#f: touchstarved

[gumi-writes]

So. I was in the mood to get my thoughts out on this part of Ais’ profile:

on ais | limits unmet, unmatched

It’s obvious that Ais enjoys a good fight, but the inclusion of how he dislikes ones that are easy is an interesting, incredibly illustrative one. Seeking out violence is one thing, and such reasoning behind it can vary widely, but wanting your opponent to be a match for you is another, far more specific matter.

You’re not searching for someone to dominate, for starters—and in fact the idea bores you to the point where surely the energy spent on such lacklustre opposition would annoy you more than anything else. A waste, and an irksome one at that—there’s no sport in something that doesn’t make him work hard.

And he undeniably likes to work for it. Ais is quick to curiosity (though less in the wide-eyed sense and much more in the kind of scrutiny to intensify an already intense gaze) but even quicker to losing interest. If the novelty of the unknown is lost, then there has to be something else worth the sustained attention, otherwise Ais will move on to the next thing without looking back.

As a result, anything that can capture his attention is likely making it hard for him in some way. It would be beneath him, otherwise—what’s the point in all that tempered strength and honed acuity if it has nowhere to go?  

But he does get restless, is the thing. An aspect of disliking isolation is surely the boredom that comes with it, and sometimes you have to make do. So you fight. And you fuck. And if you’re lucky, the person on the other end will make it worth your while. The years of experience you have in reading people might be of actual use, just like the stamina and endurance you’ve built up, and what an exciting thought that is.

Enough to make you search—rather actively—for it. And you can’t search for such a thing without seeking someone to meet your standards. Singular, because I do believe Ais would stop looking once he’s found the right person—while he’s definitely a whore (lol) when it comes to sleeping around, I don’t think he has quite the same mindset when it comes to bloodshed and the act of gratifying himself through it.

For that matter, I have a theory that Ocudeus occupying some part of Ais is a direct consequence of Ais’ hunt for an absolute equal. He definitely fucked around and found out, but it wasn’t what he was looking for, and because Ais is a glutton for particular punishment with absolutely no shame to spare, he hasn’t let it stop him. With reckless, heedless abandon, he hasn’t let it stop him.

Idle hands seemed a fate far worse, and never mind that the alternative made him look like a masochist. Not in the most basic of sense of the word, but how else would you describe his drive to find someone to get entangled with in the most satisfyingly violent way possible? It’s not about the pain, and he is annoyingly not pathetic about it, but Ais is a masochist in how thoroughly he wants his limits tested. He can take it. Have you seen him? He can take it, and—fucked up as he is—he wants to.

Especially since—and this is an additional theory here—Ais either has accelerated healing, hasn’t met anyone that can mark him to any significant extent, or both. This pairs quite well—or poorly—with how his lack of self-preservation bespeaks a morbid fascination with his own mortality, the most curiosity inducing thing of all.

Not that he’s in a hurry to get himself killed, and there is pride preventing him from being an outright deathseeker, but if the right person were to come along…

…then dying at the hands of someone worthy would have been well worth it.

[luvring]

..can we have leander nsfw headcanons? just imagine him like praising you n shi it gets me all hot and bothered 😭

LEANDER NSFT HCS

minors + ageless blogs dni. thank u. | sub/bottom gn!reader. anything otherwise (post's second half) is noted :-)

hello. i'm back. goes dom to sub leander bc i think u wanted more dom.... I get it. i mean i know he’s got Major sub vibes but i make everyone a switch for max happiness.

voice hc where it's smooth but a little raspy if he's speaking quietly like when he's whispering in your ear btw

likes praising you, especially if he knows you enjoy it. he tries out different pet names and notes which ones get the biggest reaction. he casually uses them to surprise you, but i can also see him straight up asking. like, leander hovering above you, one arm by your head as the other trails down your side and he whispers different ones into your ear

"do you like baby? or angel? yeah? what about sweetheart?" etc etc

when you’re on top and leander tells you to only put in the tip, hands resting on your thighs and hooded eyes watching you expectantly. he praises you when you do what you ask. “that’s it, just like that,” he says breathily. you whine his name back, but he just teases you, “mhm, doing so well for me.”

he waits for you to plead to take all of him before he pulls you lower himself. he gives you a few seconds to recover (really he just wanted to hear your moans properly) before bucking his hips up and finally moving

leander makes sure you don’t hide your face and tells you to watch him while he lowers himself between your legs. he keeps eye contact while he languidly licks you, and teases you for how wet you are. will moan not just because you taste good but because he knows you can feel it. he murmurs about how good you taste, how good you’re being for him, before continuing

him using his teeth to take off his gloves.... man. he makes a point to do it again, making sure you’re watching his fingers as they travel from your jaw down to your chest, hips, waistband, between your legs. he presses his hand against you through the fabric and smiles when you try to grind against his hand for some kind of friction.

if he notices you trying to stifle your moans with your hand he pulls it above your head and interlocks fingers. you know how rowdy everyone gets downstairs, why don’t you let yourself be a little louder?

leander thrusting into you as you lie on your back, and sweat rolling down his temple while his hair falls in front of his face. him moving in closer when you push his hair back for him, suddenly hitting a little deeper because he loved the added intimacy

the both of you being so needy, you're already undressing each other as you make your way to your room. if allowed, leander Will just push you up against the wall while making out with you.

^ fucks you against the wall . if you want to be picked up he Will pick you up, no questions asked. he'll try a lot of positions in a lot of places to be honest

seriously Loves To Talk. loves when you talk too

leander telling you to touch yourself while he watches (and strokes his own cock). him giving you a toy and telling you to pretend it's his cock, even though you both know it could never compare :(

he encourages you, as if it was him fucking you, “wanna cum? you wanna cum on my cock? cum for me."

leander making you tell him what you want. he’ll sit there in between your legs and let his fingers tap against your hips, and he won’t move until you say something. To be fair, if you’re not used to it, he’ll prompt you by giving you things to repeat back to him. “where do you want me to touch you?” “do you want me inside of you? tell me.”

leander being possessive while he's fucking you, not slowing down while he asks, "you're mine, right? only mine."

him saying he's the only one who can fuck you, the only one who knows how to fuck you

ohhh but soft sex with leander…him embracing you, as close as possible… him talking about how much he loves you and how stunning you are… his lips against your jaw and planting kisses every so often before saying you feel so good, no one’s ever made him feel as good as you do. his thrusts are slow but deep, and you can feel him smiling when you moan his name

cumming inside you. on you. in your mouth. anything is going to make him so so happy, he can’t pick when you look the best to him

dom!reader | telling Him what to do. obedient, patient leander sitting and waiting for your every demand. (or him being Such a brat just to see what kinds of punishments you have in store)

dom!reader | having his hands tied behind his back while he goes down on you and all he wants to do is touch you. but even without his hands, leander knows you and your body and is always eager to please, especially when you use your free hand to pull his hair and push him even further.

dom!reader | not afraid to beg you for things. he groans when you tease him by only licking the tip. you ask him what he wants and he starts whimpering, "please, please, fuck—” and he has to stop from bucking into your mouth

dom!reader | devolves into a whimpering mess if you tease him for too long or overstimulate him, yet can’t stop himself from begging for more and promising he can take it. he’s arching his back when you ask if you should stop, and he shakes his head before groaning and biting his lip.

leander telling you to use him . gets off to the fact that he’s the reason you feel so good

^ same reasoning behind him loving when you leave scratch marks on his back, or hickies across his chest. (he also likes it when you put your fingers in his mouth or spit in it)

dom!reader | You being possessive over Him. you ask if you're the only one he'll be bringing to this room from now on and he nods, eyes a little glazed over, breath shaky when he responds with "yes, yes, yes—"

top!reader | leander getting you to lie down so he can slowly sit on top of you… he loves watching your face as he finally reaches the base and clenches around you

dom top!reader | fucking leander in front of a mirror and making him stare at and degrade himself. sorry. he likes it when you grip his face and whisper in his ear and tell him to watch as you fuck him. if you start to touch his cock he moans so obscenely loud

dom top!reader | ...fan of doggy style? you pushing him further into the mattress, forcing him to muffle his moans in the pillow. leander trying helplessly to fuck back against you

top!reader | leander stopping you when you try to pull out because he doesn't want to lose the sensation of you inside him yet ;(

magic w receiving leander... like if there is/was a way for you to touch him without touching him,, he'd be into it, y’know what i mean? like him sitting on the other side of the room and having to keep it together because Somehow your hand is reaching to play with his cock or ass and he can barely process what the people at the bar are saying to him

up to try anything once if you bring it up btw. he hopes you aren't embarrassed about asking and always takes you seriously

Something about strip teases or just,, undressing. especially if you’re undressing each other… the anticipation that builds in his chest when you slowly take off his clothes, and he knows what’s coming next

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

f u c k

TOUCHSTARVED (Prologue)

[vellichorsdesire]

touchstarved antics

[bunny-lovers]

hi hi!! 🍜 💎 🌱 for the domestic asks :33

~ @crimsonsunrise

Hope you & your f/os have a great day & thank you for the ask! 😊 @dbloodmarch @hummingbirdheartbeats @reinaskywalker @tired-and-touchstarved @whispywoodland @menagerie-ships @goodmorningawfulbye

🛌- Do y'all sleep together or in separate beds? Who's more better about making the bed?

We sleep together & Rumi is more better about making the bed than I am.

🍽️- How often do y'all dine together? Do you both cook or is it only one of you?

We dine together sometimes, eat at a nice restaurant when she & I are out for a walk. Yes, we both cook!.

🍜- What are y'all's favorite meals to make? Do y'all like to make each other treats?

My favorite meals are: beef & broccoli with mushrooms, chicken & veggie curry, Chicken Veggie Risotto, & Red and Yellow Bell Pepper Omelet. Rumi's favorite meals are: Strawberry Fennel Salad, Tuna and Black Bean Salad Wrap, Spinach, Strawberry & Pecan Salad, & Chicken Parm Stuffed Peppers. Yes, we definitely do!

🗑️- Who takes out the trash? Who does most the chores?

We both take out the trash & Rumi does most of the chores.

🕷️- Who handles the bugs getting in the house and how so?

It depends on the size of the bug. If it's a small size, I handle it by killing it. If it's a big bug, then Rumi handles it by killing it as well.

🌱- Do you guys have any plants? If so, what kinds?

Yes, we do & they're Madagascar Dragon Tree, Zebra Plant, & Moon Orchid.

🐾- Do you guys have any pets? If so, show them!

No, we don't have any pets.

🧱- What does y'all's house look like? You can describe it, draw it, use images, or build it in a simulator! :D

It's a medium size home. 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, medium size backyard, & big kitchen. It has cool colors inside the home. We live in a big city.

🏛️- How do you decorate your house?

We have cool colors for the walls, shelving, hanging plates, & wall-mounted planters.

💎- What is your favorite thing in the home? What is your f/os?

My favorite thing in the home would be is the dresser that has picture frames of Rumi & I. Rumi's favorite thing in the home would be her workout equipment.

📭- Who grabs the mail?

That would be me!

🌅- What is your morning routine like? Are you guys even awake at the same time?

Rumi & I are early birds & yes, we're awake at the same time. We do some kisses & cuddles in bed until we get out of bed to start making breakfast. We cook breakfast together. I have eggs over hard & 2 pieces of rye bread. Rumi makes avocado toast with yogurt. We eat at the kitchen table & talk. Once we get done eating, we get dressed for work of the day. Before one of us leaves, we give each other a kiss & tell each other to have a good day at work.

[coffincataclysm]

Hey guys

[prismatica-the-strange]

.

[dinogoofymutated]

im 100% new to x-men(i grew up in a DC family lol) but I am just. SO down bad for remy. idk how to write requests or anything, but can I ask for headcanons for him with a touchstarved fem reader? sfw or nsfw, both, idc really he's just rotating in my brain, gambit my beloved

Gambit/GN!reader

Dude I completely get it!! I was a HUGE x-men fan as a kid and as I grew up the hyperfixation fell into the back of my mind. I too grew up mostly on DC and I feel like the reason DC became my go-to was because there's just not a ton of fanfiction for the x-men, reader inserts in particular. I'm working on fixing that! But my full-length fics are a little hard to finish/start. Anyway- Remy is definitely one of the top #3 x-men to be down bad for lol!

TWs: none that I can think of atm. Mostly fluffy goodness! Written picturing a fem! Reader but no pronouns mentioned

I definitely think that it's not a completely ridiculous idea that one of Remy's love languages could be touch, despite how his relationship with Rogue revolves around the absence of touch!

Tbh, I feel like he's just respectful of his partner's wants and needs in a relationship, and if touching and cuddling is a no-go he's perfectly fine with backing off and showing his love in other ways!

BUT! when you give him the go-ahead, he's all over you. Hugs, cuddles, kisses, PDA, all of it!

One of his favorite things to do is catch you in the kitchen, coming up behind you and snaking his hands around your waist. He'll press his face into your hair and neck, sometimes giving you kisses, but really he just does it because he wants to feel you against him.

I think he secretly enjoys how easy it is to get you melting in his embrace. He goes out of his way to fluster you, flirting until you go red, then pulls you close. He'll nuzzle you affectionately, kiss your temple and cheeks, hold you lovingly until he feels all the tension leave your body. He especially likes when you lean into his hands when he holds your face. He knows just how much you love him, and he's determined to show you all the love he knows you deserve.

    “Cher.” Remy’s chest rumbles with the words. You only respond with a hum, tucked into his side comfortably. The afternoon had started with a movie, originally. The two of you had some free time, and Gambit had a movie he really wanted to watch, so movie night it was. You were watching at first, you promise you were, but it was easy to get distracted by Remy. When the movie started, you were sitting next to him, leaning into his side with a bowl of popcorn in your lap, but that position could only be comfortable for so long. You were squirming, trying to relax as best you could, but after 45 minutes of sitting on this couch, it was like every bump and corner on the sofa was digging into you.

    Remy, being the observant sweetheart he is, didn’t hesitate to scoop you up into his lap. You squealed at first, surprised by the action, but Remy simply laughed at you, leaning back to lay down on the couch with you against his chest. Unsurprisingly, this was much more comfortable. Maybe a little too comfortable, as it didn’t take long for you to stop paying attention to the TV entirely. You snuggled closer to Remy as you started to doze off. One of his hands rested against your lower back, his other hand cupping the back of your neck, caressing and threading his fingers through his hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep against him.

    “Cheerrr.” Remy says again, drawing the words out. “Movie’s been over f’ a while.” You pout at him, sighing sleepily as you tuck your face into his neck. He chuckles again, thumbs caressing your skin idly.

    “You don’t wanna cuddle anymore?” You ask, maybe a little bit more sad than you should be, or would’ve been if you were more awake.

    “Now Gambit didn’t say that.” Remy purrs. You whine again as he moves a little, adjusting a little so that he can press a kiss to your temple. You reluctantly untuck yourself from his neck, rewarded with a sweet kiss from Remy. The action makes you smile. He’s looking at you with such love and adoration, like no one has looked at you before, and it has you feeling loved beyond measure. You lean into his touch as he cups your face, holding his hand to your cheek to keep him there.

    Content couldn’t begin to explain how you felt in this moment.

[rinneverse]

࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩'𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. — 𝒋𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒖𝒂𝒏. ˒ ⊹

syn. wicked is not a word you’d use to describe the general—that is, until you let him have his way with you. pair. jing yuan x f!reader cw. porn no plot / orgasm denial / overstim / sir kink / pet names (my girl, little sparrow shoutout ais touchstarved) / dacryphilia / oral (f!receiving) / v fingering / very brief mindbreak mention ... note. jing yuan will come home. i am manifesting it. enjoy dis ficlet ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. NSFW UNDER THE CUT.

“you’re doing so well for me.”

the deep rumble of jing yuan’s voice does little to soothe the vicious ache between your legs, his lithe fingers working your folds so deliciously and yet keeping you on that precipice that you just can’t seem to fall over. he’s been doing this for awhile now, letting the pleasure in your core tighten just enough to bring you to the edge, and then he’d stop completely, denying you the one thing you want the most. you let out a pathetic wail as he pulls away yet again, leaving you high and dry for what feels like the millionth time.

“jing yuan, please!” you sob. he clicks his tongue.

“what did we talk about, little sparrow? c’mon. you know that’s not how you’re s’posed to address me.”

you can see his smug grin through blurry eyes, tears gathering on your lashes as your hips buck in search of any kind of relief.

“g-general, sir,” you plead shakily, “please let me cum.”

“that’s my girl.”

and his fingers plunge back into your gummy walls, working against that sensitive spot in just the right way to make you see stars. your mouth drops open as a moan catches in your throat, and your thighs start shaking as you feel yourself nearing the crest of an orgasm once again.

this time, though, jing yuan lets you fall, his other large hand coming down to work at your clit with his thumb mercilessly. you shake violently as he lets you cum with tears falling down your cheeks.

he lets you ride out your high—and.. and he doesn’t stop, and oh my god, your stomach is tight with overwhelming pleasure and the rise of another orgasm.

“wait— wait! oh, oh god, sir, please, s’too much..!”

if you could even think through jing yuan’s ministrations, maybe you could catch the devilish glint in his eyes, or the way his canines flash as he smirks down at your trembling form. maybe you could catch the way his cock is straining against his boxers, stained with the obscene amount of pre his tip was leaking. oh, aeons, jing yuan was completely infatuated with the way you cried pretty crystalline tears, the way you were singing for him, infatuated with you, you, you, utterly ruined under him.

you let out a sob as he lowers his head to wrap his lips around your clit; and when he sucks, your thighs clench so tightly around his head—jing yuan thinks that he’s in heaven. he’s obsessed with you and your pleasure, his hips rutting against the bed as he fingers you, crooking them oh so perfectly.

and you cum again, and again, and again, until he’s finally satisfied. you think that you’ve melted into a puddle on the bed when he finally pulls away from you, pink tongue flicking out to lick the slick that stains his face. you’d think it a little gross if it weren’t for the fact that he just sent you to heaven and back about 5 different times—you’re a little too tired to really care. that, and… maybe it was a little sexy. maybe.

“doing okay, little sparrow?” jing yuan asks gently, a large hand sliding up your body and cupping your face as he leans over you to press a sweet kiss to your lips. when he pulls away, his golden eyes stare so deeply into yours as he takes in your current state—breathless, boneless, your doe eyes full of love and adoration for him. something in his gaze darkens. you hadn't even noticed the hand previously cupping your face was drifting down to loosely wrap around your throat.

“don’t tell me you’re done yet.”

the way his voice darkens sends a chill down your spine. you’re helpless to his whims, too—you’re oh so sweetly lying out for him like a prize, tits on display as your chest rises and falls with every breath, legs spread so wide for him, accommodating his broad form in between. he smiles down at you, a soft laugh rumbling through his chest that has an undercurrent of sinfulness that has your core throbbing despite everything.

he’s going to push you to your limit—prod at it until you almost break—and then some more. and you find yourself anticipating it with bated breath, eager to see just what the general has in store for you.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

[exhuastedpigeon]

Buddie Hiatus Fic Recs - Day 1 Fics posted between May 15 - June 15

This is the first of probably 9 rec lists that I'm hoping to put out before the 911 premier! Each list will cover a month, starting with the day of the finale and wrapping up the day before the premier.

0-5k wedding bells by renecdote / @renecdote Gen | 1.9 In which Buck and Eddie plan a wedding.

You Should've Just Kissed Me by chronicallystendan / @chronicallystendan Teen | 2.3k Set after the Poker Date Night, Buck overhears Eddie talking about being set up on a date and wonders aloud why Eddie doesn't just explain that he's already in a relationship - with Buck.

let me see them tan lines by 42hrb Teen | 2.8k Four times the 118 notices Eddie Diaz's ring tan line and one time he was wearing a ring.

The Toothbrush Correlation by MidnightJen Gen | 3.1k ‘A toothbrush?’ Hen repeated dubiously, eyebrows high and tone extremely dubious.

‘A toothbrush,’ Eddie confirmed.

The one where Buck has Celiac Disease by buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew) / @911onabc Gen || 3.3k Buck has celiac disease. He’s also in love with his best friend. His best friend who has a girlfriend. Somehow, these things keep colliding.

Love is stored in the kitchen by toomanybats / @buckstummy Explicit | 3.6k Eddie loses his mind on a Wednesday morning. The thing is that Buck has been around a lot more lately. Like a lot more. Like twenty four hours a day more, his whole apartment building is being fumigated, apparently. The problem is that it’s been like, two entire weeks, and Eddie is only a mere mortal.

take my hand (knot your fingers through mine) by rainbow_nerds, ransomdrysdale / @rainbow-nerdss Teen | 4.1 what 6x18 could've been, pre-relationship

all i ever wanted was a life in your shape by tuckergreeen / @henwilsonmd Gen | 4.3k Pre-relationship | Buck buys a new couch, and a few other things that happen after the bridge collapse. 

you'll feel the rush of it all by oklahoma / @malewifediaz Explicit | 4.7k Buck convinces Eddie to fuck him while they're on the clock at the station—even if it’s just the tip. To nobody's surprise, Eddie folds easily.

5k-10k please don't take this feeling (if I wanted to, I'd be alright) by rowan_wood / @transboybuckley Gen | 5.1k Double Dates, getting together, love confessions

totally not interrupting. at all. by magicisrealforme Gen | 5.2k Maddie's bored and misses her brother so she decides to drop by. She didn't expect to see Eddie there.

ring the bells by thelikesofus / @the-likesofus Gen | 5.3k Buck starts frequenting a coffee shop near the firehouse in hopes of running into the beautiful man whose coffee he mistakenly drank.

mark me like a bloodstain by MonsterRae1 / @monsterrae1 Mature | 6k In a universe were your soulmarks appear when your soulmate is badly injured, Buck think's his died, until his best friend gets shot in front of him and he finaly figures out it was Eddie all along.

not all of us are heroes (not all of us are brave) by withmeornotatall / @chronicowboy Gen | 6k buck and natalia break up, eddie decides to introduce his girlfriend to his son, christopher knows way too much, and the 118's wine night has never been quite so eventful

to feel the need of your touch by honestlydarkprincess / @honestlydarkprincess Explicit | 7.5k The one where Buck is touchstarved and desperate for Eddie. They fuck but it's also really sweet.

10k + right in front of your eyes by rainbow_nerds / @rainbow-nerdss Teen | 15.2k Buck offers to fake-date Eddie so Pepa will stop setting him up on dates.

very time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by withmeornotatall / @chronicowboy Mature | 21.9k buck gets reckless, eddie gets angry, they talk in all the wrong ways, and the universe decides to intervene

let's build this house (into a home, baby) by withmeornotatal / @chronicowboy Explicit | 24k.4 Neighbours AU, slow burn, Different first meeting, getting together

i owe you a black eye and 2 kisses by colonoscopys / @colonoscopys Explicit | 29.3k Four weeks later, Buck completes his first mission. Ft Nurse Buck and Mob member Eddie

today i live for a single drop of you by Underhung_Aura / @eddiebabygirldiaz Explicit | 38.9 Five times Buck dreams about sucking Eddie's cock and the one time he actually gets to do it.

let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Explicit | 54.4k a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realize—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along.

when it's you i'm with (everything goes quiet) by withoutthetiger / @rewritetheending Explicit | 56.2k Eddie can't speak after he and Christopher are in an accident, but somehow he asks Buck to stay while he recovers. Buck can't imagine wanting to be anywhere else, and even in the silence that lingers between them, they both find a way to say everything.

wishing to be the friction by ipretendtobesane / @useramor Explicit | 97.2k the straight eddie friends with benefits fic

[gumi-writes]

d.l. smith | mine | mine | matialonsor | ari abdul | leah raeder | here | leslie sainz | mine | jeffhardi | sylvia plath | mine | red springs studio | _kolipoki_ | mine | mine

if the the devil you know / knew you, too / what then? / would that still be better than one you didn’t?

[theowlsworld]

Telling them you *really* love them.

Content/warnings: Fluff, a tad bit suggestive, gojo is a softie, fluff overload, lovesick grell, flustered Kats, and appreciative Ciel.

A/N: everyone might be a little ooc(out of character) bc I’m on my period and I have yet to rewatch the shows 😭

—————————————————————————

Bakugo K.

it all happened when he was extremely sick

like sick sick

anyways, he was being very vulnerable and clingy with you

he wouldn’t let you go when you cuddled

wouldn’t let you leave to go get meds

he was honestly just being a little shit

one time he asked if you still loved him

obviously you said yes but with a slightly annoyed tone which made him think you were being sarcastic

then you say you really love him and you give him a big long kiss that probably risked your immune system but whatever

Kats being the weirdo and perv he is, advanced the situation

Let’s just say he’s feeling a lot better and you will be very sick soon

Story:

You and Bakugo were sitting on the couch after you had just gotten back from getting him meds, to which he complained “if you leave, you don’t love me!” You left either way for his own good. After you arrived back, he immediately dragged you down to the couch and made your thighs a pillow for him. Now, you are scrolling on your phone when Bakugo asks a random question.

“Do you love me?” He looks at the back of your phone case, his eyes following every curve of your phone.

“Yes, Kats. I do.” You replied annoyed, rolling your eyes.

Bakugo immediately sat up, you sat your phone down when he did.

“No, you don’t.” He crossed his arms in a pout.

You sighed, tired of his antics.

You scooted closer to him, placing your warm hand against his cold neck.

“Kats?” You looked longingly into his eyes.

He let out a small grunt as a response.

“I really, really, really love you.” You subtracted inches from the distance between you two as you moved closer with each really. Bakugo could practically already taste your lips from here.

“I really love you, Kats.” You closed the gap between you two and kissed him. He perked up at this, pushing you down onto the couch and snaking his hands underneath your shirt, he grazed his hands across your chest and you winced at the cold touch of his hands against your warm skin.

He trailed kisses down your neck, leaving purple and pink spots littered across your collar bone.

“I love you so much more baby, I wanna make you feel so good.” Each word that fell from his lips was accompanied by a kiss.

—————————————————————————

Ciel Ph.

very sassy

says he doesn’t need anything and would rather spoil you instead

Doesn’t want to lose you like he did his parents

very lovesick

Very touchstarved

hold him while he sleeps, works, reads, drinks tea, legit anything

will whine for attention

but will deny that he ever did that

very mature

loves you

jealous 24/7

Ciel is a very touched starved person, he will constantly whine and sass when you do something that doesn’t involve touching him.

Although, you always either have a hand on his hair or his head on your lap, he still wants you to be touching or around him 24/7.

So, when he has to go out, he always brings you. You are either his emotional support dog or chihuahua based on how tall you are. He’d still love you either way.

So, when you had to be away for a couple of hours because your guardians had to go to a meeting with another family, Ciel was furious. Not angry, furious.

He clung to you throughout the rest of the day when you got home. He practically dragged you to bed and laid on you. He complained that you were gone for too long and you were required to be here as his excuse.

During this, he asked you a very obvious question he definitely knew the answer to but he still asked.

“Do you love me?”

You looked down at him with a soft smile on your face, petting his hair. “Yes, Ciel. I love you so much. You are my entire world. You are the sun on my skin, the oxygen I breathe, and the food that I eat. I love you more than anything.”

“Even more than your pet?”

“Now that’s going to far.”

Ciel laughed, he didn’t judge you because your pet was awfully adorable.

Ciel teared up a bit at the little haiku you said to him. He wrapped his arms around you tighter and nuzzled his face in your neck. “You are my world too, my love.”

You gave him a kiss on the forehead and hugged him tighter as well.

Gojo S.

total softie

weirdo

may seem like he’s all that but he’s really a softie when you touch him

Sassy little ass with a massive ego

Ratatouille? Nah attituille.

when you let him lay his head in between your thighs or chest, hes officially a fucking teddy bear

all bark no bite (unless you want him too)

warning! this one shot contains a slight scene of cunnilingus or blowjob (depending on who you are)

Gojo a sassy little ass. He will constantly make excuses for you to cuddle with him.

If that doesn’t succeed, he will place his head between your thighs when you’re working. If he’s feeling cocky, he’ll distract you with pleasure.

When you had to teach some kids, you were gone for about an hour.

When you got home, Gojo was no where to be seen.

But, when you walked into the bedroom you were pinned to the wall.

Gojo slipped his tongue into your mouth before you could even process the situation. You were being groped left and right. Your chest, your ass, your waist, your pelvis. All of it.

He lifted you up by your thighs and wrapped them around his waist, grinding his pelvis into yours while leading you to the bed.

“Do you love me?” He muttered while kissing your neck and grinding further into you.

“Y-yes, Gojo. I love you so much.”

“More than anyone or anything, right.” It wasn’t more of a question, it was a statement to be confirmed.

“Yes, of course.”

“Good, good.”

He traveled down your torso, kissing at your stomach and your insecurities. He stopped at your pants before looking up at you. When you gave him a nod, he set off. Pulling down your pants quickly and eagerly. When you saw how aroused you were, he couldn’t help but indulge and wrap his lips around your sex. Licking the sensitive parts of your sex and leaving you trembling for more.

Grelle Su.

Absolute doll

Spoils you 24/7

she loves giving you everything you want

especially pleasure.

absolutely touched starved

since Sebastian won’t love her, you will

Grelle held onto you tightly, holding you against her body while rubbing your back and giving you a kiss on the forehead. She loved you more than you could even imagine.

She would constantly give you gifts after every shift and buy you any food you want.

She was an absolute doll when it came to you.

She was at your mercy, anything you wanted.

But one day, she got sick and she was very hesitant on leaving you alone.

She also clung to you like a lost puppy and begged for your attention like a whore on Sunday.

“I love you so much. Do you love me?”

“Yes, Grelle. I love you.”

“How much?”

“So much.”

“Prove it.”

With a smirk, you flipped the tables and landed on top of her. You latched your lips onto hers and slipped your tongue into her mouth. “I.. love.. you.. so.. fucking.. much.”

She stopped you before flipping you over again.

“Oh yeah? You’re such a fucking doll. Why don’t you show me how you love me by letting me ravage you, baby?”

A/N: sorry these were so short! Period cramps got me on my toes lately

[preciouslandmermaid]

cold heart, warm hands (simon “ghost” riley x f!reader) - part 1/2 

First off, I haven’t played a Call of Duty game in years. But, I remember crushing on Ghost back in idk?? 2010? Anyway, glad to see he’s getting the white boy of the month treatment. Glad we’re all totally NORMAL about him. Feedback is definitely encouraged and appreciated :) 

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader!Assassin  

Rating: Mature/Explicit (18+)

Fic warnings: angst, injury/bodily harm to reader + some hypothermia, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing/explicit language, knives as metaphors for sexual tension, reader is lowkey feral (I am channeling my inner Princess Monoke), slowburn, the inherent eroticism of catching feelings while running for your life, touchstarved!ghost, bonding, (there will be smut/porn in part 2) i needed a light plot because I cannot function without it, all the names of politicians are fake/do not relate to any living or deceased person.

No use of Y/N. Reader is described as muscular/toned with scars from active combat/torture, though no other descriptors are used. Author isn’t well-versed in other languages, they’re just a sucker for Slavic mythology. Reader’s undercover code-name is “volchitsa” which translates to she-wolf (or bitch-wolf) in Russian. 

Summary: Lt. Ghost is tasked with the extreme mission to extract code name “volchista” from her undercover mission in St. Petersburg. They briefed him on what little they knew of you, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the reality. 

READ ON AO3 || 🔪🔪🔪

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is how it begins. You are a girl made of snow. You carve a pretty smile from the ice. You flatter the diplomats. You trick them. They believe you can be melted and molded. You impress the headmistress of the school. You trick her, too. A man from America comes. They replace your ballet with ballistics. You suspect they offer money to your family, your school. They roll your tongue until you can call upon any accent and shape around any language. When you’ve impressed them or pleased them, they give you tasks, and you carry them out with little question of who at the top of the pyramid pulls the strings. You are better with bullets than you ever were at ballet. 

You thaw, in pieces, until the girl from the snow is a shadow, a puddle, a glistening drip of an icicle from the rooftop. They give you a name. A point of contact. A promise of extraction once intel is gathered. You don’t merely go “undercover.” You go underground. You enmesh yourself. They call you a wolf and release you among the pretty, bronze-polished sheep. After all, this is what your training was for. 

Only now it’s finally time to go home. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Three years undercover?” Ghost says, reviewing your file, “you sure we can trust her?” He glances at your old photo. Pretty thing. He suspects that’s why they assigned you to rub elbows with high-ranking military officials and defense contractors. Three years is a hell of a long time to be someone else. 

Price says, “I know you’ll make the right call if you think she’s compromised.”

“Naturally.” Ghost replies gruffly. He checks the intel for your rendezvous spot. A cemetery at the edge of the Vyborgsky District. At the stroke of midnight. How morosely dramatic. He’ll be a ghost in a graveyard. Is this Price’s attempt at humor? He considers asking Price why he’s not sending someone else out. Someone who shows their face in case some nosy do-gooder comes up asking questions. He shakes the thought from his head. It’s a stupid question that he already has the answer to. 

Price selected him because the target, codename volchista, is one of the most dangerous operatives in the country. If anyone can take you down–if things get nasty–it’s him. 

“You’ll be going in dark on this one until you reach the border,” says Price.

“Not a problem.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s gray everywhere you look. Storm clouds loom over St. Petersburg and block the starlight. Gray and dark gray tombstones. The barren trees appear like black skeletons in the night, like echoes of lightning. Your breath mists gray in front of your lips. A family of gray moths dance around the ground-level lamps. The air tastes like impending snowfall, brisk and sharp on your tongue. 

You check your watch. Three minutes until midnight. There is no one here but you. You are alone, with the gray ghosts, and the gray tombstones, and your gray, foggy breath. 

The hair at the nape of your neck prickles. 

Your knife flashes silver in the gray. Your blood roars in your ears. And you pivot like a dancer, like an acrobat, lethal and light on your feet. The resounding clang of your knife meeting another reverberates through the silent, empty cemetery. You lurch your body forward. You assume your cover is blown and they’ve sent this masked man to kill you. He matches your momentum and avoids your strike. You snarl. He is big but not as clumsy as you hoped. 

A gloved, strong hand grabs your wrist, “steady on, volchista.” Their accent deepens their voice to a rough and pleasant burr. It’s like drinking whiskey. You stare at him. Only your contacts know your code name.

You say, “Lev sent you.” You pause. “You’re early.”

“If I'd known you’d try to skewer me, I’d have been punctual.” He slowly releases your wrist, though what little you can see of his gaze is dark and wary. Lev told you nothing beyond the meeting spot and where he stashed your equipment. It was safer (or so he said). He could’ve at least mentioned your point of contact would be wearing a costume so you wouldn’t assume it was an assassination attempt. Your eyes scan the graveyard, unable to shake the sense of paranoia that slithers around your spine. Whenever something felt too easy, you got anxious.  

“Sorry.” You respond without expression. “Let’s go.”

You’ve walked these pathways hundreds of times. You know them in the dark, you would know them blindfolded. None of Petrovich’s men bothered you when you went to the cemetery. Though, they were never far. You incline your head faintly toward the familiar tombstones, to the names you’ve memorized as a game to keep yourself sane during these past three years of espionage.

You shoot a glance over your shoulder. Skull-man is walking eerily quietly behind you despite the bulk of body armor you can tell he’s wearing beneath his white, camo coat. His hood is drawn up over his head. Probably to hide the mask. 

“What do I call you?” You ask once you’re close to the church.

“Ghost.”

You laugh softly. Although you will never see Lev again, you wish you could. You wanted to praise him for such a stupid, funny joke - setting up your extraction in a cemetery with a man named Ghost. You come to the church door where Lev has stashed your supplies. He’s left the key for you beneath a snow-capped rock. You kiss its cold, metal teeth in farewell before sliding it into the lock. The old, oak door creaks beneath your palm. 

Ghost watches your back, checking behind you before you both go inside. The air smells of incense and candle smoke. The effigies on the altar glow with ethereal, flickering light. You crouch onto the ground and start tapping your knuckles to find the hollow floorboard. Lev said it would be about ten paces from the entrance. 

Rap, rap, rap, rap. A flurry of snowflakes drifts across the mosaic, stained glass windows. You knew you tasted snow in the air. You idly wonder if the snow will feel different once you’re home again. You wonder if everything will be different considering the intel you gathered about Petrovich and all his followers. 

Ghost asks, “why’d they give you the name she-wolf?”

Your smile is a knife. 

You say while looking up at him; “I used to bite a lot during my training.”

Your knuckles find their treasured spot. You jam your knife into the edge of the floorboard, wiggling it, and it gives underneath your pressure. You tug on the backpack, holster your pistol and knife and hide your face in a scarf. You pull the rest of Ghosts' equipment out with a small gruff. The keys to the snowmobile parked in the shed outside bite into the soft flesh of your palm. You and Ghost will ride to the next point. And God willing, you’d make it over the border before anyone noticed you were gone. 

Ghost, silent beside you, stiffens.

“Shit.” You hiss. You duck sideways, throwing yourself into the space between the worship pews. Ghost crouches into the one next to yours. The door to the church swings open. There is a burst of cold air and snowflakes and bright, roaming flashlights. With your back pressed against the hardwood and knife in hand, you glance across the aisle to Ghost and wait for his lead. 

He signals the number three with his fingers. You nod. You track the lights as they move through the church, elongating shadows, and bouncing from the pews and pillars. Two have moved to the side of the church. A single target is walking down the main aisle. They’re trying to pincher you. Could it be Petrovich? Or were you betrayed internally? Or were they police officers? You hadn’t gotten a good look before hiding. Ghost’s entire body is taught like a loaded weapon. You feel it in your own spine and shoulders. The familiar, tense coiling. The single and narrow simplicity of setting a task and then completing it. You are going home. And nothing and no one will stop you. 

A voice calls out in Russian. “Petrovich is looking for you. It’s too late for prayer. It’s time to come home.” It sounds close to the doorway. You roll onto your stomach and signal to Ghost: ‘Enemy’. Perhaps it’s presumptuous to assume he doesn’t know Russian after being assigned to a Russian-Evac Mission. You make a mental note to ask him what he knows (if you both survive). He tells you to ambush right, then signals the go-ahead. 

You wiggle beneath the pews, getting behind your target, and crouch-walk toward him. You stay low and silent. From this vantage point, you can see they’re Petrovich’s bodyguards. They aren’t wearing tactical gear or body armor. They’ve got flashlights and pistols holstered at their hips. They aren’t expecting any sort of fight. You almost feel bad for them. Almost. 

You are a deadly viper hidden in the grass, a wolf stalking her prey, an arrow finding its mark. Your knuckles tighten around the grip of your knife. The church is dark, save for the flickering candlelight, and the blue-white shine of their flashlights. You slam your boot into the back of your target’s knee, causing him to crumple. He grunts, in surprise and pain, and that is the last sound he creates because your knife lodges into his carotid artery. A warm gush of blood covers your glove, and it arcs upward, splattering and spraying onto the fine stonework when you dislodge the weapon. You kick the rolling flashlight aside and run on quick, crouched feet toward the door. You don’t even bother to check if Ghost is alright. You assume he is. If not…well…you’ll claw your way out of Russia yourself. There is no returning to this place. 

The man at the doorway is panicking. He wildly waves his flashlight around the church while holding his cellphone to his ear. You snatch his wrist in a bruising grip and drag him toward you. He shouts. Your forehead smashes into his nose. His cellphone clatters to the ground. Your knife finds purchase through the thick fabric of his turtleneck. The gray sweater blooms deep, dark crimson–nearly black in the low light. He moans, you shove him aside and pick up his phone. He’s calling Petrovich, but the line hasn’t connected yet.

Ghost is suddenly before you. You meet his eyes. There’s a splatter of blood on his white camo hood. Your chest heaves with exertion, and the adrenaline of combat floods your senses until you are woven within it. If you don’t shake off Petrovich, then your extraction becomes thousand times more difficult. 

You grab the bodyguard by the root of his hair, jerking his head back, and snarl into his face. “Tell Petrovich you’ve found me. Tell him I’m coming home.” You say in Russian.

“Traitor.” He spits blood at you. You haven’t removed your knife from the juncture of his shoulder and neck. You twist the blade a little. He grits his jaw from screaming. Prideful to the end. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the dark, hulking shape of Ghost with his knife in his hand. 

“Last chance.” You warn. “I will feed you to the wolves.”

“I am dead either way.” His eyes flick to Ghost behind you. “He will kill you.”

You are uncertain if he is talking about Ghost, Petrovich, or someone else. You don’t care to ask. You click the bright red ‘end’ button on the call screen before it connects. Wordlessly, coldly, you yank your knife from his shoulder and spear him below his jaw. A torrent of blood gushes over his sweater, and your wrist and hand, and onto the shiny wood. He slumps, on his knees like a man in prayer, and you shut your eyes briefly. You take no pleasure in the killing. It was either them or you. Wolf versus sheep. It was survival. A singular question tightened around your neck like a noose. Who betrayed you?

Ghosts’ voice is low from somewhere over your shoulder. “What’d he say?” 

“That I’m a dead woman.”

He shrugs his massive, bulky shoulders. You can’t ascertain how much of it is him and how much is his gear. 

You sheath your knife. “Petrovich will come looking for me.” You nudge the fallen bodyguard with your boot. “No use hiding them. We need to leave. Now.”

He extends his hand, “keys.”

“Who said you were driving?” You scoff.

“I’m the one taking point.” He says. “You’re the escort. I drive.”

You drop the keys into his waiting palm. You simply don’t have the time to argue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You get an impression of his true size when you’re perched behind him on the snowmobile. Your arms encircle him (as best you can), your cheek is pressed against his broad and muscled back, and the cold wind cuts through your scarf and bites your ears and nose. It’s dangerous to drive in the dark, but you have no choice. No alternative. You must take a risk with the dark forest full of birch trees and lonely pines to avoid the checkpoints at the borders. 

Ghost is, at the very least, efficient. Your stomach swoops each time the snowmobile crests over a small hill and the vibration of the motor purrs beneath your legs. The world is a blur of grayish-white. Snowflakes and branches whip past your field of vision. You force your eyes to remain open, as snowflakes crystalize on your eyelashes, and try to keep watch of your surroundings. 

You release a soft “oof,” when the snowmobile jolts over a hill and freshly fallen snow crashes over you and Ghost like a wave. The trees start to thin. Your fingers tingle inside your gloves from your lack of circulation due to how tightly you're holding onto him and the overall icy chill in the air. You suspect you’re about an hour from the second point. Possibly less, you hope, with how fast Ghost is driving. 

A whirring sound, like a beast waking from its slumber, rises above the rushing wind. You twist your spine to look behind you.

You yell above the engine and the wind, “fuck me.” Above the treetops, a helicopter is risking the storm, its searchlight roaming through the forest. Only one man is hunting you. Only one man is desperate enough to send a helicopter in the middle of the night with little visibility.

“Ghost! We’ve got company.” You shout.

“That was quick.”

The snowmobile banks with a hard left turn. You bury your face in his shoulder blades to protect yourself from the sharp wind. You recall the map Lev showed you. You memorized the route to the second point. Something tugged at the corner of your mind. The helicopter’s searchlight scanned the thick, snowy landscape. It will catch up to you soon. Ghost weaves through the trees, but they provide  little cover. 

It’s dark. It’s snowing. The helicopter is faster than you. These are the facts.

If you stop, you risk Petrivoch’s men finding you. He sent a helicopter; you have no doubt in your mind that he also sent out snowmobiles and ATVs. The darkness is your best cover. 

If you continue, you risk Petrivoch’s men finding the safe house. The only silver lining is that Petrovich doesn’t know who you work for. He doesn’t know you have help. He might assume you’ve been kidnapped. But, what if Petrovich thought you were dead? He wouldn’t chase after a dead woman. 

You say, “Ghost, I have an idea. But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

He grunts.

“We need to crash the snowmobile.”

“You’re mad.” Is it the wind filling your ears, or does he sound a little…impressed? 

You squeeze your fingers around your wrist when Ghost takes another sharp turn. You suspect he’s double-backing and confusing your trail while avoiding the oncoming helicopter. 

“My other plan involved a sniper rifle and blowing out the searchlight. However, seeing as we don’t have a sniper, I’m going to plan B.”

“Crashing our only means of transportation sounds more like Plan-fucking-Z to me.”

“You have a better idea?!” You snap.

You continue, impassioned, “the storm will cover our tracks. We can walk the rest of the way. Petrivoch’s men won’t follow us if they think I’m dead.”

He mutters something under his breath. It’s too quiet for you to hear. 

“Find a good place to stop with tree coverage and I’ll do the rest.”

“Jesus.” He grumbles. 

You wait for the inevitable argument. The discussion about how the snowmobile could outrun the helicopter and whoever else might be pursuing you. You brace yourself, drawing counterarguments inside your head, preparing yourself as you have your whole life. The pine trees thicken, and the snowmobile gradually slows. His back is tense. You wiggle your tingly fingers inside your gloves. You slide your arms away from his solid, firm midsection and scoot to the edge of the seat when the snowmobile finally stops. 

Ghost twists around, looking at you, his eyes fathomless beneath the mask.

“Your plan. What is it?”

You tell him. It involves tipping over (or crashing) the snowmobile, lighting it on fire, ripping pieces of your clothing and burning other remnants to imply that whatever was left was eaten by wildlife.

You peel off your bloodied gloves, “it’s not a perfect plan.”

“It’s bloody insane is what it is.”

You shrug, “and yet you agreed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the picture of mental stability, now am I?” He tears one of your shirts between his hands. You work quickly and silently in tandem. The helicopter is searching the less forested areas. It’s loud enough to hear, though you can’t see it or its spotlight through the thick evergreens. You tie together several pieces of fabric and shove them into the gas tank. After it detonates, although the helicopter won’t be able to land nearby, Petrivoch’s men will likely find the remains before dawn. 

You reach under your shirt, toward your collar, and your fingers encircle the charm on your necklace. You tug. The thin golden chain snaps. It was your first gift from Petrovich. A symbol of your loyalty - false as it was. You hold it aloft and the tiny eagle charm glitters above the flickering flame of your lighter.

“I hope I am there the day they burn you.” You whisper with the trees, and the cold snow, and your silent Ghostly companion as your witness. You drop the broken necklace. You light the edge of the fabric. The smoke singes your nostrils and your eyes water. You run toward the trees and don’t look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Ghost put as much distance between yourself and the snowmobile before its explosion. Your muscles strain, your skin glistens with sweat, and you are hot and stuffy beneath your warm clothes. The pace he sets is brutal. You push yourself to keep up, never complaining, though your mouth tastes of copper from how many times you’ve bitten your lower lip. The storm rages and covers your tracks. 

“The storm’s getting worse.” You say. You’ve never endured in silence for this long before. Not since your youth, you think. The howling wind cuts between you and him, dragging snowflakes in their wake. 

Ghost barely glances at you. “Hadn’t noticed.” 

If you squint, he blends into the world. A white-and-gray Grim Reaper here to collect your soul.

“Were you going to kill me in the church?” You ask. You remember how he approached you and the bodyguard. His cold lethality. The silence that shrouds him. His eyes were dark, too far to discern what emotion lay within. He doesn’t answer, but he does look over at you. You are mirrors of another. His face is covered by his strange, macabre mask. Your face is covered, in a heavy scarf, your eyes visible through the slit in the fabric. You speak through your eyes. Nonverbal. Expressive. Weighted.  

You tilt your head slightly to the side as if to say ‘well?’ 

You wonder if he smiles beneath the mask. You wonder if he smiles at all. He turns away and checks his compass. For several minutes only your crunching footsteps and the wind screaming through the branches keeps you company. You don’t think Ghost (and by proxy the US government has betrayed you) but you aren't certain. Not until you have some type of proof or motive. The only people who knew about your meeting location were Lev, yourself, and Ghost. You know you didn’t slip up. And you’ve been in this field for too long to chalk Petrivoch’s appearance to coincidence and dumb luck. Someone is compromised. 

You glance sidelong at Ghost through your snow-covered lashes. He’s big, he’s strong and efficient. You’re not a person who doubts their abilities and you’re not an idiot. You know a losing fight when you see one. In close-quarter combat, his reach is longer, and if he pins you then it’s over. If you plan to incapacitate him–it’ll need to be an ambush. It’ll need to be quick. You store the thought away for later. You’re not going to ambush him in the storm.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The snowstorm starts to ease, and he’s forced to admit that your plan to torch the snowmobile might’ve saved them. There’s a chance that the weather made it impossible for the helicopter to keep pursuing. However, he won’t know until sunrise. Either he’ll have Petrivoch’s men on his ass or it’ll be smooth from the safe house to the border. He prepares himself for the worst. Petrovich isn’t a man who gives up easily. Price’s file on him was stacked. Although most of the intel you gathered undercover was on a need-to-know basis, he knew the man was powerful, controlling, and deranged. A dangerous cocktail. It gives him all the more reason to wonder if you’ve been broken and brainwashed by Petrovich. But the thought holds little water. Your behavior has been motivated by survival. You handled yourself with extreme grace and brutality in the church. Price said you were good. He didn’t realize you were that good. The takedown of your target was effortless and clean. A thing of beauty, really. You function well under pressure. And you smile often for a woman trained to be a covert assassin. You’re nothing like he expected. 

He announces, “we’ll take a break here.”

He watches you drink from your canteen. Your face glistens with sweat before you wrap yourself back up in your scarf and hat. You pack your canteen with snow and store it away, but he notices your hand flinch near your knife, the brief tenseness of your shoulders. He scans the darkness for threats. He meets your eyes with an unspoken question. 

Your breath fogs in front of your mouth, hazy, obscuring your gaze from his for a moment. When the mist passes, your eyes are cold and narrowed, and you look like you want to skin him alive.

“I didn’t give Lev everything.”

His brow furrows, “what’re you telling me for? I’m not your superior officer.”

Your gaze softens imperceptibly. 

“Someone ought to know in case Petrovich is still hunting me.”

“You don’t need to bargain your worth to me, she-wolf.” He says plainly. “I’ve got my orders.” He’s not sure what game you’re playing. And he doesn’t rightly care. Once you’re across the border, you’re someone else’s problem. Whatever intel you have, or don’t have, it doesn’t concern him. His only concern is making it out of this tundra with you alive. You adjust the straps on your backpack and nod, signaling with your hand that you’re ready to move.

The blue-black sky lightens, and stars fade from view. Tiny, blackbirds flit through the air. The terrain flattens. He recognizes this location from the map. The safe house is over the hill. It was a less straightforward route than if he had the snowmobile, but at least you’ve made it. He keeps checking your six–part of his job–and scanning the open sky for threats. The snow crunches underfoot.

He says, “we’re almost there. Come on.”  He jogs ahead. 

Something cracks under his foot. He spins, looking for you, and discovers you’re a few paces behind. Your arms and legs are spread akimbo and when you meet his eyes, there is controlled panic, and he can practically hear the gears turning within your mind.

“We’re on the lake.” You exclaim like it’s a brilliant revelation. “I remember seeing it on the map!” 

The storm must’ve covered it. Fucking hell!  

“There’s a USB in here.” You strip your backpack from your body and slide it easily across the hidden ice. “It’s more important than I am.”

Another crack reverberates beneath him. He’s hyper-aware of his size and the dangerous risk of getting wet at this temperature.

“What’re you doing?” He beckons with his hand while lowering his body, “this way!”

“Yeah, yeah, working on it.” You take a tentative step forward. Despite the logical distance, it feels like a chasm has split you from him. 

“You need to get low.” He’s on his stomach on the ice and the next crack vibrates beneath his gut. “Spread out your weight.”

You nod. You start to crouch, but lady luck isn’t on your side. The ice ruptures. The crash, your yelp of alarm, and the splash of cold water are like a pike driving through his eardrums. He army-crawls toward your flailing arms. Your gloves scramble for purchase on the flat, slick ice as your head disappears underwater. Ghost unintentionally shouts your name. 

He grabs you, pulling you up. You sputter and gasp, water saturating your scarf that’s peeled partially away from your face, and revealing your wild, stricken eyes. 

“I’ve got ya.” He says, “I’ve got you.”

You cling to him and kick your legs underwater while he lifts you out of the ice trap. Your shivering body crawls across the ice alongside him, though he tracks your sluggish movements and rapid breath. He needs to get you to shelter immediately. The second you’re clear of the lake, he crowds you into his arms and lifts you in a fireman's carry.

You protest weakly through chattering teeth, “I can walk.”

“This is faster.”

He trudges up the short, small hill while carrying you and both backpacks. The sight of the safe house is like fucking salvation. It’s a squat, modest little wooden cabin. He can spot a chimney sticking up from the roof. If it doesn’t have wood, then he’ll start burning furniture. He needs to get you warm before you drop into severe hypothermia. The cold wind cuts across the air like a cruel cosmic joke. Draped across his shoulders, he can practically feel your desperate, galloping heart against his back. 

“Stay awake.” He commands, voice brusque and sharp.

“Aye, sir.” You mumble.

“That doesn’t sound awake to me.”

“Fuck you.” You say this time, with more emphasis, more feeling.

He grumbles. “Atta girl.”

He shoves open the front door with his shoulder, kicking it closed, and deposits you in front of the cold, empty fireplace. You’re trembling worse than earlier, but you’re lucid. You tug your wet scarf off of your face and struggle to unlace your boots. Unfortunately, there are no logs beside the fireplace. He huffs. Plan B then. The cabin is a single, large room with the kitchen and sitting area sharing the space and a door that presumably leads to the bedroom or bathroom. 

Ghost grabs one of the wooden stools and uses his tactical knife to hack a small divot in the wood so he can snap it with his foot. He breaks the stool into pieces, shoves them into the mouth of the fireplace, and starts the fire with his emergency fire starter kit. He shoots a glance over his shoulder to you. You’ve managed to get your boots and socks off, though the rest of your clothing appears to be a challenge.

Ghost shoves your trembling hands out of the way. He yanks your zipper down.

“O-oy!” You shout with surprise and indignation.

He says, “arms.” 

You relax your shoulders, and he tugs the heavy coat off your body. Wordlessly, you lift your shaking arms, and he pulls the drenched mess of your sweater over your head. Your shirt and tank top comes next, then your sports bra, until you're naked from the waist up in front of him.

Your toned stomach muscles clench. A mapping of scars decorates your skin like battle trophies. If this was any other moment–he might’ve taken a second to appreciate the solidness of your form, the shape of your tits, the honed lethality of your biceps and forearms and stomach. There’s nothing waifish or delicate about you. You’re a weapon of flesh and muscle and hot blood. Your eyes focus on some spot behind him, and the firelight reflects and shifts in the depths of your dark pupils. 

You lift your hips and (with his help) drag your soaked pants and underwear off your body. He does not think about your thighs or your calves. He removes a blanket from his bag and drapes it across your legs. The key to overcoming hypothermia is gradually warming the body. He strips himself of everything but his mask and underwear and sits behind you–bracing his knees around your legs and caging you with his body heat. He shucks his gloves off and gently rubs his palms along your freezing arms. The fire crackles before you. The knobs of your spine and the curve of your shoulder blades press lightly into the planes of his naked, muscled chest. You’re weirdly quiet. 

“No cheeky comment?” says Ghost.

You blurt, “Lev’s the traitor.”

Ghost blinks. 

“Enlighten me.”

“You saved me, not the USB.”

“USB means fuck-all to me. I don’t want you dead, she-wolf.”

You laugh weakly. A full-body tremor wrecks through you. He can feel it across his entire chest and straight to his groin with how he’s got you melded into him. His hands slow. He can feel each individual ridge of the scars on your arms. He can feel the fine, thin hair along your forearms. Your wrist bones and knuckles are the only fine-boned, delicate piece of you that he can touch. He glances down at the sleek musculature of where your neck meets your shoulder. 

Unless he chops more furniture, the fire isn’t going to last long, but it should be enough to get you stable. That’s all that matters.

~~~~~~~

Between the fire raging in front of you and Ghosts’ solid heat at your back–your skin tingles as it regulates temperature and your circulation returns. Your eyes drink in the muscles of his thick thighs, braced on each side of you, and the peek you get of his black-and-white tattoo when his arms move. He hasn’t stopped touching you. His hands travel up and down your arms, to your wrists, and shoulders. How come you never noticed how big his hands were? A flush of warmth burns at the nape of your neck. You feel like you’re being surrounded by a large, jungle cat. And it’s tempting to close your eyes and melt into his warmth. You’re at the safe house. You’re almost home. It wouldn’t be so terrible to sleep, would it? Ghost would keep watch. He’d look out for you.

“Talk.” Ghost orders. “You’ve gotta stay awake.”

“About what?”

“I don’t care.” He huffs. His voice is warmer, as close as you are, and it drips like honey and vibrates across your back.

“I memorized names in the graveyard to keep sane.” You say, surprising yourself with the confession, your secret little game. “I can recite those.”

“Do it then.”

You stare into the flames until your eyes start to water and repeat their names. They were your first ghosts before you met this one. You numbly scratch at one of your scars. You repeat the names again. Ghost isn’t rubbing your arms, but he’s still touching you. His large, calloused palms have settled. One is on your hip, the other is clutching your shoulder and that arm squishes into your breasts. Your back is snug against the hard, muscled planes of his chest. He’s holding you?! You’re not sure why this realization comes as such a surprise. He’s sharing his body heat. There’s nothing tender or romantic about it. You’re his mission. Yet, this is the first time in three years that you’ve allowed non-transactional physical contact. Usually, if someone touched you, it was because they wanted something (or you were manipulating them to get what you wanted). Ghost’s motive isn’t ulterior. It’s transparent. He wants your continued survival. That’s it. 

“You got quiet again, she-wolf.” He says with a breathy edge to his tone. “Better not have fallen asleep on me.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m awake.” 

To add to your point, you wiggle your toes beneath the blanket. At least, you no longer feel like an ice popsicle, but you selfishly want to stay here–in the warmth, muscled solidness of Ghosts’ body. You close your eyes momentarily and try to absorb this moment into the fibers of your being, your essence, and your bloodstream so you can remember it on the cold, lonely nights ahead. Ghost’s breathing deepens. You only notice because of the proximity of his ribs to yours. His thumb glides along the raised bumpy edge of a scar near the end of your clavicle bone.

You say slowly, “that one was from Petrovich.” 

If he wasn’t wearing the mask, you would feel his breath on your skin. His touch withdraws. He rests his palm on your forehead, checking your temperature before his hand glides below your jaw and registers your pulse with two fingers. Everything he’s doing is clinical and tied to survival. Yet, that doesn’t explain the slowness of his movements. It doesn’t explain why his touch lingers below your chin. Your pulse jolts and your breath hitches. His chest rumbles against your back in a low, deep hum. 

“We need to change our route.” You say with Ghost’s thumb and two forefingers loosely wrapped around your throat. “Lev betrayed me. And he knows my exit plan. We need to find an alternative to the border.”

Ghost says, “then we better move before we waste any more daylight.”

His hand recedes from your jaw, and you are bereft of its soft pressure and warmth. Ghost stands up. And you twist your spine, drawing the blanket over your chest, and allow yourself the very selfish and human privilege to see him half-naked. As expected, he’s a fucking massive specimen of virility. You bite the inside of your cheek at the sight of his broad muscled chest, his strong biceps, veiny forearms, and capable hands, the cut of his v-line into his waistband, and the trail of dark hair that travels down from his belly button. Your eyebrows lift in surprise and appreciation. You don’t mind the mask hiding his face because his body is fucking spectacular.

He pulls his shirt over his head. You watch unashamedly at the play of muscles as they ripple across his chest and flex. The low-burning fire snaps loudly and sends a flurry of sparks up the chimney.

“Careful,” His eyes spark behind the mask, “you’ll drool on my nice blanket.” His tone brightens with gentle teasing. Somehow, the sound of his voice like that, deep and teasing, is hotter than the sight of his abs. 

You smirk. “See, I thought you were cute until you got cocky about it.”

He scoffs. “Cute?”

Ohh, you found a little nerve. How delicious. 

“Cute.” You affirm and say no more. You dig through your backpack and procure your last set of clothes. There’s no room for shyness or modesty in an active combat situation. Sure, no one is shooting at you. But that reality can change real fast. You shimmy your underwear and pants over your hips and quickly pull your bra over your head like the house is on fire. You feel Ghosts’ gaze on you. And it blazes like a hot brand across your skin. Forget the fire, the shared body heat, the blanket, all you need is a few seconds of Ghosts’ undivided attention, and you are burning up.

“Here, take this.” You underhand toss the USB to Ghost. He catches it effortlessly.

“Why?”

“In case you fail your mission, I don’t want to fail mine.” You open the closet door and pull a mothball, musty-smelling coat from the hanger. Your clothes drying in front of the fire need a few more hours before they’re wearable. Those are hours you don’t have.

“Lost faith in me already, have you?” says Ghost. 

It’s your turn to scoff. “Hardly.” You level him with a serious gaze, “I’m trusting you with it, Ghost.” 

He says, “Riley.”

“What?”

“My name. Simon Riley.”

Your heart stutters inside your chest. You weren’t expecting him to give you anything in return, let alone his name.

“Okay, Simon.” You smile tentatively, “let’s get the hell out of here, yeah?”

<Part Two>

[vellichorsdesire]

f/o who doesn’t know they’re touchstarved until they meet you.

the heavy want grows in their chest and is absolutely undeniably there whenever you two even just briefly touch. when you’re so close that they’re so desperate have you closer, wanting to feel their body pressed against yours in a tight embrace, that the thought of your hand in theirs is barely enough. when you two finally hug, or whenever you do, they sink into your embrace almost immediately, a deep sigh of content heard as they wrap their arms around you to return the tender hug. it’s a little hard to get their arms off you afterward, with those small mumbles of “just a little longer” and “i don’t want to let go yet.”

maybe they’re super embarrassed about feeling so at first and are so glad whenever you indulge in their desire to have you, to feel your warmth. or they’re incredibly stubborn about it but their actions always say otherwise, finding every little chance to have their skin touch yours, to quietly tug on your sleeve or any other sign that you immediately know what they want with it.

eitherway they’re forever thankful that you’re so understanding. with the little touches you guys end up doing like from simply pushing a strand of hair behind an ear or running fingers through each other’s hair, they’re absolutely addicted. smitten, even, so incredibly much that they can’t put their love for this, for you into words.

[bunny-lovers]

flying and water for the pokemon ask game? :]

- @tired-and-touchstarved

Hope you & your f/os have a great day & thank you for the ask! 😊 @xxmellochii @emperorfrieza @speedstershipping @kaijus-love-zone @sheepie-self-ships

[Normal]: Do you and your f/o have any pets together? If not, do you want any?

No, we don't have any pets. We have been talking about getting a cat together.

[Fire]: Who’s the better chef between you and your f/o? Do you ever cook together? If so, what’s your favorite dish to make?

Hmm. . . I'd say I am! Yes, we both love to cook together. My favorite dish to make is salmon & asparagus with garlic lemon butter sauce.

[Water]: What does a beach day with your f/o look like? Do you go swimming or check out the boardwalk?

Lots of fun, we really enjoy going to the beach together. We do go swimming, play volleyball, walk on the beach, get some tan, & watch the waves.

[Grass]: You’re going on a picnic with your f/o! What are you packing for the trip and what does the scenery look like?

We would pack chicken salad sandwiches, watermelon, corn salad, & bottles of water. The scenery has a nice breeze on a cloudy day.

[Electric]: When did you realize that you were in love with your f/o? When did they realize that they were in love with you?

It was immediately after she saved me from the villain. I had a huge crush on Rumi & couldn't take her off of my mind. For Rumi, it was when she met me at the coffee café in person. She fell in love with me while I was talking about myself.

[Ice]: It’s starting to snow! What do you and your f/o plan on doing? Do you go sledding? Build a snowman? Or do you guys stay inside to keep warm?

We mostly stay indoors but we sometimes go outside to build a snowman, make snow angels & go for a stroll.

[Flying]: If you and your f/o had wings, what did they look like? If your f/o already has wings: describe them! Do they let you touch them?

It would be dark purple feather wings.

[Poison]: Who’s the better caretaker in your relationship and how do you help each other when one of you is sick?

I am! We always make each other soup, a glass of water, & get a plenty of rest.

[Ground]: What’s your favorite outdoor activity? What about your f/o’s?

My favorite outdoor activity is walking & Rumi's favorite outdoor activity is rock climbing.

[Psychic]: Is your f/o good at reading your mood and/or helping you feel better? What about vice versa?

Oh yeah, she is & I am as well.

[Bug]: How do you comfort one another when you get scared? Is there any teasing involved?

Rumi comforts me by holding me in her arms or holding my hand & uses her words. I comfort Rumi by holding her in my arms & use my words of comfort. Yes, we do sometimes tease each other.

[Rock]: What kinds of gifts do you get each other for your anniversaries/birthdays/etc?

We give each other flowers, cookbooks, clothing, fitness accessories, any sweets, jewelries & plushies.

[Ghost]: Has your f/o ever helped you get over a fear? Have they ever pushed you out of your comfort zone?

Yes, she has helped me have the courage to do stuff that I couldn't do before I met her. No, she wouldn't pushed me out of my comfort zone.

[Dragon]: Does your f/o have a kryptonite? Does your s/i know about it? What about vice versa?

No, neither of us have a kryptonite.

[Dark]: Who is more protective of the other? Give us an example of a time one of you protected the other.

Definitely Rumi! It was when I was getting out of the grocery store when a villain was heading to my direction. When the villain was almost near me, Rumi stepped in & kicked the villain. Rumi came by me, holding me & asking me if I was okay. I told her I was okay & thank her for saving me with a smile.

[Fairy]: What kinds of AUs do you imagine you and your f/o in? Are any inspired by classic fairytales?

Summer AU, Grocery Store AU, Superpowers AU, & Pokemon AU. No, there isn't any inspired by classic fairytales.

[coffincataclysm]

Callux isn't used to men this. Big

Full is on my Twitter!!