#it’s been smelling Smokey all week

[getting-messi]

The smoke from the forest fires are affecting the weather so bad……I hope I can get some sun for my graduation tomorrow☹️

[strang3lov3]

Lavender

You receive a pleasurable massage from Ezra. (4.1k)

Tags - smut, massages, unethical!ezra, softest of soft!dom, wax play, hands in places hands shouldn't be, teasing, fingering, oral (f! receiving) masturbation, ezra creams his pants #creamernation, slight dom vibes from ezra, chamomille tea, ezra is a silvertongued menace, light foot action - assume reader has clean tootsies. Fic help - @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal thank you both for holding my hand through this!!! and for hyping me up, and for being the best part of my day!!! LOVE YOU!!! A/N - hey hey motherfuckers 😛 I hope you enjoy! First time writing Ezra and it’s for my beautiful @noxturnalpascal’s birthday that was a couple weeks ago 🩷 patti i'm not sorry for what i've done. also i love you.

After a sixteen hour drive back home from visiting your family, you’re in nothing but pain. There’s an awful, pinching feeling at your lower back, your hips and knees ache, and your neck is sore. Even laying down in your bed hurts. 

You try a couple of different solutions to remedy yourself. Ice pack, heating pad - you never know when you’re supposed to use one or the other. You try stretching, yoga, and increasing your water intake. But after four days of agony, you’ve had it. 

There’s a light-purple colored piece of cardstock that’s been hung up on your fridge by a magnet for the last few months. It’s a gift certificate to a spa called Lavender, you won it in a raffle at a charity drag show. 

Call (212) 929-5804 to schedule a 90 minute massage of your choice, and please bring this voucher with you to your appointment. 

I look forward to pleasuring you. 

-Ezra

You feel a flutter in your gut as you read those words: pleasuring you. Fuck, you’re so touch starved, and you begin to imagine what this Ezra could look like. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Before you get lost in your dirty thoughts about a massage therapist you’ve never even met before, you need to book an appointment. When you flip the card over, you see a list of services offered by Ezra. Massages of all kinds - chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for, but you schedule your appointment anyway. 

-

Friday at 6:40pm, you leave your apartment and begin walking to Lavender. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk away, which you don’t mind because the weather is cooling down and the leaves are beginning to change color. You enjoy the scenery. At 6:57, you walk into the small office for your appointment, a bell jingling as you push open the door. The shades are drawn over the windows, blocking out what little light is cast by the setting sun in the overcast sky. It smells smokey, like incense. Gentle music plays as you wait at the front desk for someone to help you. 

After a moment, a man comes out through a door behind the desk. He’s taller, his face is handsome under the low light. His hair is dark apart from a very prominent streak of white in his hairline, his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and graying. And as he makes his way closer to you, you make out a peculiar curved scar on his cheek, right next to a sharp, aquiline nose. The man smiles warmly at you and you silently pray to any god that’ll listen that he’s your massage therapist, and not just the person working the front desk. 

“I believe you must be my 7 o’clock, yes?”

Hallelujah. 

“Yes, that’s my appointment.”

“Your name, my dove?” 

You’re going weak in the knees. He speaks in a low voice, a syrupy thick southern accent pouring from his pouty lips. You tell him your name, tripping over your syllables. The man chuckles,  “I’m Ezra. Pleased to meet you,” he says, taking your hand in his before pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling knuckles. “I sense anxiety, my dove. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

You nod. “A little, yeah. Sorry. It’s my first massage.” Ezra’s warm, chocolatey eyes roam your body and you feel flustered, “I uh - I have this…” you dig out the gift certificate from your purse, slightly crumpled now. “From the raffle at that drag show.” 

“Ah, yes,” Ezra smiles, taking the certificate from you. “Thank you,” he says, smoothing out the crinkles in the paper. He notices you tapping your fingers rhythmically on his desk, and covers your hand with his own. “There’s no need for anxiety, darlin’. You’re in good hands with me. Perhaps a cup of tea to soothe those nerves of yours before I get started with you?” 

“That’d be great, yeah,” you reply. 

Ezra opens a nearby cabinet. “What are you in the mood for this evening?”

“Not really sure,” you answer, humming as you think. “Do you have suggestions?”

“That I do,” he says. “I’d suggest somethin’ herbal, no need for caffeine so late. I’ve got peach, I’ve got chamomile vanilla…” Ezra trails off, moving various boxes in the cabinet. “Hot chocolate too, f’ya want.” 

“The vanilla one. Please.” 

“The vanilla one it shall be, then.” 

Ezra makes you a small cup of tea, sweetening it with a bit of honey per your request. He sits you down in a comfortable chair and carefully places the warm mug on an end table next to you, then hands you a clipboard. 

“Just some routine paperwork I’d appreciate if you’d fill out for me as I get your room situated. Hope that’s not an issue.” 

“Not at all.” 

Ezra thanks you and exits the room, leaving you to fill out the paperwork. It’s all the usual questions: Name, date of birth, email, phone number, emergency contact. After that it asks of any allergies, medical conditions, or major surgeries to be aware of. You answer each question accordingly, and then the last section is made up of questions about your massage preferences.

Massage type? (Chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue) - Unsure. 

Any areas of the body that need to be focused on or avoided? - Unsure. 

Preferred pressure? (light, medium, hard) - Unsure. 

Any other preferences or details you’d like to add? - Unsure.

You click the pen and lay it on the completed paperwork, then sip your steaming tea. You wiggle your foot as you anxiously await Ezra’s return.

“I’m ready for you, sweet dove.” 

Ezra’s waiting by the door behind the front desk. You drink the last of your tea and follow Ezra into the room, where he takes his clipboard back from you. The room is dark, darker than the waiting area. It’s lit by a couple of plain candles, warm light flickering against the walls as soft piano music plays from a speaker. “Your purse,” Ezra motions for you to remove your bag, then hangs it over a hook on the door. “And your jacket, if I may,” he murmurs from behind you, hooking his fingers between the collar of your jacket and your body, waiting for you to unzip it before he pulls it off of your shoulders and hangs it up. Your skin tingles as his fingers brush over you, just a taste of what’s to come. 

“Undress for me as I go over your paperwork outside. I’ll knock on the door and wait for your word before re-entering.”  

“How much? How…” you trail off, bashful as you try to complete the sentence. Ezra knows what you’re trying to ask, though. “To your leisure, darlin’, though my suggestion would be to the nude, jewelry and all. The choice is yours. And once you’re done, lie on the table for me. You may protect your modesty with the towel I’ve provided for you right here.” Ezra pats a white towel that sits folded on the counter, next to a little crystal jewelry dish. 

Ezra leaves, gently shutting the door behind himself. He examines your paperwork behind the closed door as he hears rustling on the other side, the sound of you undressing. You leave your clothes in a pile on a chair, then cover your body with the towel. You lay on the massage table, pleasantly surprised that Ezra’s been warming it for you. You’re still a little nervous, so you focus on breathing deeply and calming yourself down as you wait to hear Ezra’s knock. You listen to the gentle piano playing, trying to place where you’ve heard this song before. 

Knock knock.

“Come in,” you call out, and Ezra opens the door. He closes it again softly and stands by the counter, readying some supplies. “What’s this song?”

“S’a piano cover of The Cure,” Ezra answers. “Last Day of Summer.” 

“Mmm. I never really liked them,” you admit. 

Ezra chuckles softly. “To each their own, I ‘spose. But I must inform you that you’re missin’ out, my dove.” 

You’re grateful Ezra can’t see your smile or your bashful expression at the pet name as you rest your face in the cradle of the table. “I do like this,” you tell him. “The piano cover.” 

“I do too. Relaxing, ain’t it?” 

“Yeah, it is. Very.” 

“Indeed. Now, I’d like to go over a couple of items on your paperwork before we commence. I believe you had stated that you’ve never received a massage before, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you’re unsure of your preferences or areas of your body I should pay special attention to or avoid.”

 “That’s right, yeah.” Ezra hums in response, then goes quiet. “...I hope that’s not a problem?” 

“Worry not, dove, s’not a problem at all. Jus’ means I’ll be takin’ a more…experimental approach to massagin’ your body, s’all.”

 “Oh. Uh…experimental how?”

 “Your massage will entail the utilization of a variety of techniques, to thoroughly explore all parts of your body. By my listenin’ to both your verbal and nonverbal cues, and by checkin’ in, askin’ you questions about how you’re feelin’,” Ezra explains, “I’ll get to know your body and how best to please you. It’ll make things run nice an’ creamy for us both.” 

“O-okay. That sounds good.” 

You’re in trouble. Each of Ezra’s words, spoken through a honey-sweet tone, goes straight to your core. You wonder how slick you are between your thighs, if Ezra’ll notice. 

“I believe we’re ready to begin, then, dove.” 

Ezra lights some dragon’s blood scented incense, then washes his hands with hot water. Best not to startle you with cold hands. He approaches you on the massage table, you can smell him even through the smokey scent of the incense. He’s clean and citrusy, you wonder what cologne he wears. He places something on a rolling table and then reaches for your towel, gently tugging the tucked in ends from beneath your body. “Lift up a little for me, my dove. I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You hoist yourself up, lifting your torso into the air so Ezra can pull the ends of the towel from under you. Cool air hits the skin of your exposed breasts, though your nipples are already hardened by your arousal. Once you lie back down, Ezra folds the towel down your torso so that only your ass and legs remain covered. “And I’ll be talkin’ you through my process, so nothin’ comes as a surprise.”

“Mm.”

“Gonna begin by drizzling some oil over your back, to keep your skin nice and properly lubricated as I massage you. Ready?”

“Ready,” you mumble. 

“But first…It seems you’ve forgotten to remove your jewelry,” he whispers, unclasping the necklace you wear. You lift slightly so that he can carefully remove the chain and pendant, then sets it down. Ezra takes the item he set on the rolling table, a massage candle that’s been burning for a while, the oil completely liquified. He holds it a couple inches above your back and then tilts it, hot oil dripping down your skin and surprising you. “My apologies, dove. I didn’t intend to startle you. You’ll get used to the warmth, I promise.” 

Ezra drips a bit more oil on your body, then sets it back down on the rolling table. “Gonna touch you, now,” he whispers. You sigh as you feel his hands finally touch your skin, calloused palms rubbing the oil from your shoulders down to your lower back. He begins by massaging your neck, thumbs sliding down your skin, over and over and over before traveling lower, massaging your traps and shoulders, the backs of your arms a little bit. His hands travel back up your shoulders where the skin meets your neck and massages with a firm pressure, causing you to wince. “Ohh, I know, I know. You’re quite tender, there, my dove. If you’d so kindly allow me to work out this tightness, I think it’d benefit you tremendously.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

Ezra massages you by pressing firmly into your skin, thumbs moving in circles, back and forth. “Relax,” he whispers. “Soften yourself. I’ve got you. Breathe in…” 

You draw in a deep breath, Ezra’s movements momentarily pausing. 

“...And out.” 

On your exhale, he massages the tense part of your neck, satisfied at how you’ve relaxed your body for him. He works out the tension, “Good, attagirl,” he praises, hands sliding down the rest of your back. He uses long strokes to massage up and down your spine, then your sides. You let out soft noises, noises indicating pleasure, not pain. Ezra notices how you quiet yourself, voiceless exhales instead of moans. “You don’t have to quiet yourself on my account, dove. I encourage any vocal or physical manifestation of your pleasure.”

Ezra’s hands feel like magic as they travel up and down your back, squeezing and sliding over your oiled skin. He walks his hands down your arms, down your palms, pausing when he reaches your fingers, “I believe you’ve forgotten to remove some more jewelry, darlin’. May I take these rings off of your fingers?”

“Yeah, please.” 

Ezra wiggles your rings off of the fingers of your right hand, then the left. They make soft, metallic noises as they clink against each other in Ezra’s palm. “Beautiful rings, my dear,” he murmurs before setting them down on the rolling cart, next to the necklace he’d taken off for you. Ezra massages your forearms, your wrists, your palms and fingers, first one hand and then the other. When he’s done, you hear the soft shuffle of fabric as he moves to the end of the massage table, rolling his cart with him. “I’d like to ask for consent before massaging your feet, my dove, as I’ve been kicked before by some rather ticklish clients.” 

“I’m a little ticklish, too” you admit shyly. “I can never get pedicures because of it. Have to do my toes at home.”

Ezra chuckles. “I find that firm pressure is most effective in preventing that sensation. May I try?” 

“Yes, go ahead.” 

Ezra pours a bit of oil in his hands and rubs them together before reaching for one of your feet, your toes wiggling and curling at his touch. “Shh, jus’ relax,” he coos softly, smirking at your sensitivity. With a steady, hard pressure, Ezra massages your foot. “Focus on your breathin’. It’s ‘sposed to feel good, I ain’t tryin’ to play a dirty trick on you.”

The tickling sensation is there, but with steady, deep breaths, you’re able to control it and allow yourself the pleasure of having your feet massaged. You stretch out the way a cat does when it relaxes, and Ezra smiles in satisfaction. “There it is. Feel good?”

“S’good,” you sigh. 

Ezra massages from your feet to your ankles, then folds the towel up and over your ass to expose your legs fully. He massages from your ankles up your calves, and oh - it feels incredible. You moan freely, feeling more confident to do so after his kind encouragement. You melt under his touch, arching into it as he works up your thighs, drizzling more oil before rubbing your skin. His hands are kneading the plump flesh of your ass now, one hand on each cheek, his thumbs close to your pussy. He admires that pretty diamond shape of your ass and thighs framing your bare pussy, and he notices how you drip for him. “Ezra,” his name slips from your lips in a whimper as he spreads your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the coarse hair that surrounds your cunt. 

“You seem quite enthused, little dove,” Ezra smirks. 

“Yeah…feel - feels good. So good, s-so…” 

“I’m pleased to hear it, my darlin’.” 

“Ezra,” you whine in betrayal when you feel Ezra’s hands leave your body, the pressure of his touch lingering on your skin. 

“My, such an ardent complaint,” Ezra remarks. “I hate to disappoint, but I implore you to trust my process. I won’t leave you dissatisfied, sweetheart.” Ezra unfolds the towel back over your body, then lifts it slightly, “Now, on your back for me.”  

You flip yourself onto your back, and once settled, Ezra folds the towel down to cover your lower half, leaving your breasts exposed. He keeps the temperature of the air in the room warm, but your nipples are hardened anyway, hardened by your arousal. Your heart pounds as you watch him, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. You turn your head to watch him reach for his massage oil candle, your breath hitching when you see his pants visibly tented by his erection. He doesn’t bother hiding it. 

Ezra watches you with dark, sparkling eyes as he drips the oil on your body, the candlelight flickering, illuminating his handsome features with a warm glow. He massages your shoulders and your chest, hands gliding over your breasts and abdomen, then back up again. You gasp when his thumb catches your nipple, and Ezra raises an eyebrow. He circles your areola with his thumb, pinching and twisting your other nipple gently, teasing you. “Fuck,” you cry out, raising your hand to hold Ezra’s strong, muscular, veiny forearm. 

“You’re doin’ so good,” he whispers, then places your hand down at your side. He pulls the towel down your body some more as he massages down your sides and your hips, lifting one of your legs so he can massage both sides of your thigh. Your legs are spread for him, pussy on display and glistening with your arousal. “Oh, little dove. Such a mess you’re makin’ of my table.” 

You bite your lip and whine as Ezra’s fingers just barely touch your lips, achingly close to where you need his touch the most. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“I don’t wanna hear you apologizin’, sweetheart. I won’t stand for it,” Ezra lays your bent leg back down, then rounds the table and lifts your other leg. “‘Sides,” he says, “S’only natural, how your body reacts to my touch. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 

You smile shyly as Ezra massages up and down your thigh, teasing you just how he did before. You tilt yourself into his touch, moaning as he approaches your wet cunt, waiting to feel his fingers between your folds. But you never do. 

“We’re comin’ up on the end of our appointment,” Ezra warns. “If there’s an area of your body that you feel needs special attention before we conclude, let me know.”

“Ezra–” You reach for his wrist and urge him to touch you between your thighs. 

“Something that still needs tending to, my dove?”

You nod frantically. “Please–”

“Use your words,” he interrupts, his voice low. “You have to ask me for what you want. I’m unable to alleviate your discomfort if you don’t tell me what you need, sweetheart.” Ezra’s fingers hover over your core, feeling the heat radiating from you. You stutter out something incoherent, and Ezra dips his fingers lower, ever so gently touching you. He traces your folds, waiting for your answer. “Ask me.” 

“I want you to make me come, Ezra,” you beg, “Please.” 

“I can do that in many ways. Tell me how, little dove. Tell me where you need me to touch you.” 

Ezra wears a crooked smile. This, this is his loophole. He knows that technically, as a professional, this is a line he shouldn’t cross. But he can’t help himself, you moan so sweetly for him even without his fingers buried in your cunt. Sensation is subjective, so you can’t say his teasing is intentional, deliberate. It’s your own reaction, and not Ezra’s fault if you feel aroused during massage - after all, it’s a completely natural response to physical stimulation. By making you ask - beg - for what he’s coaxed you to want from him, Ezra evades responsibility. This is on you. 

“I want your fingers in my pussy,” you breathe, pressing his thick fingers against your slick center. “Please.” 

Ezra inserts his middle and ring fingers into your dripping hole, feeling your muscles tense around his digits as he gathers your arousal. He pulls his fingers back out and then traces up and down your pussy, loving the way his fingers slip and slide through your slick folds. He circles your clit once, twice, then explores the feeling of your lips again. “Check in with me, darlin’, how are you feeling?”

You answer Ezra’s question with a mess of breathy moans, and he chuckles at that. He paints steady circles around your clit and glides his other hand over your oiled body, fingers catching your pebbled nipples. Ezra leans over and keeps his face close to yours, grinning proudly when you gasp as he pushes those two fingers of his back inside you. Your legs clamp shut around his arm as he curls his fingers rhythmically, stroking that spongy, sweet spot inside of you that makes you squirm. “Ezra, Ezra,” you cry. 

“Shhhh,” he hushes you, “Open up for me.” Ezra traces your face with his sharp nose, his hot, minty breath fanning over your skin. As you spread your legs, he bites your earlobe gently. “Stay like this now, little dove. Let me please you.” 

Ezra stands up straight again, his warm, masculine hand sliding down your sternum and your stomach, fingers reaching for that tight bundle of nerves between your thighs. As he works his fingers inside you, he circles your clit, using both hands to pleasure you. You’re close, and it’s taken no time at all. Arching your back, you tilt your head and close your eyes as you lean into his touch, focusing on your impending release. “Look at me when you come,” he commands. “Eyes on me.” 

“Fuck, Ezra–” 

“I know, little dove, I know,” he coos.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue, knees cracking as he kneels before you. By pressing a button beneath the table he lowers it, bringing you to a comfortable height for himself. You don’t notice him dipping his fingers into the candle, then shoving his hand beneath the waistband of his linen pants. He toys with his hard cock, stiff member aching, leaking just for you.

All you can focus on is the pleasure building deep in your gut. You watch Ezra, he’s gazing upon you with hooded eyes. He seems entranced by it all, the sensation of your pulsing cunt, the slick noises his fingers make while inside you. He hums at your taste, that sweet, musky flavor of your pussy. You tug his dark hair as he circles your clit with his tongue, “Fuck, right there,” you gasp. “Right there, Ezra, please.” 

As Ezra’s tongue slides over your clit, fingers steadily curling inside you, he pumps himself. His big hand slides up and down his shaft, he can feel each of his swollen, prominent veins under his palm. He grips himself tightly, fucking his fist with fervor. 

“I’m there, I’m there,” you cry. You come on his tongue with loud, frantic moans, maintaining eye contact, just like he told you to do. He works you through it, your pussy soaking his fingers, his nose, arousal dripping all the way down into his palm. Moans of pleasure shifting to noises of overstimulation, Ezra continuing to fuck you on his fingers as he fucks his fist. He groans against your cunt as he comes, painting his own hand with hot, milky ropes of his come. He drags his release out, teasing both himself and you as he comes down. 

Gently, Ezra pulls his fingers from your core, then pulls his own hand out of his pants. He turns to wash his hands at the sink but you stop him, reaching for his wrist. “N-need to taste you,” you breathe. “Let me taste you, Ezra.” 

Ezra smiles warmly. “I’m flattered by your enthusiasm to reciprocate the pleasure, little dove, but I must confess I’ve taken care of my arousal already. This is your time to relax and to immerse yourself in pleasure, not mine.”

You pout. 

“But if you desire to taste me…”

Ezra holds his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with silky ribbons of his come. You bring his palm to your lips, then lick and suck his fingers clean of his spend, humming at the salty, heady taste. 

When done, Ezra helps you sit up. “I’ll wait out front for you to get dressed, and then we can schedule a follow-up appointment,” he says, a mischievous look in his eye. “Don’t forget your jewelry on my cart, little dove.”

Comments, reblogs, and asks are so very appreciated!! I love to hear your kind words about my work, they keep me motivated to write for you all <3

[satorusugurugurl]

Can i request modern au!sukuna and reader just making out in the living room during gojos house party🫠 established relationship of course🙏

I Got You

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x FAB Reader (MODERN AU)

Word Count: 1,983

Content Working: alcohol consumption, mentions of weed, anxiety attack, making out, suggestive

A/N: This request was so flipping cute! Loving this Modern!Sukuna AU! Like always send me suggestions!! I love hearing about your chaotic horny brain worms!

“Hello, welcome, welcome!” Gojo Satoru yelled over the bass booming from inside the house. “Step inside my humble abode!” You wanted to roll your eyes at ‘humble abode’ as you and Sukuna stepped inside Gojo’s mansion. “I am your gracious host, sober as per usual! Beer pong is in the back; spin the bottle has turned into strip poker, so that's been moved into the basement.” Your blue-eyed friend peered over his dark sunglasses. “There's pizza, edibles, and drinks in the kitchen! Have fun, don't fuck in my room again. Suguru and I are chilling in the hot tub if you need us!”

With the completion of his speech, your host was off towards the back, dodging several drunk people. Gojo’s house parties were always the best. Hell, it's where you met Sukuna. They were full of chaos, laughter, and lots of memories. Usually, you'd be dragging Sukuna to the kitchen by now and snacking on edibles, nursing a rum and coke.

But you were a bit anxious.

Work has been so tense this week. Endless piles of paperwork, long days. Every day was the same: get up, go to work, come home, and make dinner before passing out in bed. You’d been so stressed it didn't help that you hadn't even spent time with Sukuna all week. So when Gojo invited you for a small get-together, you jumped at the opportunity. A party with your closest friends would ease the tension in your back.

What you walked into was not at all a small get-together. This was a full-ass Gojo Satoru party. It had probably started as a small get-together, but word probably spread, and Gojo would never say no to a good time. The more the merrier! But as the smell of weed and shouting echoed through the house, you were beginning to regret your choice.

Sukuna peered down at you from the corner of his eye. He could see the stress etched into your features. He had offered to take you to dinner, something quiet and calm after your hard week. But when you said you needed to blow off some steam, he didn't fight you. He'd been there, raising his two brothers. Work and school had him running to parties like this all the time before he met you.

If this is what you needed, he'd support you.

“Hey,” he bent over next to your ear, “you good? Want to get a drink?”

“Mmhmm!”

Taking your hand in his, Sukuna led you through the crowded halls into the kitchen. You searched for Nanami, Shoko, or anyone you knew, but you saw a sea of strangers. This was fine. It was okay; Sukuna was here. You were going to be OK.

“Want a rum and coke?” Sukuna yelled over the blaring music. His hand released yours. “Or something else?”

In the instant he was no longer holding you, you felt it. Your hands were shaking, and your index finger twitched—the telltale signs of an anxiety attack for you. Quickly folding your hands behind your back, you swallowed hard, heart pounding in your ears. You needed to get away, to find a quiet spot, but the last thing you wanted to do was make Sukuna worry about you.

“Surprise me!” You yelled back, looking around. “I'm going to go use the restroom!”

Your boyfriend had just started towards the drinks when you shouted at him that you were going to the bathroom. When he turned around, he watched you push through the growing crowd, clenching your left hand as you did. Sighing softly, Sukuna headed for the fridge to get what was needed.

You were shaking, eyes darting through the smokey halls, searching for privacy. The bathroom was locked, couples blocked the stairs, and people flooded through the front door. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you needed to get away from the noise and calm down! You rushed down the hall, finding the living room empty, except for a beer bottle on the coffee table. This must have been where Spin the Bottle was being played earlier. Thank fuck it turned into strip poker.

Plopping down on the couch, you stared down at your shaking hands. The index finger and middle finger twitched, pulsing as waves of anxiety slammed into you. To fight back tears, you shut your eyes tight just as your leg began to bounce. This was a nasty attack. Calm, stay calm. It would be okay.

Why didn't you listen to your boyfriend?! From the second you got in the car, you felt off. Something was going to happen, but you had no clue what it could be like a shadow figure was stalking you, waiting for the perfect chance to strike. Now that you were in the midst of your anxiety attack, it all made sense.

“Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.” You whispered to yourself. “Don't cry.”

Despite telling yourself that, it didn't prevent the tears streaming down your cheeks. Fuck. This was not how you wanted to spend your Friday night. Poor Sukuna wouldn't want to spend the night like this, either. He was stuck taking care of his weak-ass girlfriend, who couldn't calm herself down. He deserved more. Before your thoughts could spiral further, the couch dipped under someone's weight.

Turning your head to see who it was, you gasped as Sukuna cupped your face in his hands, kissing you deeply. Your heart skipped a beat as you kissed back. He pulled back, thumb brushing against your cheek before his lips were firmly against yours once more. The second kiss was deeper as he gently eased you back into the corner of the armrest.

Whimpering against your boyfriend's lips, you lifted, still shaking hands to his shoulders. Your fingers trailed over muscles as his own hands moved down the curves of your body. Sukuna’s grip was firm, holding you tight and reassuring you that he was here. That you weren't alone.

Sukuna’s tongue darted out, gently licking at your bottom lip, begging for you to allow him inside. You obeyed simultaneously, opening your mouth. His tongue slid into your mouth, deepening the already passionate kiss. Furrowing your brows, you pulled him on top of you as you laid back. Obliging your wants, Sukuna followed you, his body pressed against you. In all of the movements, never once did he break the connection.

You hadn't had a drink of alcohol or eaten one of the edibles, but you felt hazy. All thanks to Sukuna’s tongue buried in your mouth. He massaged your tongue gently with his as his hands mapped out the dips and curves of your body. Making mental notes of all the places he touched that made you squirm. The second he got you home later, those spots he would pay extra attention to. He'd mark them up, suck on them until you were begging for more.

That would be for later on. Right at this moment, you were his sole concern. He paid close attention to your body and how the tension melted away. Trembling that was driven by anxiety shifted into trembles of pleasure. The kiss meant to ground you slowly twisted into a kiss the two of you found yourselves lost in.

Your hands ran through his soft hair, pulling him closer to you. Your tongue moved against his, gently prodding and massaging it, tasting the faint traces of mint and rum. God, you felt high, so high off of him. Off of the Ryomen Sukuna, the man you were so lucky to call your boyfriend. He left you breathless in every way, shape, and form.

Which is why you pushed him back, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you gulped down the air. While you recovered from the breathtaking kiss, Sukuna eyed you. His chest heaving as he sat back, giving you some space. Fuck, he looked good. His hair was in disarray, his shirt wrinkled around the collar, and his eyes dark with lust. The two of you were drunk off each other, and you had the urge to get wasted, to drown yourself in him and nothing else.

You sprung towards him, sitting in his lap as your lips found his. This kiss wasn't as gentle as the first (if you could call it gentle). You nipped at his lips, causing him to groan against your mouth, his eyes rolling back into his skull. His hands ran up and down your back, encouraging you to keep going. You cupped his face, kissing him like your life was on the line.

Sumina moaned as you made out like teenagers on the couch. His hands tangled in your hair, tugging Y/H/C strands as you sucked and bit at his bottom lip. Fuck, you felt like a teenager. It felt good to lose yourself in his kisses.

“Sukuna! Hey, I couldn't find my ice pack—oh!” you pulled away from Sukuna’s lips, panting heavily. Gojo was wet, towel around his waist as he held a bag of frozen peas. “Well, huh, I guess you have it covered?” Your white-haired friend asked, tossing Sukuna the peas.

Suluna caught the bag, glaring at Gojo with flushed cheeks. “Yes, now go!”

“Okay, okay! Just remember to wrap it up!”

“Fuck you, Gojo!” Sukuna yelled after him as he rushed off. “Stupid fuckin’ bastard.” Sukuna sighed, leaning his head back against the couch, his very hard erection pressing against you. “Ruining the mood.”

You cocked an eyebrow, eyes darting from your boyfriend to the peas, trying to put the two together. While your mind tried to connect the dots, Sukuna sighed. The sound rumbled in his chest as he picked up the bag, pressing it gently against the back of your neck.

The cold jolted down your spine, making you jump, your hips rutting against him. “Fuck! That's cold!” Sukuna hummed, eyes wandering over your face.

“Good means it's working.” Words trailed off before he looked away, flushing a deeper shade of red. “You feelin’ better?”

“Huh?”

“You were having an anxiety attack, right?”

You blinked at his words; he knew he had seen it. “How did you know?”

“Well, for starters, I’m your boyfriend.” His signature cocky smirk graced his lips. “Plus, you kept clenching your hand, taking super deep breaths, and I noticed your fingers twitching.” God, how embarrassing was this? You groaned, pressing your forehead against his. “Hey, it's okay, I got you. I would have been here sooner, but I couldn't find any ice packs.” his hand gently rubbed circles into your thigh. “So, I had to use my kissing skills to get you to hold your breath.”

“You do listen.” Holding your breath to stop a panic attack was something you and his brother Choso had talked about weeks ago over dinner. He had seemed bored, rolling his eyes as you both excitedly gushed over a paper he was writing for school.

“Of course, I listen.” His hand squeezed your thigh. “I've been listening to you since we played Seven Minutes in Heaven six months ago.”

“Seven Minutes in Heaven?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I think you mean an hour in heaven.”

Sukuna pulled the bag of peas away, shutting his eyes as he smiled. “An hour that changed my life completely.” His words had you biting your lip.

“Say Kuna~” you rocked against him, pleased to find him still hard. “What do you say we play that again? I want you to kiss me until I see the pearly gates.”

You didn't have to say it twice. The pea bag was thrown across the room, and frozen green peas rolled in every direction. You squealed as you were thrown over your boyfriend's shoulder, getting carried off to a more private location. You were squirming in excitement when his hand firmly smacked your ass.

“Oh no, look at that. Gojo left his door unlocked~!”

[weskie]

Revenge and Recovery (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

reader is injured, hurt/comfort, shared shower, established relationship | Fic Directory

He isn’t there when you wake.  The doctors don’t know what to tell you other than that he brought in the best of the best to ensure your recovery went as smoothly as possible.

Three days go by until you’re discharged with just aches and pains and a couple bandages over your healing gunshot wound.  Your assailants hadn’t wanted to kill you, clearly.  If they did, they’d have aimed better.  You were simply a message.

You’d half expected to find Wesker in his office, but something in your gut told you he was nowhere near home.  Probably worlds away, if you had to guess.

The first few days are the worst.  Waking up in fits of pain, sweating, breathing labored as you struggle to sit up to take more pain medication.  Silly you, letting the aches catch back up to you.  It’s difficult to do much of anything, but you persevere.  You take it day by day.

By the end of the week, you can lift your arms above your head without the stretch feeling as if you were ripping in two.  You have more energy to do the things you enjoy, so you spend your time inside Albert’s study, reclined on his couch as you scribble away in your sketchbook.  You feel most comfortable here since everything happened.  It’s like you’re surrounded by him, by the man you know would protect you with everything he has even if he isn’t necessarily there to do it.  You can only imagine the guilt he’s felt since you were attacked.  Not that it was his fault for being absent.  He’d been called away over a client attempting to back out of a deal and was attempting to rebuild the bridge to his dreams.  You couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him.

The scratch of your pencil becomes like white noise as you fall into your drawing.  The more you think of Al, the more your work begins to shape itself into him.  The slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the shimmer of his cat-like eyes.  You’re not the world’s most talented artist, but you’d dare to say you captured his likeness quite well by the time you’re nearly done.

“You’ve got my nose all wrong,” comes a voice from behind you, startling you to jump halfway out of your skin.  Your mostly healed injuries protest such sharp movements, but the recognition of that voice dulls every ache.  When you turn around, you don’t care at all how badly your body complains.  You throw yourself at him entirely.

“Al!” You gasp, tears welling in your eyes.  You squeeze him tightly, as if letting go would allow for him to fade away like smoke through your fingers.  His arms around you bring you back to earth.  They make you feel safer than ever.

It’s only as you relax that you notice something is off.  He smells… smokey.  There’s a hint of something else, and your eyes go wide when you finally pull away to look at him.

Soot stains mark his face, but not nearly as much as the dried, crusted blood does.  It’s all over him, practically from head to toe.  It stains his hair, coats his hands and forearms, the thickest areas of it crackle and chip along the folds of his clothes.

“You need never worry about them again, my dear.”  He murmurs, removing a stained glove to lift your chin between his bare thumb and forefinger.  “They’ve been put down like the feral creatures they are.”

You simply stare at him in wonder.

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen him stained in the blood of his victims, but it’s the first time it’s ever been for you.  You can only imagine what must have happened.  Perhaps he flew into a blind rage after getting you to safety and tracked down your assailants.  Or, worse, maybe he was entirely calm about it.

You imagine the latter would result in significantly more pain for the men who shot you.

The hands that hold you now likely ripped each of your attackers in two, pierced their flesh, tore the hearts from their bodies, but they hold you as though you’re no more than a delicate flower whose petals would fall away with a mere gust of wind.

He says nothing, but he does bury his face into the crook of your neck and breathe you in.  After some time, you manage to tug him in the direction of the bathroom.  All you wanted was to snuggle him and feel safe while you drift off to sleep, but you wouldn’t dare let him end his day stained in the remains of those who’d wronged you.

The water no longer stings as it runs over your mostly healed wound.  A few stitches that hadn’t quite dissolved yet stick out in sporadic patterns, but it isn’t too terribly unsightly. Not that you think your sweet Albert would mind, knowing all that he’s seen in his line of work.  The cascade dribbles off his body and swirls pink at your feet, slithering down the drain.

He’s reluctant to let you wash him at first, but you swat his hands away from the shampoo bottle before he can even graze it.  This, of course, earns you a smirk and a chuckle.

“Really now?” 

Ever the gentleman, he leans down just enough for you to run your fingers through his hair without straining your injury.  The occasional patch of dried blood colors the suds the same shade as the rest had run.  You decide he needs another pass.  You can’t be too thorough, after all.

In return, he does all the same for you.  While he glides a washcloth over your body, his other hand ghosts the edges of your wound.  Wesker swallows, parts his lips as if to speak, but stumbles over his words.

“They… I made sure–” He pauses, jaw flexing.  “They suffered.” 

You know it’s killing him.  You knew it all along, but seeing it… Seeing it breaks your heart.  

“So did you…” You murmur, thumb stroking the edge of his jaw.  Wesker averts his eyes, hiding whatever reaction your words stir up, be it tears or simply the glow of his eyes dimming with sorrow.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart…”  If you’d only been stronger, faster, smarter, anything, the hurt on his face wouldn't be there.

There is precious little in this world he cares for.  Before you met him, Wesker seemed the type of man to disregard anyone and anything if it meant furthering his goals.  By some odd miracle, you became the exemption.  As you found yourself growing closer to him, a fondness the likes of which you’d never seen him express to anything appeared seemingly out of thin air.  One minute you were just another subordinate that he was, admittedly, strangely kind to, and the next you were the apple of his eye.

It doesn’t make the woe in his gaze any less painful.  Knowing what you mean to him makes it worse, actually.  That your life means that much, that your very existence is worth unmaking another’s…

“M’sorry I let you down…”

No sooner than the words leave your mouth is there a finger curled under your chin to redirect your gaze to his. “Impossible,” he rasps.  He leans down to press your foreheads together, brushing the tip of his nose against yours before releasing a shuddering breath.  “And you never will…”

For now, you two will bask in each other’s presence.  You’ll curl up together and revel in the momentary calm before your next inevitable storm. Such is the price you pay for the heart you call home.

[mjr-acourtofdreams]

Didn't Love Me. I Ain't No Fool.

Azriel x Y/N

warnings: angst...? I don't know if there is anything else?

summary: you meet Feyre at the paint studio you two clicked right away and became good friends, soon enough you got to meet the rest of the IC and started forming friendships with them. Azriel and you had a spark at the beginning or at least you thought you did... you two started seeing each other shortly after, keeping each other company in the deep hours of the night and telling each other the darkest parts of each other, he said he loved you but oh how things couldn't have been anymore different...

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

Winter Solstice a time where we gather with our family and friends to exchange gifts, drink and visit with each other it is a wonderful time of the year, it has always been my favorite time of the year... been.

Everyone has made their way back to their rooms for the night dinner went well lots of laughs and stories told. I am not exactly part of the inner circle but after becoming great friends with Feyre she invited me to a family dinner one time and the rest is history, these people are like my family now. I picked up my glass and took the last sallow. I was the last one in the living room making my way back to my room, I changed into some comfortable night clothes and was about ready to rest for the night when I remembered I forgot some gifts that I didn't put under the tree.

Making down the hallway with the arm full of gifts I stopped dead in my tracks has I heard hush talking coming from bottom of the stairs slowly making my way the top of the stairs I peeked down staircase my whole body teased, there standing was Azriel and Elain. They were so close oh so close to each bout ready to kiss, I can smell the arousal from here it was too much I took a step back feeling a hard body behind me glancing form the corner of my eye I seen Rhys then I felt him trying to get past my mental shields I drop them "go to you room y/n." I gave him a small nod and sped walked to my room and locked the door behind me.

~~

I shouldn't be upset about what had happened I have seen the way he looked at Elain and how he started to get closer to her and seeing me less and less. We were never really an official thing I mean we talked a lot and we slept together, and I would be crazy not to say it wasn't the best sex I had in a while but with all of the bonding that we had and a strong friendship even if was with benefits I would be lying if I said I didn't form feelings for the shadow singer. The deal was sold one night after he snuck into my room after a mission, and we spent the night together we didn't just have sex we made love and after we cuddle close to each other before he drifted off to sleep, he told me he loved me I believed him. What a fool I was to let him break those walls of mine to let me fall for him, I know better now.

I stood in front of the mirror looking at the work I put into this outfit a smiling being bought on my face. I wore a black gown that had sparkles all the way through it that looked like starlight, with slits coming up both legs and stopping at my hips, the back was open while the straps gently wrapped around my neck with a soft chain then it drops down to a plugging neck line, my eyes were done with a smokey look and my hair was pinned off to one side and my natural waves danced across my back. Tonight, everyone is going out to Rita's it seems like it's been forever since I see them all together it will be nice to catch up with them all and with the news a heard from Feyre a couple weeks ago, she told me that Azriel and Elaine made it official to everyone. Since that night I caught them in the hall I decided to completely stop going over there and seeing them other than Feyre but that is going to change because I miss the friendships, I formed those amazing people and it look those weeks or months to build myself back up from the heart break if that was even worth calling what Azriel and I had it was just one siding but now since back to a better self and not going to go crawling back to a man that clearing never really truly wanted me, he is going to truly see what he is missing.

Short time passed and stood in front of the packed bar the music and laughter poured out to the empty streets taking a deep breath I made my way to the door. It didn't take me long to spot the whole inner circle in the booth they always sit at while here, looking them all over before I make my way to them, I seen Aziel and Elaine sitting to close together there wasn't room to even breath through and he had his arm flung around her shoulders she was resting her head in his side while he smiled down at her fondly I let a small hurt smile flash across my face and shake my head realizing right there that didn't love me and never did.

Azriel POV

Smiling down at Elaine while she leaned into my side I glance back up to where Cassin was going on about the building he destroyed in summer when my eyes landed on and focused on the figure that was making their way over to our table blinking and swallowing hard, I realized that it was y/n straighten up and slide my arm from Elaines side and sit up and looked me with questionable face but I couldn't take my eyes off of y/n as she comes to the table she looked absolutely divine, I haven't seen or heard from her since solstice and I haven't been able to seek her out busy with missions and well Elaine, oh Elaine glancing over to her on my side she was now talking to Mor on the other side of her.

"Hello everyone!" the sweet voice that was sweet has honey now sounds like it has been hardened. Feyre jumped up and pulled y/n into a hug. "I'm so glad you came!" Feyre's smiled beamed at her friend y/n's smile matched hers but there was less sparkle in those beautiful eyes, she slid into the booth right across from me I couldn't take my eyes off of her something felt like it was pulling me towards her even my shadows wanted to leave their master to go to her sides. I cleared my throat it all of a sudden feel dry, to dry. "Hello" she picked up her drink and slowly took a drink and looking down into the glass "How are you?" I tried again to get her attention one of my shadow flew over the tabletop and wrapped around her wrist she glanced up them looking straight into my eyes it felt like she was looking into my soul cutting right through me. "Hello, shadowsinger." there was ice in her voice I felt my body flinch at the coldness in it, this wasn't right I shake my head and looked her back in the eyes "what is going on with you, haven't seen you in weeks, months and you are so cold." I paused and looked her watching her face for any changes she let out a small low chuckle that sounded more like a huff like she hasn't laugh forever then she looked at me the hurt in her eyes were too much to bare to look at then she spoke with no emotion in her voice at all "well, that what happens when love lets you down." she stood from her spot and walked away through the crowded and I felt it then something shattered into a million pieces and I couldn't stop the tears from falling.

[silassinclair]

Hello! Wondering if I can request a Maddox with a very Dense darling? Just all in general doesn’t realize that Maddox grew to love her? It’s just going back and forth on Maddox trying to show his love while Darling is just thinking that he’s trying to manipulate her or something of the sort..Just all in all love silly and weird things happening with the two.

Hope you have a great day as always, remember to always take care! :)

This is such a cute request. Thank you for this one!! And you have a greater day :) Masterlist Here!!

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Dense Reader

You noticed something odd about your outlaw captor lately. Usually he would force you to do chores around the house while he would either watch and insult you; or go out in town to drink while you were chained to the table so you wouldn’t run off. But for the past few weeks the chores have become less and less and Maddox kept a closer eye on you. No longer did he go out in town while leaving you chained up. Instead he watched you in silence. It was weird and honestly uncomfortable. Why was he always looking at you and not saying anything?

“Did you run out of crude words to call me?” You ask while hanging some clothes outside to dry. Maddox sits on the porch step watching you.

“Huh?” He utters.

“You’ve been watching me in silence lately. It’s… odd.”

The shirt you hang up is one of his. Even though it's clean it still has his cedarwood and smokey scent on it. Maddox has invaded all of your senses lately. You see him watch you, you smell him when he's near, you hear his grunts when he chops wood, and you feel his featherlight touch on your cheek when he thinks you're asleep. You can't go anywhere without sensing him nearby. No, the masked outlaw has you on an invisible leash.

Maddox stands up from where he was sat on the porch step. Walking past the hung clothes blowing in the wind he strides towards you. His brown eyes are locked on you. It makes you nervous. Did you slip up? Say something you shouldn't have? Will he punish you again?

"What is it princess? Am I makin' you uncomfy?" You can pretty much hear him smirking from behind that bandana. You don't even need to see his face to know what it looks like.

"No." You reply. "It's just weird. You're always watching me now. What are you scheming huh?"

The outlaw chuckles and reaches a hand out to your face. You flinch and his hand freezes. Maddox's eyes soften for a moment and he moves his hand slowly to put a strand of lose hair behind your ear. His hand brushes against the shell of your ear. It's warm.

"I ain't scheming anythin' sweet heart. Just like to watch you is all. Is that a crime?"

Your eyebrows furrow. "I don't believe you for a second."

Taking another article of clothing out of the basket you hang it up on the clothesline.

"You don't believe me?" He whines jokingly. "Why would I lie? Who wouldn't wanna watch a pretty girl like you go about her days? It's more entertaining than going to any boring ol' show."

That one causes an eyeroll. "Now you're trying too hard. If you think I'm going to run away then relax because I'm not. I learned my lesson when you shot me."

Maddox groans and wraps his arms around your waist. He leans down, resting his chin on your shoulder. Once again Maddox invades your senses. You smell the gun smoke, feel his heat, hear his breathing, and see his arms around you.

"What if I told ya' I loved you hm?" His husky voice whispers into your ear.

"Well then I wouldn't believe you." You shoot back imediatley. The outlaw whines and buries his face into the crook of your neck from behind.

"Why not princess?" He says as his finger toys with the ribbon that ties the front area of your dress together, the ribbon right over top your breasts.

"Because you're a lying criminal. Now shove off, I'm working on drying your stinky underwear."

Your elbow jabs Maddox in the ribs making him wince and let you go.

“Easy now princess.”

"I'm home."

You turn to see Maddox standing under the entryway of the kitchen. In his hands is a bouquet of wildflowers varying in colors of white, green, yellow, and purple.

"Those are nice flowers. I'll grab a vase for them." You say and look for one under the sink cabinet. But all you find is an extra large empty can that once held baked beans. Well, it'll have to do. You take the can and fill it with water from the basin. Maddox watches you take the flowers from his hands with the utmost care. He watches how gently you put them in the can and set it on the table.

You'd make an amazing wife. The way you make this temporary house a home is admirable. Maddox never knew what he was missing until he met you. You were a thorn in his side, just a little play thing that annoyed him. You were only supposed to be a temporary pleasure but you soon turned into an irreplaceable companion. Whenever he was gone he'd miss you. When he was home he'd watch you. Every second of his life is all for you.

All because he loves you. And seeing you smile over some simple wildflowers proves that his love for you is no mistake. You're absolutely perfect, even if you don't feel the same way about him. Eventually he'll make you come around. Even if he has to use force.

"I saw em while I was out and I thought you'd like em." Maddox says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Smiling softly you adjust the flowers. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

You turn to Maddox and lock eyes with him. At the same time the both of you think to yourselves,

"Maybe he isn't too bad."

"Maybe love isn't too bad."

[inawickedlittletown]

Coming Out is Easy - 7x06 coda

Buck felt the kiss down to his toes. He just couldn’t help himself because seeing Tommy, especially a Tommy fully decked out in gear and covered in soot, it suddenly made it click for Buck. The thing that people had about firefighters. Although maybe it was just Tommy because Buck saw firefighters covered in all kinds of things all the time and it had never brought out this reaction before. It had taken Tommy to get that out in Buck, and so as Tommy strode towards him, talking about the fire in a tired and apologetic tone, Buck walked towards him and kissed him. 

Tommy kissed him right back and it was an assault on his senses. There was the smokey smell that lingered on Tommy and neat slick slide of their tongues meeting and the feel of the short hair at the nape of his neck. Buck could taste him too, a hint of coffee, likely the only thing keeping him standing after so long a shift. 

Buck held onto him even after the kiss ended, his hand still at Tommy’s neck and his other around his waist. They breathed the same air and Buck just smiled and pressed closer, wanted nothing more than to stay there together until they were forced apart. 

“I can’t believe they got married at a hospital,” Tommy said eventually. 

“They didn’t want to wait,” Buck said with a smile. 

Maddie’s call had had everyone rushing a bit, but they had all been happy to be there for her and Chim even if it wasn’t the wedding they had planned and agonized over for the last few weeks. 

“Come on, I know you’re tired so you don’t have to stay long.”

Buck turned and he started heading away, but Tommy grabbed his wrist. 

“Bathroom first.” 

“Why? You don’t need to clean up, Chim and Maddie won’t mind.” 

Tommy chuckled. “Not for me, Evan. You look like you’ve been kissing a chimney sweep.” 

“I doubt you fit in a chimney,” Buck said, a little playfully and incapable of not grinning. 

Tommy chuckled again. “Just, if you don’t want them to have questions, maybe wash your face first.” 

“And what if I want them to have questions?” 

It wasn’t like the invitation to the wedding hadn’t been, in a small way, Buck’s way of just telling everyone without needing to have individual conversations. His sooty beard would more than clear things up and Buck wouldn’t even have to say a word. 

“I’m not going to stop you,” Tommy said. 

“Then let’s go.” 

No one said anything to him or Tommy directly, but there certainly were reactions. His favorite was his parents being both shocked and confused followed closely by Athena’s perfectly arched eyebrow and Hen’s knowing look. They stayed long enough to eat cake and no one said anything when Buck left with Tommy. He was sure, considering they were in a hospital, that everyone would start leaving soon anyway. He had no idea how long the hospital staff would allow it to go on. 

“You really do nothing by halves, do you, Evan?” 

“You’re not complaining, are you?” 

“No. Not at all.” 

Buck reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together and when he looked to Tommy, Tommy was already looking back, his scrunchy smile in place.

[fatguarddog]

Disclaimer: This audio is intended for audiences of 18+ only 🔞 If you like my content, please consider giving me a tip

A commission for @transmasctransfat who won my recent audio raffle! A researcher on an alien planet tests out a strange substance as a possible food source, only to discover its addictive and fattening qualities... 🧪

If you're interested in a commission, find more info here

Transcript under cut

Research Log - Day 15

I’ve now spent just over two weeks searching the mystery planet for signs of life. My rations will last me another two, but I fear if I don’t find a safe source of food soon then the mission will have to go on hold.

Luckily, today I may have found a promising lead. I’ve discovered a thick, syrupy substance that seems to form near the purple vegetation to the east. It has a pleasant smell to it and the few tests I’ve been able to complete suggest that it’s safe for human consumption. I’ve collected a flask of the substance and am going to try a small mouthful of it now.

[Gulp] Hmmm… sweet to taste and a little smokey too… almost like Earth honey with a kick of something different… [gulp] Oh, I didn’t mean to have more, I… I… I feel so hot under my suit… oh god, my suit! 

I appear to be rapidly swelling as a result of ingesting the alien substance. My belly has puffed up into a round orb with no immediate signs of stopping, I can see and feel my limbs and rear growing larger as well. It feels oddly… pleasant… so relaxing and warm. Why, I could just… [gulp, gulp, gulp… belch!] Ahhhh, so delicious… Mmmm my suit has gotten so tight around me, I’m pudgy and bloated all over, I can hear it ripping to pieces, but I almost want it to… I want to feel fatter and fatter as the syrup courses through me…

My belly has torn out through the zipper, I look like an absolute cow with how fat I’ve swollen up, but I find myself craving that sweet syrup to fill me even more. Perhaps I can get one of the droids to roll me back there tomorrow so I can drink it straight from the source… just sit there and swell enjoying this incredible heat in my fattened up body.

[vampzity]

𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙈𝙮 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨

Pairing: best friend! Yunho x f!reader

Genre: a bit of fluff, angst, sex between 2 side characters nothing graphic (wrap before you tap!), best friends to lovers, valentine’s day, one shot, best friend au, valentine’s series, pet names(baby, tiny), mention of alcohol/weed, arguing, fist fighting, strong language

Synopsis: It’s Valentine’s Day, a day you’d normally spend with your boyfriend of 2 years. Instead, you guys are at his friend’s house party because you decided to change things up. You’re happily enjoying yourself until you spot something you shouldn’t have seen, ruining the very hope you had left for love. Yunho, your best friend has always been there for you despite his constant concerns about this boyfriend. He just wanted the best for you. Could he be the best that you’ve always needed?

Now Playing: In Your Eyes - The Weeknd

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I am SOOO sorry for how long this upload took! I’ve been working all week *anything for ateez tickets* on top of that, studying & last minute baby sitting. I couldn’t tell you guys how many times I’ve changed Yunho’s idea. Safe to say, y’all are in for a RIDE!

Seonghwa's Pt. Masterlist Yeosang's Pt.

The music boomed in your ears as you danced around with your boyfriend. The aroma of alcohol and weed surrounds you, almost suffocating. You danced closely to your boyfriend, feeling his hands grasp around your waist as you held your red cup.

It was your 2nd Valentine’s Day with your boyfriend Suho, however, the last thing you’d expect was for him to take you to a party. Still, you didn’t mind it as all you wanted to do was spend time with him. You didn’t mind the intoxicating smell of weed and alcohol surrounding you if that meant you got to be with your boyfriend all night.

You wore a nicely fitted sparkly black dress, coming up just to your mid-thigh. You paired it with black gladiator 4-inch heels that had a bit of ridged grip at the bottoms and some pieces of gold jewelry to give it some extra flare. Your hair was nicely done, as well as your choice of makeup; smokey eyes, black liner with lashes, and a dark bloody red lip color. You were normally someone who wore baggy clothes and sneakers whenever you were out, so this was a drastic change for you.

You began to drink more as you danced with your boyfriend, practically intoxicating yourself. He began to kiss against your neck, feeling the vibration of your moans under his lips. He stopped suddenly, making you turn to face him with a pouting face. You noticed his eyes turned away from you, pointing from across the room. He smirked slightly, making you tilt your head in confusion.

“What? What is it?” You began to turn your head to follow his eyes until he stopped you, placing his hand against your cheek. He smiled at you and kissed your forehead softly.

“It’s nothing, baby, I’ll be back okay? Keesung wants me to go talk to him for a sec.” You pouted some more, nodding as you watched him walk away from you into the dining room.

Looking down at your drink, you took another sip, feeling the rush of how cold it was going through your body. However, you weren’t going to let anything stop you. You vowed to have a good night, and that’s exactly what you would do. So you continued to dance, allowing the alcohol to flow through your veins.

You felt a small vibration coming from your bra, feeling for your phone, you pulled it out and saw Yunho’s contact picture. You beamed with excitement and picked up the phone, eager to talk to him.

“Yuyu!! Come dance with me will you please?”

There was a moment of confusion from the boy. Your words slurred slightly as you spoke, making him question you.

“Y/n? Are you drunk right now?!”

Your face was flushed red, eyes barely open as you continued to smile towards the screen which made Yunho roll his eyes. You were practically a goner, not even aware of what was going on around you.

“Where’s your boyfriend? Isn’t he supposed to be with you right now??”

A small worried look painted Yunho’s face. He always had a bad feeling about Suho, not just because he didn’t like Yunho but because he always left you alone. He was rude to you, constantly fighting with you. It was a toxic relationship that you refused to leave for god knows what. Yunho knew he wouldn’t treat you that way, that he wouldn’t let you out of his sight if you were near blackout drunk. Who knows what could happen?

“Oh… I’m not sure. He said.. he was gonna talk to Keesung but.. I haven’t seen him since.”

Your words continued to slur as you spoke to Yunho, making him grow increasingly worried about you. He got up from where he sat and grabbed his keys from the holder, still with you on the phone.

“I’m coming to get you. Your no-good of a boyfriend clearly couldn’t care for your whereabouts if he left you alone like this.”

You pouted, whining as you begged Yunho not to. “You don’t even have the address!! How could you even know where I am?!”

He ignored you, walking outside of the house towards his truck as he began to unlock and open the door. You continued to try and get his attention when he sighed harshly and finally answered you.

“I’ll be there in 5, Y/n. Whether you like it or not, I’m not letting you stay there. Bye.”

With that he hung up abruptly, leaving you with a confused daze as you groaned. You placed the empty cup on the table in front of you, feeling a sudden urge to use the restroom. So many things surround you as you wander through put home, not knowing where the bathroom might’ve been. Dancing people, couples kissing, even people who stood by and watched these sights. Red solo cups were laid out amongst the floors and tables along with empty beer bottles. Multiple men tried to grab your attention, consistently hollering or whistling at you but you continued to ignore them as you were uninterested.

Finally finding the stairs to the bathroom, you sighed with relief and made your way up. The music continued to pound in your ears but quieted down a bit once you made it more than halfway up the stairs. You stopped at the second to last step looking at each door.

Your eyes came across one down the hall that was a bit cracked with the light on. You walked across the hall, soon stopping in your tracks at the noise coming from its direction. You heard not one, but two individuals. It was a bit intriguing to you, of course not knowing who it might be. As you walked closer, the moans grew louder, beginning to ring in your ears. The more you walked, the moans began to separate allowing you to distinguish both a male and female in the room.

You cocked your head to the side, growing curious as to who was in the room but you stopped outside of the door. Would it not be intruding if you took a peek at two people simply enjoying themselves? Isn’t that kind of wrong?

You shook your head, turning back around to walk towards the bathroom. You were drunk, so it’s no surprise that you weren’t in your right mind to make rash decisions. That was until you heard his name.

Your boyfriend’s name.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling your heart jump out of your chest. Even though you were far from tipsy, you were well aware to know that your boyfriend’s name was called. You turned around and made your way back towards the door. You took a deep breath, peeking through the opening in the doorway. As the sounds grew louder, they started to become deafening.

Your eyes widened at the sight before you; seeing your boyfriend sat up on the bed, almost completely naked. His head was thrown back as he went to wipe his hair out of his face and moaned continuously. You felt your heart break into a million pieces as you walked further into the room, the grunts and moans being complete horror to your ears.

Walking closer, you notice a girl under him practically grasping the sheets under her. She moaned repeatedly as your boyfriend held onto her breasts from under her dress. You felt your eyes swell up with tears as the moment dawned on you, feeling a harsh burning in your heart.

Your boyfriend was cheating on you.. on Valentine’s Day…

“Suho..? What are you doing…?”

Yunho made his way to the door of the house, opening it eagerly hoping to you so that he could take you home. Only to see that your presence wasn’t here. Yunho began to ask around, wondering if others may have seen you but of course, no one paid attention enough. They were all too high or past the legal drinking threshold to drive.

He started to walk around the house, getting constant stares from everyone as they wondered who he was and what he was doing there. When he realized you weren’t on the lower floor, he made his way toward the staircase, hoping you were only using the restroom.

Someone rushed into him as he walked, making him slightly lose his balance and groan loudly. He looked over to see a young man around the same height as him with short pink hair and sunglasses. It was Mingi.

“Mingi!! What the hell?! Watch where you’re going, dude!”

Mingi looked at Yunho, smiling widely. His eyes were bloodshot red and he reeked of weed. Yunho rolled his eyes, looking around for his elders who he could not find as he remembered they too were at this party. Mingi continued to smoke from the blunt he had in his hand, making Yunho roll his eyes in annoyance.

He shook his head, leaving Mingi behind, and continued walking towards the stairs until he heard yelling coming from above. He looked around, wondering if anyone else had caught on but with the loud music blaring through every speaker, no one paid any mind to it.

The yelling began to rise, startling those around Yunho as he grew worried. There you were at the top of the stairs practically screaming your head off at your now ex-boyfriend. You began to storm down the stairs as you made it known to everyone how much of a fake he was, calling him a liar even a snake. It wasn’t long before Suho began to follow behind you, shirtless and shaming you for the reason of his reckless cheating.

“Fuck you!! I never even needed you anyways! You’re always hanging around that group of boys.. what? Are they gang-banging you??”

You paused, feeling your entire body tense as you turned your head, your strong glare meeting his eyes. The entire room became quiet as they all watched from afar, refusing to engage.

“Excuse me?!” You softly spoke. You walked towards your now ex-boyfriend, pushing him towards the stairs. Yunho quickly made his way over to you, about to grab your hand and pull you away when Suho pushed you to the ground, kicking your leg.

“You heard me you slut. Get out of my fucking face.”

Yunho felt his body heat with rage as he walked over to Suho, swinging his fist with full force at his face. The entire room let out a loud gasp, watching the blow he had taken. Suho held onto his check, smirking at Yunho. You sat on the ground, forcing yourself to get up to stop the two of them from fighting. Your ex-boyfriend tackled Yunho, repeatedly punching him in the face as he tried hard to fight back. You pulled at Suho, begging him to let go of Yunho until Mingi and San pulled him off and dragged him away.

Yunho spat blood onto the floor, getting up as he wiped his face. He reached into his pockets for his keys and grabbed you by the arm, walking outside.

“Yunho, what the fuck was that?! I can defend myself! You know you’re practically weak compared to Suho!” You stopped in front of the tall man, your face red with anger.

Yunho only ignored you, walking over to his truck. He unlocked it and got into his truck, starting it. You stood outside of his truck perplexed. “Hello??! So you’re just gonna fucking ignore me now?! Hey! I’m talking to you!” You continued to bark at him as he ignored you, pushing him to his limit.

“Will you just get in the fucking truck so I can take you home?!” Yunho banged against the dashboard and glared at you harshly, immediately turning your anger into fear. “You’re drunk y/n! Can’t you fucking see that?!”

You furrowed your eyebrows in anger as you stood by the car. “I’m fine Yunho! I don’t need you looking after me all the time like I’m a fucking ki- Yea? Well clearly somebody needs to and your boyfriend won’t!!” You stood there in silence as Yunho cut you off.

You felt a harsh lump in your throat as you opened the door to his truck and got in. Strapping in your seatbelt, the silence between the both of you grew. As Yunho began to drive through the empty dark streets, you stared up at the moon feeling saddened by how the night ended. Not only did you catch your boyfriend cheating on you, but it felt as if there was tension between you and your best friend. Knowing that you two drifted lately, it felt like this fight only pulled you two away more. The moon continued to shine against your tear-stained face as you cried silently, feeling the heat of everything now catching up to you.

You wanted to speak but your tears stopped your words from coming out, so you remained silent, eventually drifting off into a deep sleep.

You woke up in a softly lit room, which was only illuminated by a small lamp. Looking around, you take note of your surroundings. It smelled of a familiar cologne making you quickly realize that this was not your own. You heard the door creak open, only to see Yunho lock eyes with you as he entered the room. He brought you a warm cup of tea and placed it by the bedside table.

“Yunho?”

He ignored your calling and sat by you on the bed, soon hugging you tightly without saying a sound. You paused for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. The weight of everything began crashing onto you, crushing your mind and your heart. You felt tears swell in your eyes as it eventually became overwhelming and made its way out of your system.

“I’m so sorry for yelling at you… I didn’t mean it. You were only trying to protect me.” You continued to cry into his shoulder as he rubbed your back, still not saying a word. You two remained in silence for a bit longer until Yunho pulled you out of the hug and smiled at you reassuringly despite how messed up his face was.

“Y/n, you truly deserve the world. I’d take a thousand beatings from doucebag guys if it meant you’d be happy. I’m sorry your Valentine’s had to end this way.”

His words filled your heart with joy as his eyes admired you. He always knew the right thing to say, even when the moment was far from good. You two sat in silence for a moment, as you weren’t sure of how to respond.

“Yuyu, I don’t know. You were right the whole time about Suho and I didn’t even listen to you. I deserve what happened to me tonight.”

You continued to cry once again, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as you looked away to hide your embarrassment. Yunho cupped your face with his hands, pulling it to face him as he finally gave in to his feelings. He leaned in to kiss you softly, catching you by surprise. You leaned in closer, kissing him back passionately to feel the heat of his lips against your own.

You both pulled away for some air, your faces still very close to each other. You gazed into each other’s eyes lovingly, Yunho’s flushed with red as he finally dared to do what he’d been wanting to for so long.

“Y/n.. I love you. I always have. Nothing you do or say would change that for me.”

Your face blushed at hearing his confession. It was the last thing you expected on this horrible night. You looked away hesitantly still feeling the effects of the alcohol in your system. Yunho placed his hand on yours, caressing it with his thumb lightly.

“Hey, it’s okay if you’re unsure. With everything you went through tonight, you need time and I understand that.”

Yunho was always the best at reassuring you when you needed it most. He knew Suho broke your heart and smashed it, how he tried to call you out and make you look bad in front of everyone. You felt used and abused, just wanting to forget this nightmare of a holiday.

“I know. I appreciate all the reassuring Yu.” He nodded, keeping a firm hold on your hand.

“It may take a lot for me.. but, I’ve always had this deep feeling for you, maybe it’s one I’ve pushed down because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.” You looked at him and quickly looked away, feeling your face heat up nervously.

“I’ve chased after different guys, desperate to keep these feelings I had for you away. I just didn’t want to lose you entirely because of how I felt for so long.”

Yunho sighed, pulling your face softly to look at him. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he smiled in admiration of you. “It’s okay Y/n. I’ve felt this way for years too. Believe me.”

You smiled softly quickly looking at the moon that showed through the window. “Do you know why I like the moon Yunho?”

The young man tilted his head, confused at your sudden question. He looked up at the moon with you, its brightest form shining down on the both of you.

“Well, remember that one time in grade school that you said I was pretty like the moon?” You looked back down at Yunho, seeing his face flush pink as he scratched the back of his head. He nodded in embarrassment and put his head down.

“I’m surprised you remember.” He laughed a bit and smiled at you. You nodded and looked down as your hands remained intertwined.

“You’re my moon, Yuyu,” you paused before leaning to kiss him again. “The moon to my stars.”

divider creds: @cafekitsune

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I wanted to make this a bit *PFT* angsty.. I promise Yeosang’s part won’t take to long nor will it be angst haha. Pure fluff for him!

Taglist: @skzline @evidive @kittykat-25 @amuromio @xoxkii @losrpark @classyrbf @sundaybossanova @owmoiralover @vrtualsins @sanslovesblog @honeyhwaaa

*comment to be added to future tag lists!*

[soapymansuds]

Eternity and counting

Pt 5

(Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4)

(Ok y'all, going on vacation and this is the last chapter I have pre-written SO the next upload may be late. Apologies in advance.)

Obey me! X Angel!MC (They/Them Pronouns)

TW: Suicide, depression, self-deprecation, death, big feelings, lots of sad.

MC just can't handle anything anymore and takes their own life. Imagine their dismay to find even death isn't the end for them.

~/\~

And so I do. Because I'm stupid. And selfish. And did I mention stupid? There is literally nothing dumber I could be doing. And that thought doesn't stop me. I trace a long since overgrown path around to the back of the house. Lifting the ancient stone of a raven statue, I reach blindly underneath in search of the spare key. Mammon told me about it during my first week here because he so frequently forgot his own keys inside. I chuckle softly at myself as my hand makes contact with the delicate key, the idea of something so small being so unchanged for so long being a little bit silly to me.

The key fits as snugly in the door as it always has, and I revel in the soft click of the lock as I twist it. I take a moment inside, breathing in the soothing smell of the house. It's peppery and smokey, but something sweet hides beneath the muskier smells. Like marshmallows on a campfire or a sweet oil rubbed into old leather. It's warm in my lungs. The air itself feels like soothing aloe on my hot skin. The thought makes me smile, conjuring half-muttled memories of Asmodeus hunting me through the house in an attempt to care for a sunburn I more than earned. I take a gentle half-step further inside, reminiscing on each small scuff and half-fixed crack on the wall as I unconsciously wander the halls.

I find myself strangely unbothered by the fear of discovery that drips its way down my spine. My wings brush against walls and decorations in the same way they did when I was first reborn, still getting used to their presence and the new space I took up. But I simply can't wrap my head around being here in any other way than how I always was. So I continue my venture through the halls like I'm human once again, with no regard for the gentle swish of feathers on the walls.

I stop for a moment in front of a mirror,, and the sight of myself, or more accurately, the cloaking spell covering me, makes me shiver. It feels so wrong to try to be someone else here. And so I drop it. The spell falls from my skin like a peel from a banana, and I sigh with the relief of it.

I feel nearly entranced by the whole experience. Head soft and clouded, as if I were dreaming. Maybe I am? It's been a year since I've seen these halls in the waking world so it's not totally impossible, but I struggle to remember falling asleep.

A gentle sound rouses me from my thoughts, a huffing of some sort. Or maybe a gasping? It's breathy regardless, so I follow it to its source.

My room.

Or, my old room, I suppose. Can't imagine it hasn't been taken over by somebody else's hobby.

As I approach the door, though, it's cracked open, and the light that flows through is the same as it's always been. The gentle golden glow of my desk lamp dances over my toes and across my cheek as I peek through the crack. To my surprise, it's exactly how I left it. My pens lay haphazardly across my desk, and my slippers are tucked at the foot of my bed. Even the vines of my ivy are thriving. What catches my attention the most though, is the way my lamp light shimmers on his head.

That snowy white hair I could pick out of a crowded club, even after all this time, shakes gently on my pillow. The shaking wracks his whole body, despite how tightly he's curled into himself. I realize with a cold wave of sorrow, that all that huffing was sobbing. I haven't seen Mammon cry like this since the Belphegor incident and the sight of it resonates in the pit of my stomach.

He's mourning.

He's still mourning. After all this time.

I consider running again for just a moment, but even if I could convince my mind to leave, I'm certain my body wouldn't follow suit. I feel faint as my knees melt from below me. Unfortunately, my efforts to keep myself up are in vain, as not only do I fall to the floor, but I press the door open further in the process.

The sound seems to startle Mammon, because, despite my focus on the floor, I can hear him shuffle in the bed.

"Fuck off Lucifer..." He mumbles, voice achy and raw. He waits in silence for what he's definitely expecting to be Lucifer's stern remark.

I attempt to take his moment of silence to press myself up and out of the room, but my movements are sluggish and awkward, and my wing bashes clumsily into a table, knocking over my lamp. I watch in near slow motion as it falls and I reach to stop it. But it's too far and I'm too dazed, and before I know it, the room is dark.

I whimper pathetically as I stare at it, delicate glass thrown across the floor. I scoot to pick up the pieces, cradling them in my palm.

"Who are you?!"

Mammon yells at me, suddenly shot out of bed. My head snaps up to look at him and I feel my heart crack. He's broken out into his demon form, but in spite of the attempted threat, all I can see is the pain in his eyes. His cheeks are red and shiny in the moonlight and his eyes carry bags deep enough to swim in.

"I-" my head rattles with the force of looking up at him, down at the shattered lamp, and back up at him. "I'm sorry..."

It's pathetic. What am I even apologising for? For scaring him? Breaking the lamp? For leaving? I'm sorry is hardly enough of an apology for all of it. It's barely enough for a single grievance.

His gaze though. It pulls me from my thoughts. His snarl falls and his forehead smoothes as he stares at me, and it hits me with a wave of terror that I am no longer hidden. Why would I have dropped the cloaking spell? How could I be so stupid? Did I want to be seen? How fucking selfish.

"M-mc?..." He whispers my name like it could scare me away. Like he's praying for something.

"I... I'm sorry, I just..." I stutter out words with no real meaning as I try desperately to justify myself. I stare back down at the shards in my hand like they hold some sort of solution, but they fall from my fingers with a clink as I'm slammed backward into the floor.

Mammon has plowed straight into me and taken us both down. He grips onto me like I'm going to fade straight through his fingers if he lets go, and I can't rightly blame him. His shoulders shutter with each fanning of his breath over my shoulder. It takes several moments of listening to his combination of whines and sobs for my brain to restart, but as I come to my senses, I wrap my arms around him in turn.

And it breaks me. I've spent a year carefully storing and sorting all my emotions. Handling problems without worrying about them. Actively avoiding any big feelings. And all it takes is Mammon to throw all that effort to the wind. Tears flow from my eyes, hot and heavy as they drip past my ears. My breaths shake in time with his and for several moments, there is nothing. The world falls away and we're not an angel and a demon. We're not even people. We're just two old friends crying in each other's arms. 

(As always, thank you for reading! Comment to be added to the tag list!)

~Your friend, The Author

*tags*

@spffldlbrnf @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @seraphlies @averageradstudent @sasa-mya @ayshela @miracl3d @mehkers @fersitaam @crywicked @crypt-exx

[virescent-v]

School Yard Bully Pt. 2

A/N: The follow up to School Yard Bully. It's short and it's got smut. 😂 I know what my Emily fans like and I aim to please 🫡 Also, this gif? my god 🥵🥵🥵

Word Count: 1.8k+

Warnings: oral (r! receiving), use of pet names (baby, princess). I think that's about it. It's not that wild this time lol

Part One can be read here

Have fun ;) and happy Saturday! :)

A week has passed since your lock in with Emily. Work for the past week was quiet, mostly catching up on paperwork. While you were thankful a case didn’t tear you away, you had been bored every day, most of the team keeping their heads down and focusing on all of the overdue work they had. 

You and Emily hadn’t had much time alone together to talk about what happened at Rossi’s. You weren’t even entirely sure that your date was still on until Friday morning when Emily texted you from her desk. 

Emily: I need your address so I can pick you up tonight. 

You: Oh, we’re still going? You hadn’t said anything… 

You glanced up, catching Emily’s eyes across the bullpen. You could see the light shining in them, even from so far away. 

Emily: I didn’t want the team to be nosey. This is about us. 

You could see a light blush staining her cheeks and it made your insides warm. This was a complete switch from the Emily you’ve known. And you were looking forward to getting to know her. 

You sent off a text with your address and a ‘see you at 7pm sharp, Prentiss’ before getting back to your paperwork. 

Nothing was going to get in the way of your date tonight, especially paperwork. 

*

At exactly seven, your doorbell rang. You exhaled slowly, feeling the nerves rush through you. You weren’t sure what you were doing tonight, but you assumed it was something fancy, as Emily had told you to dress accordingly. 

You were wearing a tight fitting, but still appropriate, deep red dress. It clung to you in all the right ways, highlighting the curve of your hips, the valley between your breasts. It showed off just the right amount of both cleavage and legs. Your makeup was done with a little smokey eye, making your eyes look hooded and seductive. Simply, you looked hot. 

You opened the door to find an absolute vision in front of you. Emily was wearing black slacks and a white button down, the sleeves pushed halfway up her forearms. The shirt was tucked into her pants, drawing attention to her waist. She had a necklace that hung at the perfect space on her chest. It was minimal, but it took your breath away. 

Emily cleared her throat. “Wow, uh, you look beautiful,” she said, a little breathlessly, her eyes taking in every inch of you, focusing intently on the peek of your thighs from under your dress. 

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and chest with the way that she was looking at you. Intense, almost as if she was trying to memorize every curve of you. 

“Should we go?” You said, grabbing your things, trying to ignore the feelings rising in you. 

Emily smiled, extending her arm to you as you passed through your door, leading your way to her car, where she opened the door for you, watching you settle into the passenger seat. She leaned in close to you, her nose grazing the side of your neck, lightly inhaling the smell of your perfume. “I can’t wait to eat tonight,” she whispered, her breath tickling the side of your ear. 

A slow, steady throb started between your legs, making you break out in goosebumps. 

You turned your head slightly, your nose brushing against hers. 

You could feel the ghost of her breath against your lips as she said, “I’m so hungry, princess.” 

Before you could think, let alone respond, the car door was shut and Emily was making her way around the car. 

*

Dinner went well, the conversation staying relatively tame minus a few suggestive comments from Emily that made the ache between your legs grow throughout the meal. 

Emily tried her best to talk about anything but work, learning things about you that she hadn’t in the past few months. You two had enough in common that you could talk about your shared interests, but enough differences that it wasn’t boring. 

You could tell the whole meal that Emily was holding back on something, but you didn’t want to ruin the lighthearted mood that had settled over the table. 

It wasn’t long before you were back in the car, stuffed from a delicious meal paid for by Emily, heading back to your place. 

When she put the car in park, you placed your hand on her wrist, looking into her eyes as you said, “Care for a drink?” 

Emily took a deep breath, turned off the ignition, and followed you inside. 

You lead her into your kitchen, a semi-tense silence falling between the two of you. You could tell whatever was brewing throughout dinner was going to let itself free soon. 

You were pouring two glasses of wine, trying to listen to the glug of the liquid into the glass instead of the sound of your heart beating in your ears. As you turned around, Emily was leaned up against the opposite counter, both arms braced on the edge. Her eyes trailed down your form again, causing a fire to erupt in your chest. But you could still see the hesitation clouded in her dark eyes.

“I’m so sorry I was an ass for months to you just because I didn’t know how to handle my own feelings. It was immature, idiotic, and bitchy of me,” Emily said, her voice a breath above a whisper. “I regret it, and I’ll make it up to you every day if you’ll let me.” 

You could see something dark taking over the light in Emily’s eyes, a flash of past trauma and hurt taking over her mind. 

You reached behind you, placing the wine on the counter before walking slowly over to Emily, catching her eyes and holding them as you spoke. “I know you’re sorry, Em. I can see it and I believe it.” You made sure she was really looking at you before saying, “I forgive you.” 

Emily's breath hitched, as if she couldn’t believe you would actually forgive her. You brought your hand up, stroking the underside of her jaw. “But act like that again, Prentiss, and you won’t like the version of me you see.” 

You could feel more than hear the little chuckle Emily let out. “I understand. Princess treatment from here on out.” She paused, bringing her hand up, catching yours that was still stroking her jaw. “Can I kiss you now?” 

You tilted your head, your brows furrowing quizzically. “What happened to eating me?” 

Emily guffawed, her eyes lighting back up in challenge. You could see the moment the switch flipped within her and knew you were in for it. 

She put one hand low on your belly and slowly pushed you back into the counter behind you. She said nothing as she gripped the underside of your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter. 

You gasped at her easy show of strength and at the cold tile beneath you. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as Emily looked into your eyes, pushing your knees slowly apart before standing between them. 

As her hands painstakingly made their way up your delicious thighs, her thumbs rubbing slow, steady circles on your skin, she inched her face towards yours. As her hands reached the inside of your thighs, her thumbs brushing against the soft skin where your thighs and abdomen connect, Emily’s lips found yours in a heated kiss, the tension from the past few hours - few months - finally combusting between the two of you. 

Her hands circled around, grasping at your hips and then your ass, pulling you towards her, your dress riding up, almost exposing you. The friction from her between your legs was not nearly enough to do anything other than have you panting into Emily’s mouth as she ravished you. 

Emily’s lips trailed away from yours, ghosting down your jaw, sucking lightly on the skin of your throat before traveling to the exposed skin of your chest, teasing kisses against the edge of your dress. 

Her eyes glanced up at you, noting your dilated pupils, the flush spread across your cheeks, before smirking at you wickedly. “I’m ready for dessert, baby, are you?” 

You almost wanted to roll your eyes, but the incessant throbbing between your legs was beginning to be too much. “Fuck me, Emily.” 

You watched as Emily’s pupils got wider, darker, almost predatory. 

She moved without hesitation, pushing your dress up to your waist, shoving your knees further apart roughly. 

“No panties, baby? How naughty.” Her thumbs spread you further, your pussy fully on display. “Look at how wet you are for me. Practically dripping down your thighs.” 

“Please, Em-.” 

“I haven’t even really touched you yet and you’re already begging. How cute.” Emily wasted no more time, diving between your legs, dragging her tongue between your wet, silky folds, gathering your essence, her eyes closed as your taste erupted over her taste buds. “Fuck, you taste so good,” she moaned, attaching her mouth back to your pussy. 

Emily ate you out like she was starving, like you were her last meal. Her tongue never kept the same pace, building you up but switching before you even got close to the edge. 

Once your legs started shaking from the tension building in your lower stomach, Emily’s lips wrapped around your throbbing clit, skyrocketing your pleasure tenfold. As if she could tell you were close, she quickly thrust two fingers inside you, immediately curling them against the front wall of your cunt, zeroing in on the spot that made you grip her hair between your fingers, your hips rocking into her face as you tried to chase nirvana. 

A litany of curses tumbled from your lips, calling out to a god you didn’t even believe in. With your head tilted back, your straining neck exposed, your legs wrapped around Emily’s back as you held her against you, you could feel the coil inside tightening, ready to snap. 

With an exceptionally powerful thrust, the right twist of her fingers, and a well timed suck, your pleasure exploded, your hands tightening in Emily’s hair to an almost uncomfortable pain, a loud, stuttering moan falling from your lips. 

Emily continued to thrust into you, albeit more slowly, as you came down as if she was stroking something precious. As you brought your head up to look at her, she grinned salaciously at you, removing her fingers and licking them clean. 

As your breath caught in your throat at the sight, Emily dragged you off the counter, pressing up against you, kissing you with every feeling she’s been harboring for you for months. 

You moaned at the taste of yourself on her lips, winding your hands back in her hair as you tried to get the strength back in your legs. 

Pulling away from the kiss as you caught your breath, you smiled at Emily. “You owe me about…sixty more orgasms for how you treated me over the past six months, Em.” 

Emily smiled, kissed you quickly, before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the kitchen and to where she assumed your bedroom was. She looked back over her shoulder at you, winking, and said, “Whatever you say, princess.” 

[bingoboingobongo]

the reason (ii)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call of Duty) x Reader

Type: Fluff, smut (minors dni)

Summary: You’re the reason why Ghost wakes up in the morning, and you’re why he lets himself dream at night. (a part 2 to the right thing to do)

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: use of female body descriptions, explicit language, masturbation, needles/stitches, forced proximity, pining

A/N: hiii, so yes, this is a part two to ‘the right thing to do’ (yayyy). i’m not gonna lie, this chapter was going to be longer, but i decided to cut it so that 1. you guys can get more ghost content faster and 2. you don’t have to read 20k words. as always, likes/reblogs and comments are always appreciated, hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 3

In Ghost’s life, moments of domesticity were rare. Between his turbulent childhood, his initial years during and after the military, and the crippling paranoia being in special forces came with, Ghost could count all the times he had felt that comforting sense of peacefulness; of safety; of not worrying about who was waiting to kill him or who was going to hurt the people he loved; that feeling; that soft, warm, light feeling; he could count all the times he felt it on one hand.

The first time had been when he was a kid — maybe six, maybe seven. Or maybe he was younger, he didn’t know. Everything from back then was blurry. He remembered feeling safe because his brother and his father were gone, and it was just him and his mom. He didn’t know why they were gone, just that they wouldn’t be back until the end of the week. He remembered sitting in front of the fireplace with his mom, eating takeout and listening carefully as she read him a story: Treasure Island. When the book was finished, he remembered dragging his mom to the backyard and begging her to play Long John Silver while he, Jim Hawkins of course, challenged her to a pirate duel.

The second time had been at his nephew’s first birthday. It had been a small party, his brother and his wife, his mother, and him. He had been on leave for a while at that point, tending to family issues but by then, everything was fine. His sister-in-law had tucked his nephew into bed, and the rest of them were sitting outside around a fire drinking cheap beer and reminiscing over the past. He could still remember that warm feeling in his chest, a combination of alcohol and happiness.

And the last time he could remember, the third and final time, was now. It was here, with you by his side and the snow falling around him. It was the warmth of your body against his; the way you fit against him perfectly, like he was made only for you; it was the way you smelled, the way the fragrance of his cheap soap, the one you had made fun of just hours before, mingled and danced with that familiar, smokey smell of guns and bullets; the way you made him feel, light and airy and safe, as if you and him were alone together in a tiny pocket of space where nobody could reach you. 

You made him feel safe. You made him feel sleepy. It was odd, because Ghost had never been a stranger to staying awake before. As a child, he spent his fair share of nights hiding under blankets with a book and a flashlight, staying up the entire night reading so he wouldn’t have to deal with the nightmares that plagued his sleep. And if anything, the military had only worsened his sleeping habits. He had gone days — one time a week — without sleep while on the battlefield. He knew how to shake off the tight grip of exhaustion, how to spit in its face and tell it to fuck off so he could keep doing his job. He had done it time and time again in the past, but for some reason in this moment, his ability to do so was escaping him.

It was something about you — it was everything about you — that made it hard for him to stay up. The way he unconsciously synced up his breaths with your steady, even ones; the way the warmth of your body pressed against him rolled off of you in waves, encouraging him to just give in; the way you somehow made him feel so relaxed and peaceful and content, as if you were a long-term mission he had finally accomplished; everything about you made his eyelids droop and his mind hazy. 

And it killed him to have to wake you up, to have to be the one to disturb your rest when you looked so happy and satisfied sleeping. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t risk falling asleep when he was supposed to be protecting you. He would be letting you down, and he knew that disappointing you — or worse, getting you killed — would hurt far more than waking you up. So with a heavy heart and a stiff shoulder, he carefully nudged you until you woke up.

You opened your eyes slowly, peeling yourself off of him as you looked around, trying to remember where you were. He watched you bring a hand to your mouth as you let out a yawn, your eyes squinting shut as tears welled up under them. “My turn?” you asked, your voice slightly scratchy. 

Ghost swallowed, your voice was definitely doing something to him. “I don’t know,” he said, “you think you’re awake enough to do it?”

You huffed, “Do I even have a choice?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, letting out a sigh as you cracked your neck. “Give me a second though.” He nodded, watching as you rubbed your hands in front of you, before slapping yourself on the cheeks lightly. “You gonna sleep in here or outside?” you asked, sniffling a little.

He wanted to stay outside with you, but the cold was starting to get to him and he could already feel his back starting to get stiff. “Inside. But I’m showering first,” he said, picking up his bag as he moved to stand up, “and I’m getting your gun. You think I’m gonna let you keep watch unarmed?”

“Don’t bother,” you told him, shaking out your legs as you stood up, “I’ll get it myself.” You followed him into the house, and he could hear you rustling around behind him as he walked into the bathroom. He had forgotten how small the bathroom was, or maybe he was just large. He barely fit between the sink and the door, causing him to have to shuffle awkwardly just to put his bag down.

He let out a sigh as he stared at himself in the mirror, running his hand down his face. Looking in the mirror was always weird for him. In one way, he could look at himself and register that that was Ghost, that was who Ghost was, who he looked like. But Ghost wasn’t the same as Simon, and the face staring back at him? That wasn’t Simon either. He knew Price considered the man under the mask to be Simon, that the mask was what ‘made’ Ghost. But if he was being truthful, he wasn’t really sure if he knew who Simon actually was, if Simon was even still a part of him after all these years, bright-eyed but scared and hidden under the surface.

He looked away, peeling the mask off of his face. He stared at it for a moment before folding it neatly and placing it on the sink. He started taking off the rest of his gear too, his vest, his boots, his belts, the various pockets and holsters he kept clipped to his thighs and the accompanying firearms. He turned on the shower, the pressure was dismal and the water ice cold, before unzipping his jacket, peeling off his undershirt, and stepping out of his pants and boxers. 

The water had barely warmed up by the time he got in, sending a shiver down his spine. To make matters worse, the showerhead was much shorter than him, reaching only up to the base of his chin. He winced as a sharp sting of pain shot through him when he tried to crane his neck downwards. He tried reaching for the back of his neck, but the shower was small and maneuvering around was difficult. 

His thoughts trailed over to you again. For some reason, it was weird to think that you had been in this same shower just a few hours before. What had you been thinking about then? Had you been thinking about him? Or had you been thinking about the others? If you were thinking about him, what were the specifics? Did you like him or hate him? Want him or not want him? And if you did want him, how did you want him? Did you just want him as a friend or as a trophy? Did you actually want to know him, to be there for him, or was he just an accomplishment for you to boast about, a way to prove you were able to conquer the elusive Ghost?

And what if you wanted him as more than a friend? What if you wanted him the same way he wanted you? With him towering over you, his fingers working miracles inside your wet cunt or with you pressed against him as he thrust into you over and over and over again. Maybe you wanted him to push you down flat against a table and whisper dirty things into your ear as he pulled you back on his cock, or maybe you wanted to push him down on a bed and ride him until your legs gave out and he had to take over for you.

Shit, he thought as his cock began to twitch, but he couldn’t stop himself. His mind kept coming up with new images, new scenarios that only stoked the fire growing in his core. You on your knees, your lips swollen and red and wrapped oh so tightly around him; you sitting on his face, your thighs clenching around his head and your hands gripping on for dear life as you came into his mouth; you tied up to a bed while he held a vibrator to your clit as you whined and wiggled and begged as orgasm after orgasm racked your body. 

Fuck. This wasn’t right for him to be thinking of you like this. He was your boss for fuck’s sake, your coworker, your teammate. It wasn’t fair to you for him to be thinking of you this way, not when you were just a few yards away. But god damn it, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been this hard, so hard it was on the verge of hurting and it would be so easy to just get rid of his stupid erection, all he needed was a few minutes. That was all it would take, and besides, what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, right? He stifled a groan, using one hand to ease himself onto a wall as the other finally wrapped around his cock.

He shuddered at the touch, staying still for a moment before he started moving his hand. It had been a considerable time since he had touched himself; so long, in fact, that he really couldn’t remember the last time he had. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, trying to imagine it was your hand wrapped around him instead of his. He knew how it would feel too. Somehow, despite all your time in the military, your hands were still butter smooth and pillow soft.

He let his mind continue to fill with dirty thoughts of you as his hand stroked his shaft, letting his head fall back against the wall. He swallowed down a groan as he brushed his thumb over his tip, spreading his precum along his erection. He tried to pretend it was your smooth hand rubbing along his dick instead of his own rough one, letting his mouth hang open as his hand slid along his cock at a steady pace.

He threw his head back against the wall, letting the pleasure wash over him in waves as the fire in the pit of his stomach grew. He could feel his breaths shallow as his hand moved faster along his cock. He snaked another hand down to cup his balls, shuddering at the touch, while his other hand moved to focus on the head of his penis. It wasn’t long until he could feel his balls start to tighten and his cock start to throb. He closed his eyes as he let the pleasure dictate his movements. He focused his attention to his tip, stifling a moan as he finally came onto the tiled wall. He tried to ride out the high for as long as he could, shutting his eyes as he felt his cock start to soften.

He opened his eyes, watching as his cum began to drip down the tile. Shit. Had he really just done that? He could feel the shame bubbling up on his stomach already. God, he was your boss, you trusted him, and he took that trust and spat in its face. He rubbed one of his hands down his face, leaning the other against the shower wall as he considered the weight of what he had just done. He had violated you, and for what? A few seconds of relief? Cupping his hands, he gathered up the cold shower water and splashed it against his face, his eyes falling to stare at the cum-stained wall, a glaring reminder of his wrongdoings.

“Fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself as he washed it off, desperate to get rid of the sight of it. He took one last look at the area, forever tainted by the knowledge of what he did, before reaching for the soap. He felt dirty, dirtier than before, and suddenly he was desperate to clean himself.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, he turned his attention to the rest of his body, grabbing the soap you had left behind and lathering it up in his hands. Washing his body was awkward in the small space, but not completely impossible. He tried bending down again, and this time he was relatively successful. It was painful, considering he probably had a nasty cut on his back and he was essentially hunched over at a forty-five degree angle, but he was able to get his hair wet enough to wash it which was all that mattered.

He finished up his shower, wrapping the towel around his waist as he shook his hair dry. The cabin was much colder without his clothes to keep him warm, but that was the least of his problems. Gracelessly, he turned to examine his back in the mirror, pursing his lips as he saw the nasty scratch just below the base of his neck. He wasn’t surprised at its presence, after all he had felt a bullet graze past him while they were being shot at, but he didn’t realize the extent of the damage. He had assumed it was just a small injury, a minor scratch he could sleep off, but the wound in the mirror was longer than he thought.

He sighed as he reached for his first aid pack, pulling the suture kit out. He turned to the mirror again, trying to get a better look at the scratch. He turned his attention back to the kit, squinting hard as he tried to get a good grip on the needle. Once he was finally able to, he stood up to look in the mirror again, trying to twist around to get a good angle, but it was no use. Ghost threw the needle down onto the sink, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. He knew he should have asked you for help, but he knew the stitches would take a while and he just wanted to sleep.

He put his cargo pants and undershirt back on, ignoring the sting from his back as he grabbed his equipment before tugging on his balaclava once more and exiting the bathroom. The cabin seemed emptier without your presence filling it up with thick tension. He tried to take a deep breath but was interrupted by the stinging pain from his back. He exhaled, clenching his jaw as he bent over to grab his bedroll from his pack.

The sound of creaking behind him caused his head to shoot up, his hand curling around the handle of a small pocket knife he kept in his bag. He swiveled around to see you, your hands in the air with one of them clenched around your blanket. “Woah there, Ghost,” you said jokingly, “I come in peace. You alright?”

He relaxed a little, before remembering what he had done in the shower and stiffening again. “‘M fine. What are you doing here?” he asked, wondering if you had somehow heard him.

You lifted your blanket, “Figured I’d give this to you, that way you can sleep on the bed instead of the floor.”

He eyed you warily, before reaching it out and grabbing it from your hands. “You sure you don’t need it?”

You nodded, your eyes wide and encouraging as you watched him ball it up in his hands. He gave you one last look before turning around to the bedroom, content to call it a day when he heard you gasp. He looked around to see you, one hand over your mouth and the other pointing at him.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his stomach dropping with worry. Did he somehow leave something behind that exposed what he had done in the shower? Fuck. He never would have forgiven himself if this ruined your relationship. He would have to leave the task force, that was for sure, he wouldn’t be able to see you without knowing what he had done, what he had messed up, what could have been.

You stared at him like he was crazy. “Ghost,” you said, your voice laced with disbelief and something else, concern? “Your shirt… There’s blood on it.”

He groaned, partially in annoyance and partially out of relief. Of course his cut started bleeding now. “Oh, that?” he said, feigning ignorance, “it’s nothing, just got clipped back in the forest. It’ll be fine.”

You stared at him, your mouth gaping open. “That is not fine,” you said, “do you see how much blood there is? That needs stitches. Get over here, I’ll sew you up.”

“It’s—”

“No excuses,” you said sternly, silencing the words in his throat. “Sit,” you insisted, pulling a chair from the table. 

He sighed, rolling his eyes, but he sat down in the chair nonetheless. “Off,” you said, moving behind him and tugging at his now bloody shirt.

He stilled, his heart skipping a beat. He knew you were just saying it to get access to his wound, but still, it wasn’t like he had ever actually undressed in front of you. “You know, if you wanted to see me shirtless, you could’ve just asked. No need for all this ‘stitches’ business,” he said, trying to hide how nervous he was. 

“Ha ha,” you said sarcastically, and he could practically hear you rolling your eyes from behind him. Was that a good sign? Was that a bad sign? He couldn’t tell.

“Just saying,” he said, before lifting the shirt off his body, being careful to not lift his mask in the process. He could hear you suck in a breath as your eyes scanned over his back. He suddenly felt incredibly self conscious as you stared at him; he knew his body was far from perfect. His back alone was littered with scars from wartime, knife scratches and stabs, scrapes and bruises, bullet scars. He knew it was perfectly normal for the military, an occupational hazard, but he couldn’t help but worry you would be disgusted by the sight.

You didn’t say anything though, just groaned quietly as you crouched down — to rifle through your bag, he assumed. “I’ve already got an opened suture kit in my bag,” he said, listening to you stop your searching.

“Oh, so you knew it needed stitches earlier and you still let it sit?” you asked, the disapproval clear in your voice.

He sighed, “Now who’s sounding like Price?”

“Yeah, well, Price is right,” you said, echoing Ghost’s words. “See what happens when you don’t apply stitches? Now I gotta clean up all this blood.”

“All this blood?” he asked, his head tilting towards you slightly, “is there that much?”

You clicked your tongue, and he could feel you eyeing him, “I guess not,” you said after a while, “but your shirt smeared it around a lot. Your back could probably give Carrie a run for her money.”

“Carrie?”

You hummed, the sound of you moving towards the kitchen sink filling the quiet room. “Have you never heard of Carrie?” you asked, turning on the tap.

“Is that the one with the uh, with the girl?”

“The one with the girl?” you called back over your shoulder, “real descriptive there Ghost.”

He scoffed, “Just hurry up and get these stitches done before I fall asleep.”

“Just hurry up and get these stitches done before I fall asleep,” you repeated in a shrill falsetto, mocking him. He turned to watch you as you returned from the sink, a damp cloth in hand and a small smile on your face. “No squirming, the water’s cold.”

He took in a breath when he felt you sliding the cold cloth against the plane of his back, suppressing a shudder when you swiped the fabric over the cut. He stayed still as you continued wiping down his back, listening to your quiet breaths instead. 

He tried to ignore the awkwardness that settled in between the two of you. Or maybe there was no awkwardness and it was just a figment of his imagination, because you seemed completely unbothered by the silence. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad thing, that you were so calm even though your fingers were ghosting over his back. He wondered if you could tell how nervous you were making him, how you were making his cheeks heat up under the mask every time your breath tickled his neck, how his muscles tensed up every time your fingers brushed against his skin, how his heart pounded in his chest with every little sigh or concerned click of your tongue. In a weird way, he was thankful for the blood smeared on his back, considering it allowed him a valid excuse if you asked why his skin was turning red.

He felt you lift the cloth off of his back and walk back over to the sink. Your soft hands wringing out reddened water from the fabric as you ran it under the tap. You returned to your spot behind him again, continuing the task of wiping off his bloodied back. You started to hum quietly as you worked, setting off another swarm of butterflies in Ghost’s stomach. He couldn’t tell what you were humming, it could’ve been a song or it could’ve been a random melody you made up. Either way, he enjoyed it just the same, listening closely to every note.

After a while, he felt you take a step back and stare at him for a second, before returning to the sink and discarding the cloth inside it. “Get the kit out,” you said, your back turned to him as you washed your hands. He complied, stifling a groan as he bent over to pull the kit out from his pack. He fiddled with it as he watched you walk back to him, noticing the way your eyes lingered on his chest for a split second before extending it out to you.

“Alrighty, I don’t think I need to tell you this is gonna sting,” you said as you set up your materials. It was silent for a moment, before he felt you put one of your hands against his back for leverage. He tensed up at the touch of your cold hand against his skin, and you pulled your hand away. “Sorry,” you said, sucking in a breath.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, “just didn’t expect it.”

You hummed, “So this is okay?” you asked, putting your hand on his back again.

He nodded, stifling a wince as he felt the needle pierce his skin. Once again, you were humming as you worked. For some reason, the entire scene felt oddly domestic: you humming as you patched him up, with a storm raging outside. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the two of you were in his flat in Manchester.

He had never really given much thought as to what domestic life with you would look like. He had never allowed himself to, after all, what was the point of entertaining a dream that would never become a reality? But now he needed something to take his mind off the painful pricks of the needle, and you had already proved yourself to be a worthy distraction.

He tried to imagine what it would be like to actually live with you, to have someone to do laundry with, to do dishes with, to wake up with, someone to come home to. He had a feeling you would never approve of the way he lived currently. It had been a while since he had been in his flat, but he could still remember how he left it. Light gray walls as bare as when he got them, his closet filled only with empty hangers, his kitchen cabinets empty save for a few pots and pans, and one lonely set of dishware. His bed wasn’t any better, he didn’t even have a bed frame. Just a mattress pushed against one wall, one white pillow at the head and a neatly folded white blanket at the foot.

But if you moved in, everything would change. He could line the walls with photos of the two of you, fill his closet with your clothes. His dishware wouldn’t be lonely because he’d have to get another set for you, and he wouldn’t mind spending the entire day shopping for a bed frame as long as it was with you. He wanted to wake up with you, to be able to roll over and bury his face in your chest; he wanted to come home and wrap you in his arms after a long day, or to feel you sidle up behind him as he prepared breakfast. 

The more he thought of a life with you, the more awkward he felt with you behind him. You were so ignorant of everything he thought, you didn’t know how badly he wanted you, how he would kill anyone for a chance with you. In your mind, he was nothing more than a coworker, someone you only talked to at work, but in his mind, you were his entire world. When he let his mind run wild, you took up every thought, every whim, every idea. You were tattooed on his mind in technicolor; everything was laced with your presence, your being. 

“Alright,” you chirped, clapping your hands together. “Stitches are all done. I can’t believe how well you took that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that even Price at least winces whenever he gets stitched up. No offense, Ghost, but sometimes I seriously question your humanity.”

“What, you think I’m a robot?”

You snorted, “It wouldn’t surprise me, especially with that mask. It really sells the impression that you’re a cold, heartless, killer.”

“Yeah well, can’t let the enemy know I’ve got a heart, can I? That’s a sure recipe for disaster.”

“Oh so you do have a heart?” you asked, turning to face him.

“Last I checked.”

“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”

“What, you want proof?”

You shrugged, “Can’t hurt.”

Ghost stared at you for a moment, his mind racing a thousand miles a minute. He didn’t know what possessed him when his hand reached out for yours; it was as if he no longer had control of his body and he was just a spectator being forced to watch as his body moved on its own. His hand grabbed yours, and he watched as you stilled, but didn’t pull away. He pulled your hand to his chest, letting it settle above his heart.

Ghost tried his best to keep his breaths steady and his heart from hammering in his chest, but between the warmth of your hand against his cold skin and your wide eyes which were trained on his, he had a feeling his heart might have skipped a few beats. It was silent for a moment before you spoke. 

“I guess I was wrong,” you whispered, your eyes flickering down to sneak another glance at his chest.

“I guess so,” he said in response, his eyes dipping down to stare at your lips. They were reddish-pink and slightly chapped from the cold weather; Ghost wanted to kiss them. Slowly, he looked back up at you, meeting your gaze. You seemed awfully nervous all of a sudden; a stark contrast to your usually confident and relaxed nature. He wondered if he was making you nervous, and if it was a good nervous or a bad nervous.

He didn’t want you to be nervous that he would hurt you; he would never hurt you. Doing so would be like stabbing himself in the heart, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t look at your tear-filled eyes and know that he was responsible. He wanted you to be nervous that he had caught you staring, that he knew you liked him. Of course, Ghost didn’t know anything at the moment. Once he realized how distracting you were to him, he made himself stop trying to read you, that way he wouldn’t have to worry about even more things.

“Oh shit,” you said, breaking the silence, “you said you were tired right? You should probably go to sleep, I don’t want to keep you up.”

Ghost was slightly disappointed as you pulled your hand away, but the way it lingered for just a second too long — as if you wanted to go back for another touch — didn’t slip by him. “Of course,” he said, rising from his seat, “we’ve got a long day tomorrow. We need to find the others and secure exfil. I don’t think we’re gonna be taking on Zhelyazkov any time soon after this.”

You nodded, your lips pressed into a line as you watched him grab his hoodie from his bag and slip it on. “Wake me up when you get tired,” he said, turning towards the bedroom.

“Yes, sir,” you said.

The soft cushion of the bed was a warm welcome compared to the hard wood of the chair, although this time he didn’t have the warmth of your hands to keep him company. He set his stuff down next to his bed, letting out a groan as he lay down. It felt like ages had passed since they first arrived at Zhelyazkov’s base and he started shooting at them. Ghost let his eyes fall shut as exhaustion began to kick in, his mind too tired to think. Sleep came to him quickly once his head hit the pillow. His eyelids became too heavy to open and he could feel his body sinking into the mattress. 

Ghost wasn’t typically a dreamer, and yet that night, he dreamt of you. There wasn’t much meaning or direction to his dreams, just images and flashes of you, brief pockets of peacefulness or lust. He dreamt of waking you up in the morning with breakfast in bed, savoring the way you smiled up at him, your sleep-filled eyes crinkling at the corners. He dreamt of holding you against the wall, one leg wrapped over his shoulder as he ate you out, drinking in the way you cried out his name. He dreamt of walking along the street with you, one hand wrapped tightly around your waist as he admired the way you looked up at him with loving eyes. He dreamt of thrusting into you on a fur rug in front of a fireplace, delighting in the way your nails scratched down his back.

For too long, you had been nothing more than a distraction to Ghost. It was all he allowed himself to categorize you as, a mere inconvenience in his job. It was all he allowed himself to categorize you as, because the truth? The truth was that you were so much more.

You weren’t just the reason Ghost forgot to triple check his intel; you were the reason he looked forward to early morning meetings with the team. You weren’t just the reason Ghost had gotten sloppy at covering his tracks; you were the reason his heart fluttered whenever you were nearby. You were the reason his chest skipped a beat whenever you brushed up against him, you made his cheeks heat up whenever you pretended to flirt. You were the reason he flared up with jealousy whenever you talked to Soap instead of him. You were the reason for his bad mood when he didn’t see you at breakfast. You were the reason he felt safe; you were the reason he lowered his guard. You were the reason he made himself get up in the morning. You were the reason he let himself dream at night.

[0prettygirl-jay0]

~•little stalker•~ pt2

dabi x reader

context: the stalker becomes the stalked.

warnings: smut, caught, oral sex, fingering, name calling, masturbating.

—————————————————————————-

~•dabi’s pov•~

I have to say, 'm not the kind of guy pretty girls stalk, I'm not the kind of guy that any girls stalk or even look at. So what's the deal with her? That's what I've been wonderin’ these past two months. She's so fucking pretty, that night when she took me down like some rag doll, I could've sworn I was in love, then and there. I haven’t felt this way ever…i just couldnt, way to possessive for that shit. Why her? No one should have her but me…i could treat her better then anyone else, kill for her, love her and only her, be there for her.. Fuck I need her. one thing i needa find out, is she a hero or what? there’s nothing about her anywhere..and her fighting skills were too suspicious for a eighteen year old.

name: y/n y/m/n y/l/n

parents: deceased

age: eighteen

address: musutafu city, japan. 275 kinto street, apartment 214, Shizuoka Prefecture.

quirk: blood manipulation

This is the eleventh time this week I've had to jack off to fuckin’ flashbacks, i needed more, need her. Fuck.. This is not okay, especially at the fucking base, i really need to get my own apartment. that way i can have her all to myself. her black leather that clung tight to her body that night, her hips, her thighs…fuck, her face. The office chair i sat on was squeaky, every time i would thrust my hips up, it would sound. It didn't matter at this point, looking down towards my hips, my hands glided over the glistening purple, tip.

——-—————-three hours later————————

now why the fuck would she be at a hero event? there stood the most wanted villain across from a met gala, a building that was surrounded by heros and filled with heros. dabi had been smart enough to place a small chip in a cut toga had made on her body while she was distracted fighting them both.

—————————————————————————

~•reader’s pov•~

i couldn’t handle being that close to him, all i wanted to do was take him right then and there, infront of toga, infront of everyone. taking the cart out my mouth while looking at my smokey eye makeup and fixing my hair in the mirror..he’s a villain, he kills innocent people, maybe im in way over my head..i mean a villain liking me? be so for real, exhaling the smoke from my lungs and out my mouth, i went to fix the bottom of the red, silk dress i wore. my father is a hero, and here i am obsessing over a murderer who doesn’t even feel the same way over me…he couldn’t, right?

“Whatchu doing here dressed like that?” the calm, hoarse voice says as he watched the smoke exit my mouth. in the reflection of the mirror, i could see, it was dabi. shit, how the fuck did he find me.

“dabi..how’d ya’ find me? y’know at a hero event they dont really like your kind here..” i laughed a bit as i turned around to look at dabi, black on black with a gold chain looked really good on him.

“Real question, is what the fuck are you doing here, princess? You a hero?” walking up closer to me, dabi took it upon himself to take my cart and hit it himself, putting it to his pink lips and inhaling, he kept eye contact with me. giving me back my cart, dabi put his hands on my hips to admire the red dress i wore, blue eyes looking me up and down, slowly one of the hands on my hips moved up towards the back of my neck where he held my body firmly. Exhaling the smoke out his nose, the smell of marijuana filled my nose.

“answer me princess, cause i dont fuck wit heroes.” his gruff voice spoke in my left ear and the feeling of now both of his hands grabbing handfuls of my ass to pick me up and put me on the counter, a gasp left my lips as i was so easily picked up and placed on the counter. the only thing i could do was sit and admire the man that stood in front of me, this is all i’ve ever wanted. he wants me the same way i want him.

“my dad is..im just here with him.” now with what i said just now, caused dabi to raise his brow and smirk at me, his eyes glancing at my lips and back to my eyes.

“i love the way you feel, the way you smell, the way your eyes are glassed over and i haven’t even touched you yet, the way you just let go and melt in my hands.” he said this softly with a scoff and a slight chuckle, his big rough hand moved its way up my body and to my face, grabbing my chin to look up into his dark, blue eyes, looking down at me with a smirk, he tilts his head to the side and leans down but doesnt place his lips on my own, not just yet. his other hand kneaded the flesh of my hip, uncontrollably i leaned in to connect our lips.

“dont lean into me like that..im not gonna kiss you.” dabi chuckled a bit again before he continued speaking. “i’ll kiss whats mine, i’ll fuck what’s mine, i’ll satisfy what’s mine…are you mine, little mouse?” his voice spoke again and chills ran down my spine with excitement.

“i want to be..” i said as soft as can be while looking in the man’s eyes.

“…you want to be, is that so? ima be honest with you princess, all i want to do is rip that little red dress and bend you over this bathroom counter until all you do is say my name over and over again.” finally his lips sucked on my neck and his hands got to work, kneading my hip as he grabbed the back of my neck to hold me straight. looking at his finished product with a smirk, his hand bunched up my red dress above my hips. looking at my soaked red lacy underwear, one of his big hands grabbed my thigh to put around his waist and the other moved the red lace to the side.

“such a pretty girl, arent you?” his fingers admired the swollen bud and dipped down lower to the wet folds and then to the tight hole where i desperately needed something to fill. whimpers flooded out of my mouth, throwing my head back to lay on the mirror behind me i covered my mouth with my hand.

“Sweetie, you okay in there?” knocking was heard on the bathroom door as i heard my dad’s voice on the outside, he sounded worried..fuck dad, wrong time to be cockblocking. i lifted my head off the mirror to see dabi’s cocky face looking back at my disheveled one that tried to keep quiet with my hand still around my mouth.

“my dad..dabi.” my hand moved from my mouth as i got both to try an push away the man that had his hand between my thighs.

“your dad’s..aizawa? well shit, guess i wont be killing him on my camping trip next week.” dabi spoke casually and quietly as if his one finger wasn’t inside of me trying to loosen me up.

“fuck- yes dad, im fine. just y’know girl problems…” my head fell onto dabi’s shoulder trying to muffle my moans. hearing footsteps walk away with a muffled oh, i looked at dabi in anger but pure bliss as he entered another finger inside of me.

“so god damn tight, y’know that? but you’ll take me right? all of me, like my good fucking girl.”

“you are so fu-…cking annoying, y’know that.” dabi smirked at me as his free hand put a stray hair behind my ear. taking his two fingers out of me dabi flips me over to lay me on my stomach as his leg moved the both of mine apart. now the only thing i could do was look at his dark eyes through the mirror infront of me. the sounds of a belt unbuckling was what got me out of my dazed state, i wiggled my hips in anticipation with a whimper. slapping his dick on my bare pussy dragged a moan out of my mouth.

“oh, fuck your tight.” finally pushing the tip into me, you could hear my wetness squelching, bottoming out, dabi stilled for a second while biting his bottom lip and his eyes halfway closed. this view in the mirror was the best one yet, at this point dabi was shirtless, his purple scars added onto his tan skin, he had abs and big shoulders.

“shit, only half way, princess, were almost there. you wanna stalk me, you wanna be mine? then take it.” lifting one of my legs on the bathroom counter, dabi grabbed both of my arms to put behind my back while pushing all the way in.

“this is what it means to be mine, little mouse, to be my doll.” he said in a gruff breathless voice as he bent down to whisper in my ear, his abs almost pressing against my back with his hips slapping against my ass. the sound took over the room along with dabi’s whimpers and groans, one of his hands held both of mine hands behind my back and the other covering my mouth.

“this pussy is all fucking mine, doll, and no one is ever taking it away from me. dont fucking close your eyes, look at me y/n.” snapping back into reality after hearing his voice whispering in my ear i open my eyes to look at dabi in the mirror, my teeth bit my bottom lip as dabi sped up his pace, i couldnt help but want to close my eyes and focus on his voice and the feeling.

“im gonna let go of your hands and your gonna fucking play with that pretty little clit of yours for me, got it, doll?” i nodded my head vigorously as i felt the relief of my hands being released. both of his hands roughly grabbed my hips, probably leaving bruises in the morning.

“now ‘m gonna make you cum, and your gonna say thank you. understand?” nodding wasnt enough for dabi, he needed to hear it.

“words, mouse. use them.” his thrusing became so rough you could hear the sink slamming against the wall.

“yes, dabi. thank you!” my hand between my thighs circling my clit and the other covering my mouth, dabi’s voice in my ear and his thick cock slamming into me. it was all becoming too much before that knot in me snapped.

“i dont care if youre too sens-..stive keep rubbing that clit for me princess...” a loud moan erupted from me as stars filled my vison, eyes rolling to the back of my head and my toes curling.

“fuck, yes! keep milkin’ me like that, mouse. please, fuck! say your mine!” coming back to my senses, while shaking and whimpering, i rub on my clit.

“all yours, touya, thank you…~” thats what makes him snap, a loud groan was heard and i looked in the mirror to see dabi’s head tilted back and a hand covering his mouth, the other hand that held a bruising grip on my hip ignited in a blue flame but only for a second as dabi came to realize what he did.

“fuck! dabi?!” my face was still fucked out as i gripped the sides of the counter in pain. orgasm tears slipped down my face and i looked at dabi through the mirror.

“shit! mouse, im so sorry.” he looked down at the flesh wound on my hip with his dick still inside me.

“mouse..what did you call me, just now!?” dabi said with his blue eyes glaring into mine, there was no malice, or anger and i knew exactly what he was talking about, but i wasnt gonna spoil our fun on how i got my information.

“what else would i call you? daddy of course.” with a joking wink and a smirk i would only pray and hope dabi would drop it. slipping out of me, dabi helped me get dressed while watching out for the new wound.

“leave your window open..were not done yet.” was the last thing i heard from touya’s mouth as i watched him leave through the bathroom balcony.

[iamthecomet]

Dismiss Your Demons

AKA: Kinktober Day 28 - Sounding

Rating: E Pairing: Cirrus/Dew Featuring: Service Dom Cirrus. Soft Dom Cirrus. Sub Dew. He's a tiny bit of a brat if you squint, but not really. He just likes giving Cirrus shit. Sounding. Character development cleverly disguised as porn. Aftercare (in the form of cuddles). Word Count: 3.1k. I did not read through this after I wrote it, so it is what it is, friends. I hope it makes sense. Read it on AO3.

Or under the cut.

Dew can’t think . He’s sweating. It’s pooling low on his back. He twitches his fingers where he has them pinned there. Wishing for something, anything, to flip through his fingers. 

He loves Cirrus. 

But Satanas does she make him nervous.  Especially with this look on her angular face. A crooked smile. Movements too easy, body too loose. He’s well and truly fucked.  That’s what he gets for telling her he needed to get out of his head and she could do anything.   It’s been a long week. A brutal few days on the road that have left all of them snapping at each other. Even Papa has had enough. Bad weather, bus problems, hotel mix-ups, three terrible catering companies in a row. They’ve all had enough.  Dew looks across the hotel room and longs for his bed at home. For dark abbey hallways, and candle light, and the smell of incense. He is sick of fluorescent lighting and white walls and low pile carpet. He digs his toes into it anyway, dissatisfied. 

He watches Cirrus as she flits around the room. Movements loose. More relaxed than she has any right to be given everything that’s been going on. But maybe it isn’t bothering her as much as it is Dew. She comes off as type A for sure. A control freak. But she’s more flexible than he is. Waves off problems and stupid tour bullshit with a shrug as if to say “oh well it happened, let’s move on.” 

She’s always reminded him of Aether in that way. Certainly the person they look for leadership, but because of their flexibility rather than the rigidness of someone like Dew who needs things to be right or he will feel like his skin is too small. 

That’s how he feels right now, watching Cirrus bounce around the room. Feeling like he’s just put his life in her hands. He takes a deep, breathe out. Frowns when his exhale comes out a little smokey. Tinged with anxiety. Cirrus notice, dark brows furrowing. She frowns a little at him–worried. 

“We won’t do anything you won’t like,” she reassures him. She fusses with her hair. Scrubbing her manicured nails over the shaved side. Her fingernails are electric blue, blunt like always. No deadly manicures like Aurora or Cumulus. No stiletto nails dragging over the head of his dick tonight. As pretty as that is–he’s ok with it. 

“You said something new,” he says. Allows himself this moment of vulnerability. Cirrus tilts her head at him. 

“You really are stuck aren’t you?” 

Dew grimaces. He hates it sometimes. The way she reads him like a book–all of them. So much like Aether. That’s probably why he pulled her aside after the show instead of someone else. Seeking a grounding touch someone to pull him back to earth without him really having to ask for it. 

“I want to go home,” he says. It sounds stupid. He shrugs. Doesn’t move, back straight, fingers still twitching behind his back. Knuckles flexing over the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 

“I can’t help you with that.” Cirrus sits on edge of the bed, pets the spot next to her. Dew drops down next to her. He presses his elbows into his thighs, he digs his fingers into his scalp until it hurts. Cirrus pulls him apart, uncurls him. Cool fingers unclenching his from his hair. She leans in, bumps her horns against his. 

“Enough of that,” she chides. “Aether will kill me if you come home bald.” 

Dew’s lips twitch upward. “Should shave it. Just to spite him. Punishment for abandoning us.” 

Cirrus ruffles his hair. “Don’t even think about it, firefly.” 

She presses her forehead against his. He breathes in deep, inhaling the fresh cotton smell of her. Cool and clean. He closes his eyes, nuzzles his face against her, horns bumping together. 

“Take care of me,” he says, finally. “Please.” 

“You’ll let me try something new?” 

He nods. “Anything.” 

Cirrus stands. Dew feels her vacancy in his bones. He turns his head, opens his eyes to watch her riffling through her bag. She produces a small leather case. She starts to unzip it and Dew feels his mouth go dry already. 

Not so new then. 

“Cir, that’s not–I’ve–”

Her eyes flash, so light blue they’re almost white. She grins at him, too many fangs. A chill rolls up his spine, and he swallows the rest of his words. 

“I know you’ve done this before. I’ve heard all about what you do when you’re alone with a fire.” 

Dew groans, he rolls his eyes. Tipping back onto the bed dramatically. Hair fanning out around his head. “Fucking Swiss .” “Why don’t you ever ask me to come see?” 

Dew flushes, he can’t help it. He covers his face to hide it. “You don’t usually like to just watch.” 

Dew hears the zipper on the case. The clink of metal. He shudders. Chubbing up in his jeans already. Anticipation thruming through him from sound alone. He has the vague realization that he is like a trained dog. Conditioned into arousal by the idea of sounding rods. 

“I could be compelled. Especially since you stole a rod from me to do it. I’m still missing it, by the way.” 

“Sorry.” 

Cirrus kicks one of his feet where it’s planted on the shitty carpet. Knocking his legs a little further apart so she can step between them. He feels the swell of her thighs between his. He moves his arm, looks up at her, towering over him, flipping one glinting rod through her fingers. 

“You’re not. Don’t lie.” 

Dew sits up. Reaches for her. She allows it. Allows him to put his hands on her waist, the curve of it. To slip his warm hands under her over-sized t-shirt and touch her ever-cool skin. 

“I’ll give it back when we get home.” 

Cirrus rolls her eyes instead of calling his bluff. “Strip.” 

“Don’t I get a kiss first?” 

“Brat,” she admonishes, but bends down and kiss him anyway. Full lips pressed against his. Cool. She tastes like red wine, black raspberries. He chases in, tongue sliding over hers. Taking one hand from her waist to lace in the longer side of her hair. Fingers carding through impossibly soft strands. 

She pulls back and Dew chases her lips. His cock twitches against his thigh, more than chubby now. He reaches down to adjust, gives himself a small squeeze just before Cirrus bats his hand away. 

“I asked you to do something, Firefly.” 

Dew hauls his shirt over his head, tosses it somewhere and gets to work on his belt. He shoves his and boxers down in one motion and kicks them away.

Cirrus sinks down, kneeling between his spread legs, a bottle of lube and the set of sounding rods between her knees. 

She’s right this is new. Cirrus doesn’t kneel for him. Only has ever bottomed for him when she’s been in heat. The look she gives him–cast up through long eyelashes–goes right to his dick. His stomach flips. She smooths a cool hand up over his thigh. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” she says softly. Running a blunt nail down the seam of his balls. He twitches. Digs his teeth into his cheek.  

“Never,” Dew gasps out with a shake of his head. He knows, even on her knees, Cirrus is in charge.  She’s just so pretty like this, gorgeous. Sitting low, legs tucked under her ass. Shoulders pressed between Dew’s knees. 

He slips a hand up his stomach to tug at a nipple ring as she drags her palm over the hard line of his cock. Soft hands feather light over his skin. He groans, as she palms at him, one hand after another over the underside of his cock where it curves up toward his stomatch. Not circling, more petting than anything. Just enough pressure to brush the wet tip over his sparse happy trail. 

“Lay back,” she says. The words are soft but there is no mistaking them for anything but an order.  “Let me help.” 

Dew does. Falling back onto the bed like dead weight. Toes digging into the carpet as Cirrus pets him. She polishes the head, smears precum over the ruddy head. Dew digs his fangs into his lip until he tastes copper. 

“ Relax ” she orders again. “Let go.” 

It takes effort to loosen his jaw. To allow himself to groan as one of her hands dips lower to roll his balls between her deft fingers. He melts into the bed as she touches him. Works him up with slow easy movements. Cock twitching under her hands. Spitting precum onto her hands, his belly.

He winces when he whimpers, high and reedy. He hates it, but it’s gone now, already out of his mouth. It takes a minute, but eventually he feels the tension in his head start to unravel. Feels knots loosen. He stops hearing himself. Stops worrying about how desperate he sounds. How needy. How Rain can probably hear him from the next room over. 

Instead, he hopes Rain has his ear pressed to the wall to listen. Embarrassment fading with the rest of the day–the week. 

“Good boy,” Cirrus purrs. Dew’s floating by the time he hears her open the lube bottle. Disant. Brought down by gentle hands instead of harsh words. That’s new too. He’s hazy, glassy. Every stupid annoyance is distant, he can’t even think about them. Can’t think about anything except how Cirrus touches him. 

How her hands–too soft for all of the music she plays–feel on him. He would do anything for her to have her keep touching him like that.  

“Ready?” she purrs.  Dew nods. He slurs around a yes , and a please . Hips twitching up toward her hands. His eyes are closed tight. An arm thrown over his eyes, blush burning against his forearm. With the other hand he plucks at his nipples. Tugs on the bar. Rolls the pebbled nub through his fingers. A  little rough, the little bite of pain just adding to everything. 

Cirrus starts with the smallest rod. Dew jolts when the cold metal touches his slit, presses down. More newness. When he plays with himself the metal is always warm, burning hot usually. The cold in contrast to his own body temperature makes stars dance behind his eyes. 

Cirrus is uncharacteristically gentle with him. He’s more intune to it this way–expecting a shift. For her to start fucking the sounding rod into him with abandon. But instead she works it in slowly. She leaves it deep, opting to press her fingers along the underside of his cock instead. More petting strokes, rolling the rod inside of him. 

It only takes him two more minutes to need more . A bigger rod. For her to actually stroke him. For her to thrust that ice cold metal in and out of his body. To really give him something. But he should have known that Cirrus’ gentleness would be his downfall. 

They follow the same pattern. It’s all so slow, so easy. Dew’s hips flex up toward every touch. Whines bubbling out of his throat at every twitch. Cirrus coos at him, shushes him when he really starts to whine, to beg.  She kisses the inside of his thigh. His hip bones. Drags her free hand up over his legs his belly. “Give me a color, baby.” 

“Green. Just. More . I need more .” 

“But you’re doing so good.” 

Dew digs his claws into the comforter. He could scream. Pleasure burns low in his gut. A fire he doesn’t know how to feed, not enough kindling. Just enough fuel to flicker to life, but not enough to rage. Everything is sharp, intense. He shudders with it. Nerve alight. 

Dew props himself up on his elbow, dragging his arm away from his face, opening his eyes. The room is too bright. Cirrus is looking up at him from between his legs smirk still firmly in place. 

She’s up to the second largest rod now. Dew can see the way it bulges the underside of his cock. Cirrus runs a nail over it. Fingers catching on the piercing just below the head. Swiping over his frenulum with her thumb. He sobs at the sudden jolt of pleasure. Gasping in, breath catching. 

“Hey, firefly,” Cirrus says softly. She reaches up along the length of his body, sitting up on her knees to brush her fingers over his flushed cheeks, over his throat, his pounding pulse. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I want to cum.” 

“Not what I meant.” 

Dew sighs, whimpering as Cirrus twists the sounding rod. “Floaty. Fuck . Better. Please, Cir. At least let me see you. Give me something. ”

“Don’t be greedy,” Cirrus admonishes. “I’ve given you plenty.” Despite the words she leans back, pulls her hands away just long enough to pull her shirt over her head. Dew’s throat clicks when he swallows. Eyes dragging over her tits, her stomach. The curve of her waist. He wants to touch. Wants to lay back as she rides his face. Wants her to take everything from him. 

Cirrus scoffs at the look on his face. “You’re so easy.” 

Dew nods dumbly. Of course he is. Weak, always, to the power of Cirrus’ tits. 

“Make me cum?” he means for it to come out as a demand, but instead it’s a question. Breathless. 

Cirrus cocks a dark eyebrow. She lowers herself back, sitting on her heels. Her tits brushing his thighs as she goes, one dusky nipple dragging over his thigh. Dew wants to latch onto it with his mouth. Wants to suck it swollen. 

He licks his lips, tries not to stare too much and fails. 

“I’ll do anything.” 

Cirrus’ eyebrow stays up, her head tips. She pets his cock again, watching as it twitches and spits precum onto his stomach. There’s a puddle of it there now, slick and shiny. The head of his dick is swollen, nearly purple. Cirrus bends down, and swipes her tongue up along the underside, pressing down hard on the rod as she goes. 

Dew bucks up toward her mouth. Swears he’s going to burst into flames if she keeps going. If she doesn’t just–Cirrus smirks at him and sucks the head into his mouth. Tongue pressing down on the top of the rod to keep it in place. 

He’s going to die. This is it. Death by sounding in a shitty hotel in the middle of nowhere USA. He’s fucked, utterly fucked. He falls back onto the bed, unable to hold himself up anymore. 

Cirrus pulls off with a pop. “Anything?” 

“Fuck– fuck– yes. Anything. Satanas whatever you want just fucking touch it. Make it cum. I can’t– fuck .” 

Cirrus’s hand finally curls around the base of him. The other pulls at the sounding rod. Fucking it into him. She times her strokes with it, a counter rhythm that has him seeing stars.  “Promise me.” 

“I promise. ”  Cirrus licks a stripe over his hip bone. Sucks a mark into the hollow there as she strokes him. Teeth digging in and making him gasp. Dew’s distantly aware of the sound he’s making. High pitched, whining. Desperate. If Rain wasn’t listening at the wall before he definitely is now. He bucks toward Cirrus’ hand, toes curling in the carpet. 

“ Close .” 

“Then cum,” Cirrus whispers against his hip. “Let it out. Let me see how messy you get.” 

His balls draw up tight, he sobs as it hits him. Pleasure burning through his veins. His back arches as he cums. Cirrus pulls the sounding rod in just in time for the first spurt to hit Dew’s stomach. It dribbles down Cirrus fingers, into his pubic hair. Dew closes his eyes so tight he sees red. It feels like it goes on forever. Body still twitching long after he stops shooting. Cirrus strokes him through it, doesn’t stop until she’s squeezed every drop she can from him. 

Dew waits for Cirrus to pounce on him. To force him into overstimulation. To straddle his face. She doesn’t. Instead, she wipes him up with her t-shirt, apologizing softly as he hisses in overstimulation. Then she pokes and prods him until he shifts. Muscles like jelly. He pulls himself fully onto the bed, finally laying in in properly. Cirrus settles in next to him, pulling him down to her. Curling an arm around him and pressing his head to her chest. Cheek pillowed by soft plush flesh as she pets the side of his head. He listens to her heart as he comes back down. Steady, solid. He clings to her. Fingers dimpling into her waist. 

“Give me a minute and I can–whatever you want.” 

“I’m fine, Dew.” She kisses him between the horns. 

“Not fair,” he says sleepily. “You should get off too.” 

She shrugs beneath him. “You know how it is for me. It’s not that easy. Watching you is just as good, you know that. Do you feel better? Quieter?” 

Dew nods. Yawns, nuzzles into her breast. He presses open mouthed kisses across the freckled skin there. Lazy. Appreciative. “Yeah. Thank you, you’re too good to me.” 

“No, I’m not. You don’t have to carry so much on your shoulders, Dew. You can let other people hold it sometimes.” 

He shrugs. “Dunno how.” 

He feels her smile against his hair, she kisses him again, at the base of his horn this time. She settles in, breath huffing out over his slap as she cradles him. He feels her relax beneath him, heart slowing, breathing going even. Comfortable beneath his warmth, his weight. Dew feels sleep tugging at him. He cracks his eyes open to stave it off for just a few more minutes. 

“What do you want then? Something, obviously,,” Dew mumbles sleepily. Cirrus chuckles, still stroking her fingers through his hair, working through tangles. When he tips his head to look up at her, he finds her eyes closed, face open and relaxed. 

“Next time you sound yourself, I want you to call me so I can come watch.” 

Dew blinks at her, head tipping to the side in confusion. “That’s it?” 

Cirrus laughs, she cracks an eye open, lips twisting up into that same mischievous smirk from before.  “Is it ever?” 

Dew pulls his gaze away from her face and puts his head back where it belongs. He sucks her nipple into his mouth, teeth dragging over it as it hardens against his tongue. Soothing more than sexual. He doesn’t answer. They both know there’s more. And Dew could ask for a clue–but he likes it better when Cirrus surprises him. 

[juniperss]

Something to Hold Onto

Joe Liebgott x Reader

This writing is based off of the characters of the show and inspired by this song from the musical Between the Lines. It’s been quite a while since I’ve written anything so I hope this isn’t too painful to read

A/N: This was originally written on my main account a few years ago but I decided to move it here since I don't change this URL as often and it makes easier to find my writing! Also It's been a while since I wrote these so I'd like to think that I've improved somewhat since then!

This is as free as I'll ever feel....take my hand and I'll guide the way, Rest your head..be in the now, right now, Nothing else can ever undo this Our something to hold onto."

The chatter of soldiers around the small fire in front of Smokey almost made you forget the circumstances that placed you in the middle of the woods in Bastogne. From your foxhole, if you closed your eyes and focused real hard on the sounds of Malarkey's laughter a short distance away, the smell of the coffee brewing in front of you (courtesy of Smokey and his helmet), and the story that Luz was telling you could pretend that you were back in the noisy and warm mess hall at Toccoa. Minus the warmth that is. While the cold wasn't anything new it certainly didn't morph into a dull comfort. It bit at their noses and ears and stung the soldiers eyes whenever the wind blew particularly hard. It led the reoccurring colds and upper respiratory infections and kept you on your feet throughout the night

. Running your hand over your face to wipe the exhaustion from your body you couldn't help but scoff at that fact. You were an army medic, it wasn't like you needed colds keeping you busy when there as the constant threat of shellings. You were tired and despite the bone chilling cold, the foxhole offered just enough peace for you to calm your breathing.

"Doc."

You blinked twice before the tan blur in front of you came into focus to form Joe Liebgott, bright red nose and chapped lips and all. You smiled, shifting back to allow him more room across from you. He'd been watching the line with Peacock if you recalled correctly, though he must've been relieved now as he had already scooted so his back was propped up against his bag in an attempt to get comfortable. He flashed you a tired smile in return, the Joe Leibgott signature grin that made your stomach flip flop and heart race just a bit more than it had any right to. No words were exchanged as the two of relaxed once more, allowing the chatter of the others to lull you as close to sleep as you could.                                  

The earth shook all around you as you pulled yourself out of the foxhole and towards the nearest cry of "Medic!!" from across the way. Darkness illuminated briefly by flashes of gunfire and the earth shattering explosions around you as shells dropped.  It was chaos, a chaos that you had learned to run straight into despite the way your mind told you to stop and to hide. You could make out the shape of Shifty crouched beside a soldier you didn't recognize, his hands holding tightly to the piece of fabric he had placed over the soldiers wound.

"I got him, Shifty. 

Relief flooded Shifty's face as you slid onto your knees, hovering over the wounded man that you now realized was a replacement named Jenkins that you'd only briefly met weeks before. You could see bone protruding through the soldier's arm, piercing through his skin and the uniform covering it. "You're gonna get a hell of a lot of points with the others for this, Jenkins." Wide eyes stared up at you as you worked to stop the bleeding the best you could, sulfur dusting the wound. With help from Shifty you managed to pick out the bits of metal that lay in the flesh of his wound before wrapping his arm, pulling him into the jeep. You barely had a chance to breathe before running towards the next cry for help. 

The attack continued for the next hour and the treatment of soldier's wounds for another hour after that. It was another hour of searching for anyone that you'd missed who needed minor treatment before you finally sunk back down into your foxhole, your body numb but your mind racing. Three injured enough that they had been taken back to the town, ten that you had treated and sent back to rest while they could, and four dead. 

Four dead....it didn't get easier. You worried that if it did, you'd lose yourself, but you also wished that it stopped hurting. That the guilt stopped eating at your soul. That you could forget the ones you lost.

Eyes screwed shut and knees pulled up to your chest, you pushed for the tears stinging your eyes to stay away.

"Doc."

It was Joe again, sliding in across from you as he did every night. But this time there smile from you or warm greeting that he was so accustomed to. No "you look like shit" or other cheeky compliment. Just  your body curled into itself and the blood on your clothes. Joe stared, only pausing for a moment, before he moved so he was beside you. His warmth was the first thing you noticed. You could feel his breath on your ear as his arm wrapped around your shoulders, hand resting on your arm. The smell of cigarettes and old coffee on his uniform washing over you. Grounding you at the same time as it made your head spin.

"Sweetheart..."

His voice was what pulled you out of your own mind. Out of the self pity, the guilt, the pain, and the cold. Pulled you into the moment and the realization that you were not alone right now. But you couldn't do more than turn your head an inch to face him as he leaned closer to you to meet your gaze. His sharp eyes softening as he brought the hand on your arm to rest on the back of your head. 

"Hold onto me, I gotcha."

The words made your heart clench and you choked on a sob of mixed emotions as you thought back to the times you had said that to him. When he and you danced back in England, when you had reunited after that disaster of a jump, the first time you'd shared a foxhole and caught him shaking from a nightmare. So you did. Your arm wrapping around his chest as your buried your face into him, hands clutching at the fabric of his uniform. You held on and melted into him, soaking in the smell of him and the strength of his arms. The solid form of his body anchoring you and the strength in which he held you providing nothing but protection.

[mochie85]

Wanderlust

Part 1 of the Wanderlust Series.

Wanderlust Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You try to convince your best friend to go on a long road trip with you. Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader Word Count: 694 (a drabble, really) Warnings: Fluff. ALL fluff. A/N: This is for @the-slumberparty June Monthly Challenge: Summer Vibes. I picked a tent (can the VW Bus be considered a tent?) and the Road setting. I don't know if I should continue with the story. I mean, I have some ideas, but I don't think there's an actual plot...lol. Edit: It's decided...it's now a series...I hope y'all are happy!

The one thing you wanted to do before you started your new job was to visit the national parks in your state. You graduated with honors and had multiple job offers in the tech industry because of the algorithm you created for your senior project.

Tech careers were unpredictable and oftentimes fleeting. But you were confident that your innovative program would help kick-start your career and cement your position in the company that you chose for a long while.

That’s why you wanted to go out and travel. See nature! Just before you commit to a desk and computer for the rest of your foreseeable future.

“Do you know how big California is?” Bucky asked you agitated.

“Yes, I do,” you answered back with a cheeky grin.

“California has the greatest number of national parks!” he pointed at the map.

“Yes. Nine! And that doesn’t include the monuments and the trails and the memorials-”

“No!”

“Well, I’m not asking for your permission.”

“I still say, ‘no.’”

“I’ll go with or without you, Buck. I just thought you should know my plan.”

“Do you know how dangerous it is out there? Especially if you’re alone.”

“I can take care of myself. I did take that self-defense class for a couple of months,” you reasoned.

“Why can’t you go somewhere that has- Look, Nevada! Nevada has one national park. The Great Basin. And hey…we could even hit up Vegas while we’re there!” Bucky pointed at the map.

“Oh, ya cuz I would really be safe from creep-o’s in Vegas!” you rolled your eyes at your best friend.

“Ok. What about Hawaii? Hawaii has two national parks! And it’s HA-WA-II!”

“Do you know how much that plane ticket would cost? I haven’t started my job yet. Besides, who would watch Smokey while I was away?”

“You’re bringing the dog?!”

“Of course, I’m bringing the dog! Smokey goes where I go.” And as if he was called, your large greyhound came over licking your hand under the table. “We’re gonna have so much fun in our Bus-Bus, aren’t we, Smokey?!”

“And another thing?! How sure are you that the rusted piece of metal you call a car will actually take you around California? You’d probably break down before you get south of Oakland!”

“I had my mechanic look at it! Sid said it was in good shape! Plus I can call a tow if I need to.”

Bucky just looked at you defeated. He knew there was no convincing you out of this hair-brained plan of yours. You had always been a person to stick to your guns as soon as you planned it out. ‘No Regrets,’ you had always said.

No Regrets, Bucky repeated in his head trying to decide what to do. Nine parks! Nine! It would take you a month and a half to finish that round trip. And that’s only if you decided to stay at each park for a couple of nights, not the week you were planning.

“All right. All right. I’ll go with you.” Bucky relented, placing his head in his hands.

“I didn’t ask you to, Buck,” you chuckled, trying to hide the relief on your face.

“Bullshit! You knew I was going with you the moment you told me about it.” He called out your bluff. You shrieked and held your arms out to Bucky’s neck, embracing him in a tight hug.

 “You and I are gonna have so much fun! You’re not gonna regret this.”

“Ya, ya, ya.” Bucky relished in your warm embrace. You smelled like sun-kissed fruit on a lazy afternoon. You felt like a cool breeze that just wafted into his life unexpectedly and decided to stay. Erupting his life into chaos.

You pulled away looking into his deep blue eyes. He narrowed them as if he saw something in you that he had never seen before.

“Ok, we leave right after graduation! And you can’t take it back now Barnes. You’re in this with me till the end!” You smiled at him. Your cheeks were puffy and red, carrying a dimple that he wanted to caress.

“Lord, help me.” He whispered under his breath.

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