#it never goes right from darkness to light in a snap. there has to be a pause. A stillness

[itspileofgoodthings]

the hanging on for 10 more minutes past the point it all seems hopeless advice …

[urhoneycombwitch]

common tongue of you lovin' me

🍯 honey flavour: touchstarved loverboy smut

🐝 the bees: Eddie x reader

wc: 2.5k 

content warnings: nervous Eddie, touchstarved R, smut, dry humping (is it actually dry if they’re both wet…?), cumming in pants, one (1) use of the word “daddy”, light use of the miscommunication trope

foreword: based on THIS anon everyone say THANKS anon. R and Eddie are in their early 20’s, R is on a gap year from college (so me), they’re in a new relationship with each other, I’m writing this while blasted on edibles idk what else to say 0_o

____

By nature, Eddie Munson is not a shy person.

Even though his dark reputation in Hawkins hasn’t been completely erased, he still manages to make friends wherever he goes through sheer force of personality. It’s like a magic trick, one that you never get tired of- he’ll pause in the middle of grocery stores to make faces at a baby in a stroller, getting belly laughs out of a stranger’s kid in less than ten seconds while still holding your hand down the aisle. One second he’s right behind you in the record store, looking over your shoulder as you browsed, and the next he’ll be on one knee charming a elementary school-aged kid into getting the latest Dio album.

You’ve seen him flirt his way out of speeding tickets with Hopper, for christ’s sake. 

Eddie isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, so after three months of nothing but chaste kisses and quiet hand-holding, you’re left to assume he actually wants to take things slow with you.

He’s been nothing but a gentleman, in these early days of dating- the most action you’ve gotten from him was unintentional. On your third date, a dollop of his ice cream landed on your lap when he used the cone to gesture, which led him to manically grabbing napkins out of his dashboard to wipe at your skirt while you laughed it off. The second he’d brushed against your bare thigh he snapped his hands back like he’d touched a live wire, hastily heaping on apologies, leaving you to allay his nerves while wiping at the stain yourself.  

Which, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re complaining about him being respectful, per se, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder (hah) to pretend like you don’t wanna fuck him. The feeling between your thighs only seems to increase in intensity when he gives you one of those precious little hand kisses at the end of a date, or a closed-mouth peck before he drives off into the night. 

Unfortunately for you and your wet dreams, Eddie Munson has the most edible body you’ve ever seen. Biceps bulging through those form-fitting tees he likes to wear, rounded nose and strong jaw outlined by that cloud of soft black hair, those lithe hips…

Hips that you’re openly staring at from across the room as you sit quietly on Eddie’s couch. He’s reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, his Metallica tee pulling up out of his dark denim at the motion, flashing a stripe of his pale lower back.  

You feel like a Victorian maid seeing ankle for the first time. You subtly press your thighs together under your short tartan skirt as Eddie moves around the kitchen, talking animatedly about the start of his upcoming campaign.

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna go easy on the little shits or not,” he says, metal spoon clinking against ceramic as he mixes hot chocolate powder. “It’s Max’s first session as an official player, and I don’t wanna scare her off but I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a knowing smile as he crosses the room to pass you your mug- “You’re a DM most fearsome. Can’t let them off the hook too easily.”

Eddie blooms under your praise, wiggling his eyebrows with familiar cockiness as he settles on the cushion beside you. “Gotta keep Hawkins' finest in line. It’s a tough gig but I did swear an oath, after all.”

You smile around a sip of hot cocoa, then reach over to set your mug on the coffee table. Eddie has been sat in his usual manner (knees far enough apart to be taking up his whole seat, arm draped casually on the back of the couch) but the second your knee knocks against his, he adjusts himself stiffly, drawing his arm back with a nervous throat-clearing and a murmured “sorry”.

Normally you’d let it go, not wanting to push the issue past the point of his comfortability. But it’s been Three. Months. Of this. And you wanna test the waters, just a little.

“Sorry for what?” You ask, rotating to face him, your shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching.

He’d doing an uncanny impression of a deer caught in headlights, blinking at you with those doey brown eyes, stuttering his way through a weak explanation- “Uh… uh. Sorry for being- f-for touching you?”

There’s a lift at the end of his sentence, one that you mirror with a tilt of your own brow, a playful challenge. “You don’t have to apologize for touching me, Eddie. I’m your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, a nervous edge bleeding around the sound. The curls around his face dance with the head shake he gives. “No, of course, yeah, I know that.”

“Do you?” You scoot closer, a kick of assertiveness giving you the courage to press your leg against his. 

“Uh huh.” He’s gazing openly now at the bare skin of your thigh, like he’s waiting to see if it'll burn a hole into his denim. 

When you gently lift his hand and place it on the skin that he’s looking at, you hear him gulp, audibly. 

So he does want to touch you. Interesting.  

You know for a fact Eddie’s not a virgin. Back in high school, you’d both dated around your respective circles, gossip surrounding escapades in the Munson Van circulating back to you through mutual friends. When he’d asked you out a few months previous, you’d happily accepted, wanting to take full advantage of your interim gap year from college. For the first few weeks, you’d chalked his near-celibate behavior up to nerves.

But now, you’ve got him squirming with just a thigh touch. So maybe… he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Fuck testing the waters- you’re gonna dive in head-first. 

You swing your leg over his lap, kneeling on the outside of his hips. His hands automatically go to your waist, and he lets out a little “Oh” as you rest your arms around his shoulders.

“You gonna kiss your girlfriend?” you whisper, forehead crushing into his bangs as you wrap a hand around the back of his neck.

Eddie looks up at you like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time, eyes sparkling with want. “Yeah,” he rasps, angling his face up to kiss you.

It’s soft, at first, like it always has been. His plush lips softly move against yours, breaking for air once, twice; when he kisses you with that same softness for a third time you press your tongue to the seam between his lips.

He lets you in with a little noise, low in the back of his throat as you lick into his mouth. His hands twitch on your hips as your tongues twine, slight movements in his own hips creating a ripple effect.

When the hard seam of his jeans bumps against the warmth of your cunt, you both gasp, your hand at the back of his neck tightening. 

“We should probably, um-” he’s panting against your mouth, grip flexing between hard and soft- “I mean, if you wanna stop…”

“I don’t wanna stop. Do you wanna stop?” you ask, equally out of breath.

“Fuck no,” he rasps again, in that smoke-salt voice, and this time when he kisses you it’s with one hand at the back of your head and the other pulling your hips to meet his.

The noises from the wet slide of your mouths are turning you on more than you care to admit, and you’re sure he can feel the damp patch that’s soaking through your panties as the crotch of his jeans make contact again. Which normally would make you feel really self-conscious, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie’s hard as a rock underneath you, the bulge in his pants thickening with each roll of your hips.

You drop your kisses down, exploring where you haven’t been able to before: against his cheek, his jaw, stopping just behind his ear. Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against the velvet skin there, and he jolts beneath you with a small yelp.

“Sorry,” you whisper, still a touch mirthful but soothing your tongue over the mark.

Eddie brushes his thumb across the back of your neck as you continue your path down the column of his throat. “Now who’s sayin’ sorry for no reason. Baby, I’m begging you to do that again.”

So you do, this time at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, grinning against his skin when he groans and bucks his hips up. 

Around your hickey-making, he’s choking out words that you just manage to string together. “I wanna… make you feel- christ, sweetheart- good too, wanna make it good for you-”

When you sit up to see his face, he looks absolutely wrecked- rosy flush in his cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, pupils blown so big his eyes are nearly black with lust.

“You are making me feel good,” you assure him, pulling the hand he’s got on your neck down to where the end of your skirt sits, pausing before your next move. “You want me to prove it?”

He nods, and you guide him into the warmth of your thighs, letting his fingers graze the stickiness that’s been steadily soaking through the fabric.

Eddie inhales sharply, moans out, “Fuck, honey”, and when his thumb finds your clit you sink down into his touch, stomach tightening with the shock of arousal coursing through you.

He’s watching your face intently as he slowly circles your clit, gauging your reactions, pressing in a bit harder and faster when the pace change makes you cry out.

Feeling doubly exposed with his eye contact and hand against your core, you try making a joke to diffuse some of the tension as the pad of his finger moves against you in steady rhythm. “Still thinkin’ about stopping?”

“A train could crash through that wall and it wouldn’t stop me for a second,” Eddie says, resolute and getting a little braver, kissing his own path across your throat, nibbling at a spot that makes your clit pulse beneath his fingertip and your cunt clench around nothing. 

Goddamn, he’s a quick learner. In less than two minutes he’s got you so close to the edge, squirming around his touch, that you have to grab his wrist and still his fingers between your thighs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You can feel his breath punching up down up, your breasts pushed up against his chest from the way your body was trying to coil in on itself.

“Nothing,” you assure him, and now it’s your turn to falter around your words. “I just- maybe can I… I wanna get o-off at the same time. If you want. And I’m really, really close.”

Eddie’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk, eyes scrunching shut as if in concentration, a strung-out whine leaving his throat. “Hang on. Give me a second.”

He’s still got his hand on your clothed pussy, and you can’t help but giggle once he blinks back to the present, dazed- “Christ. You can’t say shit like that, baby, I almost came in my jeans.”

You give him a condescending little pout, accented with another twist of your hips. “Well maybe that’s what I want.”

“Give you anything,” Eddie replies, unabashedly babbling now as you adjust yourself in his lap. “Anything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours. All yours.”

He helps you maneuver into a new angle: now, your drenched core can rub freely against his thigh, while your knee in the socket of his hip means he can rut his cock along the flat of your leg.

When you move experimentally in shallow circles on his thigh, the newly-gained friction lights up your throbbing clit. Soon, all pretenses melt away as you both find your rhythm again, little grunts and pants filling the air.

“Feel good, angel? That’s it,” Eddie encourages, slipping his hand under your skirt to grope at the meat of your ass, helping your movements along as he chases his own pleasure with a rocking grind against your leg. “Take what you need. Lemme get you there. Please, please…”

His whines spur you on, one of your hands shooting out to clutch at the back of the couch beside his head while the other anchors itself on his opposing bicep. “Fuck, Eddie, keep talking like that, ‘m so close…”

“Talk to you all day,” he heaves out, “you make me so fucking hard, princess. You feel how hard I am for you? God, you’re so wet, that’s so fucking hot…”

You should have expected that bravado and charm you’ve seen these last few years to naturally be carried over into his sex life, but god, not in your wettest of dreams could you have imagined the mouth on him. 

The combination of his dirty talk and thigh between your legs is bringing you right up to that edge again, toes curling in anticipation, cunt starting to flutter erratically with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come…” your head rolls back on its hinge, eyes flickering shut as Eddie fumbles to catch at your clit again, movements becoming sloppy. 

“C’mon, pretty baby, let go.” He’s sucking another mark into your neck between his praises, teeth catching- “Let me see you come, honey, be a good girl for daddy…”

“Jesus FUCKING christ” is all you manage to grit out before you’re tipping over the edge into orgasm, all your muscles bearing down into the bright point of pleasure, high sob winding its way from your throat. 

Eddie keeps kneading at your spasming clit as you ride it out on his thigh, even as he lets out a series of short, keening whimpers, even as his cock jerks against your leg into his own release. 

You sag into his waiting arms, tittering lightly against his neck as you both work on catching your collective breaths. 

“Holy shit, and I was really starting to think you actually didn’t want to fuck me.” You laugh in relief.

His hand pauses mid-stroke up the slope of your back, sounding genuinely aghast when he asks “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You straighten in his arms with an incredulous stare. “Uh, maybe because you acted like a monk that I was corrupting every time I even breathed near you?”

Eddie covers his eyes with his hands, heels to sockets, groaning- “Fuck, honey, I was tryn’a be respectful. You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this sooner?”

You reach to soothe your palms over the length of his forearms, equally fond and serious when you say “I’m telling you I absolutely would have slept with you on the first date.”

He makes a strangled, pained noise before you continue- “You described to me in detail the entire mating cycle of a bat, and then walked directly into a trash can by accident. How did you expect me to wait on jumping your bones?”

He lets you take his hands, enveloping them in your own and bringing them to your chest, pressing your lips affectionately to each ring.

He whispers, “Can I ask you something?” 

When you look up at him again, he says, with sincerity, “Can I see your tits next time?”

You hide your laughter into the crook of his neck. 

________

guys i cannot stress how high I am is this even any good plz perceive me 

[austinbutlerslovers]

Mr. Butlers Babysitter 2

Label Mature 18+

🔗 Part 1 Link

Summary

After working professionally with Mr. Butler for two months you developed a lovely bond with his two wonderful children. You were highly satisfied with your salary and with your kind new boss.

Everything seemed to be going perfectly until one night Austin tricks you in to being alone with him and admits he has extremely obsessive feelings for you.

To make matters worse he claims you’ve avoided all his advances and now he must take drastic measures. What he does to black mail you is so earth shattering you give into his wishes immediately becoming even more compromised.

The next morning after he fulfills his lustful wish of dominating you he holds you hostage withholding personal items and revealing he has even more disturbing evidence to ruin you if you leave him.

His control over you is so manipulative as he switches between loving and cruelty that it breaks your naive mind and you actually begin to fall for him.

🚨 Depraved Smut 🚨

dubcon•sex act on camera • oral sex while inebriated •ejaculated on while inebriated • humiliation kink •manipulation into oral sex •forced oral sex• forced fingering •spankings •dirty talk•name calling •degradation •orgasm denial • slight sadism •forced penetration •size kink •P in V•cum eating•kiss it better •love bombing•mental fragmentation of a female• Stockholm syndrome • yandere

🥀 Corrupt Austin Series 🥀

✍🏼 Co-writer @burnthheparaphilia

Master List ••• Upcoming List

Mr. Butlers Babysitter 2

You awaken in the morning with a pounding headache in a blackened room. You groan the headache is so intense it feels like your head is splitting.

Your hand fumbles around in dark next to the bed until you feel the base of an advanced lamp. “Shit” you say frustrated as you slip you fingers over it trying to find the on switch. You fail several times pressing it slapping it twisting it.

Suddenly all the automatic shades begin to lift slowly flooding the room with light. You are in a huge modern bedroom…. Your face goes blank you are still at Austin’s. He is in the door way eating an apple as he watches you figure it out.

He grins as you lock eyes with him “Good morning” he says slyly. Wearing a white tee and black jeans he looks handsome and ready for the day.

You sheild your eyes from the blinding light as the shades go all the way up “Hi.” you say weakly and sit up in his bed trying to piece together what happened last night.

You remember he clearly admitted to drugging your wine with ecstasy but the sex was so euphoric after that your body and mind are still in constant conflict. What he did was wrong but when he had his way with your body it felt so right.

The physical after math however is awful. Never having ecstasy or a drink before he made sure to give you ample glasses until you lost the ability to function.

Your lips are cracked and dry, your jaw is sore, and you feel like your body has been thrown down two flights of stairs. You shakily get up and feel the dizziness adding to your woes .

When you finally become aware of your surroundings you look out at his gorgeous cliff side view of the infinite ocean, and it stuns you, his bedroom is floor to ceiling wall to wall glass. It momentarily snaps you out of your discomfort as you get up and make your way to his master bathroom. You close the door behind you and lock your self inside trying to collect your thoughts with your head pounding.

There is a full glass wall window with an ocean view inside as well. His bathroom is enormous and completely gray marble. The room is centered around a massive rectangle temper glass shower with more nozzles than you can count. He has every modern amenity possible.

You look to the counter and see there is already a tooth brush, washcloth and facial soap for you.

As you wash your face and brush your teeth you look at your reflection in the giant counter to ceiling mirror. You are sweaty and queasy from the aftermath of your first time drinking you feel like hell.

You have a flash back of Austin clinking shot glasses and drinking more dark liquor with you last night… bourbon? You try to remember but it all goes fuzzy. You try to figure out his shower but it’s so advanced you take your wash cloth to the sink.

Austin waits until you exit the bathroom you are wearing one of his favorite shirts with nothing on underneath. By the way you stare down at his shirt like it’s a foreign object he knows you don’t remember a thing from last night.

“Austin where is my phone” your voice cracks as you look around his spacious master bedroom. “It’s charging downstairs.“ he replies taking another bite of his apple. He is in no rush to have you leave. “Well can I have it?“ you ask him flatly feeling agitated from your physical discomfort.

“If you say please” he says flashing you a grin. He remembers over hearing you correct his daughter in the same manner. Your brain isn’t fully functioning yet so you stare at him with pleading eyes “Austin please.”

He grins loving the way you say his name. The words giving him a memory of last night when they were coming out of your mouth in a desperate manner.

He turns from the doorway and you instinctively follow him as he leads you through his massive estate into the kitchen.

Once there you look across all the countertops until you see your phone. It is hooked to a cable in a cubby space made for charging electronics.

“Oh my god!” you exclaim once you reach it and read the time. “My classes!” you whine unlocking your phone. You begin to panic going through your course links to find the class emails. You quickly message your most important professor apologizing you missed the group protect because you are sick.

Austin hovers next to you resting his hip to the counter still eating his apple. “Austin where are my clothes?” You ask not looking up preparing to leave as soon as you type your message. He smirks “In the laundry to clean the cum out of them.” he answers. You look straight ahead thinking why would he say that?

Austin eyes your screen and takes note of your professors email it’s so simple he easily memorizes it. “What is the last thing you remember from last night?”he asks deliberately. When you turn to him he eyes you with a naughty grin as he finishes his apple.

You close your eyes and let out a breath in concentration trying to remember as you speak aloud. “Classes, gym, movie theater ..uh with you, then trying to leave and you telling me I’m too drunk? It all gets fuzzy after that I can’t remember.” You admit opening your eyes.

He is still making direct eye contact and smiles as he speaks “Should I tell you what you did, or would you like to see my security footage?” He asks darkly.

Your eyes go wide as your stomach tightens from the way he says it “Show me the footage.” you confirm beginning to have a minor panic attack.

He turns from you walking across the kitchen pulling ingredients and a pan. “First I’m going to feed you. Scrambled eggs and avocado toast right? strawberries and blueberries on the side” he asks shooting you a knowing look as he presses the gas ignition for the range top stove.

You nod yes, feeling awkward because he’s getting all the information from your application to work for him. You slowly approach the large countertop sitting to watch him cook for you.

After a few moments he plates perfect scrambled eggs with avocado toast and sliced fruit in front of you on the counter space. You devour it feeling famished, It is one of the best meals you’ve had in a while.

Once you clear your plate he collects it and gives you a glass of water. “Thank you Austin” you say smiling up at him after you’ve have a drink. “You’re quite welcome” He says in a kind voice “but you have to take this with it” he says holding your hand out and placing a tiny blue pill in your palm.

You become nervous. “Austin what is this?” You question thinking he’s going to drug you again. His eyes wander over you affectionately. “Your birth control “ he says. “Oh.” You respond realizing what he wants. You place it in your mouth and swallow it down with water. “Good girl” compliments admiring your obedience.

Security Footage

He takes you to a new wing of the estate you haven’t been to before. As he walks you down a long hall to the end he stops at a large door with a security pad. He presses his thumb and opens the door allowing you both inside.

You enter his grandiose office. In the center is his desk which is conjoined by two upright office chairs . Two large low armchairs are spaced a few feet back from them with a coffee table in between. He has another ocean view from a giant glass window behind his desk. It is so bright out you can see it through the sliver of his open black out curtains.

His wall to your left is covered with a decorated book shelf and the wall on your right is covered with his movie memorabilia and awards.

He is a validated actor and it shows. You walk to take a closer look at an encased leather vest which reads “Benny, The Bikeriders 2024” then wander over to a case with two elborate blades crossed which reads “Feyd Rautha Dune Part Two 2024”, before finally looking into his awards shelf. There over 100 trophies spaced across twelve rows.

Your eyes grow wide unable to count them all before finally settling on reading his BAFTA from 2023 “ Best Male Lead Elvis.” You smile feeling proud of him. You have never met someone like Austin before. He is truly one of a kind and from the looks of it he worked hard to become as insanely rich as he is.

Austin takes his seat at the desk and opens his laptop. You know he is going to pull up the footage to watch and you apprehensively join him standing off to his side to view it.

He logs into his security system and you can see from the amount of cameras that he has every inch of the estate perimeter under surveillance.

The footage is live and you can see the movements of his gardener on one screen and look to another to see the movements of his maintenance man cleaning the pool.

Austin clicks his fingers on the keyboard pulling one section of time to take over the entire screen.

You lean closer to him at the desk to get a better look. It is night in the footage but his camera is equipped with low level lighting and you clearly see two figures walk out the back of the estate near the pool.

You recognize yourself with Austin. Your breathing increases as you watch how you drunkenly pull him under the awning of his out door bar.

He brings a bottle from behind the counter pouring you both shots, you cheers and drink them down before he pours another set and you do the same.

You watch yourself smiling and speaking to him before he pulls you close and begins kissing you heavily. His hands roam all over your body and take a firm squeeze of your ass.

He stops the kiss and you exchange a few words gazing into each others eyes until you stop talking and suddenly kneel down in front of him pulling his cock out of his sweat pants. In the footage you lower your head on his cock obscuring the view but Austin’s face can clearly be enjoying the blow job.

In his office you are shocked covering your mouth.

Austin peeks over and sees your surprised expression “This was your idea” he says with a naughty smirk. He looks back to the footage and watches you suck his cock with pure devotion on screen. It makes him hard all over again.

The footage seems to go on forever until he pulls his cock from your mouth and places his hand on your head. He ejaculates all over your mouth and chest, with his cum running down, it ruins your outfit.

He takes a deep breath in his office enjoying watching it happen again as he palms himself under the desk. “..That was my idea “ he says squeezing his tip trying to contain his arousal.

He watches next how he pushes your head back on his cock making you suck and swallow the last of his cum out. “Fuck you are such a slut for me” he says pausing the video. He already wants you again and downloads the segment of video to his phone before deleting it from the main stored footage.

He looks back to see your stunned expression.

"A-Austin this is so bad... In so many ways this is so ba-" he cuts you off as he stands and walks toward you "Why would you call it bad hm? I think you’re very attracted to your new boss" he admits looking over you as he smiles.

Now in your proximity he lowers his forehead to yours taking his hand to brush your hair away. He holds the back of your neck keeping you confined in the intimate space with him.

He smiles staring down at your lips “Your mouth felt so good sucking on my cock..... feeling your tongue licking all the mess you caused.” He confesses trailing his hands down your shoulders.

He hovers his lips just shy of yours “If you beg me again like a good slut…” He says bringing your hand to touch the hard bulge in his jeans. “I’ll let you suck my cock again right now.” He confesses grasping his hand on yours making you squeeze the enormity of his caged cock.

You let out a whimper as your knees go weak. Your heart begins pounding as you look into his eyes fighting yourself to be good.

He brings his firm chest to yours and cups his hands on your jaw slowly pulling your face to his. When he presses his soft lips on yours and erotically kisses all over your parted lips it ignites the spark in your core for him.

He licks his tongue across your lower lip coaxing you to open your mouth wider. When you allow him access he plunges his full tongue inside and swirls it around with yours. His lips begin heavily overlapping with you and he holds your jaw steady to take his mouth.

Your fingertips reach his firm biceps and begin to dig into the fabric of his sleeves trying to calm your rising urges for him but it is out of your control.

He grips your neck and pulls you into an even deeper kiss heavily flicking his tongue with yours making you so wet you remember you don’t have panties on. He pulls the kiss staying close with his mouth just inches from you as he speaks.

“Beg me” he says with a rasp in his voice as he presses his hard cock against the front of your pussy. You squirm from arousal and a light moan escapes your lips. He knows you need him just as much as he needs you.

“Please Austin” you beg with pleading eyes. He tucks his hand under your chin and smiles knowing you are desperate enough for his cock. “Beg me like a good slut and get on your knees.”He directs.

Any pride you had left is already gone after seeing yourself satisfy him on video. You immediately lower down on your knees for of him.

“You’re such a good girl for me” he says complimenting your obedience. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans with his restrained cock bulging directly in your face.

He lowers his hand into the band of his black boxers and pulls out his thick veiny cock. His size is so large you go weak from intimidation.“Open your mouth for me” he says placing his hand on your head.

You open your mouth and look up into his eyes as he places his cock head on your wet tongue. He groans at the soft warmth of your mouth and pushes his cock inside giving as much you can take until your mouth is stuffed full to your throat. You close your eyes and whimper around his cock as he rests it still. He guides your head back and forth on his length as you begin to suck his thick cock.

“Thats it baby girl……your doing so good for me…don’t choke” he says with his voice full of arousal. His phone begins to vibrate and he pulls it out of his back pocket answering it on speaker. He sets it on the desk. “Yea…” He says strained. You slide your head back to stop and he pushes your mouth back on him making you stay in place. A female voice comes through the speaker.

“Austin I would only call you if it was difficult and today Alisa is level ten. She wants to come to your house after school today can you pick her up and bring her to your place? ”

It’s Austin’s ex wife on the phone. You want to release his cock from your mouth immediately. You grab his thighs to push off but he holds your head firm on him. He begins gently thrusting into your mouth as you make small whimpers.

”Mmm” he sounds out from the pleasure of feeling his cock glide in and out. “Austin what are you doing? ”His ex wife questions “No no I cant pick her up ….today…. I’m busy” he gets out.

Because he won’t stop thrusting you give in and begin to suck his cock again. “MMM!” He moans louder over the phone as you slowly bob your head along his length. His ex wife gets angry “Look Austin we both know she is only coming over there because of the new girl you have.

She is non stop crying and asking for her and it’s driving me up the wall! I don’t want to do nails I don’t want to braid her hair and I definitely don’t have time for bed time stories!” She admits frustrated.

Austin’s breaths are huffing into the phone from your skill at this point “ Hire …-a nanny ….-then, unless you don’t trust …-Andy around …-her.” he finally struggles out.

“Austin you are such a prick, Andy is not the pervert you are the pervert. Who uploads pics like that to the cloud? Are you dumb? I forgot we even shared that account until the pictures popped up in our shared folder! You’ve been removed by the way. Also knowing you it was probably on purpose!” she snaps. Austin stills your head on his cock clearly engaged in the phone call now.

“Yea you’re right maybe I want you to see the one who pleases me better than you ever could. The way our kids beg for her makes me want her even more. How is Andy in the cock department by the way do you even finish?” There’s a long pause before her voice answers broken “Everything everyone has told be about you is true, you will never change ” the phone clicks.

Austin is enraged after the phone call with his ex. He grips his hand around your hair and pulls you from his cock standing you up and bending you over his office desk. He pins your hands behind you and lifts your shirt over your lower back completely exposing your bare ass for his disposal. "Let me go!! Austin this isn't funny!" you plead trying to release his grip on your wrists.

“C’mon slut stop moving or I will fucking send the videos to Mr.Milano and make him see what a needy whore he recommended." he threatens. You stop your movements after hearing those words. He has even more secret videos of you. "I'm not a slut!!" you say gritting your teeth finally outraged from the way he tricks and mistreats you.

“Oh so now you're not a slut? Then why are you so fucking wet hm?” He says pressing his fingertips to your pussy making a moan escape your lips. “You are nothing more than a filthy slut begging to suck my cock... Or I am wrong?" He leans over you awaiting your obvious response but instead you turn your head to the side not wanting to face him.

Tired of your bratty attitude he leans up without warning and sinks his fingers deep inside of your pussy "A-Ah Austin!!" you accidentally moan out from the pleasurable feeling. "Moaning like a good slut for me now huh?” He says pumping his fingers in and out of you. “Just say it tell me your my slut and I’ll let you cum” he says reaching a brutal pace that makes it impossible for you not to moan and whimper for him.

"N-No, I'm not... I-I'm not your..--..slut" you say breathless from his skill. Your cunt begins making squishing noises from being so wet "What a shame... I thought we had an understanding" he says ramming his knuckles against your wet pussy as his fingers glide in and out. You begin moaning on the desk as your coil tightens and you clench ready to cum. He quickly slips his fingers out leaving you with a desperate empty feeling.

"N-No!!.....please A-Austin!" You beg and jiggle your ass searching for any kind of friction. The only friction you get is a firm clap of his hand spanking your ass. You mewl at how hard he slapped your cheeks. "Uh-uh babe, this is what you're gonna get from me for being such a brat now.....take these spankings until your ass is red or accept you are my slut, only for me.”

You feel the resentment rising in your chest with his two options: either feel him punish you or feel him pleasure you.

“I'm.... I'm your slut.... Only for you A-Austin" you quickly tell him desperate for his pleasure again you are shocked with how fast your said it. For Austin it is music to his ears hearing those pretty words coming from your lips.

"Good girl" he says pushing his fingers deeply in your throbbing cunt again. You moan as he works them in and out at a feverish pace making the squishing noises return in your pussy until you clench on his fingers as you cum. You cry out his name and orgasm feeling the rush of endorphins flood your body as your pussy throbs on his fingers.

He releases your hands and his fingers from you and begins to take off all of his clothing. You turn to watch him undress finally seeing his stunning body. “Oh my god..” you let out looking over his defined chest and abs.

He looks in your eyes smiling as lowers his jeans to stand up revealing the large erect cock extended between his muscular thighs. You begin breathing deeper as a wave of arousal washes over you.

Your eyes are fixated between his legs on his size. His testis and tip are pink in color and his body is perfection matching his stunning face.

He smiles watching how aroused you are and comes closer. He slowly pulls the hem of your shirt lifting it up and over your head to have you naked. His eyes wander your curves with lust and he takes your hands luring you from his desk across the room.

You watch the way his cock sways from one thigh to the other until he rests back onto the large armchair. With his legs apart his cock stands firm and upright in his lap.

“Come fuck me” he commands staring into your eyes. You readily climb onto his lap with one knee on either side of his thighs.

He holds the base of his cock and places his hand on your waist slowly sinking you onto him pushing his large tip through your tight entrance. You try to take him all the way inside of you but stop halfway.

"S'too big A-aus" you pant out. You haven't been accustomed to his size and the overstimulation caused by being stretched makes it difficult for you to relax. "it's okay" he says caressing your arms gazing up into your eyes.

You wonder how he can spank you and call you a filthy slut one moment then be so caring and affectionate the next. It’s almost as if it never happened.

He pulls your body against his chest embracing you as his hands roam your back slowly trailing down and grabbing around your ass cheeks "We gotta make it hurt to make it fit inside." he says and grips your ass forcing you down making you take every inch of his cock.

“Oh f-fuck Austin!” You cry out wrapping your arms around his neck. You mute you whimpers onto his shoulder until the pain becomes to great. "A-Austin!! I don't think I can... T-Take more of i-it" you wail but your cries are like music to his ears, as you beg for him to stop he keeps thrusting into you.

He doesn’t slow his pace, this time he wants to hear you moan his name as you cry out in pain from him stretching your little tight pussy "You're doing so well babe... T-Taking me so..-fucking-... good" he says starting to grind your body against him to get you fitted to his cock.

You move from his chest and place your hands on his shoulders for more stability. You start to ride him knowing the pain will turn into pleasure as he told you before.

The room begins to fill with your moans as his cock starts to satisfy your core and you feel the euphoria from his size ."Oh h-honey, do I really make you feel this good?.... Do you like the feeling of my cock stretching your poor little..-fucking-.. pussy babe?" his voice sounds so raspy and desperate it makes you moan for more of him "mhmm!!" you sound as you nod.

He doesn’t like your stifled answer and corrects you with a harsh spank on your ass making you yelp "Use your words babe... Does your boss make your pussy wet?" He asks never breaking his gaze from your eyes.

You can’t even form words due to the overstimulation. He starts to thrust back into you with more intensity almost making you see stars "F-Fuck!! Yes Austin you do! I need y-you... P-Please Austin" you finally say as tears prick the corners of your eyes awaiting the sweet release of your imminent orgasm.

"Please what babe" He commands as his pace turns erratic, bouncing you on his cock and holding your waist . "m-Make me... Make me cum Austin!!" You shout. The coil already tight in your core gets even tighter as you loudly moan ."Cum babe... S-show me how..-fucking-.. much you-love my cock" he pants out.

You clench on him and cry out in pleasure as your orgasm hits you in powerful waves. Austin thrusts into your walls as they flutter against his cock loving every second of the way your walls squeeze him to try and drain his cum.

Once the fluttering subsides he slows his thrusts to a stop restraining his orgasm. “I can’t cum in you yet babe” he pants out looking into or eyes.

You instinctively slide off of his hard cock climbing down from his lap and kneeling infront of him. He makes a deep groan as you take his cock in your mouth.

You bob your head in a rhythm with your suction and he immediately squirts his cum down your throat.“UUHNNN” he yells gripping your hair as his head falls back. “Fuck!” He yells squeezing his eyes shut “Take all of my cum baby” He begs as he pants out of breath becoming weaker.

You slurp and suck his cock drinking it as he tilts his head down to look at you “fuck baby!” He says making you open your eyes to look up at him as you swallow. His eyes are lidded filled with immeasurable satisfation. “You’re so fucking good” he says breathless as you release his empty cock from your mouth.

He rests his head back onto the armchair again releasing your head and you lift from his cock. He stays lost in thought until he notices you trying to leave and locks eyes with you. “C’mere“ he says making you crawl up his body into his arms. He cuddles you naked on his chest with your ear resting in his shoulder as he brushes your hair back with his fingertips.

“Did you really send those pictures to your ex on purpose?” You ask with the only burning question on your mind” he smiles as he answers “yes.”

“Wont she tell people about us? She sounded really hurt Austin.” You admit. He smiles trailing his hand down your shoulder. “She signed an iron clad NDA she’s not saying shit.” He asserts. “Austin can I get dressed in my clothing now ?” You ask wanting to get on with your day.

“Mmm your yoga outfit belongs to me now baby, I can’t give it back. But I’ll let you wear it and take you shopping at a place I like in town to replace it” he says affectionately. You look up to him smiling that he calls you baby now.

He catches the glimmer of your crush on him in your eyes and he slowly smiles. “Would you like me to take you shopping now?” He asks with a grin and you nod knowing he will spend to spoil you. “Okay let’s get you showered and ready. With the dress you choose I want to take you on a date tonight.” He says watching your eyes light up.

He holds your chin and plants a kiss on your lips before he playfully spanks your ass to get up making you smile against each other. You both redress in his office together and he takes your hand leading you to the master bedroom. You wonder if he’ll ever allow you to go back to your apartment as you think of a way to ask him if you can check in for school tomorrow.

Next Chapter TBA

🥀 Tag list 🥀

@burnthheparaphilia @abswifey @faegoddessog @lindszeppelin @purejasmine @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @magicovento @fallofthedamned @strangeninjaturtle @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @lovereadingfanfic

[xhoneygirlxx]

Scream For Me

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: there's just something about your boyfriend in a Halloween mask.

warnings: fluff towards the end. smut. Minors DNI 18+ only!!! unprotected p in v. creampie. mask kink. talks about knife play. Eddie and Reader are both 20+. size, ethnicity, and skin color are not described. reader is described as having hair. pics are for aesthetic purposes only. grammar errors/shitty writing. not proofread! If I miss anything please let me know.

If you are an ageless/faceless blog DNI, you will be blocked.

a/n: Happy late Halloween love bugs!!!!!! it feels like forever since i've posted anything! this month has been nonstop for me as far as personal life goes so i haven't had time to really post anything. i know this isn't that long of a fic, it's more of a blurb tbh, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys. thank you all for being so patient and loving! i hope you all enjoy :)

"Fuck you're so dirty, baby." Eddie pants harshly, the words are slightly muffled underneath the mask.

He's right, you're downright filthy for getting off on him wearing the mask of a famous fictional character. It shouldn't be as arousing as it is, Ghostface leering over you, but the wetness that seeps out of you as Eddie continues to fuck you won't stop.

His thick cock continues to pound into you, hitting that spot you can never seem to reach on your own, making you moan loudly. The sound of skin slapping against each other, the squelch of your sopping heat, and the grunts of your boyfriend only turns you on further.

"Can't believe my girl gets turned on by a mask," He says breathlessly, "All those -Fuck-, all those times we watched that movie, must've been soaking every time, huh?"

You can't help but clench around him, just the idea of you secretly getting off without your boyfriend ever knowing really does something for you.

"Ah shit, you really like that? Liked imagining me fucking you just like this all those times?" Eddie grunts, snapping his hips even faster than before.

You begin to claw at his pale skin, leaving red scratches along the expanse of his back as he continues to abuse your g-spot so perfectly.

"Yes, fuck yes!" You scream as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Eddie chuckles deeply, almost dark and twisted like he's enjoying watching you completely unravel underneath him.

"Bet you'd like it if I marked you up, yeah? Want me to carve my initials into you?" Snaking one of his hands between the two of you, he begins to draw tight circles on your abandoned clit, making your hole hole grip around him tighter.

"Please, Eds. I w-want that s'bad. Please give it to me." You're beyond babbling at this point. The line between reality and your impending orgasm are starting to blur, the thin string that holds you together ready to snap at any moment.

Going faster than before, Eddie picks up his pace not only for his sake but for yours as well. Even under the the protection of his mask you know he's going to break any moment just from the gasps and whines that falls from his mouth.

"Shit, you're so good. S'good for me, always so good f'me." It's panted in between thrusts, the slap of his balls off of your ass filling the silence between words.

"Gonna let me cum in this tight pussy, huh? Gonna -fuck- gonna let a masked killer breed this pretty cunt?"

"Please, wanna feel it drip out of me." It sounds airy and light despite the weight of your request.

It could've been the words that were spoken between the two of you, or maybe it was the visual in your minds, either way it sets the two of you off like fire works.

You release around him with a silent scream, the kind that has your head thrown back and your body arched into his chest. Eddie, on the other hand, moans loudly while tucking his masked head into the crook of your neck.

As the two of you come down from what has probably been your biggest orgasms, you relax into each other. His chest on yours, breathing slowed and synched up, and hearts banging against one another in a soothing rhythm.

Pulling away from you too quickly for your liking, Eddie pulls out of you causing you to hiss from the loss. Pulling off the mask, Eddie looks at where you were once connected, watching as his seed drips from your clenching hole.

"Fuck, that's hot." He rasps out.

You can't help but cover your face with your hands, embarrassment stinging at your cheeks at his raunchy words. Eddie seems to notice your flustered expression, a dopey smile spreading across his red and sweaty cheeks.

"Don't get all shy on me now, baby. You were just begging for this exact thing." It's teasing and playful when he says it but for some odd reason it makes your belly flip with excitement.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." You roll your eyes, even though you're no where near annoyed. "Thank you for doing this for me by the way, 'appreciate it."

The two of you stare at each other with love sick smiles for just a moment, then Eddie is quick to lean over and meet your lips with his own, something you've been wanting this whole time.

"No need to thank me, bub. You know me, willing to do anything and everything your little heart desires." Boping your nose with his ringed finger, he continues to look down at you like you've hung all the stars in the sky.

"Speaking of," He begins to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear nonchalantly, "Any other masks you're into that I should know about? Ya know like Michael Myers, Jason, I don't know the Phantom of the Opera?"

"Stooop it." You drag out, turning your face in order to hide your embarrassment.

"Okay, I quit. M'sorry." Eddie laughs, placing a loving kiss on the heated skin of your cheek.

Excepting the warm embrace, you hum into the feeling of his kiss, letting your heart light with love. The sweet moment is over way quicker than you'd like though, your boyfriend being too quick for your liking.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's the Myers mask."

Reaching for a pillow, you throw it right at Eddie's head with a loud thwap. The metal head falls on top of you with a muffled oof, followed by the loud boom of his laughter.

"You're not funny, Mr. Munson." You chastise him, the brown curls of his hair tickling the tip of your nose.

Lifting his face to look at you, his brown eyes are warm and sweet, and his smile is big and bright.

"Yeah? And I think you're beautiful." It's sincere falling from his pretty pink lips, sickeningly sweet. It's so sweet in fact you could get a cavity.

Wrinkling your nose, you try with all your might to stop the smile that begs to be shown. You're quick to lose the battle as your mouth curls upwards and your teeth begin to poke through, shining like the lights on a Christmas tree.

"Also, I love you." Eddie adds, the dimples on his cheeks deepening as his lips stretch more.

Again, you roll your eyes playfully before kissing the sweat soaked skin of his forehead.

"Yeah, well you stole my line, lover boy." You say with a playful kind of irritation. "I love you too."

Thank you all for reading! I'm sorry this was short and not so good. I hope you all enjoyed it. Happy Halloween <3

[steddielations]

Of course Steve’s birthday is on Christmas.

It’s like the universe aligned perfectly for his parents to ignore his existence. Sure, he got enough presents to cover both when he was younger, when his parents wanted a perfect family holiday card to send out, but it was never about Steve.

When he got older, it was so easy for them to wrap it all up in one, mail him a check from whatever city, until the cards stopped saying happy birthday at all. Steve started wrapping it all up in one too. If his parents were going to leave him alone on Christmas and forget his birthday, it’s better at the same time, one less day of the year to be disappointed.

He hates December. He hates winter. He hates being surrounded by all those pretty lights taunting him for being alone in the dark.

He sort of forgets he has a birthday, until the last couple of years with Robin and the kids. He always tells them his Christmas present can double as his birthday present. Robin never goes for that though, she only gets him a birthday present.

Now comes Eddie. He doesn’t know about the wrap it up in one deal. He doesn’t know that Steve gets all broody around the subject. He’s just sitting next to Steve on the couch, going on about the fishing trip he’s taking Wayne on for his upcoming birthday.

It sounds nice. It’s only one weekend. Steve shouldn’t feel a pit in his stomach that already misses Eddie. They’re just friends, they can’t spend every weekend together, as much as Steve likes tagging along with whatever Eddie’s doing, he has to give him space.

“Yeah so it’s nothing compared to a big Harrington bash,” Eddie teases, passing Steve the joint, “Say, am I cool enough now to be invited to your birthday rager this year? When is it anyway?”

And that’s a simple question, but Steve doesn’t know what it is about Eddie that just draws the truth out of him, that makes him give the not simple answer. He blows out smoke and all the years of forgotten birthdays wrapped in one check and a Christmas card with it.

It’s too much, he’s too much and he starts to apologize, but Eddie cuts him off with a certain intensity he gets sometimes.

“Well, starting right now, fuck that. When do you want your birthday to be?”

Steve chuckles, tries to brush it off, “What? Eddie, c’mon. It’s not a big deal, dude.”

“No, seriously. When do you want your birthday to be, Steve?”

It’s so stupid. It’s so silly sitting in Eddie Munson’s living room trying to decide which day he’d prefer for his birthday, when he’s barely holding back saying how he sort of wishes he didn’t have one at all. He thinks Eddie knows anyway, without him having to say it, so he makes it easier. Eddie always makes it easier.

It takes a couple of tries, a couple cups full of torn pieces of paper with scribbled numbers randomly chosen, but Steve Harrington gets a new birthday that night.

“Yeah, you look like more of a summer baby anyway,” Eddie says and Steve wishes he wouldn’t, it’s so hard not to love him when he does.

Steve gets to tag along on Wayne’s birthday fishing trip, or rather, he was invited, as Eddie keeps correcting.

It’s nice, it’s May, it’s quiet by the river and it gets just cool enough at night to build a campfire. Eddie pulls out his guitar, a pretty acoustic one, and he playfully strums out the chords to happy birthday for Wayne. Steve watches across the fire, he feels warm down to his bones, melting away all those cold lonely Decembers frozen inside them.

Wayne spends his birthday teaching Steve to fish. He catches the biggest one, and he hopes the Polaroid that Eddie snaps doesn’t pick up the tears in his eyes.

Eddie sidles up next to him, pretending not to notice Steve wiping his eyes. He rubs his back, whispers congratulations, “Look at you, summer baby.”

He feels the sun rising in his cheeks, bright and burning. It’s impossible not to love Eddie, not when this is the best birthday Steve’s ever had and it’s not even his own.

Steve forgets all about the new date he chose to come into the world, and as the weeks pass in a warm haze, he stops trying not to love Eddie.

It’s too late to catch himself. He’s already falling as they lie on the trailer roof, talking about everything and nothing while sunset colors melt over them, as he rides along while Eddie deals and calls Steve his summer baby in the passenger seat.

Steve’s so in love with Eddie that it burns, makes him golden inside, even the places in him that have never known anything bright.

He doesn’t want to lose that, so he tells himself he can settle for just this.

And it’s true for a while, until that date comes along, the one he forgot about, but Eddie didn’t.

Robin has a spare key to his house, she helped Eddie plan all this, that’s the only explanation for what Steve sees in his backyard when he gets off work on a Friday in July.

All the kids are there, Dustin Henderson is in the pool that Steve hasn’t used since ‘83, with El Hopper on his shoulders, Mike Wheeler is doing the same holding up Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield are wrestling inside a bounce house, Nancy Wheeler is manning the grill Steve’s dad bought for show, Robin Buckley is grinning ear to ear with a bright glass of lemonade, and Eddie Munson’s at the center of it all.

Everyone that Steve loves is there yelling, “Surprise! Happy birthday!”

He can’t describe the feeling that bursts through him.

The July sun isn't in the sky anymore, it’s rising inside Steve’s chest. It’s too big and too bright. This body of his that grew up alone in the dead of winter wasn’t made to feel such warmth, bringing hot tears to his eyes.

He’s hurrying back inside the house before he knows it. He feels bad, rushing out like that, away from his party, but he just needs a second. He has to lean against the kitchen counter, run his hands over his face and through his hair, trying to stop all these feelings from melting out of him.

He hears someone come in behind him, assumes it’s Robin, but he feels a hand on his back, hears a low, reassuring voice next to him that belongs to Eddie.

“Sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, Steve. I should’ve asked if you were okay with this. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.”

Steve blinks hard, brushing away the tears, “No it’s— It's fine, Eds, really.”

Eddie doesn’t look convinced, brown eyes deep with concern, he holds Steve’s elbows, “Okay well, Robin said you weren’t really a fan of your pool but that’s okay, if that’s what you’re worried about. No one expects you to get in, Stevie.”

He’s perfect. He’s everything Steve wants and needs. The light that’s been missing inside him, Eddie struck a match to it. Steve never knew his heart was so flammable and he doesn’t know how Eddie can’t see that he’s burning for him.

“No, thats— that’s not it, Eddie.”

“Is it the kiddy theme? Listen, I had trouble picking it, so I just thought maybe since it was mostly gonna be kids here and you never had a kids' birthday party then, y’know, summer, pool, bounce house, games— okay it sounds dumb now, I’ll just get everyone to leave—”

Steve reaches out when Eddie starts to pull back, hands catching his shoulders and the ends of his hair, “No, no, please don’t. This is— it’s perfect, Eddie. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“Then why do you look so sad?”

“Because I—” Steve can’t hold it in anymore, it’s too hot, summer beneath his skin, he has to let it out, “Because I want to kiss you so bad right now and I can’t.”

He expects Eddie to pull back, or worse, let him down gently, like the quick press of fingertips to the flame of a candle, snuff the feeling out just like that.

Instead, Steve’s breath catches when Eddie’s hands cup his face, thumbs brushing away the stray tears Steve missed.

“Who says you can’t?” Eddie asks and part of Steve wishes he wouldn’t, because it’s so easy to love Eddie with every piece of him when he does, and Steve’s going to fall apart trying to stop.

“I shouldn’t have said that, sorry. I just don’t want to lose you as a friend, you don’t have to feel the same, but that’s what it is,” Steve lets it out, let’s it catch fire between them and just hopes it doesn’t turn them to ashes, “I want to kiss you for doing this for me, for being you. I want to kiss you all the fucking time and especially right now, Eddie, but I can’t.”

He waits for it, to be left out in the cold, for frost to cover his bones again, but Eddie’s hands stay warm on his face.

A smile lights on Eddie’s lips, the kind that Steve can feel radiating between them. He doesn’t know why Eddie’s smiling when he should be leaving, but Steve wants to keep that feeling forever.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Stevie? You can do whatever you want when it’s your birthday.”

Eddie’s eyes fall to Steve’s lips and back up again, setting off a surprised flare in his chest.

“Whatever I want?” Steve repeats in disbelief, searching Eddie’s eyes.

“Whatever you want.”

“You want that too?”

“I want you, too,” Eddie grins like it’s the easiest thing in the world to want Steve, then leans in.

Their mouths connect and it’s like something fiercely cosmic, a solar flare at the touch of their lips.

Eddie’s been sipping lemonade, Steve can taste it on his tongue. Citrusy and warm, Eddie tastes like pure fucking sunshine, all golden in Steve’s mouth.

Kissing Eddie feels like he’s at the center of the universe. He makes Steve feel like the sun, like the brightest thing in the goddamn sky is Steve Harrington.

No pretty light could compare.

Steve chases the heat of Eddie’s mouth, letting it light a fire inside him. His hands have a mind of their own, making Eddie’s messy hair even messier, then falling to his waist to pull him close and hold him while he just kisses and kisses and kisses Eddie.

They have to break for air, foreheads resting together, Steve misses Eddie’s lips already.

Their panting breaths fuse, gazes locked for a few delirious moments, half-lidded and close.

Eddie breaks the silence, laughing breathlessly, giving Steve’s lips one final peck before pulling back, brushing Steve’s hair out of his eyes for him.

“You good?”

Steve laughs then too, a rush of breath, relieved and light, “Never been better.”

Eddie smiles, taking Steve’s hands in the warmth of his, “C’mon then, summer baby. Don’t wanna miss your birthday party.”

They go back outside and Eddie stays close by Steve with a pretty flush high on his cheeks. Steve’s face feels sun-kissed too, and judging by the look he gets from Robin, it shows.

It should be stupid, having a birthday party with a bounce house and a bunch of screaming kids. Maybe it is a little, but it’s still the best birthday Steve’s ever had, and it’s actually his own this time.

He spends the better part of it trying not to cry, especially when he opens the few presents they got him. He’s not used to everything being about him, but Eddie’s arm stays around him, giving him encouraging squeezes, bursts of warmth that keep him going.

Steve’s not forgotten in the shadow of something bigger, wrapped up in one so it’s easier to forget he exists. No, it’s like nothing’s more important than him that day. He doesn’t need it, and it’s hard to let himself have it, but it’s nice to get a day that’s his.

When Christmas comes later that year, Robin still gets Steve a birthday present, there’s no arguing with her. Then Eddie tries to pull the same thing, and Steve’s not having it.

They’re both in their flannels on the couch, Eddie throwing his legs over Steve’s lap and trying to push the extra gift into Steve’s hands.

“C’mon, Stevie, I swear it’s not a birthday present. It's just because.”

“Uh huh, sure. Just because what?”

Eddie shrugs, rests his arm around Steve’s shoulders and presses the words against his cheek, “Just ’cause I love you,” he says like it’s the easiest thing in the world to love Steve.

Steve thinks he knows what to call that feeling now. The one that makes December easier because he’s got his own summer sun pumping warmth through his veins now.

It's love.

Eddie loves him.

Not just on his birthday, or on Christmas, or only on occasion, but everyday. Eddie loves him everyday.

ao3 link

[thisonehere]

Can you please write Raiden, liu kang, bi Han, kuai liang and kenshi getting into an argument and it hurts the reader’s feelings? But in the end it gets soft with make up sex? 🥺

You Got it!

Mk Men arguing with their S/o

A/n: Thank you much for making this request, I loved writing this. I leaned into a more dark version of each character for a certain extent so that was real fun. Tags: MK1, MK AU, Request, Angst+Smut C/w: Dark Raiden, Make-up sex, toxic, verbal abuse and emotional manipulation (side-eyes Bi-Han), love bombing (Side-eyes Bi-Han again), G/n reader

Raiden

He has always been a quiet and level-headed man. You have never known him to angrily raise his voice; the concept seemed impossible.

But, as Raiden said, "Change is a constant in the universe." You notice a subtle and gradual shift in Raiden's personality. He started being more lunt and closed off, he often had his face scrunched into a sort of bitter expression, as well as his lightening sometimes turning red for some reason.

You were aware that, as the champion of Mortal Kombat, Raiden had many responsibilities he had to attend to, so it's no doubt stressful. But you can't help but notice his new personality is often directed at you. Raiden has driven himself into a frenzy attempting to keep Earthrealm safe, and that has not had the greatest of effects on his mental state. He seems to have forgotten himself and his love for you.

The argument starts when you make a mistake. Maybe you spilled milk or you broke a vase. Just a minor slip-up that wouldn't earn anything more than a chuckle and then you move on. But Raiden reacted much differently, he snapped at you, berating you. "What is wrong with you? Can't you do anything right for once in your life!?"

You are taken by surprise by this, you didn't expect him to just yell at you. Unsure of what to do, you talk back, attempting to calm him down. But he refuses to relent, he stays on his tirade. His insults get deeper and deeper as he brings up things you had no idea he was holding onto. You try your best to defend yourself, and before you know it, you two are screaming at each other.

Your eyes are blinded with tears as you start to sob, struggling to even form sentences at this point. The way Raiden was suddenly acting, hurting you felt your heart sting with pain. You turn your back to him and race to your room slamming and locking the door behind you. You fell to your knees as your sobbing and whimpering got worse.

It was at this moment that Raiden finally snapped out of it. The red light cleared from his eyes as everything became clear again. The way he has been acting, the way he has been treating you, it horrifies just what he has become.

He goes to your door, hoping to apologize and make things right, but he hesitates. He hears your cries and he can't do it. His heart begins to grow heavy as he realizes that he just might have ruined your relationship, this beautiful thing you had together, gone.

That night he sleeps on the ground outside your door desperately close to the door. Clinging to it like it your life depended on it. When morning comes and you finally open your door, Raiden is outside waiting for you. His perks up as he looks at you.

"Y/n, forgive me, I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..." But he is interrupted when he looks at your eyes. They are so puffy and red that it is obvious that words won't do anything to fix this. He stares hopelessly into your eyes.

You tell Raiden how badly he made you feel. Raiden feels his heartbreak at seeing how badly he hurt you. He holds you as you cry and apologizes profusely.

Once you calm down, Raiden tells you how much he loves you, how special you are to him. He softly kises you on the lips.

Now you both lay naked in it, your bodies writhing against and inside each other. Outside, a thunderstorm begins to stir.

Raiden has never been an expert at sex, but he has always tried for you. He went steady and gentle, making not to be too rough you. He holds you tight as if he's going to lose you.

As he finishes inside you, you feel a buzz of electrical current vibrate throughout you. It doesn't hurt somehow, instead, it makes the climax even better causing you to scream.

You lay there for some time, Raiden holds you close and tight as if he is going to lose you. He stared into his eyes and you into his "Y/n, the way I acted was not right, I'm sorry." He says his voice stern, yet loving and soft at the same time. "Y/n, you are as important to me as Earthrealm, I love you. Never forget that, please."

Liu Kang

Things haven't been going well between you and Liu ever since you found out he was the titan that rebooted the timeline. A drift formed between you two the moment he told you.

You couldn't help but think of every tragedy and traumatic event that ever happened to you, to the people not just around you, but everyone around. You think how he was responsible for them. This causes you to view Liu in a new light. You start to be distant with Liu, avoiding more often, keeping your conversations to minimum, etc.

It is very unlike Liu to lose his temper and raise his voice in anger, especially towards you. But this night was like no other. You sudden treatment towards him has left him upset with you. It's obvious that he's trying to be polite, but the contempt he's now is feeling for you shows how distant and apathetic he is to you.

The tension in the air is thick, so thick that not even a Shokan could get through it. You try to make small talk to get him to loosen up, but still retain his cold demeanor.

Finally, he lets it out, he tries to be calm with you, but he gets more violent as things gradually continue. You are taken by surprise by how quickly he springs this onto you. "In all my eons of living, I have never come across such an ungrateful cretin such as you."

And in an instant you two are yelling at each other. The room literally shakes with Liu's anger and fire begins to erupt from his body, but you are so caught up in your own rage that you fail to notice. "Of all the mistakes I've made with this timeline, bringing you back was one of them!" He screamed at you.

The room went silent at that moment. You stared at Liu Kang, you eyes grew and tears began to form within them. Liu realized at that moment that he messed up. "Y/n...I-" He says, reaching out to hold your hand. You don't even care to listen anymore as you turn from him and run to your room.

As you sit onto your bed, you feel the tears beginning to fall. Your face falls into your hands as you begin to sob uncontrollably as well as hyperventilate. You loved Liu, but that didn't change the fact that he was a titan. The concept that he had more power in a single finger than the elder gods, that he could do whatever he wanted and you couldn't do a thing about it. that both scared and angered you. Him saying those words didn't make things better.

"Y/n, my love, I am sorry." You jump as you hear Liu suddenly right next to you. Liu senses you panic and he gently shushes you as he pulls you close. Liu's soft words combined with his warm touch oddly calms you down and your tears slowly begin to slow down. He wraps his arms around you and you melt into him, your breathing become in-sync with his. "I'd rather die than hurt you, Y/n, you mean everything to me."

He lifts you up with ease and he sits you onto his lap and he kisses on the lips, neck and even your chest, you gasp as you can feel the hard bulge in his pants.

Liu lets you get on top of him to let you know that have control of the situation, he moans at the way you handle his length inside of you. "By the Gods, you're so perfect, he moans.". The world outside seems to act strange. The wind picks up at a rapid rate, the earth shakes slightly, thunder forms in the sky. As you both scream at the climax a giant thunderclap erupts that shacks everything.

You lay on Lu's chest as you try to catch your breath, his strong arms wrap around you and you melt into him once again. You listen to his heartbeat as you begin to fall asleep, a feeling of safety and love encompasses you as you do.

Bi-Han

It is no surprise that you're here, there had been tension between you and him for the longest time. You don't know how it started, maybe you said something, made him jealous, or questioned his leadership, all you know is that Bi-Han is upset and you know him to have a short fuse.

You try to walk on eggshells because all it takes is a little pinprick and he'll explode. Unfortunately, no matter how hard you try you still wind up here. Bi-Han's fuse eventually runs out and he snaps. Now, you are in your home cowering as Bi-Han screams at you. "You pathetic little whelp! Even a bitch is more useful than you!"

Though you're scared of Bi-Han, you are as equally angry with him. Here he was berating, shaming, hurting you, yet he insisted that he loved you. You have had enough and you yell back at him.

This caused Bi-Han to get even more angry at you for "defying" him. Before you know it, you two are yelling at each other. Bi-Han grew so angry that he began to say things that should have never been said, personally things that you thought he'd never say.

"Get out! I never want to see you again!" You scream as you rush to your room, hot tears falling down your cheeks. These words sting in a way he never could have anticipated. He angrily follows you, but he is stopped when you slam the door in his face.

Hours pass and you stay locked in your room, unable to go back out and face him. After a few moments, you hear a gentle knocking outside your door. "I'm...sorry." You hear, the first time he's said those words in a long time. "Please, talk to me." He begs, trying his best to sound soft and gentle. Bi-Han had been brought with you since you first got with him, so to him trying to be gentle, it sounds so wrong...yet right at the same time.

You slowly open the door. And there he is, on his knees. "I know I'm not easiest of men to deal with...But I just love you so much I-" He pauses, it's obviously killing him inside having to do this. "Please don't push me away, Y/n, I need you."

You sigh as you let into your room and onto your bed. You tell Bi-Han about how you feel, trying your best not to berate him and start arguing with him all over again. It feels good to finally let it all out without having to scream.

You feel a chill rush throughout your body when Bi-Han gently touches the side of your face. He pulls you in for a kiss, and you feel his surprisingly warm embrace encompass you, suddenly you forget why you were upset with him as a new feeling arises in you.

Moments later he's on top of you displaying his "love" for you. He showers you with compliments and affirmations of the unending love and adoration he feels for you as he fills you with his manhood. He does it so much to the point that it all gets overwhelming after a while.

he doesn't let go of you even after he finishes, he tenderly holds your face. His usually grumpy, frowning face has a twinkle in his eyes as he looks into your eyes. "I love you, Y/n," he says with a sigh "Don't ever leave me."

Kuai Liang

Kuai has always been the opposite of his brother, cool, collected, emotionally stable, and available. But things were different now. There has been tension between you since your defection from Bi-Han.

Creating an entirely new clan hasn't been easy, and that stress was showing through the cracks in your relationship. You spent less time together and talked less, the passion in your relationship was slowly dying out. Kuai especially grew more frustrated and stressed. He began to bottle up his emotions and repress his feelings.

But as you can imagine, that is not a healthy way to handle things. His emotions were bound to overflow at some bound and spill out. And unfortunately, you were the one they spilt out on.

The Argument starts about something so minuscule and unimportant like one of you not washing the dishes or not taking the trash out. Something that would usually be ended calmly and rationally.

But right now neither of you felt like being calm or reasonable, especially Kuai. Things escalated quickly to the point that you were just screaming at each other. Things were getting so heated to the point even you wanted it all to end. But Kuai continued, he continued to get more brutal with his insults. "By the Elder Gods, I can't stand you! Harumi would never be like this!"

Kuai finally stopped when he finally looked at you, he saw the tears streaming down you face and froze. He was so angry a few minutes ago, but now, seeing you like this, he forgets all that he was upset about. "Y/n..." He said, now coming back to his sese, "I'm sorry, I-" but before he could finish you storm away from you.

"Beloved, wait, please." Kuai says as he quickly catches up you and grabs your wrist. He grips you too hard and it hurts your wrist causing you to cry in pain. "I'm sorry, I didn't to!" He said, quickly retracting his hand.

He looks to you, he sees how hurt you are, and a great pain swells up in his hear. He takes his hands and gently cups your face and gives you a tender look. "I shouldn't have said any of those things. Y/n, I love you more than life. I couldn't be here where I am without you, I can't live without you." He says. Kuai brings he face to yours and you feel the soft touch of his lips.

You are now on the bed on top of him. He coos and whines as you ride him. "Gods, love you so much." He moans as he grips at your hips as they move in a circular motion. You feel an amazing rush of feelings as you feel his soft, warm skin clashes against yours. No doubt the Shirai Ryu can hear your cries as you both finish.

You fall to your back next to him exhausted, you can still feel lingering remnants of his warmness inside of you. Kuai softly holds your hand and wistfully looks to you hoping that you'll return his gaze. "Y/n, Know that no matter what, it is you who has my heart."

Kenshi

This was bound to happen, no matter how much you both wanted to go on thinking that things were perfect forever. Kenshi had a very brutal upbringing thanks to the Yakuza, even though he is from them, old habits often come back. Such as him sometimes having a short temper. This time was a good example of that.

You don't know how things started, the night was going so well but then something happened that undid that peace. One minute you were laughing and the next you were bickering. Kenshi was the main one leading the argument while you just retaliated to his remarks and slights.

As you continue to argue, Kenshi's anger gets the better of him and before he knows he says things that go too far. "God, you're such a....a...God, Damn it!" He began to get violent, throwing things, punching holes in walls, etc. His violent outburst hurts you, both physical and verbal, and has a surprising effect on you. You turn your back to him, you try your damnedest to fight off the tears. But you can't help it, the way Kenshi is acting hurts on an unbelievable level. you feel your eyes burn with the tears filling them.

Kenshi can sense the sudden pain he has caused, even without Sento he can tell he has hurt you. He hears your sobbing and he he is at a lost for words. He wants to say something, reach out to you, but he just can't find the right words.

He just stands there as he listens to you running to your room and slamming the door behind you. He walks over to a couch and sits there and thinks. he sits there in the dark for hours, he hears your muffled sobbing in the distance, he feels his heart break.

After some more time passes you finally finish cry for the most part. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is red and sore from wiping your nose so many times. You suddenly hear a voice in your, Kenshi's voice *Y/n, please come to me*. You open the door and there Kenshi is, holding a bouquet with your favorite flowers. "Y/n, I should've never spoken to you like that, I love you and want this to work, believe me, I do."

To both of your surprise, you rush into his arms. Though confused, he holds you close and lifts you off the ground and spins you around. He cups your face, enjoying how soft your skin feels, you must be so beautiful right now. He comes close passionately and kisses you.

He lifts you off your feet again and carries them to the room that lays you onto the bed. He takes your clothes off, kissing your body up and down, from your neck to your thighs. He is on top of you moments later thrusting his "sword" inside of you. You are overwhelmed with the passion and care you feel Kenshi pouring into you. At one point his hand goes to your throat to choke you, he quickly retracts his hand when he is able to think."Sorry, force of habit."

After an unknown time of passion, Kenshi remains above. he takes your hands and tenderly kisses both of them. How he wishes he could see you at this moment, to see your smile, to know that you're okay. "You have my heart, Y/n," he sighs "No matter what, I will always love you."

[meiluu]

Edward Cullen's Mate

Edward Cullen/ Afab!Reader

cw: SMUT 18+ MDNI, oral f receiving, unprotected p in v sex, edward breaks the headboard hehe, and edward is completely enamored with you.

(I need to get this out of my system, been thinking about him a lot recently...)

this was supposed to be a short drabble but i just couldn't shut up

reader pov.

Being with edward has been nothing but a beautiful and slightly chaotic ride. With finding out he wasn't human instead was a hundred something year old vampire along with the rest of his family. And then as your relationship grew as did the romance between you too, and that grew tenfold when the magnetic pull you felt for one another was because you were mates.

Fated to be together, equals, crafted for one another, you both completing one another and that never felt truer than now.

Body underneath his stony one, feverishly chilly lips leave a scorching trail of kisses from your neck to your bare chest. edward inhales your scent, and scent that didn't have him craving your blood like he was supposed to instead it calmed and aroused his body in a tantalizing mix. His eyes flick up to yours, pupils nearly completely dilated leaving behind a dark amber ring at the edge of his iris. Love and lust in his gaze has your body warming, and you knew that your gaze mimicked his.

"So beautiful. I'll never get enough of you my love." his word are spoken with nothing but truth. Leaving your shared gaze he continues his journey down your torso, soft hands caressing your hips squeezing the plump flesh before leading down your thighs to the backs of your knees. Mouth leaving behind love-bites upon your skin, each one sending jolts of heat straight to your core, evidence of your arousal staining the insides of your thighs.

Going lower with each kiss pulling your legs apart allowing him to sink further down, mouth right above where you need him most. A blush covers your cheeks and the tops of your breast, "Edward- you don't have to do that."

His gaze snaps up to you, and the sight of his head between your thighs with the full intention to bring you pleasure has you holding back a shiver. "I want to, God you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this. Can I ?" Why would you ever deny that? Nodding your head edward goes back to staring at your weeping cunt.

Hands tighten their grip on you before he's pushing them further apart and up, completely baring you to him. You watch as his mouth descends until you feel his tongue lick up from the bottom to your clit. softly wrapping the bud with his lips gently sucking on the bud, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. A moan falls from your slightly swollen lips, seeing your obvious satisfaction edward continues his ministrations. Swirling his tongue a sucking in your clit, body lighting up in euphoria as a ball of pleasure settles into the pit of your stomach. Shaky breaths leave you as your gaze stays locked onto edward’s head, vision blurring around the edges as your mind begins to wholly submit to him.

Then his mouth is leaving your clit all too soon, but you don't have to wonder for long where he's going next. His tongue delves straight into your cunt, mouth covering the bottom half of you. Your eyes widen before rolling back into your head at the mind-numbing sensation of his tongue massaging your walls, pushing in and out of you. Then one of his hands is leaving your thighs and begins to swirl your forgotten clit between his fingers.

Your breathing is uneven breast rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. Heart racing as your body becomes so pliant and warm under his devotion. Your moans and cries of his name bounce around the room, hands going to his soft hair to tangle themselves within them, hoping to keep yourself grounded. The knot within your belly only tightens with each moment that passes. Your mind lagging behind as it gets lost within this pleasure, you realize a little late that edwards tongue has left you but his cool fingers have entered and taken the spot where his tongue once was. Curling up sweetly rubbing into your g-spot, a near-cry of pleasure leaves you at this.

The ball of pleasure that had settled within your core tightened and then you where cumming, as your cunt milked his fingers as they continued to abuse your g-spot. With your high fizzling out of you, thighs shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Your eyes open looking down to see edward leaning his head against the one thigh he still had a grip on, fingers still buried within you and a smirk of satisfaction upon his face.

"You look so gorgeous when you cum." giving the inside of your thigh a sweet kiss before he starts to sit up, wrapping your legs around his waste. Face rising up to yours, his mouth comes down giving you a kiss that leaves you breathless. "Do you want to keep going?"

"Yes-yes, please." no shame, your words are full of need and edwards smirk brightens. "Of course my love, I am at your whim."

Reaching down taking edward by surprise, you grip his hardness, a groan leaves him at your soft hold. Lining him with your cunt you let him slowly sink into you. Your head falls further into the pillow as edward grits his teeth hoping to keep himself in control.

He stretches you out just perfectly, filling you up with no space left and your walls wrap so beautifully around him, so warm and wet and oh so welcoming to his cock. You were both made for one another as you slot together- bodies entwined with one another. "Move, Edward please." as your words leave you, he is obeying.

With near flawless movements he starts a slow yet deep pace, bottoming out to the hilt. Each thrust has you keening in utter ecstasy body lit aflame. But his pace begins to pick up speed as your cunt continues to push him to his limits by squeezing him, and with every pull out of you, your walls are trying to suck him back in. God he never knew he could feel like this, so wholly enraptured, this was his new drug and Edward knew that he would never want to part from it.

Your thighs tighten around his waist, arms leaving the bedsheets to latch onto his back. Nails digging into his stony muscle, as your head buries into his neck where his scent is strongest. Your sounds of pleasure are right by his ear, the most beautiful song he's ever heard. His arms leave your waist in favor of the headboard, harshly gripping onto the mahogany. Edward moans along with you as he tilts his pelvis down and up, kissing your g-spot with the tip of his cock. And with his pelvis hitting your clit with every thrust back into your cunt.

Your arousal leaks out staining the fronts of his thighs along with the sheets beneath you, your heady scent filling the space around you two. Edward feels the head board snap then crumble within his grasp and not a moment after that does he feel your cunt quiver as you cum, walls milking him as a gush of your arousal stains his thighs. An unfiltered moan falls from edward, completely in shock at this sensation pace becoming frenzied as he pistons into you with the sole intention to cum within your cunt. Your head has fallen back into the pillow body buzzing in overstimulation as your third orgasm nears.

"Edward-please, please, I need it." words broken up by moans as you barely get them out. Edward's body hunches over yours, hands coming down from the shattered headboard to the sheets beside your head before quickly wrapping around your body. Pulling your chest against his, a hand against the small of your back the other at the base of your head.

His body trying to get as close to you as possible, trying to bury himself within you. Cock bullying your overstimulated and weeping cunt that continues to welcome him in with every thrust, pace now rougher and faster. Each time his cock bottoms out reaching the end of you your moans are punched out of you, mind having turned to mush. Your ears are hypnotized by the heady squelching sound of your cunt along with edwards moans of pure pleasure.

Edward feels the painfully tight knot of pleasure in his pelvis snap, cock swelling as he empties himself within you, eyes closing from the heavy orgasm. That orgasm grows tenfold with you cumming again, walls milking his cock in an attempt to ring him completely dry. Slowing down his thrusts as you both come down from your highs, coming to a stop as you are both left in the aftershocks of your orgasms. Gently bringing you back down to the bedsheets, turning to the side with you still within his embrace. feeling your racing heart against his chest.

Ever so softly he begins to place chaste kisses upon your skin along with 'I love you's, soon your body is lulled into unconsciousness, as edward continues to give his worship to your body. As you rest he lays protecting and watching over you and with every moment that passes does he fall more and more in love with you.

His mate, made just for him.

---

*not edited*

[darkworkcourier]

Could you write Ghost x fem!reader where she finds him attractive but is too shy to actually tell him but also can't hide the way she's feeling, so Ghost notices her interest and eventually they end up in bed (*cough* you know what I mean)? Also Ghost being gentle and protective towards her, plz

Ps. I love your writing!

Word Count: 8314

i’m incapable of short prompt fills, apparently! o, but i am filled with grief!

anywho, reader’s codename is ‘ladybird’ (hc that soap gave it to her because she’s lucky) but is otherwise nameless.

contains masturbation, oral sex, lots of feelings, wee bit of slow burn, ghost being like weirdly emotional and soft, and soap’s gratuitous and unfortunate use of emojis. 💀/🐞4ever

---

The first time it really hits you, you're in a helicopter about two miles above the ground—honestly a terrible place to face your feelings. It's a velvet-dark night, strategically chosen for the new moon, the countryside below nearly invisible. You're almost in a doze, caught up in the Chinook's blades' low, thunderous pulse and the sporadic rocking as it hits little glades of turbulence. Your eyes lose focus on some of the running lights, until they turn hazy, and its only when the man across from you moves his boot do you snap back to attention.

Ghost. Right. You learned his name a few weeks ago during your orientation, but he was deployed on a recon mission only a day later. Price summoned him back for this mission, but aside from a few gruff comments at the all-hands meeting, you haven't heard him say much.

For a moment, you think he might have dozed off, too. He’s leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed. And that’s fair, you think; Soap told you he didn’t think Ghost ever slept.

You silently study him, the way his head rocks a little with the turbulence, how much taller he is than everyone else in his row, the peculiar illusion that the eye sockets of his mask are empty—

And suddenly they aren’t.

He’s looking back at you, dark eyes regarding you passively, even though the mask makes every look significantly more intimidating. For moment that goes on way too long, you don’t look away, your gazes locked. Your heart takes the tracheal elevator to your throat, beating loud enough to drown out the Chinook’s roar.

You look away first, and you swear you hear him snort.

The rest of the journey to the drop-off zone, you deliberately don’t look at him; but when you close your eyes, there he is.

All you can think is ohhhh, shit.

---

Military crushes aren’t abnormal. Put enough people at the peak of physical excellence in a room, throw around some form-fitting uniforms, and mix in a few adrenaline rushes—it’s a goddamn potent mixture. You’ve had your share of mess hall dreamy-eyed gazing sessions, and a few ‘I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go’ moments in gyms and fitness centers. That’s fine; that’s normal.

What you start feeling for Ghost isn’t that.

Nevermind that he’s rarely out of tactical dress, and if he is, he usually defaults to a hoodie or something that doesn’t exactly entice the imagination. And he’s never out of some variation of his mask, so you can’t think woah, pal, do you cut glass with that jawline because as far as you can tell, he doesn’t have one. No mooning over cheekbones, admiring the curve of lips. He has nice eyes, but ever since the night in the Chinook, you haven’t been able to meet them for more than a second before your heart does that terrible little samba again.

Per your mental checklist, aside from being tall and muscular, he doesn’t check all your normal boxes. By all those counts, Gaz or Soap are way better fits. Hell, Soap likes to hang around in his silkies like they’re pajamas, showing off plenty to keep your fantasy fodder trough filled. And you’ve caught Gaz doing push-ups in the lounge, his tight shirt doing wonders for his shoulders.

But it’s Ghost who makes you feel like a hormonal teenager. It’s Ghost that gets you antsy and fidgety when he enters a room. And it’s Ghost that you think about during your rare alone time in the shower, when your hands start drifting south and the tile walls are your only support.

You’ve got it bad for him, and you have no idea what to do about it.

---

You’re doing recon in Berlin when Soap notices.

The mission details are simple: a drug lord known as Keiler using a night club as a go-between for his suppliers and dealers—all further complicated by the fact that he has plenty of friends in the arms trade, and by Laswell’s reports, he’s very generous to those friends. The club is a front, a money laundering wonderland. Through your observation, drugs and alcohol are doled out in equal volume, all to the backdrop of skull-splitting bass and sharp scalpels of strobe lights.

The biggest obstacle is that Keiler likes to use a private room overlooking the club as his perch, and your intelligence says that at any given time, he has a small army defending him. Getting to him requires an incredible degree of finesse. Naturally, Ghost is the one to do it.

You, Soap, and Gaz are scattered around the main floor of the club. Gaz is out on the dance floor, Soap’s taken up a spot near the bar, and you’re in the lounge. It’s the first time you’ve done something like this (and in an outfit with so little fabric), and you’re really not used to being ogled and pawed by a bunch of drunk, drugged, or horny Berliners.

Soap must see your discomfort from his position, as you hear a dry, amused, “Feelin’ a little tense, Ladybird?”

You swallow hard and chase it with a sip of your drink, which definitely needs to be watered down. “I’m fine,” you say.

“You look like you just drank petrol.”

“You’re the one who ordered it for me.”

Gaz cuts in with a weary, “Do we have eyes on Ghost, yet? I’m starting to get tired of people grabbing my—”

“I’m here,” Ghost’s voice scrapes over the comms, causing you to sit up straight and look around. You catch sight of Soap who has his hand curled in front of his mouth, clearly snickering like a heathen.

“Think you scared the shit out of Ladybird, LT,” he says.

He’s lucky he’s on the other side of the room, otherwise you’d pretend to be extremely clumsy and find an excuse to spill your drink on his (very, very tight) shirt. You mouth ‘shut up’ at him, and he reaches up with his pointer finger to draw an invisible halo over his head.

Ghost ignores him. “I’m near the east stairwell, headed to second deck. Got one guard at the far end. Gaz, you seein’ anything I should know about?”

A pause, then, “Negative, Ghost. I’ve got what you’ve got.”

“Copy. Going to second deck now.”

Out of habit, your eyes go to the east stairwell, peering through the haze pierced with multicolored lights to see a single dark shape ascending. He disappears behind a catwalk, then reappears to the right, mingling with the crowd near the second floor bar. Once he’s there, he seems to fade into the throng of people, most in dark clothing, some in masks. Just like that, he’s invisible.

It’s hard to focus on looking calm and happy to be there, but you keep sipping your drink, watching the dancers and feeling the bassline of yet another techno song thrumming in your chest. You’re glad you’re not out on the dance floor, or being called to give come-hither glances to bouncers and guards.

Then, “Coming back down to first deck,” Ghost says, clearly agitated. “Too many guards and too many people. We need another way up.”

Soap grins. “Violence isn’t the answer, LT?”

“Negative. Start looking for another route.”

On cue, you stand up and cross the room to the bar, sliding in beside Soap. He’s fishing for another couple Euro from his wallet, pushing it across to the bartender with two fingers. The bartender gives him a brief nod and refills his glass, while Soap turns his attention to you.

“Any bright ideas?”

You frown and adjust the straps on your top again. It’s a stupid piece of clothing, always feeling like it’s going to fall off. “Only the emergency stairs by the front doors, but I can’t imagine Keiler leaves those undefended.”

Soap looks thoughtful and scratches at his stubble. “Yeah, but probably no civilians, either. And if the door’s alarmed, Ghost can take care of that.”

As if summoned, you feel Ghost appear before you see him, a huge presence over your shoulder that makes you jump. “Jesus!” you hiss.

And Soap, the traitor, laughs to the point of wheezing as Ghost takes up the bar stool on his other side. “I think you’re giving our Ladybird here a complex,” Soap says through his laughter.

Ghost rolls his eyes. From this angle, you can see Ghost in more than just the dim light you’ve been working with most of the night. He’s not dressed too far outside his usual fashion wheelhouse—heavy boots, black trousers, and a loose black hoodie. His hood’s pulled up over a black beanie and a skull-painted gaiter, and he’s foregone his usual thick coating of greasepaint for black-ringed eyes (is that eyeliner?) and a streak of smoke-colored paint that just manages to obscure the color of his brows. The downside (for you, at least) is that the combo manages to draw his eyes into sharper contrast, making them that much more intense.

Suddenly, your heart’s doing the thing again.

Ghost doesn’t seem to notice any change in you, but you think Soap’s actually looking for it. He watches you, brows lifted, mouth curled like a flirtation of a smirk. Briefly, he glances between you and Ghost, and then the smirk appears in full force, enlightenment dawning.

Before he can insinuate a thing, you’re shoving your half-empty glass across the bar top with a too-high, “Bitte.” The bartender only gives you a brief, unamused look before taking your glass and remaking whatever godforsaken cocktail Soap ordered.

It’s not a good distraction, and the damage is already done. Soap knows, damnit. His smile is too easygoing, but he turns to Ghost and starts talking about the emergency stairwell, which is a relief. Ghost looks over his shoulder toward the stairwell in question, and as he does, Soap looks at you and makes the gesture of zipping his own mouth shut, throwing away the proverbial key with a wink.

As he does, Gaz pipes back up with, “Ghost, you copy?”

“Yeah, Gaz?”

“You, uh, know anything about a big guy with a tattoo of a boar on the back of his head?”

Ghost looks toward the dance floor, brows furrowing. “Yeah, that’d be Bauer, Keiler’s right hand man.”

“Great. Glad you know him, because he’s here.”

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to be. If Bauer’s here, then either Keiler’s doing something more than his usual partying upstairs, or Keiler knows someone’s here looking for him. Either way, the mission just got significantly harder, and your night got that much longer.

With a grunt, Ghost pushes off the bar and starts making his way to the emergency stairwell. “I’ll take care of it,” he says. “Keep your eyes open. Out here.”

Once he’s gone, there’s a pause—a very heavy pause. Then, Soap looks at you with an expression that is just a hair too pleased. “Ghost, huh?”

Your face heats up, right as the bartender hands you your drink. You reach for your wallet, only for the bartender to put a hand up and shake his head. “Nein, für das schöne Mädchen,” he says.

For the pretty girl.

“Bet Ghost thinks so, too,” Soap says, and you resolve to definitely spill your free drink on his too-tight pants.

---

Weeks after Keiler’s nice and cozy in a maximum-security prison and the 141 is back at base, you have another miniature existential crisis.

It’s all an accident—just a tempest of bad timing and bad luck. Ever since you came back from Germany, you’ve had a tough time getting a full night’s sleep. It’s easy to blame the natural stress of your work, the long hours, the high-adrenaline action you see more than you ever did before this job. And, well, part of it has to come from Ghost. He’s occupied your thoughts more than ever since the night club.

Your solution is to hit the gym late at night, pushing yourself until you can’t keep your eyes open and no amount of insomnia can overcome it. The first few nights of this effort work fine—you end up in bed around one or two in the morning, and sleep until your alarm goes off. No one bothers you; no one hogs the machines. It’s kind of nice.

However, you don’t account for all the night owls that share the base with you.

You head to the gym late on a Friday night, towel around your neck, water bottle at the ready, podcasts preloaded. If you ever hit the gym during the day, you usually do so in a t-shirt and sweatpants. At night, you’ve started opting for PT shorts and a tank top, happy for the lack of eyes around the room.

Except for tonight.

You open the door into the gym, only to hear the mechanical drone of a treadmill and someone sprinting damn fast on it. For a second, you freeze, hiding behind the corner. Then, slowly, you peer around it, clutching your phone and water bottle close to your chest.

Jesus Christ. It’s Ghost.

Ghost, in a t-shirt. In sweatpants. Running on a treadmill set to the highest incline. Panting.

Ghost, with bare arms, showing a detailed tattoo on his left arm, and prominent veins running over his chiseled muscles. He looks like a fucking Greek statue, and that’s just what you can see.

“Ohhh, my God,” you whisper to yourself, immediately working on an exit strategy that doesn’t involve catching his attention.

Which obviously doesn’t come to pass. It’s something you probably should have learned on the helo ride—Ghost knows when he’s being watched. He turns his head, dark eyes fixing on you immediately. Briefly, he looks back at the treadmill, then down at his watch, and back to the treadmill’s controls. He slows it down, dropping the incline, until he finally steps off and starts walking toward you.

Abort, abort.

You think about fleeing, running back to your room or rolling under a table or hiding behind a counter like he’s a goddamn velociraptor in the kitchen. You do none of those things, because despite your training, you freeze up. No one could blame you, you think. It’s hard to do much else when a six-foot-something skull-faced wall of muscle walks up to you. And you must look stellar, holed up in a corner by the door, your water bottle and phone held up like a shield.

Ghost takes in the sight of you, eyes flicking up, down, up. Heat rises to your face, and down to—to nowhere, because it’s better not to think about it. You suddenly feel too vulnerable in your choice of outfit, naked under his gaze.

“Ladybird,” he says. Your nickname becomes a hot scratch of sound, losing its whimsy in favor of a tone you can’t define. “You need somethin’?”

There’s a patch of sweat by his collar. You stare at it, then at the floor.

“No, I just—  I was, um, just about to leave, and... Yeah, I’m gonna go.”

He’s silent until you finally look up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time in what what feels like an eon. He looks amused, but there’s a quirk in his brow like he can’t quite get a good read on you. “You look like you were about to use the gym.”

You look down at your bottle, phone, and towel like you’re just now noticing them. When you bring your attention back to him, you feel like you need to just kick the door open and escape, dignity be damned. “I... was,” you say slowly. Then, you rally yourself, trying to look upbeat and resolved. “Y’know what? You can keep using it. I’ll come back later.”

He shrugs, but you see it. Some secondary expression slinking around in his eyes like it’s working through the perpetually-moving cogs in his head. He gives you another one of those assessing glances, and for a second, you think he’s going to step into your space. His body language looks primed to do so, and you hold your breath in anticipation for it, unsure of what he’s going to do.

Then he takes a step back, and another.

“Suit yourself,” he says. “I wouldn’t mind it, though.”

Before you can process his words, he’s back on the treadmill, tweaking the settings and raising the incline again. The belt starts moving, and he’s back to looking like power personified, a vision in motion.

You have got it so bad.

It’s a hasty retreat to your room, and once the door’s shut behind you, you’re panting like you had run on the treadmill and lifted weights.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you hiss, discarding your things on the table beside your bed, kicking off your running shoes, then laying down and staring at the ceiling. He knows. He has to. Ghost’s whole job depends on him being observant, and he looked at you like he was reading a fucking book. 

You groan and press your palms into your eyes until phosphenes appear, dancing around and shimmering like fireworks behind your eyelids. You’re going to have to leave the 141 out of pure mortification. You’ll have to go into some kind of witness protection, change your name, and move to the other side of the earth. Or if you stay, you’ll have to pretend Ghost doesn’t exist. You’ll hide behind walls, slinking through the building’s HVAC just to avoid him like you’re working on a heist. Maybe you can convince Soap or Gaz to accompany you everywhere so you can hide behind their bulk.

But then, your horrible brain reminds you of what you’ll miss out on. It runs through a greatest hits reel of your crush so far—Ghost’s eyes, his presence stretching long over you like a shadow, his massive frame, his arms. The tattoo, detailed enough to tell from a distance, and then the thought of running your fingers over it, tracing all the fine points and lines. And are those his only tattoos, or are there more?

And his voice. Jesus, you replay the few words you’ve heard him say over and over, savoring each syllable, each quirk of his accent. Even the last thing he said—

I wouldn’t mind it, though.

That makes you open your eyes again, widening them as you take in the pocks and scrapes on the ceiling. He wouldn’t mind what? Having company in the gym? Having you, specifically, as his company? You don’t know what to make of it, or what he meant by it. Honestly, you feel like you don’t know anything right now.

Except that you want him. That’s the only thing you’re sure of. You want to know how his hands feel on you, how they would run over your bare skin, what the callouses on his fingers would feel like on the most delicate and sensitive parts of your body. Your imagination leaps ahead of you, guiding your own hand down into your shorts and under the band of your panties. You tease yourself, just dipping your fingers into the wet heat, trailing them over your clit like a hint to yourself, coaxing your arousal out of your panic.

His hands would feel different. When you rub your index finger over your clit, you imagine his finger instead, pressing gently against you, building up friction slowly, making you ache. You wonder if he’d savor your reactions, watching you get worked up, grinding against his hand to seek any kind of relief.

“Easy, Ladybird,” you imagine him saying, the nickname now a tease. And he’d know your real name, the one hidden away in your file. He’d whisper it into your ear, breath hot on your neck, his whole body eclipsing yours.

Your pace quickens, fingers running urgently between your clit and opening, causing your core to tighten and your breath to come in short gasps and barely-concealed moans. Ghost would tell you to let them out, let the whole damn base hear how aroused he makes you, how badly you’ve wanted him.

You breathe his name into the small space of your room, a whisper in the still air broken only by the low hum of the forced air in the vents. When you finally plunge your fingers in, it takes every bit of self-control not to outright moan and let everyone nearby know what you’re doing. Normally, you can stay quiet when you get yourself off, but you’re damn near frantic with this, whatever it is Ghost has done to you.

His fingers in you, fucking you in long, languid strokes, drawing himself out and pushing back in—all the while, watching your reactions. When you rock your hips to the pace of your hand, you imagine his voice again, “That’s right. Fuck yourself on my hand. Let me see you.”

You’d show him. Hell, you’d soak his hand, and it would remind him that it’s his fault you’re like this.

The wet sounds of your hand on your cunt is lewd and loud. It’s almost too much, enough to make you stop at the apex of your pleasure, to hide yourself under the blankets in shame and pretend that none of this happened.

But the vision of Ghost keeps you going, keeps your fingers moving in and out, crooking them inside and forcing out a gasp as a white-hot shock of pleasure lances up your spine and settles warm in your belly. The pad of your thumb presses against your clit, and you multitask on yourself, building up that friction, bringing yourself to the precipice.

He’d take you there. He might even pull you back from the edge over and over, teasing you with the fall.

“Do you want it? How bad? Show me.”

God, you would. Any way he wanted, you would show him. You’d beg and plead if that’s what got him to finally make you come.

So you whisper, “Please,” into the night, to a man who is never going to be in your bed, never going to touch you like this, never going to see your pleasure through to the end. The Ghost in your imagination has to stay there, behind locked doors and bulkheads, secured and contained for good.

But until then, you chase your orgasm with him, hitting that divine height and going into a freefall. Blood rushes in your ears, muscles twitching, heart racing. Your head comes off the pillow, back arching, toes digging into the mattress, mouth open on a moan that you refuse to let loose. You come way harder than you ever have using your own hand, enough that when you finally lower yourself back onto the bed, you grimace at the feeling of a wet patch on the sheets.

“Fuck,” you say, very emphatically. To yourself, to Ghost, to the whole damn situation.

Groaning, you reach over and grab the towel, wiping your hand and tucking it under your ass before rolling onto your back again and wondering what the hell you’re going to do.

---

You’re going to hide from Ghost, that’s what.

Captain Price gives the team a few days off to rest up for the next mission, and you decide right then and there that you’re going to spend every second off base, as far away from the barracks as you can get. You’ll get a hotel, order a ridiculously expensive amount of room service, and marinate in your feelings for a couple days until it’s all out of your system. Maybe you’ll go to a bar or coffee shop and chat up some nice person who isn’t a tall, broad, terrifying British soldier. And maybe you’ll have a night of incredible passion and twisted sheets, and it’ll be so cathartic that when you come back to base, you’ll be a whole new person.

That plan holds until your phone goes off while you’re packing up.

It’s a text from Soap: ‘wyd?’

‘Going off radar for a couple days. Why?’

He sends a sad emoji, then two beer glasses clinking together, a soccer ball, and then a big red question mark. Apparently, Soap only knows how to speak in hieroglyphs.

You smile, and type back, ‘Sorry, need to go clear my head.’

Skull emoji. Question mark.

‘None of your beeswax,’ you send, followed by the soap emoji.

‘that sucks,’ he types back. There’s a short pause, and then he types again. ‘cause he was looking for u earlier’

Your heart damn near comes to a stop, and you very hesitantly respond, ‘Why?’

‘idk. think he wanted to ask u smth’

Nope. You’re not taking the bait. If Ghost wants to talk to you, he can come right up and—and you can walk off in the opposite direction and act like there’s something incredibly interesting that you need to see right that second.

You type a few variations of ‘Then he can come and talk to me himself,’ but none of them sound particularly nice. Ghost hasn’t done anything wrong, so there’s no reason for you to act like he has. And for that matter, you’re supposed to be hiding from Ghost, not encouraging him to find you. Instead, you send back a clipped, ‘Okay.’

Nothing.

For one hopeful second, you think Soap’s mercifully let the conversation go, allowing you to go in peace to your nice hotel and your overpriced room service food.

Instead, you get the sunglasses emoji, a wink face, and, ‘k i told him to come see u’.

‘WHAT’

The only response is the skull and the little running cloud dash emoji, suggesting that Ghost is making a beeline right to your room. Panic seizes you and you fling your phone on your bed like somehow it’s going to help. It bounces harmlessly, then lands screen up, emojis taunting you.

Quickly, you start shoving the rest of your clothes and toiletries in your bag without a care as to where everything goes, eager to book it out of there as fast as your legs can take you. Once your bag is zipped up and thrown over your shoulder, you think you might be in the clear. Mission nearly accomplished.

Nearly.

Two solid knocks on your door almost make you hit the ceiling. You hold still, using that Jurassic Park wisdom again: if you don’t move, he can’t see you.

That applies to fictional dinosaurs, not trained killers, and certainly not Ghost. He knocks again, then follows it up with, “Ladybird, it’s me.”

Yeah, you know. That’s the problem.

Briefly, you consider going out the window, shimmying out and potentially getting caught on a base security camera for someone to laugh at later. That doesn’t make the problem go away, though.

You can just tell him you’re in a hurry, that your ride is at the gate right now and you don’t want to keep them waiting. Whatever conversation he wants to have, it’ll have to wait until you get back. It’s a good response. Solid. Foolproof.

And it dissolves the second you open the door.

He’s there, not vanished in the disappearing act you were hoping for, and all that want flares up again the moment you see him. He’s in casual dress like what he wore to the club—boots, jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, balaclava. His posture’s more relaxed, one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other hanging at his side. You meet his eyes, and your regret mixes with desire welling up inside you.

It’s that intense gaze from the helo, the brief but incendiary look from Berlin, the thoughtful gaze from the gym. You’re drawn up in it immediately, and this time, there’s no possibility of looking away. Ghost has you locked in.

He takes in the sight of you, dressed in your civvies, backpack on your shoulders, and raises his brows. “Going somewhere?”

Your mouth is cotton-dry, and you’re proud of yourself for putting a little syntax together. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m headed out.”

Right now, you should say. I’m going out right this second and I cannot be stopped. Do not engage.

But you don’t say that. You leave the words as they are, hanging between the two of you. In that moment, you’re two opposing fronts of contradictions—you want him to go, stay, talk, stay silent, touch you, leave you alone.

Ghost seems to sense this, that you’re not making any move to either speak to him or push him away. He doesn’t get into your space, staying right where he is while looking at you with his head slightly tilted. “Can I come in a sec?”

No. “Yes.” Please.

You take a step back, allowing him to walk into your room. His presence seems to fill it, like there’s too much of him and too little space to contain it. He closes the door behind himself, then finds a spot against the wall (the rare section that isn’t covered by posters or mementos) and leans against it. Still, still giving you your space.

You’re all nerves, waiting for him to speak, yet feeling like you should say something—to get all your feelings out in the open, exposed and waiting for him to pick over and do with what he will. But your anxiety and silence wins out, and instead you fidget, trying to find a point in the room to fix your gaze. Ghost takes all your attention though, holding it in a firm, invisible grip that can’t be broken no matter what you do. You get now, more than ever, why people are so scared of him when they end up at the wrong end of his skill set—he immobilizes them, rendering them completely unable to do a damn thing.

He watches you for an agonizingly long moment, then sighs. “Look, I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy, but Soap said you were around,” he says. Ghost doesn’t trail off or leave a space in his words for you to fill in the blanks. It’s a good thing—no place for you to misinterpret him—but it suddenly leaves you terrified at the possibility of what he’s going to say.

“Just for a little bit,” you hear yourself say, voice subdued and small.

He nods. “Then I’ll just get it out now before you go. More or less a question.”

Fuck. You feel a strange, uncomfortably cold sensation curl up tight and tense in your stomach. The feeling of standing at the edge of a long drop, knowing you have no choice but to let go.

His eyes are locked on yours, unrelenting, pinning. And then he says, “Do you have feelings for me?”

Right. No way to misinterpret.

You suck in a breath—a gasp, jerking at the question even though you knew it was coming.

You could lie. It’d be easy to do, just a few movements of tongue, jaw, and lips. No, I don’t. Three easy words. You could say you appreciate him as a teammate, as a professional, as someone you can trust in tough situations. He has your back; you have his. Anything beyond that is too much, to far outside of the commanding officer-subordinate hierarchy.

But you can’t lie to him. He’ll know. He’s trained in looking for tells, for the slightest quirk to denote that you’re holding back the truth. That, and you don’t want to lie to him.

Instead, quietly, you say, “Yes,” and inwardly brace for impact. Any kind of dressing-down from your C.O. and reminder of responsibilities and duties; or on a personal level, that Ghost doesn’t do relationships. You’re tensed up, waiting for its inevitable blow and all the shrapnel that’s definitely going to land right in your heart.

“Oh,” he says.

Oh.

Just one syllable, said deceptively, uncharacteristically soft. It belies so many things—possibilities, dangers. This man is fucking complicated.

And then he takes a step toward you. Just one. Just enough to close the gap that many inches. You don’t back up, but you’re too afraid to walk to him, unsure of what’s coming next.

He’s looking down at you, gaze passive, calm, and strangely open. You’ve learned new and interesting ways to read his eyes since you fell for him, but this one has an unknown definition, a kinesic oddity that you can’t translate.

And for a moment, you let yourself hope.

Then, he says your name. Not Ladybird. Not your rank. Your name. The sound of it is a rush in your ears, in your whole head, through every artery, vein, and capillary. He takes another step, slower than the first, drawing in closer before he says, “Do you want this?”

You nod. There’s nothing else you can do. You take a step toward him, looking up into his eyes and trying to read everything there. “Do you?” you ask. You’re still waiting for the rejection, as though Ghost is the type of person to lure you in only to shut you down.

Rejection doesn’t come. Instead, he steps forward to close the gap, one of his hands finding your waist.

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

Holy shit.

You stare at him in surprise, and the look on your face must be ridiculously easy to read. His other hand goes up under your chin, tilting your face toward him. The touch of his fingers is exactly like you imagined, the callouses on his thumb brushing over the soft skin underneath your jaw, causing you to shiver.

Ghost leans in close to your left side, skull’s grin close to your ear, and whispers, “Thought you hated me. Every time I looked at you, you’d look away.”

A near-hysterical laugh bubbles up in your throat, and comes out as a compressed, breathless giggle. All that time, you were so hopelessly in love with him, you couldn’t look at him without feeling like your heart was about to give out; and he interpreted that as dislike.

“God, no,” you say. “Total opposite.”

He laughs in your ear, and the sound chases out the remainder of that cold tension, replacing it with a newfound heat that feels good. “Wish I’d known sooner,” he says, and one of his hands goes up to push a strap of your backpack off your shoulder.

You ease out of it, dropping it to the floor, before reaching out and tentatively touching his waist in return. Through the fabric of his hoodie, you can feel how solid he is underneath, and you run your hand along his side in silent wonder.

Ghost moves back suddenly, and you only have a second to question why before the light goes out, leaving you in muted darkness permeated only by the bare sliver of sunlight filtering through your curtain. One hand finds your waist again, pulling you close, walking you toward your bed.

All you can think is no fucking way over and over, even as the back of your legs hit the side of the bed, and Ghost is lowering you down. Your back touches the mattress, head on the pillow, and Ghost is over the top of you, his hands bracketing your head. He looks down at you, mostly in shadow, only the bright white of the skull motif visible in the darkness. Then, his eyes flicker to his left, and he abruptly snorts.

You furrow your brow. “What?”

Wordlessly, his hand moves to the right of your head, and he picks up your phone.

Your phone which is still on, showing the emoji-heavy conversation with Soap. Ghost flips the phone to show you the last text he sent.

Skull emoji, kiss, black heart, red heart, ladybug, eggplant, peach, confetti ball, birthday cake.

“What the fuck, Soap?” you say under your breath, grabbing the phone from Ghost. You quickly turn it off and shove it onto your bedside table, groaning in embarrassment.

Ghost shakes his head, and unlike Soap, he doesn’t remark on it. Instead, he brings the situation right back on the rails with one hand going up under your shirt. Then, he says, “Close your eyes a second.”

You do, without question. You hear a faint rustle of fabric, and then his lips press against yours.

You gasp against his mouth, and that thrill you felt at hearing your name seems to rush back through you twofold at the thought that he took his mask off for you. He kisses you firmly, a guarantee that this is what he wants. You reach up with one hand, combing your fingers through his hair, nails scraping along his scalp and drawing out a quiet groan. He smells like standard-issue soap and laundry detergent, and the faint spice of cologne only just clinging to his skin. The feeling of kissing him is dizzying, entrancing, and the sound of it just hammers home that this is happening to you, in your room, with him.

He pulls back just a little, kissing a trail from the corner of your mouth down to your chin, then your jaw, and up to your ear. The sensation makes you shiver again, arching up into him involuntarily. You hear and feel an amused huff of breath, before he says, “What do you want?”

Good god, what don’t you want?

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “Anything. Whatever you want.”

He nods against your neck, then tilts his head up to press a kiss to your temple. “Tell me if it’s too much, or if there’s something you don’t like. Communicate.”

You grin, mostly at the sotto voce version of his command voice. “Yes, sir.”

He huffs a laugh and continues kissing down your neck, down to the hemline of your shirt. Undressing comes as an easy next step, shoes off first (and they were on the bed, ugh), and then Ghost pulls your shirt up; you lift yourself enough to help him pull it over your head. In the darkness, he does the same, and you watch his silhouette remove his hoodie, then pull his shirt over his head and drop it off the side of the bed. You can’t see his face, but the faint beam of sunlight touches his hair and brings out a hint of pale gold. It feels like a secret shared between you, adding to that warmth building up inside.

He leans back down, kissing down your sternum to the upper hem of your sports bra. He starts to go lower, and you decide then that you’d like to take at least a little initiative.

“Wait,” you whisper. “Come back up here.”

He does, like he’s accustomed to obeying your orders rather than the other way around. You reach up and touch his chest, eager to feel this part of him, the one he typically buries under layers of clothing and gear. He sighs at your touch, head dropping down to rest on the pillow beside you.

He’s firm and toned with well-honed muscle earned through endless missions and exercise. At the same time, the skin of his chest is surprisingly soft—even the scattered network of scars and keloids that mark his body. You feel old and new wounds, some still raised as they heal, some concave with age. They’re long, short, thick, thin, orderly, and jagged. Starbursts of bullet wounds, hard lines of cuts, spatters of shrapnel, textured lines of old stitches. His whole torso tells a long, tragic story from cover to cover, chest to back.

But he leans into this read of him, letting you feel every scar, every painful moment. His breathing is steady in your ear, giving way to the occasional sigh as your fingers trail over his skin.

In turn, he touches you. You don’t have even a fraction of his scars, but you have a few he can note. You know when he touches them, by the way his touch lingers, learning each one. It feels reverential, or communal—the two of you engaging in a silent trust exercise. He doesn’t ask about them, and neither do you. All of that is for another time.

Ghost presses a kiss to your shoulder, then pushes up until he’s over top of you again. His free hand goes down to the waistline of your jeans, finger tracing teasingly over the zipper. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” you say, breathless. As if you’d say anything else.

He undoes the button, then the zipper, slowly pulling your jeans to your hips, then removing them entirely. He sits up on the edge of the bed for a moment, removing his boots, then his jeans. You lay there, watching him move, feeling your arousal start to grow and burn like a low flame.

When he touches you again, you silently agree that you wish you’d said or done something sooner. It’s bliss. He’s gentle with you, mindful even, in a way you’ve never experienced or anticipated from someone like him. He helps you out of your bra, letting you pull it all the way off before his hands palm your breasts in slow, deliberate movements. It’s an extension of his exploratory touches, learning your body inch by inch.

Your breathing quickens, and Ghost looks up at you in what you guess is concern. “Doing alright?” he asks.

Your face grows hot, and you nod, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “I’m fine,” you reply. “I just don’t know what to do.”

It’s not like you haven’t had sex before, but sex with him feels completely different, like it doesn’t belong in the same category. You’ve never wanted someone this badly, or had someone respond to you like this. It’s almost overwhelming, but Ghost reaches up and combs some of your hair away from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Lie back a bit,” he instructs. “And tell me if you need me to stop.”

You do as he says, leaning up against the pillows as he moves down your body, leaving a trail of kisses down your torso to your hips. He’s a shadow moving over you, long and languid, and every touch just adds to the mounting heat. When his fingers touch the hem of your underwear, you shiver in anticipation, then arch your hips to give him a little leverage in removing them. In one motion, you’re exposed to him, even in the dark. Yet after touching him, and him touching you, you don’t feel as vulnerable. If anything, this feels safe. This feels right.

His hands go to your hips, then run slowly along the outer sides of your thighs. You think he might fulfill that fantasy from earlier, fingering you until you’re a mess, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure with his skilled hands.

Which is why it surprises the hell out of you when he goes lower, until his head is between your thighs, sunlight leaving gold stripes along his back.

“Ghost,” you gasp.

He looks up at you, and now more than ever, you wish you could see his face. You only see the faint shine of his eyes, but at that moment, it’s enough.

Then he spreads you, and licks a stripe from your opening to your clit.

If you were entertaining any thoughts before, any fantasies carefully curated in those rare hours of alone time, they flee in that single movement. Even the Ghost of your imagination never did this, tasting and savoring you in long, slow laps that make your whole brain short out like a blown fuse. The sound is goddamn obscene, especially as he leans in close and starts to lap at your clit. It’s a shock of sound in the silence, louder than even your own noises when you got yourself off.

Your right hand finds his head, fingers running through his hair as he licks you. He alternates between short laps and long strokes, tongue circling around your clit, teasing you, making you shudder and moan. It’s frustrating and fucking heavenly, the sensation of ebb and flow, receding and rushing waves of heat building up then flowing back.

Right when you think you can’t take the teasing anymore, he switches tactics. The teasing abruptly ends, and Ghost gets relentless.

You moan way too loud when he sucks at your clit, tongue swirling around it, the sound of his mouth on you loud as a gunshot. You swear they have to hear it down the hallway, or anywhere on base. At this point, though, you really don’t care who hears you, because they don’t have Ghost between their legs, getting them off in ways no deity ever intended.

Then his fingers join his mouth, index tracing circles around your entrance, dipping in slowly, tauntingly.

“Fuck.” The word is sharp in the air, as you arch at the sensation.

It’s too much; it’s not enough.

He tilts his head up a little, but when he speaks, you feel his warm breath ghost over your sex. “Let me hear you,” he says, words drawn straight out of your fantasies. Every door containing that imaginary version of Ghost is unlocked, every bulkhead breached—that Ghost and this one are one in the same.

And when he pushes that first finger into you, you follow his order to the letter.

It comes out as a broken wail, cut off when he starts thrusting and licking you in alternate strokes. His pace quickens, merciless, sharp eyes watching you from the shadows as your head rolls back on the pillow, chest heaving to catch a single solid breath. Your hands drop to your sides, fisting the sheets just to have something to hang onto, any kind of anchor as Ghost guides you through a tempest.

You moan his name, last consonant catching on a sob of pleasure when he starts to add a second finger. Only then does he pause, and the absence of his mouth is stark. 

Then he says your name, temporarily drawing you out of the cumulonimbus of arousal you’re flying through, briefly bringing you back to earth.

You look down at him, the silhouette of his head, small locks of hair sticking up from where your fingers combed through. You see him tilt his head to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, and his voice rolls out like a dull roar of thunder in your ears. “It’s Simon,” he says. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, hearing his real name in the midst of all this is almost too much. Like the last little vestige of a play on stage falling away and revealing the inner workings of the backstage, all the ropes and pullies holding the show together. He’s more exposed now, more raw, more human.

You reach down, trembling hand brushing over his cheek, over stubble and scar tissue, and the soft skin of a very real face.

“Simon,” you whisper. It sounds like a confession.

He doesn’t reply, but you feel him smile against your hand, briefly turning his head to press a kiss against your palm. Then he’s lowering himself down again, coaxing you out of the eye of the storm and back into the maelstrom. Two fingers thrust and curl, filling you, leaving you empty, touching places that send bolts of pleasure through you.

Your pulse becomes the thunder of the helo’s blades, your body trembling with midair turbulence. Simon fucks you on his fingers, tongue lathing over your clit, mouth fucking worshiping you. He takes you to that precipice, the long fall, the drop through cloud cover to a faintly-marked point on the earth.

The step off the edge feels like perfect, natural progression.

Your orgasm sweeps through you from toe to tip, a roll of white-out pleasure shaking you, wringing a cry out of your mouth that makes Simon fuck you harder. His fingers don’t let up, working you through the tidal wave, taking you to shore on the other side.

You’re boneless at the end, slumping back on the pillow and panting, shivering, taking stock of your limbs and extremities as they each come back online after the outage. You only vaguely register the feeling of Simon moving on the bed, coming up to lay beside you.

He murmurs your name, then kisses you, and you can smell and taste yourself on him. Your hand goes up to run along his jawline, one rogue thought telling you, yeah, you can cut glass with it.

How everything gets so gentle afterwards is beyond you. Simon’s hand is on your face, thumb brushing the soft skin under your right eye. You can feel his erection against your leg, and somewhere in the back of your mind—still tingling with pleasure, shimmering bright and brilliant—you know how you’re going to take initiative.

You break the kiss just for a moment, delighting in the soft sigh of protest you hear and feel against your cheek. Then you lean in close, pitching your voice low like his, hoping it has the same effect on him.

“Hope you don’t have any plans this weekend,” you say, brushing your hand over his shoulder.

You feel him smile against your skin, and he shakes his head.

“Thought you were heading out,” he says.

“Only if you’re going with me.”

One arm goes around your waist, pulling you close as he nuzzles against your neck. “We have some time, though, right?” his voice slides over you, suggestion clear and presented like a gift.

God, yeah you do.

---

Somewhere in between rounds, your phone goes off on your bedside stand.

Once.

Twice.

You don’t hear it, and the short buzz is drowned out by moans and the soft slap of skin on skin. When Simon makes a move like he’s going to check on it, you hook him back in place with your leg around his waist, pulling him in close, then kissing him silent. He falls into it, all too happy to oblige.

So you miss the skull and ladybug emojis, then the volume symbol.

[mediumgayitalian]

Plink.

“Psst, hey! Nico!”

Plink. Plink.

“Nico! You up?”

Plink.

Plink plink plink. Plink —

“What in the world,” Nico hisses, yanking open his window, “is going — oh.” He blinks. “Will?”

Will grins. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighbourhood,” he says, voice not nearly quiet enough for someone who is at direct risk of being devoured. “Thought I’d drop by. Can I come in?”

If Nico were smart, he would say no, actually, it’s like four in the godsdamn morning, go the hell back to your cabin. What is wrong with you.

Instead, he says, “We live in the same neighbourhood, dweeb-face, this is a camp,” and opens his window all the way. Will grins at him, wide and glinting in the dark, and yanks himself in head-first, somersaulting onto the floor and staying there, sprawled on the polished marble floors.

“Hi,” he says again, grin shifting into something more crooked.

Nico breaks away, hiding a smile with rolled eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s ridiculous to want to see you?”

“Before dawn? Yes!”

“Aw.” He settles against the ground, tucking his hands behind his head and letting half lidded eyes trace over Nico’s form, over the sleepy shape of him. Nico shivers. “I was awake, you know. I dreamt of you.”

Cool the fresh hell down, Nico screams at his brain. Out loud, he says, “Shut the fuck up,” and ignores Will’s snickering. How dare he, honestly. For someone who gets clowned as often as he does he is not nearly humble enough. Apollonian genes, indeed.

“What, you don’t dream of me?”

When Will lies, his throat swells up and he breaks out in hives. Nico is at the top of the leaderboard for getting the reaction out of him, with Cecil at a close second and Kayla no slouch in third place. Will is highly manipulable. It’s a good time for everyone around (even Chiron, who is, to his own irritation, lumbering behind at spot #42).

Nico, however, has no such holdups. Nor is he inclined, at any point in time, to fluff up Will’s ego, no matter how he looks when he’s cocky. Nico has self control. Mostly. (Well, at times.)

“Of course not. My subconscious would never do that to me.”

“You’re mean to me, di Angelo.”

“You like it.”

Nico watches, fascinated, as Will’s loudmouth snaps right shut; as his face burns sacred cow right in the low light of the cabin, as he squirms.

“Oh,” he says, gleefully.

“Can it, di Angelo —”

“Oh ho ho ho —”

“I’m gonna curse your ass with haiku disorder, do you know what that is, ‘cause I’ll show you, dickhead —”

Nico crouches down and pokes Will hard in the cheek, and he doesn’t even flinch — he just goes redder. Nico guffaws.

“Dude! Have some — dignity, oh my —”

“Shut up! Shut up! You’re so horrible, gods, I am leaving —”

“Oh, come here.” Will is dragged easily from the windowsill, because he is a big fat faker. There are actual claw marks on the infirmary door from the last time Austin brought Nyssa to drag him out.

“I don’t wanna stay where I’m unwanted,” he laments, bouncing on the bed when Nico shoves him. He takes the inch Nico gives him and burrows deeply under the blankets, throwing a melodramatic hand over his eyes. Nico rolls his own eyes, hoping if he rolls then hard enough Will can tell regardless of whether or not he’s looking, and crawls in after him. He makes sure to kick him at least thrice. “I can take a hint, you know.”

“Medical arts were the wrong career path for you. It’s not too late, you know. I’m sure you could shadow Nicholas Cage or something —”

“I am going to kill you with hammers —”

Nico evades gus clumsy attacks with ease, snickering as he pins him to the bed, smirking when he gives up fighting with a huff.

“I’m glad you came when you couldn’t sleep,” Nico says, after a moment for them to catch their breath. “But the point of that agreement is for you to then shut the fuck up and sleep. Here. So.”

“I’m trying,” Will grumbles. “But you’re being mean and it’s crushing my soul. How am I supposed to sleep with a crushed soul?”

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay! Put the pillow away, jeez, I’m sorry. Meanie.”

Nico rolls his eyes again, settling down next to him. Will takes longer to settle, because he’s annoying, but right before Nico is ready to smack the shit out of him again, he calms down, burrowing stilling once he’s turned on his side.

“…Thank you.”

“Whatever, goober. Go to sleep.”

The smile is obvious in his voice. “Goodnight, Nico.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

“In the morning can we —”

“Goodnight, William.”

“Okay, okay. Night.” He pauses. “Love you.”

Nico shoved his grinning face into his pillow. “Love you too.”

[greeniegaes]

Back at it agains with another svsss au im pulling out of my (slightly) sleep deprived brain

Basically yada yada everything happens as normal UP UNTIL the immortal alliance arc. SQQ gets this searing headache and the system just keeps popping up with errors, so while they are all fighting the spider hoard the system just kinda snaps and breaks. SQQ suddenly feels like he’s hit by a truck, his body starting to act like his sickly Shen Yuan body and his cultivation is tying itself into dead knots and every bone in his body feels like it’s locking up. There’s no system to blame for things as he and LBH confront MBJ and he just has to do his hardest to survive with just his spiritual sword.

And then the worse thing happens, Xiu Ya shatters.

SQQ panics at this, continuing to try his best fighting people off and eventually MBJ leaves *hooray* except not really because all the system errors are getting louder and louder in his head, and everything is blue and blaring and he might be bleeding and he can’t understand what LBH is saying even though he is right there, shaking his body and crying.

And then the abyss opens. He suddenly has the choice. He can send LBH, his white little sheep, down there to continue on with the PIDW plot, or he can… not do that.

So he pushes LBH.

Away from him. Away from the abyssal rift, only for him to be the one that falls though. He had prepared various lesson plans, life advice, what skills people to work on and so much more once he got without-a-cure, just incase he slipped up one day and couldn’t protect himself. So SQQ was satisfied as he knew his peak would be taken care of if LBH opened a specific drawer, everyone could still be taught by the hall masters and also have some future help prepared for each of them.

So SQQ let’s himself fall into the abyss, watching his student’s horrified expression as he plummets. He hears the system disconnect from LBH as he falls, all of the glowing blue error messages and pop ups instantly go away and he’s left in the dark as he sinks further and further into the abyss.

Surprisingly, he wakes up. He landed in the same field of flowers that are the reason LBH didn’t die in the original, they are filled with celestial qi in a place meant to be horrible and deadly. The one good thing about this place. He lays there for awhile and lets the plants essence fix up his meridians.

Then he has to experience the same horrifying things the protagonist did in person, fighting off each beast and trying his damn hardest to survive. It takes him a while, fighting and walking his way through what’s practically hell on earth, slaying beasts ten times his size, making sure not to fall into the trappings of demonic plants. He cuts his long hair, he thinks he will never see his peak again, so what do filial ties matter when you’re barely surviving. Sometimes the worse thing is his own mind, he feels a heavy layer of guilt to himself for so willing going along with the system. He sometimes forgets it’s not his fault too, that he was threatened to return to a dead body if he didn’t do as he was supposed to. But he’s happy sometimes too, he goes back to that field of flowers, laying in them and basking in his memories of a happier LBH, a LQG that isn’t dead, a Qing Jing peak full of song and happy healthy students.

He ascends from the abyss that day. He doesn’t know how or why but he wakes up in the same field of flowers, the sky above him no longer a damning black with red cracks seeping light in. it’s blue, soft, it hurts his eyes almost to look at it. It hurts so much but he can’t look away. He picks himself up, looking at all the grime and blood on himself and weeps in relief that he can go home. He hides his face and asks people where he is, somewhere in HHP territories, and begins to make his way back to his sect. Once he gets to his peak he sits down softly at the gate, it’s night time and there haven’t been many people about. He basks in the feeling of being home, leaning his head against the tall bamboo pole as he falls asleep.

He’s glad tomorrow is a new day, when he can see his family and just go back to his life.

(in the years he’s been gone all of CQS has been in some kind of mourning. LBH found all the letters from his shizun and they made all the disciples of QJP weep. Some of them took the advice given and left, some of them stayed and took care of a lordless peak. None of the hall masters or disciples were qualified to step up, and when the issue was raised even the peak lords agreed he shouldn’t be replaced. It was LQG who found him at the gate, going to visit the sword shrine in the bamboo house after an expedition, going to leave another fan to rot at the shrine’s foot. instead he heaved up his shixiong, hair not even reaching his shoulders, hands callused and dirty, and brought him back to the bamboo house, waking LBH in the process. Once morning light came everyone would know that their lost peak lord came home, but first they had to get the doctor to make sure he actually got through the night)

[rileyslibrary]

Aggressive mimicry

Synopsis: A power blackout hits your base, plunging you into darkness. As fear grips you, Ghost tries to calm you down. Little did he know you had other things in mind.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,085

Notes:

Aggressive mimicry: a tactic in which a predator acts harmless to lure its prey.

Fluff. A little suggestive, but SFW.

No, there’s no part 2.

Want more?

———————————————————————

Looks like you’ll both be working until late this evening. New recruits are constantly arriving, and the base is rapidly filling up.

The two of you take comfort in the silence of your office, a small space with two desks next to each other and a bookshelf full of records lining the opposite wall. It’s a little tight, especially with the new chairs you brought for the interviews. However, you cannot conduct them anywhere else since they’re confidential and private. Your job is to assess the recruits’ mental health, look into any past traumas that may have affected them, and determine their trustworthiness with firearms. Ghost, on the other hand, interviews them about their battlefield abilities and skills.

Under normal circumstances, he does not wear his mask when in the room with you. But these aren’t normal circumstances; People are constantly coming in and out of the office, and he feels uneasy without it.

“He was good, that last one,” he says, his attention still fixed on the paperwork. “Don’t mark him.”

“He suffered three concussions in his last deployment and reeks of alcohol,” you explain, baffled. “How can you trust him?”

“These are the best,” he shrugs, “they’ve got nothing to lose.”

You shake your head, stunned, as you look at him. You two come from different worlds.

“Have you considered therapy, Lt. Riley?” you ask sarcastically.

“Have you considered minding your own business, Dr Y/N?” he snaps back. You knew what he was going to say even before you asked. But you enjoyed teasing him every now and then.

“It’s ‘Professor Y/N,’ please.”

Instead of responding, he mockingly repeats your statement, imitating you and pushing invisible glasses up his nose bridge.

You chuckle, and he turns to look at you, slightly proud that he made you laugh. Your opposing personalities complement each other well, with your order and his chaos balancing each other out. It was like mixing black and white to get some form of grey. And that’s the state you’ve been in for years—in a grey area. You two have never been romantic. Still, the flirting was definitely there, even if it came in the form of playful jabs and teasing.

Ghost shuffles through his papers before turning to face you. “Where are the next ones’ files?” he wonders.

You look over your desk and move your gaze to the bookshelf. “I must have left them on the shelf,” you say as you stand up. “Let me go get them.”

But as you approach the bookshelf, everything goes dark—pitch black.

“What just happened?” you yell in a high-pitched voice.

“The lights went off,” he says calmly. “The base has too many people to handle all that power cons-”

“Shut the fuck up, Lieutenant!”

“You just asked me-”

“I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING!”

You freeze in place, with your back against the bookshelf like a trapped animal. You try to see through the impenetrable darkness, but nothing is visible. Fear grips you and paralyses you.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Ghost says through the darkness, and you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Despite his words, the panic rises. As your fight-or-flight instincts kick in, you get ready to defend yourself. You lash out, grabbing the first thing you can get your hands on and swing right at the source of the touch.

“What the hell, woman!” Ghost curses in pain.

“G-Ghost?” you stammer, “is that you, Lieutenant?”

“How could it be anyone else?” He says and rubs his forehead. “Christ, professor, no wonder you know so much about concussions.”

“Did I get you good?” you ask, worried, “I-I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve had worse,” he assures you, taking your hand and placing it on his chest while muttering soothing words.

As you touch the coarse texture of his uniform, you apply a bit of pressure to get a better feel of him. And just like that, the fear fades gradually, giving way to a more... playful mood. You slide your hand up to his shoulder, then back to his chest. You can feel his heart rate increasing as it desperately pumps the blood it requires for him to stay sane. But he doesn’t need sanity right now; he must lose it completely. So you do it again. He lets out a sigh.

“These are dangerous games you’re playing, Professor,” he warns, trying to sound like his usual self and failing miserably.

“I like taking risks, Lieutenant,” you smirk, tracing circles on his chest with your finger.

He takes your hand off him and steps closer, bridging your gap. Seems like the blood is pumping elsewhere now.

“Fuck, professor,” he murmurs, “I need to go check if they need my help.”

“No,” you command, “what you need to do is stay right here.”

“Like this?” he asks huskily, his breath warm on your forehead.

“Yes, exactly like this.”

But, as he tilts your head towards him and begins to remove his balaclava, the door bursts open, and a blinding light shines in, threatening to expose you.

Your reflexes kick back again. You instinctively push him away and begin screaming, grabbing files from the bookshelf and hurling them at the light source.

“Damn it, Professor!” Ghost yells at you, “You’re hitting the engineers with box files!”

You pause midair and focus on your target; two figures squatted on the ground, their hands protecting their heads.

“Motherf—can’t you knock first?” You yell at them while holding the box file in front of your face. “Should we include basic etiquette in the manual, too?”

They all look at you, puzzled. Unable to comprehend your absurd request, they turn to Ghost.

“Sir, we need help with the generator.” One of them explains, and Ghost nods.

They hand him a flashlight and return to the power junction box, leaving you alone again.

He turns to look at you one last time.

“I’m curious,” he says, leaning in close, “did you plan this all along?”

You raise an eyebrow, acting innocent. “What, the power outage?”

“Are you acting all daft now?” he asks, his eyes forming two thin lines. “The whole screaming and acting vulnerable thing so I could come to your rescue and fall into your trap.”

“Oh, come on, Lieutenant,” you playfully roll your eyes, “don’t pretend like you didn’t want it.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “So you’re okay with staying alone then?”

“Of course I am,” you say seductively, “as long as you come back and let me finish what I started.”

———————————————————————

[familyvideostevie]

come care about me

joel miller x reader a quiet evening at your house in Jackson with the man you call home | implied but unspecified age gap, domesticity, jackson au, joel is a flirt and a gossip [2.2k] a/n: my first attempt at joel! hope it's alright. read part 2 here! part 3 here! series masterlist here.

Jackson is quiet at this hour. The whole world is pretty quiet these days and sometimes it's more suffocating than peaceful. The white noise of life is so different -- you remember how car horns and humming power lines and the thrum of planes overhead used to remind you that you weren't alone. Now, most of the time, you're hoping you're alone. The snap of a twig or click of a safety or a muffled cough are signs of danger. But this town is safe. You know it, you feel it, but sometimes it catches up to you: how tiring it is to be on guard all the time. This is just how it is.

You hear little but your own footsteps as you head for home, hands tucked into your pockets and book wedged under your arm. The warmth of an evening spent at the town book club is still in your veins -- well, that and the finger of whiskey -- and it chases away your melancholy musings for the moment. Even better is the promise of what awaits you.

The porch light is on when you round the corner. You half expect Joel to be strumming away in his chair but there's no sign of him. Not unusual, not really, given that there's a chill in the air and Ellie was meant to come over for a movie night. Maybe she's still here and they're inside watching some shitty action flick on the couch. One or both of them always doze off before it's over. Regardless, you know he won't head to bed until you're home.

You ease open the door. The hallway smells like Ellie's favorite tea and slightly burnt bread but there's no splash of light from the TV, no clash of swords or quiet laughter.

It's dark in the house but that's not unusual either. "Took a few years to stop flicking light switches," Joel once told you. "Reckon it'll take a few more to get used to it again." He's the kind of man who would rather sit in the dark than chance disappointment.

"Joel?" you call. Your jacket goes on the hook next to his and you sit on the bench you dragged in last month for unlacing your boots, which will go next to his spare pair. He's undoubedlty still got his on, wherever he is. The tell-tale trail of belongings that often indicate the presence of a teenager is absent.

Your name echoes down the staircase followed by heavy, slightly uneven footsteps. Joel emerges into the hallway, guitar in hand. His hair is mussed like he's just thrown on the sweater he now wears and his expression softens at the sight of you, an ever-so-slight ease of his jaw and upturn of his mouth. It took you a while to learn how to spot it.

There are nights when you'll make a joke, tease him a little to try to get him to laugh. It's easier than it used to be but he likes to make you work for it. But tonight you're just glad to be home and you want to tell him so. He leans the guitar against the wall and beats you to it.

"Was gonna wait for you on the porch," he says. "Bit early to be back already." He's right. The after-discussion drinks will be going for at least another hour, thought the sun has been down for ages. You just shrug, fingers a little clumsy from the whiskey and the cold as you undo your laces.

"Wanted to come home," you say. His eyes crinkle at the corners and he crosses his arms, shoulder pressing into the wall above the guitar. Joel rarely takes, rarely reaches for what's in front of him even if he wants it, even if it's already his. It's a patience, a self discipline painfully constructed from years of survival and two rounds as a father mixed with the deep guilt he'll never allow himself to be rid of.

Point is, he'll wait for you to touch him. But that's okay. You've worked on your patience, too, and you've been doing this dance for a few years now. His arms will be open once you finish getting your damn shoes off.

"Ellie still here?" you ask. Joel's words are heavy with his drawl, heavier since being around Tommy, if Ellie is to be believed, his sentences clipped of unnecessary words and syllables. It seems that you've adopted some of his speech pattern. He'll never admit it but you think he likes it.

"You just missed her."

"I think she'd like this." You nudge the book on the bench beside you with your thigh. "I'll drop it by tomorrow. Movie night go good?"

Joel dips his chin, eyes on the floor. He shows you so much but there are some things he can't. The scabbing over wound between him and Ellie is often one of those things. "Was nice," he allows. "She n'Dina will be at dinner this weekend, she said."

You finally get your boots off and sigh, tossing them into the corner. The thud is loud enough to make you wince. "About time those girls graced us with their presence." You reach your arms above your head and stretch, joins popping and muscles sore from the sheer exertion of existing after the end of the world. Joel watches you.

"Alright," he says. He pushes off the wall with a groan. "C'mere."

It's the easiest thing in the world to walk into his embrace, socked feet soundless on the hardwood. You love Ellie like she's your own but her absence means that Joel will touch you more. He's a private man, reserved around people he knows and downright stony around those he doesn't even though the years in Jackson have softened him a great deal. He'll squeeze your hand, your shoulder, hover his palm on the small of your back as he moves around you, but that's it. He worries constantly that you'll wise up and realize he's too old, too boring, too mean, that people in town whisper the same behind your backs. Funny how in a time where you fight against fungus-powered flesh eaters, gossip still makes its rounds.

Still, you feel Joel's eyes on you in every room and you'd rather he worry about things like that than life and death beyond the walls. It's like your cells know he's near, a compass needle magnetized to the set of his shoulders and smell of wood glue and gunpowder. The rasp of his voice and his rough hands and the lines on his face. In the privacy of your home he's all yours.

"Hello," you say into his sweater. It's a new find, different from the threadbare button-ups and flannels he wears into the ground. His beard scratches against your skin and you sink into him, arms around his waist. He cradles the back of your head in one warm palm and holds you steady with the other on your back.

"Howdy," he mutters because he knows it'll make you laugh. It does. You match your inhales to his and any remaining tension from the day leaks out of both of you. "Do y'wanna to sit on the porch or go to bed? You hungry?"

His knuckles trace your spine as you shake your head. "Astrid had Seth make sandwiches. So, bed. Too cold to be on the porch."

"S'not that cold," he retorts. You roll your eyes and pull away from his embrace to look at him. His hair could do with a trim, the silver strands falling into his eyes. Your own hair has greys here and there by now, a byproduct of the times. Nearly everyone born Before has some. It's damn stressful to be alive. Joel often grumbles that you're too young for that kind of shit, not far enough from twenty for such visible signs of age.

"I've got gossip for you." That gets his eyebrows to raise.

"Do you now?" He releases you and grabs the guitar, gesturing for you to head upstairs first. "Should'a led with that."

Joel Miller is a lot of things, some of them better than others, but one of your favorites is that he's become a gossip. Maybe he was Before, too. Small-town life and safety and a teenager of his own and you have turned his eye back towards the business of other folks. Information gatherin', he calls it. Important to know what's going on.

But really he's just nosy. Good thing you are, too. It's basically the only reason you go to book club. If you actually wanted to talk about books you'd do it with the teenager living out back -- and you do -- since she's a bigger reader and miles smarter than anyone else in town.

The stairs creak like they always do. Joel has put away the laundry that you finished this morning and despite his inclination towards darkness, has left on the lamp in the bedroom. He sets the guitar back in its stand and sits in the armchair to unlace his boots, grunting a bit as he goes.

"Jesse's mother brought a new batch of whiskey for after the discussion. Caused some loose lips, I think. I hope she did it on purpose because it was worth it."

You eye the book on Joel's side of the bed. Something about...woodworking? Typical.

"Whiskey, huh?" he drawls from behind you. "Could smell it on your breath," he says. You look up and he startles you a bit by appearing in your space and tilting your chin up with two fingers. Joel presses his lips to yours firmly, tongue dipping into your exhale for just a moment before he pulls back. "Can taste it, too."

He's gone before you can lean into him. You sit down heavily on the bed. Whiskey aside, Joel's touch, his kiss, his attention always make you feel a little overwhelmed. And he knows it. You hadn't even heard him creep over to you.

"Asshole," you mutter.

"Say somethin'?" He's wandered to the closet to shuck off his jeans and sweater.

"Remember Scott?" you ask instead. "Short, got that scar across his face."

"I might be old but my memory is fine," he grumbles. "Patrolled with him last month."

"Well, he's been with Duy, that guy who works the gardens, for almost half a year, right? But according to Wendy, as of yesterday, Scott's not living in the house on Spring Street anymore. She saw him moving into a split level on Crescent."

Joel whistles through his teeth. You watch him slide into flannel pants, catch flashes of his tanned skin and your palms ache to touch him.

"You think it has to do with...what was his name? The other guy Scott's with sometimes? Phil? Peter?"

"Patrick. Yeah, that's what I thought too. Something must've been happening there." You tuck one leg under you on the bed. "What was that about a fine memory?"

He ignores you. "Never did like him much," he says. "He talks a lot." He reappears from the closet in his pants that belonged to some other man long dead, his chest bare despite the cool evening. He's a furnace, this man. You barely need layers to sleep in as the seasons change so long as he's next to you, all solid warmth and muscle. He tosses you the shirt you like to sleep in. It smells like what passes for detergent these days.

"You don't like anyone much," you tease as you unfurl your leg. It's not true, not really. Joel likes a few people a great deal and tolerates everyone else just fine. He's respected not only for being Maria's brother-in-law but for the way he can fix things, for his calm head on patrol. Children in town adore him and Ellie's friends used to revere him like a god, or so she tells you. You didn't know him before Jackson but you know enough about what happened twenty years ago, four years ago, and everything in between. You know that it made him hard but hollow. You know that that dear girl in the back shed brought him back to life and now that they're on the mend, you can see even more pieces of who he was.

You know that you've helped, too.

"I like you plenty," he says. He stands between your knees and frames your face with his hands. The callused pad of his thumb drags over your lower lip as you just stare at each other for a few moments. You press your palm to his stomach, nails sliding through the thatch of hair that leads down under the band of his pants. His abdomen contracts and his nostrils flare.

You give him a grin. "I like you plenty, too, Joel Miller." There isn't much more to it. He's probably your favorite person on this god-forsaken planet.

"Get outta these damn clothes," he grumbles around a small smile of his own. He tugs at the shirt in your hand.

You wiggle your eyebrows at him. "Oh, so we can f--"

Joel steps back and heads for the bathroom, leaving you behind with a dramatic sigh. "So we can go to sleep."

Laughter spills out of you as you head for the closet. "Whatever you say."

"You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

The end of the world isn't so bad.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

FaceTime | Han Jisung

Synopsis: A long distance relationship is never easy. It's even harder when there's a time difference and you're both busy. Sometimes, a FaceTime call whenever you can is all you two have.

Pairing: Idol boyfriend Han x Female Reader

Content Includes: Fluff, Smut, Mutual masturbation, Long distance relationship, Strong language, Voyeurism, Brief mention of Lee Know

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

To say your day was long would be an understatement. It was a little past midnight when you were finally able to lay your worn out body down in bed. A double shift at the campus library and then from there you had to go to your night classes. Trying to focus on psychology and sociology while running on fumes is never a good idea. Nothing the professor said stuck with you, thankfully though you've got a good friend in the same classes who offered to let you borrow her notes. Now at home you look forward to the feel of your head hitting the pillow. With a loud stretch you fall back into the fluffy white down comforter and close your eyes. Just as you barely nod off the sound of your phone jolts you out of that place that's somewhere between slumber and alertness.

“Mm, hello?” You answer without looking at your phone.

“Baby, where are you?” The sound of your boyfriend's voice wakes you up.

You didn't think you'd hear from him tonight. He's been so busy preparing for the release of their new album with the boy's back in Seoul, that the two of you have barely spoken on the phone. It's all been texts and photos that keeps you both going. Eyes wide you look at your phone and you see his face looking into the camera cutely trying to see you through the darkness of your bedroom.

“One sec, Hannie. Ouch… oof.” Sounds of your quiet struggles as you try to flick on the dim light by your bed makes him chuckle and when you come into focus on his screen his eyes light up.

“There's my sweetie. Sheesh, even with messy hair you look so damn beautiful.” He sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “I miss you jagi.”

You cheeks warm at his words and you run your fingers through your hair trying to get control of the bed head your pillow gave you. He looks so good right now and you fall in love all over again as usual. Make up free, in a white t-shirt sitting in the living room of his apartment and looking like he's just fresh out of the shower makes you wish that you were cuddled up beside him watching something on tv together before bed like you both would do.

“I miss you too baby” You tell him and an unsuspected yawn escapes at the end of your words.

“Did I wake you my love?” He asks, his brows go up watching you as you yawn again and rub your eyes.

“No, no. It's okay baby. I wasn't sleep, besides I wanna hear about your day.” You reply groggily.

After a few more reassuring words from you he finally tells you about his schedule and every little detail he can remember just like you like. It makes you feel like you're there with him when he goes through his day no matter how mundane or ordinary it may seem. You love it and you love listening to him talk. Laying back against the headboard of your bed you listen intently to his words. You're paying so much attention that you notice how his cheeks have gone pink and he swallows more frequently. It occurs to you just exactly what has him acting strange when his eyes flick down more and more and he licks his lips.

The strap of your black tank top has slipped down your arm so much while you listened to him that one of your breasts was exposed more than usual and the angle that you held your phone not only gave him a great view of your chest but the top of your thighs as well. A smirk grows on your face and he groans.

“Don't look at me like that while looking like that! I'm hanging on by a thread baby.” He whines and you giggle, throwing your head back and he groans again.

“What if you let that thread snap babe hm?” Your tone dips and becomes softer, more seductive and he does that thing with his tongue that you like. It's an unconscious move to him now, his tongue flashes out very briefly at the corner of his mouth and he smiles.

“I would love to sweetie but Minho is sleeping in my room right now. He didn't want to leave after dinner.” He pouts and looks over his shoulder in the direction of where his room is.

“Do it right there then.” His eyes go round and you laugh. “It's not like we haven't done anything right where you're sitting before.” You slip a finger on either side of the thin straps of the tank and slide it down even more until you're bare from the waist up.

“Shit.” He whispers at the sight of your full breasts and looks around the room again. “Yeah okay baby. You wanna play, then we'll play.” He agrees. You smile wide and slouch down comfortably, watching him as he shimmies his shorts down one handed biting down on his bottom lip.

“Set me down on the coffee table in front of you please baby? Prop the phone up with something.” You ask him quietly. He curses softly and after a few attempts he's got the phone in a position where you can see every inch and every vein of his cock. “Oh god baby you're so hard. Stroke it for me. Just like I stroke you.”

He shivers at your words and he wraps his fingers around the base loosely. Very slow he drags his hand up and over the head of his cock and repeats the same move. The black polish on his nails shine, catching the light from the tv in front of him. Spreading his legs wider, he pushes his hips up, thrusting himself into his hand and his needy eyes meet your hungry ones.

“Let me see you baby. Show me what I'm missing.” You smirk and finish undressing, removing your black shorts. It never takes Jisung long to take over and become dominant when he's hasn't fucked you in so long. And it's been over two months now. How you both last this long without each other's touch is a miracle but it makes moments like this more intense. “That's my baby. Fuck look at that pussy, mm. Shit I miss her.”

"More than you miss me Ji?" You whine with a faux pout.

"Never lovely. I miss all of you." He groans and thrusts into his fists. "Your lips especially, both sets." He adds with a wicked, sexy grin. It makes you moan he can see just how aroused you are.

The request you made of him is now null and void. He's gone from slow lazy long strokes to short harsh and rough movements. With his airpod in his ear he doesn't have to go above a whisper in order for you to hear him and since your roommate is away visiting family you don't have to worry about keeping quiet, which is often difficult for you to do once you and jisung get started.

Watching him always turned you on even if you were both in the same room. You just love watching his hands twist and pull as he pleases himself. The first time you asked, you told him it was for “Research.” that you wanted to see exactly what he liked so you could do it just like that to him. While that was part truth, you simply loved watching him jerk himself into a crazed and frenzied mess.

“Two fingers for me, lovely. I want to see you begging to cum. Oh, fuck. Its been too long, my dick is so damn hard right now.” Jisung keeps his eyes on you watching you do just as he instructed.

When you slip your middle and ring finger inside of your tight wet cunt he grunts and thrusts up into his tight fist as if he was ramming his cock inside of you. You let out a moan and begin to move your fingers rubbing at your silk walls, matching the rhythm that he uses on himself. He loves it when you do that. If he slows down you do too and if he picks up his pace, pumping his cock harder and faster, you do the same. It drives him almost over the edge because of the unspoken way you keep in sync. It's almost like he's there with you, teasing you, pushing you to the brink and stopping, like now. Your eyes roll back in your head and your legs tremble while you force yourself to keep them open so he can see everything you do to yourself.

“Good girl, sweetie. Don't move, yet. Ah…” He shudders, edging you both with thousands of miles between you.

Your head drops back down looking into his face. His dark wavy hair sticks to his clamy forehead and your fingers itch to push the strands away. You watch his chest heave up and down with each deep inhale and exhale. Your eyes move, traveling down to the hold he's got on his cock, you watch the tip leak precum. Practically salivating, missing the sweet and salty taste of his cum you lick your lips and love how it twitches for you.

Jisung takes his thumb and rubs the clear fluid of his pre cum over the head of his swollen length slowly, knowing you'll rub your clit exactly like that. Moans and whining fills your room echoing off the bare walls that you never got around to decorating. The sensation is almost too much and it becomes overwhelming as you feel yourself close to cumming.

“Ji-Jisung, oh god, oh fuck. I’m close baby. Please.” You beg and that's all he needed to hear. He's fucking his hand faster, huffing and groaning softly so that no one hears him from inside their rooms.

“Cum for me then baby. Let go and cum. Just keep your eyes on me.” He whispers harshly and you snap your eyes open.

You haven't even realized you shut them through the intense wave of pleasure. Your eyes catch a figure in the shadows behind Jisung, head to toe in black with their slim muscular arms crossed and eyes burning into you smiling. It feels too good to stop and warn your boyfriend that you two have been caught. You can feel it unraveling away inside of you, your orgasm is too close. Looking away from the shadow who you can only guess belonged to Minho and back to your boyfriend you come undone.

“Suh… so good mm! God I wish you were inside me, fucking me like your fucking your hand Sungie.” A strangled gasp sounding lost between a scream and a moan rips through you. “Fuck baby, I'm cumming!”

“Just. Like. That!” He grunts with each word, moving faster than you. The sound of you gasping and moaning gets him to his own climax. It's strong and intense making him shake all over and squeeze his eyes shut. Lifting his shirt up with one hand, biting the end to muffle his own wild moans, he cums hard onto his abs making them glisten with his release.

When you look behind him again the person is gone and you're not even sure if you truly saw someone or the intensity of your video call sex made you hallucinate. Jisung lifts his shirt up and over his head and cleans himself up using it with shaky hands. Rolling over onto your stomach you wipe your hand on your towel and then between your legs still panting quietly.

"Shit naekkeo, even watching you do that is sexy. Gonna make me hard again." He licks his lips and you laugh.

"I'll be there next week. Think you can wait for me until then?" You ask him breathlessly.

Tossing the towel into the hamper you pull your blankets up and over your body and lay down on your side. Jisung chuckles and reluctantly agrees pulling his shorts back up and grabbing his phone off the coffee table. He looks at you fondly with a calm relaxed smile as your eyelids grow heavy.

"I'd wait a lifetime for you my love." He whispers. "Sleep gorgeous I'll stay here until you're asleep."

You nod, closing your eyes and smile, feeling sleep take over before you can even respond with a goodnight.

[shirefantasies]

The Hobbits With a F!Human Crush

Definitely not the last of this concept you’ll see from me 😉 Tagging @possibly-in-wonderland along with my usual list @kilibaggins @fuckyoumakeart @lokilover476 | let me know if you wanna join!

Frodo

✧ You serve as a living, breathing symbol of his curiosity, his desire for knowledge and exploration, something new that he wants so badly it all but takes the breath from him.

✧ The way you fall in love with Bag End, unbothered, no, charmed, by the quaint yet elegant hobbit hole as your eyes light up has Frodo’s heart doing somersaults. “You like it?” “Like it? Why, Frodo, you are as lucky as anyone! I wish I lived here!” He’s a bit too shy to say it, but a little voice peeking from the corners of Frodo’s mind says that that could be arranged.

✧ You’ve been places he could only dream of, and he wants to hear every story, enraptured with a hand upon his chin and blue eyes wide at your every word.

✧ Whenever you bend down to whisper in his ear, his entire mind shuts down and a smile creeps across his lips like you’ve never seen before.

✧ Flushes brightly when you pull him protectively against your chest, but enjoys the dangerous race of his heart at your hand upon him more than he would have thought possible.

✧ And when you first kiss him, giving him that gentle but still quite strong tug up into your lips at his confession and tangling your fingers in his dark hair, it's like his chest is about to explode.

Sam

✧ A bit down on yourself thinking someone like you wouldn’t like someone like him, at least not like that.

✧ Regardless, it changes not his kindness and devotion towards you. Despite your size difference, Sam is the one to step forward between you and danger, throwing an arm across from you and not registering or sharing in your amusement until the threat is neutralized.

✧ His heart practically slammed out of his chest when he told you about all the rabbits in the Shire, including one couple he’d seen where the male was with a much larger female. “That’s so cute,” you’d remarked, a hand idly brushing his arm as it lowered, “I love that.” Sam could hardly speak for the next minute or so.

✧ You asked him once if people remind him of flowers or if that's just you, and without even thinking Sam said sunflowers. Not only because of their height, he replies with a blush after you tease him, but the way they bring joy to all who see them and everybody wants them around.

✧ Trips over his words when you focus your gaze down upon him, suddenly feeling warm beneath the intent stare.

✧ And when you take his hand, looking him right in the eyes again as you tell him just how much he means to you, why he snaps completely, pulling up to his full height to connect your lips.

Merry

✧ He takes you, quite frankly, as a challenge- not one given in scorn, but as the rush of the latest charge or act of mischief, the exhilaration of risking oneself for moments of the greatest good.

✧ Bold as he is, Merry isn't afraid to let you know how beautiful he thinks you are, calling you fair and strong and every compliment in the book to cheer you up and bolster your courage.

✧ Attempts to prove himself to you thrill him, too, the way you take him on as an equal to spar and spend your time teaching him. The way you let him overtake you, standing over you with triumph and giving a smirk that runs a shiver down his spine.

✧ He goes to you first for things; in his eyes you can do anything and he trusts you to take his concerns seriously. It could be something small like a question or repair or a a heavier matter like a deep discussion, but whatever it is it will be with you.

✧ Makes up the occasional tall tale about his prowess back home, making himself out to be quite the hero or his home a far more fantastical place. Just to see what you believe. Even though you giggle at his mock-heroic deeds and teasingly debunk his tales, you make it clear in your treatment of him that you do believe he can do anything.

✧ Shock blooms across your face and thrums in your heart at the wince cutting Merry’s face when he accidentally confesses his feelings to you, but it is quickly overtaken by a smile as you cup his face in your hands to return his affection and then some.

Pippin

✧ Nothing can tear him from your side, not a word of concern from others, not a single hardship- when his mind is made up, it is made and that is that.

✧ Enjoys climbing up on things or into trees to get to your eye level, leaning closer while he has the opportunity to all but brush noses.

✧ Makes jokes about you having a longer reach or about "back when you were my size", for he is well aware and comfortable with the height difference. Insurmountable as it could be to you, there is no point in denying it and having some fun with it. After all, as much as he is always trying to assist you, he can use your added height as an excuse to ask for help, too!

✧ Unabashedly checks you out, his eyes sliding to you in nearly any moment of idleness; sometimes they are glances of awe, others pure pleasure at your form.

✧ Tells you again and again all the places he’s going to take you: the Green Dragon, a run through Farmer Maggot’s fields, Sam’s garden if he lets you, all at such insistence that the Shire is the greatest place upon the earth that you cannot help believing him and longing for it almost as much as he.

✧ Knowing that he is lost, he is happy simply to love you no matter what, but few times in your life will you see Pippin’s face as alight as the moment between you returning his feelings and the deep first kiss you share.

Bilbo

✧ Now you, my dear, are an adventure. Nothing he ever planned for, imagined, expected, and yet here you are on his proverbial doorstep. With a gulp and a shy smile he takes you in, eyes sliding upward along your form.

✧ Never has he felt this way before and certainly never with a daughter of men, so you'll find his gaze upon you often, studying you almost.

✧ Definitely tries to wow you with his studies of the different cultures of men- with varying success depending on from which region you hail. You cannot help but be charmed at all of Bilbo’s attempts to make you feel at home even in the middle of nowhere.

✧ You will feel like you’ve seen Bag End and met all of Bilbo’s ridiculous relatives with all the stories he shares both silly and beautiful. “I can see why you wish to return,” you tell him, to which he just beams up at you, a new shine in his eyes.

✧ Gets flustered at the ways in which you move to his level, leaning slinkily against a large rock or down further still upon a log to look up at him and meet his gaze with a smile.

✧ All he asks is if you have any interest in settling down, but you cannot help risking things at the sight of Bilbo’s nerves, tentatively answering that you’d love to settle in the Shire and feeling your heart soar at his grin of relief. Unusual, certainly, but then again that is perfect for Bilbo Baggins, is it not?

[mockerycrow]

SICK MOMENTS; Gaz Edition (GN!Reader)

gaz masterlist — gaz render by @ave661 <3

summary; this is the second part of my four part series of the 141 taking care of you, who’s sick. enjoy!

[WARNINGS; sickness, medication, civilian!reader, slight military inaccuracies, sick comfort.]

YOU’VE BEEN FEELING quite under the weather for the past two days. A weird pressure in your skull, a tickle in the throat. You didn’t really think much of it as you had much more important things to focus on like your job. You usually switch between working from home and working in an office setting every other day and unfortunately, your illness decides to make an appearance when you’re in the office.

You’re sitting in your office with all of your lights off, your computer screen turned down to low brightness. You’re squinting as you’re staring at the screen that is burning your eyes, an impossible to ignore pain settling in your skull and rattling around inside.

You make the mistake of swallowing, your throat muscles spasming when they figure out they’re tender, sore, and uncomfortable. You wince at the sharp pain as your hand reflexively goes to the front of your throat, your stomach churning uncomfortably. You sigh quietly, unable to deny that you’re indeed sick. You take a glance at the time on your computer and you realize you’re not even halfway through your workday yet. You contemplate what you should do; a good thing for yourself is to go home and rest but you have deadlines you can’t ignore. You decide that you should try to work through it. It’s not like sitting at a computer screen is taxing, right?

..Right?

An hour later and you’re having to save your documents and powering down your computer, your hands trembling as the pounding in your head is nearing unbearable. Tears spring up in your eyes, nearly spilling as you croak out a voice command for your phone to call Kyle. You hear your phone dial up and begin to ring his number. A crumbling guilt settles in your stomach as you know Kyle has to be on the local base right now, doing whatever he is doing. Your mind begins to race, saying that he’s going to be too busy to help you out, that calling him is a waste of time. You don’t even realize he picked up after the third ring.

You snap out of your state of overthinking after you hear Kyle’s calm voice call your name for likely the second or third time. “What’s going on?” Kyle asks, his voice ever so slightly muffled by the quality of the speaker—and your hearing is probably a bit scuffed, too. “Sorry if I’m bothering you, but..” You croak, grimacing at how horrible you sound. “..Can you come pick me up from work?” 

“You’re never a bother, love.” Kyle reassures, his voice considerably softer than his previous sentence. “Are you feeling alright? You don���t sound too well.” You shake your head no before remembering it’s only a phone call and not a video call—and you regret shaking your head as your vision spins for a moment. “No,” You utter, the ache in your throat worsening. “I’ve come down with.. something. Not sure yet.”

You hear shuffling and Kyle’s muffled voice say something, something that wasn’t directed towards you so you pay no mind to it. “I’m on my way, sweetheart. I’ll pick up some medicine on the way to ya, yeah?” Kyle murmurs, making your chest all fuzzy with how concerned he seems. “Mhm,” You him. “Love you.”

“I love you too, see you soon.” And with that, Kyle hangs up.

It doesn’t take him too long to leave the base and pick up some medicine, but to you? It feels like an eternity. You sit there in the dark, occasionally tapping the screen of your phone so you can check the time. You feel like your guts are churning and twisting and you feel like someone is taking a sledgehammer and is ringing a bell—like one of those giant bells you can find at Christian churches that ring every hour. There’s a soft knock at your door, which you croak a sickly “come in”, assuming it’s your knight in shining armor as you already got the okay from your boss to leave through text.

The door opens, letting the light pour in which makes you wince. You recognize the silhouette and the stature of the person almost immediately—it’s Kyle. “Hey,” He calls out to you softly. You can’t see his face, but you can tell he’s wearing the zip up you bought for him months ago on his birthday and he’s holding a plastic bag. Your lips curl into a small smile, and your pain fades for a moment as the fact that he wears the hoodie you bought him to work hits you. Kyle closes your office door and finds his way to your desk in the dark. “Hey.” You echo, your voice gritty and scratchy.

“I’m going to turn on your desk lamp, alright?” Kyle hums as he sets the plastic bag of goods down onto your desk. “Alright.” You echo once again, your voice quieter than before. You dreaded the light. Alas, he turns the light on and you see his beautiful brown eyes look at you, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly with concern very apparent on his face. “Aw, sweetheart.” Kyle utters, which gives you an idea that you likely don’t look too well. His hand reaches out to touch your forehead; his palm then flips to the back of his hand. “You’re burnin’ up. Good thing I got medicine, hm?”

You lean into his touch, Kyle’s hand cupping down to your cheek instead. “Sweaty,” Kyle points out, making you huff. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” You reply with a playful snark, but you sound a bit pathetic from how stuffy you sound. “It’s sergeant, actually.” He replies with a grin, making you snort—and then wince because it hurt your entire head. Kyle begins to grab items from the bag; pain and fever reducers, cough drops, anti-congestant, a bottle of water.. And a box of tea for home, despite already having likely a box already waiting in the cabinet.

You watch with a warm stomach as Kyle pops out the pills for you and you notice he did his research for what medicine could go with what. “I love you.” You blurt out suddenly, meeting Kyle’s eyes. He blinks for a moment before smiling—his fucking smile—and responding with a tilted up tone, questioning. “I love you too..?” Kyle questions the sudden pushed tone, but you don’t elaborate as you stare up at him, thinking about how you’re going to marry this man one day as he frets over your health without complaint.

🏷️; @mlmxreader @kivino @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheeto @frazie99 @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @ornateorchid @indefenseofkara @lieutenantlashfaz @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch

SHHH i didn’t forget the tag list, you did. /j

wrongly tagged? let me know!! if you aren’t tagged, i was confused about your taglist form or i couldn’t because of your settings. join the taglist here

[dawnisdreamlanding]

CHAPTER 2

Ghost x Reader x Konig

Neighbor! and Roommate!au hehe

About me | Masterlist |

Author's note: Happy Hanukkah! I'd like to say THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT FOR THE FIRST PART AAAA!! I've been wanting to write fanfics for agess but I was always too nervous to hahahdsf so all the support means so much to me, especially for it being my first fic. But less talk, more story, I hope you enjoy part 2! <3

‘Why am I meeting so many tall, buff guys today? Well, not that I’m complaining,’ you chuckle inwardly. Konig’s so tall that when he greets you, he bends down slightly. Talk about being short. You mentally shake that thought away before smiling and telling him to follow you to your apartment.

Everything goes smoothly, and he ends up moving into your apartment the following week. It takes him a couple of days and a little head-banging on the door frame due to his height for him to get used to your shared apartment.

It’s been a month since then. You learn he’s from Austria, and he starts to call you ‘Maus’ which was self-explanatory. But you never really learned anything else other than that. So, to recap, both your neighbor and roommate are both silent and secretive. And they’re hot. You quickly shake that thought away. You shouldn’t be thinking about them like that!

Speaking of Simon, you haven’t seen him for a couple of days. You wonder what he’s doing. After a few extra moments of silence, you realized you’ve spaced out from doing your work. Your gaze lands on the long list of emails you’ll be needing to respond to by tonight, followed by the time on your computer on the bottom right of the screen. ‘7.43 pm’. Ugh, this looks like you’ll be staying back late in the office tonight.

It’s already been a few hours since the last of your coworkers said goodbye to you, and the office lights has been turned off except for your section of the office. The darkness surrounding the office was a little unsettling if you were being honest, but you pressed on with answering those emails. Your phone buzzing makes you jump in your seat and the bright screen in contrast to the surroundings makes you squint a little.

Oh, Konig’s calling. You pick up the call and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t relieved to hear someone’s voice after hours of overtime. The line’s a little staticky, but his voice comes through the phone. “Hello, Maus? Where are you?” Konig sounds worried. “Hey Konig!” You try to sound a little upbeat, but your exhaustion comes through nonetheless. “I’m working overtime tonight; I’ll be coming home late.”

Home. You don’t know when you started referring to your apartment as ‘home’, since you’ve always thought your apartment felt so soulless since you moved in. If you think hard about it, the emptiness of your apartment only ever seemed to disappear when Konig’s large frame started to fill in the empty space in your apartment. Despite not knowing much about Konig’s life, the two of you spend quality time together, bonding over shows on Netflix ranging from ‘The Good Place’ to ‘Emily In Paris’. Though you’d have to admit, the more mind-numbing the show is, the more entertaining it is when you hear all Konig’s quips and comments while the two of you watch it. God, you wish you were hanging out at home with Konig now.

“Maus?” Konig calls me once again, snapping me out of my train of thought. “H-huh? Sorry could you repeat that?” I reply. “It’s looks like its about to rain hard tonight, do you need me to bring you home?” his voice gets a little more staticky by the second, and you’re only able to get out a “it’s fine” before the power in the office shuts down.

“Oh hell no,” you say out loud to yourself. You watched enough horror game playthroughs to know that you’re not staying a second longer in office if you want to see another day. Your line gets cut off and you groan. If this isn’t the start of a horror movie.

You managed to exit the office without tripping in the darkness with being little on edge. Little droplets of rain start to fall to the ground, slowly painting the pavement a darker shade of grey with each drop. Your line comes back and you were seconds away from calling Konig to ask him to drive you back home but then a hulking figure leaving the nearby grocery store enters your field of vision.

You are quick to look at this guy because who the hell is he and why is he dressed in all black at night, looking like a robber? Oh my god is he a robber? Oh, it’s your neighbor, Simon. You should really stop bumping into him in such shady situations.

---

Simon ends up driving you back to your apartment complex. This time around, you try to talk to him the car ride there. In between the awkward silences, the two of you managed to bond over some shared bands playing on the radio and you learn that he’s from the military.

“’s not fair that they’re makin you work overtime like this.” Simon grumbles out. “Yeah well, what can I do? Besides, they pay me quite well.” You reply. It was true; the company you worked is quite taxing at times, but the benefits and pay holds you back from quitting.

“Well,” he inhales as he puts his car into park. “If you ever need a lift home, just let me know.” His offer puts a smile on your lips. For someone who you’ve gotten to really know in the span of a 20 minute car ride, he has a heart of gold. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

He has the manners to walk you back all the way to your apartment — you ignore the fact he lives literally right next to you — and makes sure you enter your apartment safely before unlocking his own door.

 You sigh and drop your bag onto the floor. Your eyelids feel really dry and the constant urge to get some shut eye makes the tasks of getting ready for bed seem to stretch on for far too long. Part of you debates on sacrificing dinner so you can sleep a little earlier but that’s when you hear Konig call out for you in the kitchen.

“Eat.” He speaks. “I cooked dinner for the both of us, but I didn’t know you were staying in the office.” A slight pang of guilt shoots through you at the thought of Konig waiting alone at the dinner table for you to come home. “Thanks, Konig.” I smile at him. “I’m glad to be home.”

Konig tries to ignore the warmth that creeps up on him during moments like these. His eyes naturally drink in the sight of you sitting across the table, happily munching on the food he’s cooked you. Fuck, maybe being a househusband wouldn’t be so bad, especially if its for you. He quickly shakes off that thought. He kills. He likes to kill. What was he even thinking?

“Emily in Paris?” he suggests when you finish your dinner. You sigh and shake your head. “Sorry, too tired, Ko.” The nickname slips out of your mouth so easily that you don’t notice it, but he does. His body freezes up and his brain short circuits. He’s so focused on the nickname you used for him that he doesn’t even feel sadness when you rejected his suggestion. He hums in acknowledgement.

“Maybe this weekend?” You say and he nods, watching you turn to head into your room. He decides not to tell you he’s leaving for work that weekend. Leaving to kill people. “Next weekend.” He confirms. You smile tiredly at him and the warm yellow light illuminates your features. “Goodnight, Konig.” God, he wishes you could call him Ko again. “Goodnight, Maus.”

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