#it’s so long I’m so sorry 😭

[bluepixiedream]

Okay okay I’m currently writing ‘Good Dogs Only’ chapter 2 BUT I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA I CANT HOLD BACK. I NEED TO VENT IT OUT.

IM VERY EXCITED

OKAY HERE WE GO

Cw: violence, language, blood, cursing, and kidnapping. Kind of a dark fic? Viewer discretion is advised.

Picture it:

Cute, pretty innocent reader who works hard at their job, enjoys their nice home that’s located outside of town, your flower and small vegetable garden that you spend hours on to make it more lively, all sorts of books on your living room shelf (quite obviously doesn’t get many visitors due to the adult nature of some of these books) and occasionally binges Doctor Who. Normal. Peaceful. Nothing out of the ordinary.

After work one day, you head to a small market for some dinner supplies which includes a pot roast, a meat cleaver and a bottle of rum. Unbeknownst to you, a stranger hides in the backseat of the car while you’re inside and you are none the wiser. Throwing the items in the passenger seat, you head on home. Music blaring. A lit joint between your lips and the wind in your air. Friday night and you have a hot date with a few toys and a new book that should have arrived this afternoon. Everything was perfect.

A light pops up on the dash and anxiety slams into you like you can’t imagine. What was wrong now? Could you make it home? How much would this cost? Before, you weren’t high enough and now you were too high. You wanted to curse yourself.

Pulling over as quickly as you could, you decide after a minute to check all the doors and make sure everything was okay. Before you could take off your seat belt, a plastic bag is placed over your head and tightened.

Panic and adrenaline floods you as you struggle to breath. Your hands, that immediately went to your neck to relieve the pressure, release and attempt the poke a hole through the thick, unforgiving plastic. You think that this is it. This is how you die. Pathetic and alone. Murdered of all things.

But thankfully you tear through and air hits your screaming lungs. Without thinking, you wrap a hand around your brand new meat cleaver and begin swinging behind you. Somehow managing to get out of your seatbelt, you continue your brutal assault until you're sure you killed your attacker, or at least, knock them out.

You're breathing hard. Everything is covered in the attackers sticky, cooling blood. You can’t even cry. Completely shocked at what has transpired these last few minutes.

Not knowing what to do, you start driving home again. Music off. Windows up. Fear stinking up the air. The drive home had never been longer, nor quieter.

Pulling to your house, you open the garage door and drive in, refusing to get out until the door shuts completely. You hear the man, their attacker, groan in pain and you kick it in high gear. Grabbing a dinning room chair and some rope you had hoped to use for private time, you use what strength you have to pull him in the chair and tie him like you’ve read over and over again in your BDSM books. You tightened the ropes as much as possible before stopping. The man is trying to wake, but can’t. Blood is drying against his head and bruises are blooming across what you can see.

Leaving your car door open, you grab your groceries and, in a complete and utter daze, turn off the light and head inside.

Once inside, you wash your hands before starting dinner. Halfway through with zero thoughts in your head, the attacker is awake and screaming at you to let him go. That he will kill you. You will suffer greatly for what you’ve done. You don’t do anything until dinner is put in the crockpot and you take a quick shower to get rid of the rest of the blood.

What to do, you think. Do you call the police? Wouldn’t they wonder why you didn’t call immediately? Why take him back to your place? Is that weed they smell in the car?

Would they release the attacker? Would the attacker come back for you to finish the job?

You can’t think. You can’t deal with this. What should you do? No family to turn to. You can’t get their coworkers involved, that’s just wrong. You have nobody.

You remember a bar near the other side of town, near an empty field. It’s normally filled with military people, bikers and gangsters. A “neutral place” so to speak. Nobody fucks with each other and they got booze, music and sometimes ladies who paraded themselves. It was a haven for them.

And a perfect spot for you to go and find a person to help you…deal with this situation.

Changing clothes and almost feeling a bit better, other than the man screaming if you listened hard enough, you decide it’s time. You stop at the garage and realize you can’t take your car, wait for a cab to pick you up a block away. Before you leave, you tell your attacker that you are getting help.

You don’t clarify what help you're getting, or for who. For the attacker, or for the attackee.

The cab drops you off a few blocks away from the bar and happily accepts the cash you hand them. It’s getting dark, the lights from the bar illuminates way and the big man who is watching people come and go waves you in. He thinks it’s definitely not the your scene, but who is he to say otherwise?

People fill the bar. Some are playing poker. Others are sitting at the bar and others are in booths having secretive discussions. You can’t help but feel eyes on you, clocking you, a shark drawn to blood. You try to not look around too much before going up the bar and ordering two shots of vodka to calm your nerves. As soon as they arrive, they’re both immediately knocked back, side by side. You order two more and start to feel comfortable enough to look around.

A few men in leather jackets playing pool glance at you but they go back to playing. A few people covered in tattoos and dark clothes stay to themselves in a booth closest to the door and the other booth holds four men who were obviously military. One man had mutton chops and a beanie. Another was beautiful with dark skin, full lips and a baseball cap. The third had a Mohawk and a lazy smile to whatever mutton chops had said. The last, and the one you figured out was staring a hole into you, was a complete enigma. Built like a tank and scarier than the boogie man, a black mask covered his whole face as a sewed on skull mask covered the top part of his face. His eyes were dark, and latched on to yours immediately.

Hands sweaty and nerves shot, you throw back the two shots once more before gathering the courage to walk up to the big man in a skull mask.

Apart of you rips you to shreds. How stupid you were. You already had one psychotic maniac in your garage and here you are, walking up to another one, possibly.

Nobody at the table was ready for you to walk up, as suddenly the atmosphere changed as all four eyes locked on the new arrival.

The 141 was use to people staring at them, whispering about them, wanting them. It was completely different when someone actually walked up to them. And especially being as…innocent as you were. A cute flower shirt stating “Carrot On My Wayward Son” with blue jeans and sandals didn’t exactly scream “intimidating!”. You had everyone’s attention.

But especially Ghost. Who clocked you as soon as you stepped in and didn’t stop as you drank and took inventory of the crowd.

It was exhilarating.

“Can I get you a drink?” Was the first thing you said and it was directed at Ghost. If you could scream at yourself, you would. No introductions, no “sorry for interrupting” or “I hope you guys are having a good night”. Immediately going for “do you want a drink and take me home?”. This wasn’t you.

Neither was almost beating a man to death, so you were finding out new things about you all the time.

You didn’t pay attention to the rest of the guys, who looked wildly at each other. This was NOT what they had expected but they stayed silent. Many people didn’t approach Ghost but here you were.

He stayed silent as well, taking note of your facial expression and watching as it fell. Taking his silence for rejection. Before you could apologize and turn around, his voice came out from the mask and if you survived this whole ordeal, you would beg him to read a manual so you could masturbate to it later.

“Bourbon. Kentucky.”

A smile laced your lips as you nodded and turned around to order it for him. He decided rather quickly that he liked your smile and wanted to see it more. Ignoring the rest of his team, he got up and silently followed you up the bar. You snagged a place by the wall and waited as the bartender completed your request.

You couldn’t ignore the behemoth of a man standing next to you and you couldn’t stop your face from warming up as you realized how close you two were standing.

“Not y’r usual scene, luv?” His voice vibrated through you. Addicting. You chuckled looking up at him.

“That obvious?”

“Dead give away.” His gloved lightly touched your shirt, but you could swear he just set it on fire. You couldn’t help but also blush at how ridiculous you must look. You laughed at yourself.

“I guess I didn’t see what I put on before getting here.” You tried explaining lamely, suddenly thankful the bartender chose to drop off his drink.

“Put it on my tab. ‘ers too.” The way he said it made your argument die on your tongue. Of course you could pay for it, but how could you say no?

You could see him pull his mask up and you found the bar to be interesting, desperate to give him privacy.

He would be lying if he said that didn’t make his cock hard. Look at you. Being so obedient and so polite. Fuck, it was gonna kill him. After his mask was back on, you turned back to him, losing yourself in his dark eyes.

“Thank you.” In your head, it was confident and stern but in reality, it barely came out a whisper.

“Wha’ do ya need, luv?” Getting straight to the point, and it brought you back to why exactly you were here in the first place.

You weren’t here to flirt with guys in skull masks. You were here because you were in trouble and you needed help. You couldn’t help the broken inhale or the way you chest shuddered. Ghost clocked all of it. Suddenly, his dark thoughts became even darker.

Something was wrong with his little luv and he wanted to fix it. No, he needed to fix it.

“I’m…kind of in a bind. And I don’t know what to do.” He hummed at that. He glanced back to his table before meeting your eyes.

“Your place or mine?”

~

You explained you didn’t drive here and asked if you should get a cab. He declined, stating he’ll take you both. Giving him directions to your place, you couldn’t help but be surprised at his vehicle of choice: a black Harley. You should have guessed but it still made you stutter. He looked over at you with your wide eyes and eyebrows near your hair line and laughed. Deep and velvety and it grew a flower inside of your chest that you couldn’t explain away.

“Scared, luv?” Ghost chuckled, fixing to put his helmet over your head. “Hang on tight.” Watching him mount his bike should be considered illegal, and you couldn’t help the clench of your thighs as you took in this specimen.

It had been way too long.

He turned on his bike as you got behind him and hanging on to him tightly, he began the ride back to your house. Your prison. You soaked in his warmth and the way his muscles contracted against your chest. He was all muscle and it had been too long since you felt muscle. You wished the drive was longer, so you could pretend that maybe you actually went to the bar looking for fun, and you really did pick up a guy and now you were headed back to your place to see how far you would go. You could actually be normal.

But all dreams end and yours ended rather quickly as he pulled up to your driveway. You waited for him to kill the bike and tell you it’s okay to let go. He does after a moment. He didn’t want you to know how good it felt having you wrapped around him. Like you belonged there. Like you belonged with him.

Tearing the helmet off and shaking your head, you hand it back with a small ‘thanks’. You both stared at each other before his eyes left yours to look over at place. Jogging your place to memory. Now he knew your address, and if you thought he wasn’t coming back, well, you would be sorely mistaken.

“Cute place.” His voice melted you and you couldn’t help but give him genuine smile. You did appreciate his comment, you had worked hard on your yard and house. This was yours. You wanted to make it perfect.

You begin walking to your front door as your heart went into overdrive. You feel like you should turn him away. You should get a rain check. You wanted this guy to come back, not help you with this. You didn’t want to scare him away. Before you knew it, both of you stood in the front door as you dug in your pocket for your house key. Finding it quicker than later, your hands shook as you unlocked the door. Before you could do the logical thing and stop him from coming inside and discovering one of your deepest and darkest secrets, you swing the door open and step inside.

It was quiet, thankfully, as you allowed this hunk of man to walk in after you and close your door.

Ghost didn’t know what to expect. You still haven’t told him what issue you were having and his mind was going wild. Was it a boyfriend issue? Landlord being a prick? Stalker who couldn’t get the message?

Looking over your house, he thought it was too fucking cute. Maybe you had a rat issue and didn’t have a man to help you out. Of course, Ghost would help you out. And you two would be discussing payment later after it was done.

He took in your soft yellow lights filling the room. An older episode of ‘Doctor Who’ playing silently as his eyes took in your posters that covered your walls. Some of them were older movies. A few he recognized, like ‘The Thing’ by John Carpenter and ‘Legally Blonde’ with Elle Woods. He had Johnny to thank for having control over the TV one night in the barracks and he didn’t want to admit that it caught his attention more than not.

Your bookshelf caught his eye next as he took in your collection. A few were a book series that he didn’t know but they looked fantasy in nature, and others were one offs and some horror books scattered around but one that caught his eye and made him turn back to you was: ‘How to tie up your partner properly and 99 other things BDSM related.”

He couldn’t help the smile, even if you couldn’t see it.

“In a bin’, yeah?” Your cheeks violently heated up as you realized he clocked your books and saw one that must have peaked your interest. You crossed your arms and laughed, heading now towards the kitchen to stir the crockpot, to keep yourself busy.

“Sorry about those. I don’t really get much company. They’re just for looks. Like gag gifts.” You tried to explain. Ghost followed you and took in a big whiff of what was one of the best things he's ever smelled before.

Look at you in your perfect little home, not scared to go to a bar filled with bad men, approaching him like it wasn’t a death sentence and respecting his privacy while he drank. And fuck. The food smelled delicious. You were perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“‘t’s okay, luv. You give me whatever’s cookin and I’ll get you in and out of any bin’ you want.” You thought he was still lightly making fun of you. You couldn’t be further from the truth. You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Your heart was thumping thinking that the garage was too quiet. Was the man sleeping or did he escape? Was he waiting for you to check on him before attacking you again? Would this new man actually help?

Did you make the worst mistake of your life?

Deciding no time like the present, you needed advice and sooner the better, you stood by the door, less than a foot away from Mr. Tall, Dark and Sexy and took a deep breath in.

“I was hoping you could help me with this. Help me…navigate. I don’t know how to explain it, so I wanted to show you first and then tell you, if that’s alright?” Your voice started off strong but got quieter as time went on. Ghost suddenly became rigid and aware of his surroundings. He couldn’t think of what could possibly be behind that door that you so desperately didn’t want to show him, but had to. You needed help. And you found him.

It didn’t matter what was behind that door. Of course he would help you, sweet thing. And then he would eat dinner with you, then fuck your brains out and while you were sleeping, install some security cameras before asking you out on a proper date.

You had interested the beast when you walked in bar, and his interest has only been growing since.

“Go ahead luv, I got you. I’m ‘ere.” His voice shouldn’t have calmed you as much as it did, but you couldn’t stop the wave crashing over you. You trusted him and that was terrifying.

Unlocking the door, you swung it open.

The smell was the first thing to hit him.

Dried blood and sour piss wafting in and leaking into your home. The darkness was consuming and you couldn’t see a inch in front of you until you flicked on the light and your horror scene could be fully realized by the man in the skull mask.

Other than the small green car that had its back door opened with dried blood covering the seat, a small freezer near the back exit and a shelf full of canned goods, there was a bloody man, tied up with his head off to one side, either dead or passed out.

“I know what it looks like but-“

“Little dove, this is exactly what you think it looks like.” You expected him to sound horrified, or at least disgusted. Not…amused. It startled you but you kept your cool. Maybe this was his initial reaction. He certainly wasn’t expecting this, you assume.

You head to the freezer to grab a bottle of alcohol. Rum. Ghost closes the door with you three in the garage and walks to the tied up man. He takes note of his stained and soiled clothes, multi-day stubble and greasy hair. Ghosts gloves hand reaches out and grips the man by the hair, waking him up and forcing him to look at Ghost with a dazed look before all sleep vanished and what was left was pure rage. Ghost held out his other hand for the bottle, which you did as you were told. He quickly made do with the cap before pushing the man’s head back and pouring some in his mouth.

“How d’ you end up here? Honestly.” His voice dropped lower than you had heard it before. It was terrifying and made you realize how nice he had sounded before. How much you enjoyed that.

The man tried to turn towards you but Ghosts hand wrapped tighter around his hair, refusing to let him move an inch. “Not at her. Me.” He commanded and you realized quickly that this man wasn’t just a soldier but a leader. A commander in his own right. It was terrifying and yet, strangely, horribly turned you on.

It had been way too long, you completely decided.

He had gave you back the bottle which you took gently before standing away from the two, trying to stay out of the attackers eye sight, trying to listen to the man who was clearly in charge now. The attacker sneered, his lips curled back as he gauges the guy that held him.

“This stupid fucking bitch-” before you could put together what happened, the attackers head snapped back and he yowled in pain. Fresh blood spurting out from his nose as now he laid crooked and absolutely broken. Ghost didn’t give him a second before yanking him back to him, anger now littering his voice.

“Wanna try tha’ again without insulting my little dove?” You couldn’t stop the warmth from flooding you. When was the last time someone spoke about you like that? Protected your character like it was your job?

You were definitely going to call him after this, you thought happily to yourself in this middle of the chaos.

“Oh fuck you man. Your girl is a fucking cunt-”

Another hit and after that Ghost began walking away, beckoning you with his fingers, which you obeyed without a care in the world. The man was left to himself screaming and when the door closed on him, his screams were greatly reduced but still there if you listened. And you did. You stayed quiet, gauging what the newcomer thought. Ghost stayed silent, and inched his hand to the bottle that you held which you gave him graciously. He pulled his mask up to drink and you looked away again, but you could hear it pour down his throat and it settled something warm in you. Once he was done, he pulled his mask back down and gave you the bottle and you followed lead. The rum eased some of your anxiety, letting you feel warm as you pulled off your shoes and sat on your couch, waiting for him to join.

Ghost grabbed a chair before dragging it and sitting it directly in front of you, invading your space. You wouldn’t complain. Maybe he wasn’t close enough…

“So, luv. I was expecting some boyfriend issue. Maybe dirty landlord, or a fuckin’ rat. But kidnapping and torture? Well. If you didn’t have my interest before, you definitely got it now.” His accent was deeper and darker but you couldn’t say if he was angry or not. Your eyes dropped from his in shame and landed on his chest before his fingers lightly gripped your chin to lift them back to his. You gulped before you nodded. Fear soaked you through and through. You needed to tell him your story. You needed him to understand.

“Well, I was driving home from after work…”

[astearisms]

fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started

[raindropsyndrome]

HIII I’M BACK! And I like Trigun now

[cottonconnielvr]

Okay so, we’re obviously Connie’s very spoiled girlfriend

Reader had eyes on this really expensive bag that she’s been dying to have. She asked Plug!Connie and he has the audacity to tell us no, just to see how we’d react. Reader starts having a really nasty bratty attitude for a week and now daddy gotta set us straight 🫣

WARNINGS ✩ — squirting, smoking, sloppy messy blowjob, reader calls con daddy, reader is sensitive emotionally,rough sex, crying, handjob,overstimulation + just nasty stuff (may b a couple mistakes bc i didnt feel like re-reading imma do it later tho😭)

JEAN passed the blunt over to Connie, slightly shaking from coughing. Connie, who was sitting on Eren’s couch, shook his head as he scrolled through your ig story. “Swear this lil girl want me to fuck her shit up,” Connie mumbled as he hit the blunt.

Eren laughed from the floor, sitting in a bean bag. “What she do now?”

“She got a lil attitude with me because I told her not to let her fucking demon dog in the room anymore. So now she posting shit she know will make me mad” Connie passed his phone to Eren, letting him look at your story.

“You spoil that girl wayyy too much anyway,” Jean added.

“What you mean?” Connie asked with an attitude.

“She never listen to your ass because you say yes to everything she says. She literally gets whatever she wants from you.” Connie fights the urge to defend his spoiled princess but, Jean was making a point.

“I mean he did kinda do it to himself, not her” Eren passed the blunt to Jean.

“Bro you’re her bitch” Jean says in disbelief. “Shut yo long headed ass up. I am not her bitch” Connie defends himself, although a part of him agreed with Jean. Connie never really did put you in check unless it ended with angry sex. He was never super stern with, just letting you get by with everything.

But that was the way it was supposed to be. You were his spoiled little princess who always got what she wanted because she deserves it more than anyone.

“Just tell her no to see how she reacts”

Connie doesn’t give an answer, just contemplating on it.

“Ight”

“Isn’t she gorgeous baby just look” You practically shove your phone in Connie’s face. Connie looks at the pink purse. “I’ve been obsessing so bad and I neeedd it, please” Your glossy lips pout as you beg.

Connie furrowed his eyebrows, “Mhmm no I think you’re good.” You jerk your head back, trying to process that word, No.

You don’t have a great history with the word no.

“No y/n you can’t have this”

“No y/n you can’t have that”

Why would anyone deny you anything?

“What? Why! What did I do? Why not!?” You whined feeling the need to cry.

“You don’t exactly deserve it. You haven’t been good”Connie fought the urge to smile at you, such a crybaby. “What!? Baby I have what are you talking about?” You sat up, sitting on Connie’s lap.

“Your instagram stories, you keep going to parties I tell you not to go to. You needa get your act together” You gasped, offended that he was acting so nonchalant. He was basically telling you that he didn’t love you anymore.

“So until you fix your attitude then maybe, you can get it” Connie practically brushed you off and reached for his blunt. You sat there frozen for a minute, feeling betrayed and heartbroken.

“Okay Connie.” You said in a monotone voice before getting off of Connie and walking out of the room.

The rest of the week has been hell for Connie.

You had one of the worst attitudes ever, giving Connie silent treatment, short answers, and no sex.Were you trying to kill him?

In your point of view, you weren’t gonna stop until he apologized ( with an apology gift to go with ).

Connie walked in the house, hearing you blast “Me, Myself, and I” by Beyonce. Connie shook his head, obviously understanding the message.

“Baby!” Connie yelled from downstairs.

Meanwhile you sat at your vanity, fixing your hair. Connie opened the door to your beauty room, “You ain hear me calling you?” He asked while squinting his eyes at you. “I guess not.” Connie watched as you rolled your eyes.

Connie leaned on the door, poking his tongue against his cheek. “What’s yo problem?” He finally asked.

You stayed silent.

“I’m talking to you, Y/N.” Connie said sternly.

“Nothing Connie” You stood up, fully showcasing your tight outfit.

“ where you goin” Connie looked you up and down, ignoring his boner and licking his lips.

You were wearing a tight denim mini skirt with baby tee, showing your boobs practically poking out the top. “Just going out” You grabbed your purse which Connie recognized it as a new one.

You had to buy it yourself since no charges came from Connie’s card and you’ve been avoiding him like crazy. Connie knew you were really mad if you start paying for your own stuff. You walked passed him, purposely hitting him with your purse and a small oops leaving your mouth.

Connie just smiled to himself, shaking his head. You were gonna sleep really good tonight.

“What I tell you about walking away from me mama?” Connie followed you to the living room. You didn’t answer, walking to the front door.

You stood a little shocked as Connie sat on the couch. He got pretty comfortable, reaching for his phone out of his pocket.

Just as you reached for the lock, “Y/N come sit down with me”

Your legs practically went numb as you heard the tone in Connie’s voice. He sounded very very stern which meant he was not in the mood to be fucked with.

Your boldness melted away. Your head immediately went down, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

You sat in the loveseat across from Connie, messing with your fishnets. “I said come sit with me Y/N” You didn’t hesitate to move the second he said your name.

Yeah he was pissed.

You walked over to Connie, his hand grabbing yours as he pulls you on his lap. You land on Connie’s muscular thigh, his hand immediately going to your inner thigh.

His touch felt good, your attention now focused on the feeling. His tatted fingers massaging your inner thigh.

“What’s yo problem? Didn’t even care to ask me how my day was,” Connie looked up at you as you stayed silent. A pinch was sent to your inner thigh, making you jump.

“I don’t have a problem Connie. I was just trying to have fun”

“Why you lying to me Y/N” Connie grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“You just made me upset and I-I just really wanted the bag” Connie’s thumb wiped against your bottom lip, smearing your lip gloss.

“Instead of acting like a brat you should’ve told me that you were upset. I thought we agreed to talk like adults whenever we feel upset with eachother, not do this petty ass silent treatment shit.”

“I’m sorry Con” Your voice small and quiet out of guiltiness.

“I don’t believe you ma” Connie leaned back on the couch, removing his hands from your body.

You whined, missing his touch after you ignored him for days. “I really am daddy”

Connie almost folded at the pet name, fighting the urge to pound you into the couch until your makeup comes off but that could wait. He wanted to make you beg a little longer.

“I don’t believe you. Gonna show me how sorry you are hm?” You quickly nodded, taking place between his spread legs. Your hands immediately went for the band of his sweatpants, tugging them down with eagerness. Connie lifted up his hips, letting you pull down his boxers as well. His cock springing up against his stomach ( his name ain’t connie springer for no reasonnnn)

Your tongue ran up his balls, going all the way up to the tip. “Fuck” Connie mumbled to himself, it’s felt like forever since you’ve gave him a blowjob.

You hollowed your cheeks as you took him down to the base. You flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, feeling him stuff your throat.

Your hands rested on the floor besides your knees, stabling yourself as you tried to breathe through your nose.

You gagged once you felt Connie buck his hips upwards. Connie’s hands went to your head, keeping you in place.

Your nose was flush against his lower stomach. Connie thrusted up into your mouth, groaning to himself. The more he looked down at you, the angrier he got.

How dare you ignore him and keep this pretty little mouth away from him. You could feel your scalp become sore from the deadly grip Connie had on it.

The sloppy sound of your gags and the wetness of your mouth filled the living room. The scene was so nasty and filthy, your saliva leaking all around Connie’s cock and your mouth.

Your hands tapped at Connie’s thighs. Connie lifted your head up, letting you breathe. Strings of spit connected from your mouth to Connie’s cock, making him groan.

You panted, feeling your sticky lip gloss all over your mouth.

“Stick your tongue out” Connie slowly stroked himself. You stuck your tongue out. Connie slapped his dick around your tongue, making your saliva drip down to your boobs. Connie rubbed his dick all over your lips before bringing it down to your chest.

“F-fuck” Connie moaned deeply. Your eyes watered, feeling so humiliated and used.

“You sorry baby?” Connie asked, slapping your wet cheek. A tear ran down your cheek, running black with your mascara. “Y-yes” You whimpered. Your hands twisted up and down his cock.

“ Gonna b-be g..good for me hm?” You stuck your tongue out, looking up at Connie. You watched as Connie pushed out a glob of spit, it landing on your tongue. You swallowed, Connie slapping your cheek once again. “Look at me ma” Your eyes locked with Connie’s before he pushed your head down on his dick again, moving your head up and down. You moaned lightly, causing a vibration to run through connie’s cock. “Make me c-c..ah..cum” Connie hissed, feeling your take him so deep. Connie could feel his stomach tightening , toes curling, and thighs clenching. “F-fuck baby” Connie pulled out of your mouth, ribbons of white cum squirting in your face. Connie winced as he rubbed his cum into your face with his tip, smearing it all over your lips (since you like lip gloss so much)

Your mascara ran down your face, making you look an absolute mess. a beautiful mess

“f-fuckfuckfuck m’sorry! i-im sorry daddy, i’m s-s..i’m so sorry” Your muffled cries fell on deaf ears, Connie continuing his brutal thrusts. He was fucking you so so so hard.

It hurt so bad but felt so good. Your legs went numb rounds ago and your body was a mess, covered in your own fluids mixed with Connie’s.

Your mouth was open, sending your screams into the silk white pillow. Connie hovered above you, holding onto the headboard as he slammed his hips into you. “F-fuck cum again” Connie ordered you, reaching between your legs to rub your swollen clit.

“I-i can’t-” You gasped out, on the verge of passing out. You gripped onto the cold pillows, trying to pull yourself up and away from his torture. Connie took notice of this and wrapped his hand around your throat, pulling you back.

“You are.” You heard Connie sternly mutter.

You whined, your hand reaching behind you to push Connie away only for Connie to grab both of your hands. He pinned them down on the deep arch in your back, absolutely churning your insides.

“I-i..i promise pa- m’not go..gonna act up anymore” You cried out, loosing all of your body strength.

You body physically went numb altogether, a rush of pleasure washes over you. Your legs shook violently. You let out a scream that you were not aware of, clenching hard on Connie’s cock.

“S-shit” Connie looked down, seeing you wet up his lower body

(“they told me to stay out that water park😔” - future baby daddy connie with his five kids tackling him)

The pressure pushed Connie’s cock out of you, causing him to paint your ass with white ribbons.

Connie took a moment to breathe before he moved from above you, your breathing was now steady and you laid flush into the bed.

Connie squinted his eyes, slowly turning your face. No way this girl is sleep right now I ain done

“Baby...Baby…..Baby” Connie shook your body, waking you up. You whined, going right back to that bratty attitude that Connie loved oh so much.

“Whattt” You were so exhausted, moving was not an option right now.

After a much needed bath, you fell right asleep with just a bra and panties on. You were knocked out, sleeping all the way until 12 pm.

You woke up to just you in the bed, your house ringing silence. (Marshmallow is at a doggy hotel getting groomed #materialgworl💅) Instead of waking up to Connie’s presence you woke up to a box with a note on top of it.

‘Had to leave early and handle some business with Ony, I’ll be back before you know it. Thank me later sexy’

You sat the note aside before taking the top off of the pink box, only to see the very purse the got you in this situation to begin with.

[mayf1owers]

In their own words

-> Quotes aren’t strictly in chronological order

-> All those people in those old photographs I've seen are dead, and in the end, I'd do it all again, I think you're my best friend. - Fall Out Boy

[baroqueghoul]

“ You are wretched, rotten little beasts! ”

Absolutely love the concept of William wearing his normal clothes alongside the Springbonnie head ( if you couldn’t already tell ) 🐇 ( love u Weem )

[fagtainsparklez]

the thing is. all of this? it’s very clear quackity studios did not mean for this to be instantly solved. this was likely meant to pad out a stretch of time to let the fanbase simmer and to add a further air of mystery as people tried to crack it time and time again. what they very much did not account for, however, was cellbit with the fucking steel chair solving it within one night

[leverage-ot3]

okay I’ve seen a lot of posts about sterling just being crowley and. guys. the implications just hear me out 😭😭😭

bending lore slightly here BUT let’s say crowley’s body was once inhabited by a human and crowley is possessing the body (maybe he kills the initial inhabitant bc he doesn’t care)

but he still has the guy’s memories. he doesn’t bother keeping up appearances with his ‘ex wife’ because he is too busy building up his hell empire. BUT for some reason he can’t quite identify, he still feels something towards his ‘daughter’. he lets the divorce happen and doesn’t feel the need (or desire) to fight for custody, but he can never quite forget her, to cast her out of his mind for good

some hijinks ensue with the leverage team. it’s mostly because even a grind culture demon wants some off time every once in a while, and for him the insurance investigator stuff is more of a hobby. interacting with the leverage crew is very low stakes for him, and honestly, quite amusing. they aren’t on his level power-wise, but that ford character gives him the mental exercise he hasn’t experienced in, well, he can’t even remember

he can feel their frustration and anger when they learn he has become employed by interpol and feeds off it. it’s great, and relaxing in a way he is never able to achieve while conducting hell-related business

one year he gets wind that olivia is in a really bad situation associated with his ‘ex wife’s’ new husband. he’s selling vital hardware to terrorists, and while that might actually be the kind of chaos he would normally support or be entertained by as the king of hell, something feels wrong about letting olivia stay anywhere near that man

he calls upon the body’s adversaries. he wouldn’t admit it, even under duress, BUT he feels slightly fond of them. nate for the three dimensional chess they play, sophie for her ability to charm and disguise, parker for her chaos and slightly unsettling nature (it’s the autism swag and being bad with human interaction but he doesn’t know that lol), hardison for his unapologetic intelligence and eliot for his hardened violent past and take-no-shit persona (he’s fun to tease)

they perform exactly as he expected, right into his carefully crafted plan. and then olivia is under his care and things get more complicated. he keeps her FAR, FAR away from anything related to the supernatural (heh). no one can find out about her, ESPECIALLY not those imbecile hunter brothers (if for nothing else than the embarrassment in revealing he has a weak spot)

not sure how to work it into this post but I also want to add that somewhere along the way he develops feelings for nate and sophie. the frame up job is near and dear to my heart and you can’t convince me that isn’t fighting as flirting behavior. his interpol persona is more of a side hustle so to speak, but he finds it fun (relaxing, even) to fill that role. there aren’t any obligations of other demons, bothersome hunters, or anything like that. nate and sophie are low stakes, except, they aren’t, really. they make him feel things he can’t ever really remember feeling. his heart beats fast when sophie sat in his lap and cradled his face, his hands sweat when nate gives him that certain smug look. he’s exasperated by the way they can run circles around him like no one else has ever before. they annoy him and get under his skin in a way no one else can and it’s infuriating. but also not, at the same time. maybe he likes it

and then the long goodbye job happens

hear me out and suspend your belief here for a second, because I can’t remember if crowley supernaturally knows when ppl die/are dead or not.

so nate is in interpol custody and the interviewer is obviously out of her depth. (most people are, when it comes to nathan ford.) he walks in and pours the man a drink, but he’s fuming. somewhere along the way he came to care about the team. hell and suffering is literally in his (official) job description, but he can admit (only to himself) that he admires what they do. it’s not for him, not anything close to where his passions and interests lie, but he respects their drive and purpose. he is also aware enough to acknowledge that they are a family, a group of misfits that never belonged quite anywhere except to each other.

and nate fucking blew it up, ruined it, because his vice is being so obsessed with the end game that he is apparently willing to let his team, his family, the people that anchor him to reality, die because the ends supposedly justify the means.

not this time. not to sterling crowley

he is enraged. he can admit within the confines of his mind that he cares for nate, for sophie, even for the other three (though nate and sophie have somehow made it a hierarchy where they are more important to him. which he will dissect later in private. maybe.)

nate let them die, he let sophie die, and for what? the black book? hell below, crowley would have made things easier somehow, if he knew that this was where nate’s sights had lied. he would have prevented this somehow. he wants to have prevented this. he doesn’t want any of them dead and is too afraid to check and verify because that would make it real. the idea of sophie (or any of them) somehow making it to hell instead of heaven would probably break something in him he might not be able to reapir fully.

he yells at nate- he’s angry. hellfire burning in his heart because everything is ruined. the deaths aside (however hard it is to set them aside in his mind), nate will not recover from this, not ever. this will be the start of the end, he is sure. a miserable, guilt-ridden existence where he drinks himself to death and nothing will save him. it plays out in crowley’s mind in a thousand different ways that are beyond painful to conceptualize, even in theory.

the story starts to unravel and there is a game afoot. a solemn, miserable, infuriating game because the con is still in session because parker is alive and in the building- which sets another fire alight in his chest. ‘parker even know you got hardison killed?’ he rages for her grief when she finds out. he knows it will double when she finds out eliot has perished, too, because he isn’t fucking blind.

but nate is a brilliant man, lest he forget too quickly. they are all alive, and somehow still the entire crew slips through his fingers. he’s not even angry (he never would have been- he doesn’t actually try too hard to catch them. it’s about the game, not the consequences). he lets them keep the black book because he’s fucking exhausted and honestly, they more than earned it.

‘now we’re even. tell sophie to drive carefully’. they will never be even, not really. crowley would never admit or agree that being human is the superior state of being, but that have made him feel human in a way he doesn’t actually mind. they keep him on his toes and match him in a way unique to them, they remind him that there are other things than the realm of hell. not necessarily bigger than hell, but maybe just as important in a different sense.

watching the van drive away, something inside him settles. when he walked into the interrogation room that day he thought this was the beginning of the end. it’s not the end at all, not an end to anything. it’s a continuation of their story. maybe, he thinks, a beginning to a new era in it

[captainfern]

why is writing a 4x1 porno fic so difficult

like atp there’s too much fucking dick 😭

[lovingonryles]

when the mockingjay sings

guess who’s back after two months 🤭 i’m so sorry y’all omfg 😭 Anyway, hope y’all have seen tbosas (if you haven’t, IT IS SO GOOD, please watch it.) take some of my current gf <33

pairing: lucy gray baird x fem!reader

summary: your girlfriend comes back as the victor of the 10th hunger games, but doesn’t stay for long

warnings: established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, going off the movie since I haven’t read the book yet

word count: 1,259, should take about ten minutes to read (longest to date!!)

listen to: stubborn love by the lumineers

IT WAS EASY falling in love with lucy gray baird. her charming voice, her sweet smile, her beautiful, beautiful, face, her personality, really all of it made you fall face first for her.

her lust shone over you so easily. she could ask you to jump off a cliff, and you would happily do it just to make her proud. that’s all you ever wanted from her. proudness. acceptance.

so it was really no surprise for lucy gray or the covey when you tried to volunteer for her at the reaping.

you remember the firm hand on your forearm, the one that belonged to your girlfriend after you just pleaded to go in place of her. “don’t.” you gave her a look of anger, eyebrows knitted.

“‘don’t?’ you expect me to let you die out there?” you could see tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill out.

and it killed you. this wasn’t the bold lucy gray you knew. the one who would scare you from behind while you were making breakfast. the one who always kissed you in front of your family.

no, this was a different lucy gray. her voice began to shake. “i’m sorry.” and with that, she was gone, the gentle touch that was once on your arm a near punishment for being in love with someone so intricate.

the next few days were hell for you. You couldn’t eat, go out to your family, anything. all you could do was sleep. and you didn’t dare turn on your tv and watch the games.

so to get news that your girlfriend was not only the victor, but also well was overjoying to you.

the day lucy gray came back was the happiest of your life. the first second she saw you, she immediately sprinted, jumping up into your arms.

you giggled, running your hands through her hair. “i knew you could do it,” you whispered, tears of joy starting to form.

“ya, and i knew you couldn’t,” she whispered back, laughing at her own words. you couldn’t help but laugh, too.

everything returned relatively back to normal; you’d come to her shows, you two would hang out every day and walk in the woods, and you’d sit with the covey.

until one day.

you sat at the hob, waiting for your girlfriend to perform as usual. she had just gone off stage for a brief moment. it was taking longer than usual, though, and you started to grow concerned.

after a while, lucy gray and her band returned back on stage, but something seemed off about the singer.

you knew your girlfriend well, and you knew that this wasn’t the normal her. she appeared to be fine on the surface, singing her songs with a smile on her face, but you knew better.

so, when the performance ended, you immediately ran to catch up with lucy gray. she was two steps ahead of you, immediately sprinting to your seat.

she quickly rested her hands on your face. &ldquoi love you and i’m sorry.” she pecked your lips and just like that, she was gone, running out of the hob. no time for you to ask what she meant.

days had passed, and to your fear, you hadn’t heard from your girlfriend. no sign of her around town.

you went to the Covey, asking them if they’d seen her. nobody had seen lucy gray since the day at the hob. and allegedly, two people had shown up dead at the hob the same night your girlfriend ran off.

great.

you knew fate was going to catch up to you eventually after your girlfriend survived the games. so you accepted you’d never hear from her again.

you hid in your room, only coming out to use the bathroom or eat. you cried endlessly those few days.

lucy gray baird was your everything, and she was gone. of course she fucking was.

11:30 AM IS when you woke the next day. truly, you woke up at a much earlier time, but you didn’t get up until the cons of staying in bed outweighed the pros.

you slugged into the kitchen, going to fix yourself a cup of coffee. your family was already out at work or school, so you were all alone. nothing to disturb you.

until you heard a knock on the door. nobody ever knocked.

you walked to the door, not knowing who was there or why they were. you slowly opened the door just an inch, just to take a peak at who was there.

you couldn’t believe your eyes. you thought you must be hallucinating from all the sleep, or maybe still dreaming. maybe you never got out of bed at all. “lucy gray?”

you quickly pulled her into your house, making sure to lock the door right after. before either of you could get anything out, you wrapped her in a tight hug.

it was a longing one. you thought lucy gray was dead, and she thought you’d never get the opportunity to see her again. the hug seemed to last ages, only being broken to litter each other’s faces in kisses.

“where the fuck have you been, lucy gray?” you asked, inviting her to sit down on the couch next to you.

“hiding. it’s a long story.” she took a seat next to you, leaning her head on your shoulder.

“did you kill mayfair?” you asked, genuine concern in your eyes. “i’m not mad if you did-”

“no, no, i didn’t,” she interrupted, reassuring you. “i was just too closely related to the situation. and then…other things happened, so i can’t stay for long.” your face turned into one of confusion.

“what happened?”

“i just said it was a long story.” she laughed, prompting you to laugh after her. that laugh sent you spiraling.

“well, at least tell me where you’re hiding.”

“up in the woods. gonna head up north here soon. i just came to visit to let you know i’m still here.”

“let me come with you. please.” you were pleading. you didn’t know how much longer you could live without your girlfriend. having to deal with the past few days for the rest of your life would end you.

“it’s not safe, (name)-”

“then why’d you even come? just to taunt me?” you fought back.

“no. i’m just saying you can’t come.”

“you have to let me. please. these past few days have been hell without you, lucy gray. i can’t have you stripped away from me a second time. i didn’t know much you meant to me until you got reaped, and right after you came back you left again. if you don’t let me go with you i might actually die.”

her face softened during your confession. she’d never had much reassurance in her life. nobody to ever really kiss the tears away. you were different. you were special.

she slowly realized how you were her everything, too. your hearts were both chipping, but they both fit perfectly together.

she sighed. “okay. pack your things.”

your eyes lit up, immediately jumping up from the couch to grab your stuff.

you knew your parents wouldn’t care about this eventually. there’d be the initial shock, but after time, nobody would care. you were always seen as nothing but another mouth to feed.

your bag full, you walked out of your room for the last time. lucy gray called for you from the doorway. “you sure?”

as you gazed at your house for the final time, you nodded, joining her in the doorway. “positive.”

[leostimstuff]

Sarah Jane Smith 70s themed stimboard with orange, brown, and beige for anon!!

🗞️ 🧡 📼 | 🗞️ 🧡 📼 | 🗞️ 🧡 📼

[pinkmirth]

What do you think Reiner and his s/o would argue about in a relationship? I can't imagine it would last long

BACK TALK, reiner braun !

SYNOPSIS — just a fluffy lil drabble about reiner wanting to take care of you. he doesn’t want to argue, but you’re just so stubborn…

CONTAINS — 1k words of . . . fluff, fem!reader (black coded), “girly-girl” reader, reiner feeds you, lowercase intended, just sappy stuff with this caring gentleman <3 (kinda sorta self indulgent!)

this is a tough one, nonnie…. only because maturity is reiner’s best attribute! picking a problem with you is the last thing this man wants to do, and he’s very slow to anger. you’re right about any disputes not lasting long! even if he tried, reiner can’t stay mad at you.

the most that could happen between you and him are petty squabbles about preferences, something dumb like waffles over pancakes! the pair of you ultimately laugh it off and end up cuddling once all is said and done. It’s hard to envision a topic that could stir such a reaction from him to the point where he’s arguing with you. i think the only thing that would get him going back and forth in an “argument” is if he’s worried about you, but you decide to be stubborn with him.

for instance, you’re tired and have been studying all day, and he just wants you to allow yourself to relax. but! you’re persistent on finishing up your assignments. he’d probably grow upset and insist that you deserve a break . . . (veryyy self indulgent ‘cause i’ve been studying for a gajillion tests lately!)

dull thuds of reiner’s heavy footsteps upon carpet announce his entrance into your room. he strolls around your cozy little home-desk, the one he helped you build a couple months back when the school semester first began. it’s adorned in sanrio stickers galore and polaroid pictures of you and him, nostalgic square photos secured with baby-pink thumbtacks. reiner circles you with a brooding silence, flitting his eyes from the slideshow on your laptop screen to your scribbled notes. you feel him linger behind your chair, but opt on saying nothing.

“baby, c’mon…” reiner calls out, his tone borderline pleading, “you’ve been here for hours.” from behind your seat, he inches in until he’s close enough to rest his weighty hands on your stiffened shoulders. reiner’s warm palms rub along the junction of your neck. it’s helping— he can see it in the way your body slackens in your swivel chair.

“i gotta prep for tomorrow’s test,” his touch brings you to release a lax hum, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on it for long. the fleeting moment of bliss he provides ends too soon, as you smooth out your oversized baby-pink tee-shirt and begin to refocus on your work.

“have you eaten?” he asks. the shake of your head brings about his frown. you could surely get your work done without depriving yourself of basic needs… all he wants is for you to be well taken care of. “no, not yet.” you spare him a glance before looking back over your laptop.

reiner’s hand shoots out, grabbing your chair and turning you halfway-round to face him. the closeness of his face to yours makes it seem like the perfect opportunity to press your lips to his and linger there for a while. instead, you remain still, choosing a safer route by stealing glances of his handsome attributes. your eyes run across his prominent collarbone peeking through his low-neck sweatshirt, the slight clench of his firm jaw, most especially the raw concern swimming in his honey-golden eyes. “why not?” reiner questions, with his brows drawn tight in worry. you whirl back around, for the sake of your own resolve.

“because i’m studying, reiner.”

“no, you’re cramming.” he corrects. reiner can read you like a damn storybook; it’s almost as though he knows you more than his very own self. “at least i’m drinking water,” you raise a bottle from your desk for emphasis. water sloshes in the cylindrical confines as you set it back down, “happy?”

reiner rolls his tongue and prods at his inner cheek. he decides to pay no mind to your little attitude. “water’s fine, but you need food.”

“a meal would be too heavy for me... i’d probably end up falling asleep.” you haphazardly shoo his suggestion, scribbling bullet points onto your notebook.

“so a snack would be better, then? your favorite fruit is in the fridge downstairs.” reiner turns on his heel, intent on coming back with a bowl of nicely-cut strawberries and mangoes. you reach out, clasping onto him forearm before he zips out of your room and descends the flight of stairs. “it’s okay, reiner.” you assure. the ends of your manicured nails ghost his wrist.

“is it really? ‘cause it’s hard to believe that you don’t want me to get anything at all.” he quirks up a thin brow as he says it. reiner knows just how much you need his support— you’re simply choosing to act like you don’t.

“i’ll get somethin’ to eat later, i promise.” with the twirl of your ballpoint-pen, you’re back to writing. this is his third time checking up on you, and you give him the same answer with every visit. all this stubbornness has gone on long enough.

“you may be busy, but you’re also tired.” he's quick to snatch the pen from your hands, right in the middle of you scrawling a sentence onto lined paper. “hey! reiner, give it—”

“nuh-uh. stop bein’ difficult about it.” he plants a large hand onto the back of your macbook and shuts it closed. you do an over-exaggerated huff, make a pout, throw in a bratty eye roll— he doesn’t care for it. what you need is to allow him take care of you. he can’t let his darling work herself to death, now can he? not in a literal sense, but he wouldn’t forgive himself for allowing this to continue.

“i’ll be right back, okay? and for the love of god, don’t open that goddamn laptop.” he makes his leave. you hear the faint hum of a microwave. it doesn’t take long for him to return, with a steaming plate of food in hand. reiner takes joy in replacing that stupid notebook of yours with the reheated dinner that he cooked up for you over an hour ago.

he pulls up a seat, scoots in close, and brings a hot forkful up to your mouth. “don’t argue. just eat, baby.”

this sly man knows that it’s your favorite food. you have no energy left to brush him off. finally, you give in. with a soft ‘ah’, you allow reiner to feed you. there’s a satisfied gleam in his eye as he stuffs your mouth with bite after bite.

“it’s good?” he softly asks. you cover your mouth while chewing, giving him a sheepish nod. “mm-hm.”

“you feel better, don’t you?” reiner nudges your shoulder with his broader one. you don’t try to fight the smile overtaking your lips. “i do…” you relent, looping your arms around his neck. he firmly hugs you in one arm, and uses his unoccupied hand to hold onto the ceramic plate. over half of the food’s gone.

he hears your quiet, sincere ‘thank you’ murmured into his chest, feels your frame relax against his. “good.” reiner sighs into your hair. he wants you to put yourself first, every single time. “that’s good.”

[goldenhypen]

⋆｡⠐ happy ✧｡♡

✴︎｡⠐ birthday ⠐⚬⋅｡

⋅｡⠐ to the kindest cutest most loving cheerful hard working greatest prettiest handsomest funniest hottest jakey sim 🦭 ⚬♡⋅｡

⎯ ⋅ ♡ ⋅ ⎯

jake, my love and admiration for you go beyond words. thank you for blessing me with so much joy and love in my life. you’re an inspiration to so many and i’m so grateful for you and incredibly proud of where you are and who you’ve become. and you deserve all the best things, or at least to have the best birthday of your life this year <3 eat well and celebrate lots my love <3 i love you and happy birthday <33

[pichichustudios]

WOW YOUR MIDLINK IS SOOOO GOOD!!!!!!

THANK YOU THEY GIVE MY LIFE 😭❤️❤️

[prince-kallisto]

Anyway what if I got emotional over the bat, flowers, and poison apple print on Pomefiore’s vampire costume in comparison to the raven, flowers, and red apple on Crowley’s vacation shirt.

[losersimonriley]

At the tail end of a long, grueling mission that had them run around half of Eastern Europe, Laswell had given Ghost and Soap three days of leave before they'd be flying back home. She'd even booked them a hotel in a tiny spa town for two nights. Yet even though they arrived early in the day, Soap was still exhausted enough from the mission to just let Ghost handle the check in.

Something was off, though, when Ghost returned to him. He could tell by the square set of his shoulders and the slight frown on his brows. Even without his usual balaclava, his hood and face mask hid most of Ghost's expressions from inexperienced viewers.

"Good news: Laswell's paying for two dinners each at the in house restaurant. It's supposedly very good," Ghost reported.

"And the bad news?"

Ghost subtly shifted his weight. "Only had rooms with double beds left."

"You mind sharing?" Soap raised his eyebrows.

"Nah. Thought you might."

"Nah. Let's get up to our room then. I'm right knackered from the trip."

Ghost rolled his eyes at the phrasing, but didn't comment on it. When Soap punched his shoulder to signal go time, he obediently followed to the elevator.

As forewarned, the room only had one bed. But at least it was the softest, most cloud like bed Soap'd ever had the pleasure of sitting on. He wanted to immediately lie down and never get up. First things first, though.

"Mind if I take the first shower?"

Ghost shrugged. "Feel free. Thought I'd have a look around town. Find the spa. Try the public fountains. Look at the local attractions. Tourist shite."

"Have fun. I'll cover home base while you're out on recon, then."

Ghost huffed out a small laugh as he turned to leave the room.

Soap hopped into the shower for a quick wash, dried himself off with extremely fluffy towels and then got himself comfortable in the bed. He'd planned on a quick nap, but when he woke up again, it was because someone had chucked a paper bag at his head. It smelled deliciously like baked goods.

"Got you lunch, Sleeping Beauty."

"I'd be so mad at you for waking me like that," Soap said as he sat up and bit into the bun that'd smacked him in the ear. "If this weren't so good."

"Up for an afternoon trying all the healing springs? The park is twenty minutes from here and has at least ten different fountains with different properties. Maybe one can cure stupid."

"Maybe one can cure being a dick."

"You'll never know."

They spent the afternoon together trying the water from every single fountain in the park. It had clearly been built sometime in the nineteenth century, Soap pointed out, citing the architecture and decorations. The water was various kinds of salty. More than half the fountains were claimed to have uranium in the water, a fact that led both Ghost and Soap to come up with more and more outrageous movie mutations caused by too much of the spa water. Dinner at the hotel's restaurant was fantastic. The chef didn't skimp on the fat, nor on the herbs and spices.

Soap had almost forgotten about the bed in their room by the time they got ready for bed. "I can still sleep on the floor, LT."

"Why?"

"Dunno." Soap shrugged. "Thought it might be weird to you."

"'s not." Ghost took off his boots, stripped down to his undershirt and briefs before he slipped under the covers. "Fuck. 's like a cloud in here."

Quickly, before either of them could change their mine, Soap undressed and got into bed as well. His hammering heart forced him to keep a fair distance between himself and Ghost.

"Figured you'd be a cuddler," Ghost mused.

"That an offer?"

"Mh." Under the covers, Ghost reached out to pull Soap closer to him. "Don't mind if it's you."

Soap swallowed. He let himself be pulled against Ghost, head resting on a broad chest, hand over a heart that was beating it's staccato rhythm in tandem with Soap's own.

"G'night, Simon," Soap whispered, not trusting his mouth to say more.

"Night, Johnny."

When he woke up the next morning with his Johnny sprawled out on top of him, with his breath hot against his bare neck, Ghost was immensely glad he'd convinced the hotel clerk to give them a room with a double bed. Even if it was just for one more night, he'd treasure this closeness for the rest of his life.

This felt like getting tucked into a comfy warm hotel bed of my very own <3 I hope everyone else enjoys this cloud bed as much as I do god BLESS