with that silver spider-man tongue of his, the same one that’s chatty with quips directed at villains…but tonight, that just won’t do. 

tonight you’d really needed him. 

“fuck me,” izuku sighs heavily, laying back on the floor— suit sticky and tight against the skin of his thighs after cumming in it prematurely. submerged in his own self pity— he fails to notice the telling tingle of his enhanced senses, and the sound of your bedroom window sliding up. 

“after that shit show? nah, no thanks,” izuku jumps up, gaze shooting over to the window where deadpool pops his head through. “was pretty sad to watch.” the mercenary makes himself comfortable, sliding into the room before crossing one leg over the other as he sits on the window ledge. 

you choose that exact moment to re-enter the room, a tray full of snacks and warm drinks to smooth over the awkward evening with your boyfriend. “‘zu, i made you some cocoa, how you like, i’m sorry for the way i reacted earlier i just—“ glancing up as you push through the door, your eyes dart between your boyfriend, Spider-Man, and the new red and black dressed figure— a scream ripping through your body as you drop the tray, deku’s webs catching it safely before the items hit the floor.

deadpool only screams back, covering his face with gloved hands as if to mock his own shock. 

“who the fuck are you?” after you regain your bearings, you’re launching at the heavily armed stranger in your apartment; his feet swinging and the white eyes in his mask animatedly moving in a widening motion. you grab the nearest and closest thing you have to a weapon ( a butter knife used to spread pb on your boyfriend’s crackers ) and throw it at the intruder, lodging it into his shoulders just before deku trips you up with a few more webs. “how the fuck did you get into my house?” 

“ah, well ya see. ‘m always pickin’ the locks whenever i visit spidey over here— but i must’ve gotten the wrong address this time round.” the intruder sings, peering down at you. you feel like he’s reading your soul through the mask and start to scramble again. “ya never told me how hot your girlfriend was, bugboy. if i look at her any longer Cupid might shoot my ass with a tiny, pointy arrow.”

“i-it was none of your business!” deku grunts, holding you down with webs, another horrified yell building up within you as deadpool pulls the knife from his shoulder and the wound hole closes up on its own. “baby— deadpool, aka kacchan. deadpool— my girlfriend.” 

“well, pleasure to meet you, sweetheart,” deadpool…kacchan coos in response, stepping down to use a gloved hand, taking yours in his own and kissing the back of it. 

you’d been warned about deadpool, the heinous crimes he committed in cold blood, his playful attitude towards life threatening situations with his dangerous anti-hero attitude, which was less than ideal to work with— all the forewarnings your pretty, goody two shoes neighbourhood hero boyfriend had fed you. but right now, gazing up at the red suited mercenary, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be scared because you hadn’t been warned about how hot he sounded with the gravel in his voice, how built he looked under layers of leather that had clearly been used in combat or war.

coughing, and ruining the moment that has your skin burning, deku clears his throat to ask. “what are you doing here, ‘pool?”

“came to invite you out for celebratory drinks, buddy! we kicked ass t’day, and that’s what friends do, right?” kacchan’s white masked eyes give you both the once over, forming somewhat of a grimace— from what you can tell. “but i see you’re kinda busy with…other, failed plans.” 

“we didn’t fail! we were just hooking up, that’s what couples do!” 

“barely counts as hooking up shitty spider, can barely keep yer fuckin’ dick up! 

as the two super-enhanced dummies argue their way through the situation— you sit mortified, your sex life ( what of it ) sitting bare on the table for the two men to openly to discuss. “i-it’s not always like this!” you gasp, desperately trying to shut them both down. 

they both look over to you, kacchan clearly amused. “that’s the sixth fuckin’ time this month!” 

“you keep count?” deku squeaks, voice rising anoctave. 

“only on tuesdays and fridays, and i gotta admit— your girlfriend has such pretty tits, i dunno how you can’t pop a stiffy just lookin’ at those things, so round…s’soft,” he sounds like his mouth is watering, words sloshed around the spit pooling on his tongue. “i bet they feel as soft as those puppies from the ryan reynolds puppy interview.” bakugou says, looking somewhere off that you can’t see, yours and deku’s eyes follow it to the wall but don’t spot anything. 

“who the fuck are you talking to?”

“them, the readers. filthy sluts they are. hi gorgeous…we’ll get to the smutty parts in a bit, kay?” then, deadpool turns back to you. “any fuckin�� ways, i think i’d fuck you better, hah? i can be somewhat of a tender lover,” kacchan sings, the last of his words falling into a gentle whisper. you hear the protests of your boyfriend in the distance, but it does nothing to quell the overwhelming lust tingling at the tips of your fingers and toes, clinging to every crevice of your mind. you wonder if you’re a bad girlfriend for even considering the proposal.  “oh come on spidey, you can’t tell me you’ve never imagined someone else fucking your girl?”

within an instant, the masked assassin, katsuki bakugou, ( better known as deadpool ), yanks you up from the floor and spins you into his chest— your back to it, bending you into midoriya’s view. he gives a single, calculated thrust from behind for demonstration, the weight of his cock beneath layers of tarnished red and black leather, bumping against your cunt; knowing what it’ll do to you— cloud your judgement, make you whimper and whine. 

between your gasps and sighs of increasing wanton, bakugou let’s his clothed hands travel up your Spider-Man shirt—drawing goosebumps along your skin as they make their way up to your breasts. “i’ll make you a deal,” squeezing the warm fleshy mounds between killer fingers, he pinches your nipples until you arch your back away from his chest with parted lips. “you let me fuck your girlfriend’s cunt and i won’t leak it to the press that you’ve got erectile dysfunction!”

“that’s not true!” izuku whines as if he’s a kicked puppy, cheeks flaming hot and red underneath his sunspot freckles. 

an evil, breathy chuckle leaves kacchan’s lips, emitted through his mask against the shell of your ear— sending your body into a fit of shivers, liquid gold gathering between your bare folds at the sound. “sure it’s not, but they don’t know that.” you feel like crying, all the anticipation built up from dry humping your boyfriend earlier coming to a head as soon as you feel deadpool’s fingers on your clit, tapping the tiny sensitive bud as if to see how much it controls your pleasure, how responsive you are to his touch. 

the sight of your eyes rolling back from a simple motion over your clit makes blood rush from his heart right down to deku’s cock, bringing it to life again, aching with need. “i don’t… i dunno,” he mumbles, sitting up and leaning forward to watch deadpool play between your thighs, pull pretty moans from between your angel lips. “if this is such a good idea—“ 

“please ‘zu!” you beg, a quivering mess from just a few strokes to your pretty pussy. “please izuku… please!”

and it’s as if the two men come to a mutual understanding, your boyfriend nods eagerly and the mercenary laughs again in satisfaction. “perfect! now keep still sweetheart, wanna be careful not to cut you up too badly,” he murmurs into the back of your neck. “blood doesn’t wash out too easily, that’s why i use lemon juice ‘n seltzer water. and i wouldn’t want t’mess you up too bad.” your eyes widen in protest when you hear the clang of metal and feel a cool blade practically run up your spine. your stare locks with the trusting one of izuku, who’s hand is already making work rubbing oje off on his new erection beneath the seedy wet stain on his suit, and it takes you a second to realise the man had used the katana strapped to his back to slice through your sleep shirt, causing the fabric to fall way from your chest. “better.” 

in the next moment, you’re manhandled face down and ass up onto the bed, izuku moving to sit opposite you against the pillows to watch the scene unfold. you feel bare, fully naked with your glistening cunt on display to the hungry leers of a stranger you don’t know. a man who kills for fun and for sport. “i-it’ll be okay, love,” spidey does his best to reassure you, tentatively taking your fingers in his and pressing a kiss to them— but you don’t miss the way his free hand squeezes his latex bound, weighty balls impatiently. 

“so cute, it’s like ‘m watchin’ and aftercare scene straight outta my little pony!” kacchan rolls his eyes beneath his mask, ruining your gentle moment before he turns away to look into the distance again to address his audience. “who’s yer favourite, reader? mine’s the unicorn but between you and me? twilight’s a fuckin’ cock sucking bitch.” with the focus back on you both, bakugou takes a hold of the globes of your ass— pulling them wide apart to get a wiff of your sweet arousal, a glorious view of how they stay connected by strings of your growing slick. “thatsa pretty view,” 

squeezing deku’s fingers, and katsuki wastes no time easing one thick digit into your eager hole— pushing whatever leaks from your pussy back into you. your mouth falls open as he curls it, searching for that gummy spot inside you that midoriya knows by heart and hums behind the mask when you spasm around him— locking the finger inside your sweet cunt. “‘nother, c-can i have another?” the way you rasp out your words is like an aphrodisiac to both men, deku’s dick twitching as if you’ve called out for him while his anti-hero coworker groans, clapping his free hand against your ass, watching it jiggle and your juices glue them together again. “p-please, ‘zuku— please, i’ll be good— s-so good,” 

spiderman has always been someone to help those in need, and you’re his pathetic little baby— who needs him, needs izuku to feel good and to cum. he can always do that. “i know love,” he inhales sharply, green eyes clouding over like a forest suffocated in a black smog of fiery lust. deku pervertedly looks between your perfectly arched ass, deadpool scissoring another finger into you, and your adorable face— lips between your teeth, eyes fluttering and he can’t help but soothe the pulse in his drooling cock by palming it once more while watching you. “k-kacchan, let’s add another finger, yeah? make her—“ 

“shut the fuck up, would’ya pretty boy?” katsuki snarls, twisting his fingers along the insatiable, streaming cavern of your core until you choke on a moan. “let’s not forget who’s doin’ the fucking here.” he tells both you and your boyfriend, reminding you of your places. “we had a deal, bug boy,” he punctuates each of his words with a ravishing thrust of his digits past your sluice entrance, making you claw at the sheets and sink your nails into deku’s hand. “and if you want somethin’ pretty girl, you gotta ask for it.” 

“d-deadpool,” you plead wetly, lightheaded from the heated excitement of finally being fucked in the way you deserve. “please…”

“it’s katsuki, baby,” there’s movement behind you again, and before you can ask what’s happening—katsuki bakugou is between your trembling thighs from behind, aggressively pulling his mask up and over his chin and nose as if he’s just as needy for this as you are. “‘m gonnna tongue fuck ya,” he says like it’s a statement, his husky voice wavering wwith an appetite for sex. katsuki sounds so much better without the mask, the sound of the deep chocolate octaves of his voice only making you gush around his fingers that plug you full. “and you’re gonna watch, spidey-fuck. god you’re so much more fuckin’ pathetic here than in the comics.” 

red eyes behind the white of the mask swill up the way your mound shines under the night and clenches around his gloved fingers that stuff you nice and full. deadpool’s nose nestles itself between your swollen, wet folds— breathing in deep in the nastiest way possible while his cock throbs at the scent of your arousal. it’s then that he juts his head upwards, nudging against your clit that grows even more prominent with each wave of sex hormone laden blood that rushes to it. 

“oi underoos, c’mere— lay down on the bed ‘n kiss her while i make out with this little cunt like a horny teenager on prom night.” deadpool sounds excited, happy to be the reason that heat sparks under your skin like being pricked with hot metal— his tongue darts out from his sinful mouth to trace over the length of your slit, humming in content at your honeyed taste. “fuck me, it must be christmas.” bakugou kicks his feet, deku crawling to be flat on his stomach before you. “web her down, she keeps squirmin’.” he adds, practically bouncing for joy when deku uses his web slingers to tie your waist to the bed.

just as your hero boyfriend saves you from letting out a pornographic moan, slotting his own mouth against yours, your uninvited guest does the same— pressing his own to the entirety of aroused sex, sucking greedily at the dribble of slick coming from you like a broken tap. you feel so overwhelmed, two tongues licking at you in two different places. izuku’s tongue slides lazily over yours, head tilting to swallow your voracious, agonised deplores. 

“baby y’sound so pretty,” izuku whines, already rutting his hips onto the bed in the same pace that kacchan eats you out, dragging his tongue in circles over your tight hole, faster and faster the louder you get, struggling to keep quiet even as deku kisses you sloppily. hormones breach the air between the three of you, rattling around like crazed particles only served to make you feel dizzy, controlling every movement of your body as you buck your hips back onto the masked face of the man controlling your pleasure, riding out everything on the tip of his tongue. “s’wet down there too…does she taste good kacchan?” 

the sounds of katsuki slurping and sucking every drop of your essence from your mound before it can drip onto the sheets below. reluctantly, he pulls away from your slit— connected to your sticky pussy by ropes of your creamy arousal. “like fuckin’ heaven,” he looks up to the ceiling. “sorry big guy,” right before digging back in, the mercenary spitting onto your cunt and watching as the frothy mixture slides down the length of you. in his next movements, he grabs your hips and yanks you back onto his mouth until his tongue is all the way inside of you, the pink muscle writing against ribbed, souse walls. “yer such a mess down here sweetheart, you gettin’ off to this? being used by someone who ain’t your man?”

there’s a guttural rasp in bakugou’s words spoken against the rising temperature between your thighs, marred skin of his chin shining with your viscous arousal. he makes you a mess, ruins you for better or for worse— you can’t tell. you can’t even tell what’s up or down. izuku is in no better shape than you, shamelessly bucking his hips into the sheets below just from watching your expressions as katsuki fucks you with his tongue like it’s his cock. 

the bed creaks lowly beneath the weight of your ministrations, every lick and suck, perhaps bite from the anti-hero against your pathetically soaked pussy has your entire body in mind-numbing shivers and shakes, legs threatening to give out on you at any moment. “c-can i cum?” you stutter out, tensing when gloved fingers are once more slipped past the frothing white ring of your entrance— it’s a tight fit, has your eyes bulging and your fingers clawing at anything to hold onto, your boyfriend the victim. 

he senses the pain of your death grip before he feels it, supernatural senses causing the feeling to mix into a delightful sting, pulling deku under and stealing his breath from his lungs watching you unravel for another man. it bricks up his length, his seedy precum covered tip catching on the ridges of fabric wrinkling in your bedsheets. everything only intensifies when the mercenary draws a knife from his holster, daring to drag the material against the curve of your ass, smiling wickedly at your attempts to move away from the cold blade despite craving the digits currently plunged inside of you.

he might cum in his suit again, mouth falling open with your own— your moans mingling in unison for a sweet song like a harmony to deadpool’s ears.

“whaddya say spidey, should i let ‘er cum?” deadpool goads, fingers fucking into you at a godspeed pace, tongue tracing his chicken scratch signature into your puffy, overworked clit— keeping you on a tilted ledge familiar to you, right before your high. “should i make your girl cum?”

fat, weighty tears build up in your eyes, the decision sitting in the sex tainted air as your boyfriend holds back his own orgasm. “yes, g-god yes, please let her cum kacchan.” 

you feel it creeping up at you, ready to drown you out in endorphins— but as soon as the twisting feeling in your gut comes, it’s quickly ripped away from you, katsuki’s fingers pulling from your sex only to grip at your waist and hoist you how he wants you, despite your whines and begs to feel release. 

“nah,” he says simply. “she won’t get t’cum till you do, and you won’t until i do, now isn’t that a plot twist.” he adds addressing you the reader this time, hardly breathing as he yanks down the leather of his pants to grab hold of his dick, thrusting it back and forth between your pussy lips as if they’re welcoming him home— met with resistant only when pushing into, despite how much he’d stretched out your little hole. “didn’t i open ya up enough sweetheart? you’re still so fuckin’ tight…or maybe spidey doesn’t get his cock in you enough to make a difference.” 

deku sits up at the change in position, a superhero strength taking over him as he rips through his latex suit— finally bringing some relief to his erection. your boyfriend’s cock feels and looks different to deadpool’s… he’s longer where katsuki is thick, pale with a pretty pink tip covered in white from how turned on he is from watching you get ruined by someone he’s worked with. your own mouth waters, watching izuku take hold of his curved shaft that pulses with the mean words his colleague spits at him— precum clings to each vein, adding a sinful shine to the length of him, guiding the steady movements of his fist that cups his cock…enjoying the show. 

“she gets a little tighter right before you push in,” the green haired hero beefs from deep within his throat, the glow of his eyes trained on the way bakugou’s fat cockhead brushes against the beginnings of your soft walls, trying to push into your little abused cunt. your eyes water at the delightful sting, tears streaking a path down the apples of your cheeks as your body breaks into a sheet of goosebumps. “gotta keep tryin’ s-she’ll take you eventually.” 

they talk about you like you’re not even there, using you in one way or another to get off but katsuki tries again, peeling his leather covered chest from your sweat slicked back and shoving his knee between your soaked thighs to part them even wider. deku groans as even more of your pulsating pussy stretching around the masked man is revealed to him. “it…h-hurts,” you hiccups, muscles in your hips locked despite how badly you want it. “y-you’re bigger than ‘zuku, katsuki,” and even though there is a twinge of pain every time the anti-hero fucks an inch of his length into you, you rock your hips back onto him— smiling to yourself as more of his girth sinks into you.

“ya hear that, shitty bug. your girlfriend thinks my cock is worth more than yours,” a contended, deep sigh lays wet on bakugou’s lips— teasing in tone as he ploughs onwards, his voice making your cunt shudder and grip onto his mushroomed, oozing tip, letting your cunt catch onto every ridge and bump and burned imperfection decorating his shaft. “tellin’ me how to fuck this pussy when he’s barely been in it himself, pathetic, hah sweetheart?” you should feel bad for agreeing, nodding your head feverently, but there’s hardly time to think what you say over. bakugou’s fingers, calloused from whatever birthed deadpool dance over your soft tummy, your hip bone to pacify the bite of your pain by fumbling with your pleasure bud, writing praise against it so you open him up like a flower in bloom— sweet nectar painting his entire hand, and again the skin of your thighs. 

“you gonna let him take you, love?” deku manages to ask over the drool filling his mouth and flooding the palette of his tongue. “i know you can, you’ve always been so good at doing what you’re told.” the rising temperature of the room turns his face as red as the suit cutting deliciously into your skin from behind, kacchan’s mask tough against your back and ass as he grinds his meaty cock into you. 

you shake your head yes for what feels like the millionth time, head lolling back to rest against deadpool’s shoulder— too weak to hold himself up since the added stimulation between your legs as you selfishly sucking more of the man in, letting his girth nestle itself against your warmth, churning you up just right. the more attention he pays to your clit, the more of himself he fucks into you until he’s able to bottom out, balls snug against your iron hot cunt. every movement, each twitch in the room comes to a standstill so everyone can adjust, your core rippling around katsuki and izuku beginning to cup his dick, waiting for his friend’s command to touch himself.

bakugou sets a steady rhythm to his hips, calculatedly making sure each one hits deep enough to smear his thick precum against your g-spot, his hips fluidly flowing into you like a rushing river— skin on skin echoing throughout the room. slick sounds accompany the tune of sex, izuku wrapping a firm hand around his own shaft, jerking himself off in tune with the speed at which katsuki passionately ruts into you— shameful and creamy as you swallow him up. deku fucks his fist like it’s your greedy little entrance, if he closes his eyes tight enough it feels just like you. sweat beads on his hairline like humiliation builds up in his bloodstream, carried about his body and straight to his arousal bleeding tip that his thumb circles over, pushing through the beads of precum at the slit. 

you feel everything, the slow stroke of deadpool’s creamed tip into your sluice and gooey insides, drowned in what feels like gallons of your essence— weakly rocking your hips down onto his, with tiny mewls that send both men into a frenzy. “couldn’t get your dick out for your girl but could for me fucking her? pathetic.” he sneers to your goody two shoes boyfriend, making him feel like even more of a pervert.

perhaps this does make him one, it’s been so long since izuku gave you the time of day and the attention that you needed— hanging his duty of Spider-Man just one peg above you always. he couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of nights he’d left you, his loyal and sweet girlfriend unattended to because being the friendly neighbourhood hero garnered all of his focus. maybe being a little debauched was what your sex life needed,  for izuku to take a seat and really learn how to make you see stars. to have his lover ravaged and pounded into like a bitch needing to be fucked in heat.

that’s what he needed to wake up— see how much his baby needed him. “‘m sorry,” he hiccups, emerald gem eyes filled with crystalline tears that catch in his waterline, from pleasure or regret, your boyfriend can’t even tell. clear precum guides his movements, hips rising from the bed needily while his palm slides up and down his lengthy and chubby shaft, white caught in the fuzz of his pubic hair. “‘m sorry i’m no good at f-fucking her— shit, that i can’t keep it up. love, god…”

“fuck me, yer whiney,” deadpool laughs between heaves of his chest, concentrated on taking you to cloud nine— letting you know that he fucks you better than anyone who has before. “aren’t you embarrassed that a man like me has both you and your girl a mess? c’mon spidey, at least act like you hate me doing your job.” izuku howls at the degradation, and though your eyes are hazy, you swear that he’s swollen with an impending orgasm— the shredded latex that covers his hands squeezing at his weighty balls that look just about to burst. “still don’t know how a wet wimp like you managed to bag such a pretty lady, s’almost like she’s paid to be here,” 

licking a stripe up your neck, bakugou goes on, hands exploring every dip and curve in your body— pinching your sides and your clit and your nipples, nibbling on your shoulder and leaving marks where izuku would. “you know that right, that you’re fucking gorgeous,” his praise sends a shiver down your spine and butterflies in a frenzy within your lower tummy, leaving you gasping for air and a clenching mess. “moans sound so perfect, pussy swallowin’ me down… never met such a good girl, even when you’re crying like this.” 

“i-i’m a good girl?” you manage over the balls tapping your pearl at the centre of your viscous honeyed cunt, wet slaps bouncing off the wall. 

“so fucking good, sweetheart, love how you wrap around me, how you take this cock— you like it, i know you do,” he goes on, cupping your breasts as they bounce along with the rapid lunges of his hips, choking on a deep gripe of your name. “you like bein’ fucked while your boyfriend watches, you like that it’s me, don’t you? let’s play a game sweetheart, let’s pretend i’m your boyfriend who knows how to fuck you just right? yeah? get you all loved up and cockdrunk.” 

one second he’s balls deep, the early signs of katsuki’s release painting your guts as he churns them up, the next he’s got you flipped onto your back— your head by izuku’s lap and your thighs hiked over the latter’s broad, muscular shoulders. the whole world tilts on its axis, your head swimming and ears filled with cotton at the new angle, deadpool ramming into you missionary style and fucking you like he means it, like he loves you. 

“h-hah, k-katsuki…need more. need you!” you squeal, his tip grinding roughly against your g-spot over and over until it makes your vision shake. his pelvis is smooshed agonisingly against your swollen clit, stimulating you beyond belief, ripping you to shreds while every push and pull of his slender hips pieces you back together again. 

seeing him smirk above you as he cages you in against the soiled sheets with one hand above your head,  has you a sweating, wet mess— heavy tears clumped in your lashes at the view. deadpool’s…katsuki’s got to be attractive, you just know it. though his skin seems littered with rough, harsh scars, it glows golden under the artificial yellow lighting in your bedroom— tufts of blonde peek out from below the mask and you feel yourself grow woozy at his bright, white toothy grin. your hands, curious and needy, run from his slender and slutty waist up to his bulking arms and toned chest— mapping out his body built to kill, to fight, and when your arms wrap around his neck, you whimper with frustration, perhaps desperation— greedy eyes and cunt wanting more.

“take off your mask,” you beg between hiccuped cries, mouth hanging open when the mercenary’s speed picks up mercilessly. “wanna see your face… wanna know who’s f-fucking me this good.” 

cocking his head to the side, a rough thumb presses into your clit between your joined bodies. “ask me nice ‘n pretty, gorgeous. r’member who you’re talking to.” 

you keen into his touch, back arching off the bed and ankles locking just above his ass. you hear izuku above you, groaning at the sight before him— while his friend moulds you into the shape of his cock. “go on baby, know you can be good…use your manners,” he heaves, shifting so that his knees are either side of your head, fisting his cock rapidly over your tear soaked face.

“please,” you repeat to both of them, pout on your face, voice hoarse.“t-take off your mask, please.” it’s only fair he does as you ask, since both yourself and deku are practically naked— himself almost fully clothed.

pulling the hand locking you against him, bakugou uses it to rip off his mask— tossing it back into the room somewhere only to lean down close, squishing your cheeks between his rough fingers. “like what’cha see gorgeous?” his voice is thick with ecstasy, filtering through your ears like warm honey and filling you with a similar sense of heat. katsuki is a fucking god. where your boyfriend, deku, is pretty, adorable and sure does have his moments, deadpool is another kind of attractive— a scar from his battles running down the length of his chiselled face as if he’s been carved from the same marble used to make statues of gods. his eyes remind you of molten lava, red pools bubbling over with such intensity you might pass out. “‘cause i do, love how you look right now, pussy chokin’ my cock like you wanna milk it, clingin’ onto me. love it, sweetheart.” 

“love you,” you mewl in response, the world around you beginning to fall away— cease to exist, where the only feelings you know are katsuki’s shaft pressing up against your inner most sensitive spots and izuku tapping is leaky cock against your cheeks, wet moans of your name, tight and broken clinging to the air. “i love you, love your cock, love this, love you ‘zuku…” the three of you are a mess of juices splashing about the place and hot-to-the-touch skin, waves of clear liquid spewing from your puckered hole, creating a wet pap every time katsuki plunges back into you at unthinkable speeds. 

“you love me, hah? c’mere,” bakugou swoops down, a grip on the backs of your thighs as he pushes your knees towards your chest and connects his lips to your own. the new angle has all of his weight onto you, galaxies forming behind your eyes while he pounds into your foaming entrance with rhythmic claps. his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, delves into your mouth until you can feel him right in your throat and sucks on your lips until they’re swollen and raw. “gonna take care of you where the shitty bug can’t, keep this pretty body nice and full of my cock— fuck me baby, you’re so sweet.” he tells you like it’s a promise, fucks it right into that empty head of yours. 

while you grasp at sunshine locks, deku pants weakly behind you, strings of his near release dripping onto your face— his voice rising in octave. he’s trying so hard not to cum, savouring the pretty show being put on just for you, a front row seat to your sex grinding slick and lewdly up against bakugou’s, a creamy ring frothing around his base. “kacchan,” he cries, squeezing the bottom of his own dick to stave off his orgasm. “‘m gonna cum.” 

“no. you’re not. you wanna cum before your girlfriend does? no wonder why she’s so hungry for me cock you can barely last yourself,” although the blonde’s words are mean, evil enough to make your precious boyfriend hiccup with his own wave of tears, running low on stamina and hips rutting high into nothing, bakugou takes hold of deku’s chubby cock, guiding it before your lip locks and kisses. “suck, sweetheart. he cums, you get to cum, kay?” 

“uhuh,” you agree, pacified by having both of your entrances filled and let your strawberry tongue glide over izuku’s salty tip just the way he likes— hollowing your cheeks to suck him in nice and deep. 

between watching his girlfriend get her pussy destroyed by another man and having her swallow him down, tight throat constricting around him— there’s no way izuku can last any longer, especially when bakugou spits on to his shaft, rolling his balls too. he wants nothing more than to watch you both fall apart from him, switching his attention from your boyfriend to you, seemingly flipping a cold blade out of nowhere to press against your throat— knowing it’ll only get you wetter, sloppier and messier, messing with your mind.

it gets you to clench just right too. 

“fuck…that’s it, fuckin’ shit…” katsuki seems to have no control over his body either, barely holding back but the sight of your throat bulging for deku and your creamed cunt is enough to send him over the edge. he chokes on a moan of relief, tip nudging your g-spot and hands shaking with the treat of cutting your pretty throat as he runs towards his orgasm. “g-god sweetheart, got me breedin’ you. fuck, you want it bad,” static nearly blinds the anti-hero, curses spilling from his lips like his gum that spills into you in hot white ropes. he hisses, pulling his cock from your spasming hole and jerks himself off through the rest of his high, cumming and cunning until it splatters up your soft, marked tummy and over your ruined pussy lips. 

“can i cum now? c-can i? d-don’t think i can— oh baby… h-hold it!” your spider-man boyfriend comes next, thick and right down your throat until you choke on his heavy seed as it pours out by the corner of your swollen lips— he has to web your wrists together to stop you from pinching his freckled thighs so that he pulls out, the rest of his hot load shooting over your face, tangling in your eyelashes as his body convulses above your own.

with his breathing evening out, bakugou takes hold of his weighty length, smearing his seed into your skin and over your ravaged mound— knowing that you sit on the edge of your own release, a stunning mess of tears and cum and juices. “think it’s your turn, hah, pretty girl?” he grins wide at how you can barely manage to nod, and exhausted from the night’s activities. the blonde mercenary only tuts, slapping his cockhead against your clit, pushing it into your slit along with globs of his cum until the knot in your stomach twists, unravelling violently and all at once, release splattering out against his stomach, in a clear stream. “there you go, doin’ so well.” 

“so well beautiful,” izuku parrots, mesmerised by the way your face contorts into an adorable pout while you cum, coated in his own release that spreads over his tongue as he leans down to kiss you slow, and encouragingly to swallow the scream you let out. 

the three of you collapse a pile of over exerted limbs, with deku checking you over like the hero he truly is. 

“so, same time next fuckin’ week?” deadpool asks, grinning when you agree hastily. “and oi, you lot. don’t go askin’ for a part two. it ain’t happenin’, it’s a private screening.”

deku hums in agreement too, but makes a mental note to ask iron man to make him a looser suit, for practical reasons of course— not so it’s easier for him to fuck you, or anything.

[siren-serenity]

the takeover of crews has begun...

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 they call the second generation shitty and filled with fucking pussies...i think they need to be fucked up to oblivion.

-all written by 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍-

note: the ones with (nsfw) are not suitable for minors! minors dni. however, those without any other labelling are safe for everyone :)

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔…𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐒. 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒. note: i will only write platonic/romantic for the students of J-High School unless they are aged up because they are minors. i will allow romantic/nsfw as long as the reader is appropriately aged compared to the character (no large age gaps allowed) ex. all J-High students must be aged up for nsfw work. i will not write for anyone in the first generation or pre-generation unless they are for platonic purposes (james lee is 21~23 years old so nsfw and romantic is allowed) all my LOOKISM works contain spoilers from the webtoon. you have been warned!

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 ↳˳;; ❝ a hopeless romantic all my lifeᵕ̈೫˚∗

"quick daniel!" you drag him away from the chaotic group at lotte world and to the photobooths. daniel is stuck in a stupor of wonder as he stares at the bright and colorful decorations around him, like he just entered a whole new world. lotte world is just that amazing, in your honest opinion. you gesture for him to lean down and you put the silly mickey mouse ears in his hair before pointing at the camera. "one, two, three!" just as the camera flashes, daniel turns around to press his lips to your cheeks, his own cheeks flushing bright red at his actions.

𝐙𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ↳˳;; ❝ _______________ᵕ̈೫˚∗

"i'm sorry," zack apologizes. the room is barren and quiet, save for you two. you dab a small cotton fluff that was previously dipped in alcohol and press it to his cut, making him let out a wince. "sorry for fighting when you said you hate it." you hum before smiling. "but that guy ended up way worse, right?" zack's chest huffs up as he gives you a grin. "of course! no one insults my lover and gets away with it that easily!"

𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐄/𝐕𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐎 ↳˳;; ❝ cuteness overloadᵕ̈೫˚∗

vasco calls out your name eagerly; his voice echos in the halls of j-high, making everyone stare at the two of you. he dashes through the corridors before taking a leap into your arms. if it weren't for your strength, you both would have crashed into the floor painfully. "good morning, vasco," you greet him with a kiss to his forehead. his eyelids flutter at the action before grinning at you back. "morning y/n! i love you!"

𝐉𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆 ↳˳;; ❝ _______________ᵕ̈೫˚∗

his body language conveys all the emotions he doesn't convey with his voice. your hands entangle with his and squeeze his fingers tight, reassuring him that you'll always be here for him. jay hong gives you a gentle smile before pressing a gentle kiss to your exposed collarbone. it speaks more than whatever flimsy compliments you earn from your 'fanbase'. 'i love you', jay hong expresses.

𝐕𝐈𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐍 ↳˳;; ❝ _______________ᵕ̈೫˚∗

"i'm a monster," vin jin mutters, stubbornly looking away from you. his big, tacky sunglasses remain perched on his face and the blood boiling in your veins itches to take them off. you know the story, you know the truth, but why is he so stubborn to refuse? "you'll hate me." your hand reaches out to grab his chin, tilting it to meet your loving eyes. you lean in, lips only inches away from his before murmuring. "you aren't a monster. you're my lover - you are my vin jin. forever."

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐌 ↳˳;; ❝ bunny boy!jake headcanons (slight nsfw)ᵕ̈೫˚∗ ↳˳;; ❝ oversizedᵕ̈೫˚∗ ↳˳;; ❝ sunsets in two different waysᵕ̈೫˚∗

the streets of big deal are empty, which was to be expected since it was late at night. jake kim bids goodbye to his crew members with a warm smile before slinging his black jacket over his shoulders and striding back home. home, that was a new word to his vocabulary but only added because of you. "what's for dinner?" he sneaks up and cuddles you from behind, making you yelp and hit him on the head. "wash up, jake kim! i can still smell blood on you!" you push him away but not before sneaking a tiny kiss on his cheek. he only pouts and goes off to do so, but not before yelling a quick "dinner smells good, love!"

𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 ↳˳;; ❝ good boy (nsfw)ᵕ̈೫˚∗

"holy shit," gun park breathes out in awe. he tears the sunglasses away from his face, revealing fully black sclera and stunningly white pupils that make him seem like a devil. groaning bodies surrounding the manmade devil and blood is splattered all over the alleys. "fight me!" you scoff and walk away from your own pile of bodies, away from the bloodshed, away from your past, and away from the mysterious handsome man that seems to be enamored by you. "no thanks. i'm done." you dodge a brazillian kick, hissing at the newly-forming bruise on your arm. gun's eyes widen and something within him stirs up, something he hasn't felt in a long, long time. "it wasn't a question, love."

𝐆𝐎𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐌 ↳˳;; ❝ boredom (nsfw)ᵕ̈೫˚∗

"i'll beat you at mario kart one day!" goo cries out as you dance in victory, throwing him the childish 'L' signs and laughing at the fake-blond. you throw yourself onto the couch and in the process, threw goo off the couch and onto the carpet. "hey!" he yells before pouncing on you, fingers dancing across your sides and you let out high-pitched laughs. "s-stop!" "not until you say i'm the best at mario kart!" goo responds with a twinkle in his eyes as you continue to fill the house with warmth and so much laughter.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 ↳˳;; ❝ _______________ᵕ̈೫˚∗

ruffling eden's fur, you couldn't help the smile on your face from the absolutely lovely weather today. johan seong couldn't help but disagree and it was clear by the way his jacket was stubbornly wrapped around you like a burrito - god dog's proud logo drawn on the back. "you're going to get cold," he says, blushing. you only tilt your head back to laugh. "it's spring, johan. i'm not going to get a cold." "you never know," he huffs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. the bright red blush on his ears gives away all his emotions and you give him a teasing push.

𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐎 ↳˳;; ❝ markedᵕ̈೫˚∗

"are you done yet?" samuel scrolls on his phone as he sits on the cheap leather couch. he gives no attention to all the blushing people blatantly staring at him, only to his phone which was filled with numbers and words. "done!" you smile and walk out of the fitting room. samuel immediately puts away his phone and stares at you with adoring eyes. "we're buying it immediately. along with everything else," he smirks at your face. he takes out his thick wallet and walks to the counter, blowing you a kiss in return.

𝐄𝐋𝐈 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐆 ↳˳;; ❝ hair dyeᵕ̈೫˚∗ ↳˳;; ❝ a hopeless romantic all my lifeᵕ̈೫˚∗

the day you met yenna, it was like an angel descended onto the world. eli jang couldn't help the gentle smile crawling onto his face as he sat next to you on the old carpet. your hands fiddled with yenna's chubby ones, a smile filled with glee on your face like it was permanently engraved there. little murmurs of 'so cute!' were repeated like a mantra and eli couldn't help the pride blossoming in his soul. "love you," he presses a kiss onto your cheek and you blink at him cluelessly. "that was so random, but," you snuggled into him. "love you too."

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐍 ↳˳;; ❝ sunsets in two different waysᵕ̈���˚∗

"come on now," sinu han's arms snaked around your waist and tugged you closer to him. his face naturally and automatically buried into the crook of your collarbone and the edges of his black hair tickled against your skin. you laughed, the carefree noise making sinu's heart race, and he couldn't help his teasing words. "keep laughing like that and i will never let you go!"

[russellsppttemplates]

Papa Pierre dealing with some crisis with the kids. Maybe it's a meltdown, maybe one of them hurts themselves...something in order to make him sweat. And after when he's telling mamãe about it, he'll be all "I was so scared/stressed, amour. I don't know how you deal with this"

Tw: child accidentally gets hurt, mentions blood, hospital visits

The afternoon was filled with projects and activities you had left for Pierre while Alexandre and Louid were at school and you took Celeste for a doctor's appointment, leaving him with Élodie to make some arts and crafts.

"Oh, someone's calling papa, one second, chérie, I'll be right back", he excused himself, leaving the room and taking the call in the hallway. After sorting out a few details about next week's schedule, Pierre dialled off, entering the room to see his daughter's pouty lip, "what happened, amour?", he said, noticing her tear filled eyes.

"I- I was painting and then it slipped, so I want to grab the paper, and- and I hurt myself", she said, finally letting the tears flow freely as she allowed her body to feel the scare now that her papa was there with her.

"Where did you hurt yourself, Élodie?", Pierre asked, inspecting her from head to toe, "in my arm, papa", she said, showing the small cut on her forearm. Even though he was panicking a little, Pierre managed to go to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit and a bowl of water to bring to the room.

"It doesn't hurt papa, but there's some blood, look", his daughter mumbledd, showing him the wound, "papa is going to wet this and I'm going to clean it, okay? Tell me if it hurst", he said, not hearing any complaints from her as her tears died down, "Good, very brave, Élodie!", he encouraged, "it doesn't seem to deep, I think we can just put some solution and a band aid and you'll be good as new, okay?", he said, grabbing the foreign looking bottle.

"Is that going to hurt, papa?", she asked, seeing the reddish brown colour of the solution, "it might tickle a little, but this is what is going to make this better and heal faster, okay? I'll go gently", he promised her, gently dabbing the cotton on her skin, hearing her hiss, "you're doing so well, chérie, so so so well, I'm almost done".

"Now, we have these plasters, you can choose one of the big ones so it covers all of it", Pierre told her as he discarded all of the used supplies, coming back to see her choice, "this one, with the boats, I think it's pretty", she said, her cheeks dry from the tears, "I think it's a fine choice, let me put it on".

When you got home, both boys went upstairs so they could shower quickly after their practices while you changed Celeste's diaper, reminding the boys to shut the water before heading downstairs, "hey, you two", you greeted Pierre and Élodie, "is everything alright?", you asked since your oldest daughter was laying on top of her father, "she got hurt and now we are having some cuddles", he said as Élodie showed you her arm, "Oh, this should heal quickly", you kissed the plaster.

When Élodie went to the bathroom and rhe boys joined you downstairs, Pierre spoke up, "as stupid as it sounds now that I know she's fine, as soon as she told me she was hurt, I was so scared, I thought I'd have to call you to stay at the hospital because we would have to go there", he admitted, "it was a small nick, she said she brushed her arm too quickly, but I've already moved the table", he pointed to the coffee table now resting against the wall, "I don't know how you do it, you know? Stay calm and collected, because last time this happened to Alexandre you did what I did with Celeste on your chest, happily sleeping in the sling", he breathed out a chuckle.

Smiling at him, you kisses his forehead, "well, genetically and evolutionarily, women are designed to tend to many things at once", you said smartly, "and I was also a child that got bumps and bruises very easily", you said, earning a fake surprised look from him, "me being clumsy? I know! What a shock, eh?", you giggled.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[inchidentally]

ok it's been a while since I did a big weird dumb emotional parasocial Lando post - this tangent being based on this photoset by Audrey/landoom

bc we have a perfect comparison for all three of Lando's teammates and oh yes I've got a lot of thoughts in my big dumb head !!

okay so

the carlando one is perfect bc this is what they do between race weekend duties, chatter away about this and that like they always have. but their dynamic is also always the same in the way they sit: Carlos is The Man with his manspreading and taking up space and he always leads their conversation, even doing that mock reprimanding when Lando is just plain wrong or too silly etc. of course Lando will always be The Boy bc Carlos got to know him before Lando's voice had changed and before Lando's body had even finished growing. their entire season spent together was Lando latching onto Carlos to cope with being too young for F1 and looking endlessly grateful that Carlos is a natural dab hand at media duties and the interminable periods of waiting on Thursdays, Fridays and even Saturdays. Carlos had also just been looking after another F1 baby in Max so playing the role of big brother and guardian was hardly new. but that's why Lando always has to squirm into whatever space is left (which fortunately he's very skilled at doing) when he's spending time with Carlos. even when they walk together, Carlos is striding and facing forward while Lando skitters at his side and twists himself to talk at him. Lando doesn't quite behave like the jittery toddler that he was with Carlos at first but he's also never going to be an equal to Carlos in that social way that Charles is. Carlos and Charles move in and around each other's space and are close enough in age for there to be nothing in it - Charles is another Man. Lando will always be baby brother wanting to hang with big brother with Carlos. big brother will always put his big arm out and keep little brother safe.

then the dando of it all that for me is equal parts hahahaaaaaaaa Daniel Ricciardo you got got at your own silly game - but also angsty as hell. bc Lando had to go through a very uncomfortable realization that Daniel was repeating the same kind of bromance dynamic with him that Daniel does with everyone, especially with his teammates… right at the same time that Daniel realized that for all his gay joking he'd caught some kind of baffling feelings for this strange little scrap of boy with the beautiful face and an intense charisma that came entirely from being vulnerable and sincere. I have a love/hate relationship with bromance content in general so I was like partly enjoying Daniel's Lando content suddenly becoming obsessive and transparently adoring, but also feeling (kind of) bad for him bc his idiot straight man bro-brain suffered a little bruise of queer longing in the shape of Lando that he'll never be rid of. because while Lando already knew he could make any man love him in a protective/guardian way, it was right during Daniel's tenure when Lando realized he could make any man actually fall in love with him - even without trying to. so there's DannyRic, playing up a fake version of the big brother thing Carlos has with Lando because he's too old to consider Lando one of his usual buddies, but then his trademark smile falters because he's jokingly getting Lando to wear his clothing line and jokingly tucking a flower behind Lando's ear and jokingly zooming in on Lando's glowing face again for a video... except he has to remind himself to force a bro-y laugh because it seems as if the sunlight is always shining out of Lando's face instead of the sky. and that's where their dynamic has lived ever since. Daniel wants to feel the sun again and forces out laughs to remind everyone, including himself and Lando, that it's cool and nothing serious. sometimes Lando laughs until it hurts and sometimes he feels out of it and can't bring himself to laugh back.

and like, knowing that that's been Lando's experience with teammates so far it's why we've all had this ??? !!! along with him when Oscar arrived packaged all alone, neat and tidy with a placid small smile on his face and half his career under professional management already. he's inscrutable but also so easygoing. he's friendly but he hardly ever touches another human being. he's polite but also firm in his feelings. he refuses to be anyone but himself but also gives absolutely nothing away. he must have shades and colors beneath all that pale skin because his eyes ignore everyone but the people he chooses as worthy of his time. with most people he's so ambivalent that he's barely even present but then Lando comes into his view and the fresh coffee color of Oscar's eyes fills back in. he doesn't blink enough around Lando and doesn't pay attention to much else when Lando is around. but he also won't capitulate and just be a bro or a bromance or some other easy entity. sometimes he takes a downright firm hand with Lando which is startling, but he just as suddenly will capitulate to whatever Lando wants which of course is delightful. and then he never takes away the attention that Lando lives off of like food and water. Lando realized at some point that he has to disappear so far from Oscar's field of vision for Oscar to not follow him or watch him. so why isn't Oscar being a big stupid simp like Daniel or a warm strong guardian like Carlos? why won't he just play ball during challenges and why won't he just let Lando know once and for all how exactly Oscar fits in with all the men who adore Lando because dammit he's the only one he can't categorize. he can't seem to find his footing and he can't even be mad about that because Oscar is so faithful and kind and unselfish and downright respectful and admiring in ways that other men and teammates never have been. how can you get mad at a boy for not easily defining what you are to him when he stays one step behind you at all times because you're the number one driver and he has no problem showing it - who hangs so far back at your home race fan stage that the host actually looks confused for a moment because she doesn't expect even the number two driver to look so happy about letting his teammate soak in all the glory on his own. why should it hurt that Oscar doesn't seem to view himself as a significant part of Lando's life when Oscar is so comfortable with that idea and so happy to just have Lando while he has him and not expect anything more?

and that's why we get Oscar as an unexpectedly intimate part of Lando's cameras. cameras are his creative expression - a cringe free space where he's safe to show the world he sees when he's the observer and not the observed. of course the little black heart under the photoset that starts with Oscar just stands for black and white photos of McLaren and the place he calls home. but Lando also agonizes over those posts and when you look at how he looks at Oscar and what they've been through and how steady and strong Oscar has been for Lando even in his rookie season, it felt a little prescient that Oscar would sign a contract immediately for as long as McLaren would give him. Oscar who has proven that he will determine his own future and that he will not let his time or his fate be in the hands of anyone else. that Oscar looked at McLaren and looked at Lando and said this is what he wants. McLaren has been Lando's home for so long and with that kind of proof from someone like Oscar, shouldn't it make sense that Oscar feels a lot like home. so he gets to be the first picture and the little heart sits directly beneath.

that's the thing for me about landoscar - we know so little about who Oscar is as a person on any deeper level apart from the people and things his eyes turn coffee colored for. we already all love Lando and the fact that Oscar's eyes open up around him is like a little window into who Oscar is down deep. firm but fair, faithful but not blind, adores too intensely to show it, effortlessly funny but controlled, withdrawn but not cold. we know Oscar is lovable and there's something so intensely upright about him.

so the one landoscar moment in this photoset is one of many times we see Lando taking a photo of Oscar's face. because he may not have an easy, handy way of defining what kind of friend/presence Oscar is in his life, he knows what Oscar has given him and Lando's camera is how Lando can reciprocate. he can grab Oscar in that moment, put him in his camera and look at him where he can understand him. sometimes post him publicly but most of the time will not.

[greer2301]

Bitch, I said what I said.

Chris Sturniolo X Reader

Jealous reader.

• Angst • •MDNI• •Language• •Violence GxG• •SMUT•

We were at a party, myself and the triplets having some drinks and just trying to have a good time. The boys were invited I was just Chris’s plus one, the boys coming to celebrate their friend. Chris and I already had a very long conversation before leaving the house about tonight, he asked me to behave.

I have no problem behaving, showing respect or understanding boundaries. However there is only so much one can tolerate when someone’s trying to fuck my man. Chris is polite, sometimes too polite when people are overstepping his boundaries or invading his space when he is uncomfortable. He was standing with a drink in his hand talking with his brothers and a small group of friends, however there was one bitch that just wouldn’t get the hint.

I watched as Chris politely removed her hands from his body multiple times, scooting away from her when she would get to close only for her to step closer to him. I watched as he asked her to leave him alone, and I watched as he looked to me before nodding his head slightly at me before she grabbed his cheek and put her mouth on his.

Bitch.

I walked over, Nick looking at the girl like she just sucked off the Devil and Matt looking to them with wide eyes. I grabbed her hair extensions and pulled her away from him, dumping the rest of my espresso martini down her face and chest I turned her around and gave her a small shove in the opposite direction. “You should go” I told her calmly Chris’s arm resting across my shoulders as she puts two and two together. “Really? This is the girl? You could do better” She tells him, her eyes looking me over as she takes a step closer. “Honey, you look like a sucked out Boston cream donut that someone gave their kids. Fuck outta here” I told her, grabbing a new drink off the counter and leaning into Chris. The girl gaped for a moment, looking at the people around us before launching herself at me.

Chris caught my drink as I side stepped the girl and gave her back a good shove, she hit the corner of the wall and wasted no time in coming back at me. I let her hit me once in case she called the cops, her ring cutting my cheek just under my eye. After that hit I just started swinging on her, I ripped out the rest of her extensions, hit her nose so hard her hoop ring ripped her nostril open, my ring caught her septum and tore it out. “STOP!” She screamed, so I let her go and took a step back, she was bawling and holding her nose as she looked at the ground. She didn’t say anything only walked out, Chris handed me my drink back and used his sweater sleeve to dab away the blood from the cut she made.

“We should probably go” Nick said as he looked around at the people with their phones out, we nodded and walked to the car Matt having been the DD for the night. Once Chris and I reached his room and the door was closed he laughed. “You didn’t have to go that hard babe” he said as he took his sweater off and sat on the bed, shrugging I start taking off my rings and cleaning off my makeup. “She should’ve stayed in her lane” I tell him taking off my outfit and putting on one of his big shirts. Walking over and straddling his lap he nods, turning on the tv and turning it up a bit. His hands now empty hold onto my hips rubbing his thumbs over the shirt, I nudge his hat off and run my fingers through his hair his eyes close in comfort and his mouth parts as he leans his head back.

I lean in and lightly kiss around his neck, liking from his collar bone to his jawline, lightly gripping his ear lobe between my teeth and pulling off gently. “My pretty boy” I whisper, his hands running up and down my sides as he rutts his hips into me. He moans as I bring my mouth back to his neck leaving small faint marks on his skin, running my front teeth over his pale skin and lightly biting his sweet spot. I stop kissing his neck to help him take his shirt off, his eyes open in a lustful gaze as his shirt slips over his head his hair messy and pupils blown wide. He pulls me in for a kiss, our teeth clashing, tongues fighting for dominance as his hands grip my ass harshly grinding my pussy over his hard length. I moan into his mouth, my hands running up and down his back my nails leaving small scratches behind.

Chris pulls back to take my shirt off, his eyes immediately drawn to my tittys a smirk on his face as he takes one into his mouth working it over and using his fingers to stimulate the other one. My hands gripping his hair as he thrusts his hips into mine, moans leaving my mouth lowly so I don’t hear it from his brothers later. “So fuckin pretty baby” he whispers his face coming to meet mine again, holding me he stands up and places my back on the bed. His mouth moving to my neck as he takes his belt off and he sucks marks into my skin, his shorts drop to the floor and I feel his boxer covered length rub against my panty covered core. Chris reaches into the nightstand and pulls out the vibrator, turning it on medium and places it on my covered clit. “Chris” I moan out, he moans with me moving my panties to the side so he can slide a finger in me, moving his head so he can watch my face with that smirk on his.

My hips are rutting into the vibrator, my back arched and moans leave my lips, my hands grip Chris’s forearm and shoulder my nails almost breaking the skin. “So fuckin perfect baby” Chris whispers, biting his lip as he takes the vibrator away. “Gon’ fuck this pretty pussy” Chris says as he pulls my underwear off and tugs down his boxers, licking my slick from his fingers. “So fucking good to me baby” I whisper, my throat dry from the moans he’s pulled out of me already. Chris kisses my cheek rubbing his length between my folds to collect my slick, he enters me slowly a moan falling from both of our mouths while his head is thrown back my back arches. “Feels so fucking good baby” I tell him, moaning as he begins to find a rhythm. He holds my hips up to place a pillow under my hips and thrusts harder when he puts me down, moans are loudly leaving our mouths and I doubt the tv covers much.

His hand reaches up to okay with my nipple as the other works my clit in hard circles, my hands are gripping the blanket as he moans deeply when he hits the spongy part inside of me making me clench around him. “Gonna cum, all over your pretty cock” I moan as he circles my clit harder “Cum on my cock baby” he says, and the damn breaks I moan loudly as my body shakes and I clench around him, my cream making a circle at the base of his cock as he slams into me. “Put you in doggy, so I can watch that pretty ass” Chris gets out between moans, slowing down before stopping to let me turn around and arch my back. Chris moans loudly as he puts himself back in, my hole clenches around him from over sensitivity. “So fucking good” I moan, my face buried in the pillow as my hands fist the blanket. The head board and bed frame slamming into the wall as it creaks, Chris moans loudly non stop almost whimpering as he thrusts into me relentlessly. “My little fucking cum slut” Chris moans whimpers following it as he gets close.

“Cum in my pretty pussy baby, such a good boy” I tell him trying to sound coherent even tho he has thoroughly fucked me stupid. Chris whimpers his thrusts becoming sloppy as he rutts into me, he cums with a loud moan and his finger nails digging into my asscheeks as he thrusts until he’s done cumming. “So good for me” Chris says breathlessly while I lie there fucked out my body twitching. Chris grabs a wipe off the table and cleans between my legs before lying me down and cleaning himself, turning the lights off he gets into bed and pulls me close as we try and actually focus on the tv. “I fucking love you” he whispers. “I fucking love you” I tell him back.