#otherwise the brainrot will not let me sleep | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lvgrrqs · 11 months

Text

SUGAR SWEET — E. WILLIAMS.

summary. the cake you had baked your girlfriend for your anniversary wasn’t the only sugar sweet thing getting eaten that night.

note. living for ellie brainrot posts, this is just something i wrote up really quick because i couldn’t sleep at all last night and i think it was the frosted coffee i had - i’m gonna stick to tea from now on. also i know i said angst wasn’t my thing in my last post but smut is something i really don’t dabble in too much, so i’m just letting my mind run off.

word count. 1.7k

the warmth that you felt, just, everywhere, was electrifying.

the air felt foggy, going up a noticeable temperature and you werent sure if it was from the friction you and ellie had going on or if you had just forgotten to set the thermostat.

“oh god.. ellie…” you couldn’t help the whimpers that left your mouth as her tongue guided itself from your neck down to the valley of your breasts. her calloused hands traced your hips, giving the soft area a squeeze before reaching towards your tits - fondling them and tweaking your nipples between her index finger and thumb.

she knew just how to touch you, how to get you wet and needy for her. it was always heaven, the way she knew your body inside and out and knew just where to touch. all of your special spots, your sensitive ones.

“keep making those pretty sounds princess,” she hummed, replacing one of her hands with her mouth. your back arched into her instinctively, molding into her perfectly so she could take more of your flesh in between her warm lips. your body could feel every trace her tongue had made, every round trip it took as she licked your nipple. it set your core on fire as she tugged at the other, stretching the flesh and letting it go to watch your tit bounce back.

it was only fair for her to treat you so good, to take her time to taste you. after all, you had put so much effort into that sweet little cake you made her decorated with her favorite frosting and sprinkles. it was almost as cute as you, and she couldn’t help but choose to eat you before digging into it.

you, of course, had no complaints besides being able to eat a slice while it was fresh, but when it came to ellie and when she wanted to get her hands on you there was no way you would ever turn her down. not when the frosting came with you guys to the bedroom.

when you started, ellie had your stomach lathered with it, loving your curves and your tummy in general. if she could, she would put a baby in there for you, yet she loves the area all the same. then, when she had already licked it clean, she had started to go for your chest, your tits putting her in a trance that you had to pull her out of.

another needy whine left you, your hands running into her hair and tugging at it. her teeth caught your nipple, pulling it with her as she let you pull her head back and off of you. you hissed, but didn’t complain.

your body was hers to enjoy, especially on your anniversary.

“no more, please..” her eyes locked with yours, a smirk on her lips. “tell me what you need baby, be a good girl and let me hear it.” her hands went down to your hips, fingers playing with the lace that protected your pussy from her fingers that were aching to indulge in it. she wasn’t going to give it to you that easily though.

she wanted to hear you beg.

“y’know what i want!” you cried, her fingers ghosting over your clothed slit. “come on baby, use your words.” her tone was attentive, but also authoritative. you knew you had to say it, she was going to make you, otherwise you would lie here unsatisfied.

her hands gripped your chin, forcing you to look her way and into her eyes. they were fiery yet full of love for you. there was no doubt that your cheeks visibly changed color and the smile on ellie’s lips confirmed that. “please els… ‘m want your fingers, your tongue..” “you think you can handle them both, pretty?”

you nodded vigorously, never breaking eye contact with your girlfriend. “well, gotta give the pretty lady what she wants.” she hummed, capturing your lips in a quick, heated kiss before starting a trail down to the lacey panties you wore - no doubt you took some time choosing these just for tonight, you hadn’t expected her to see them this early though.

the eye contact ellie kept with you was skillful, never once breaking it even when she got to the barrier between you and her lips.

you thought you would only ever see it in movies, or the little porn videos you would watch where the dominant figure would remove the others underwear with their teeth. you didn’t see how it was possible, but you were enamored to say the least with how flawless ellie seemed to do it.

her teeth connected with the top of your panties, tugging the fabric down as her hands came up and lifted your hips. it was able to slip off easier, and she continued to guide her hands from your hips to the curve of your ass, to the fat of your thighs and your soft calves until she had sat up between your legs - panties in hand, or mouth in this case.

it was sexy, in a way, and you almost wanted to snatch them out of her mouth and put them back on just so she could do it again.

her hands pushing your legs apart gently brought you back to the real world, giving her body more space to slip in between your thighs which she lifted to rest on her shoulders. her eyes looked back up at you, a small smile on her lips. “you ready, pretty girl?”

“yes ma’am, please be ge- ohh, fuck…” her tongue quickly delved between your folds with your approval, not letting you finish your sentence. your hips bucked up, pushing her face into you more. she didn’t fight it, instead allowing it and rubbing your thighs to give you comfort.

her nose nudged your clit, the slick and gushing sounds of just her tongue on you echoed through the room along with the sounds of your moans and cries. “‘m so good, ‘s so good els!” you encouraged her actions, her tongue drawing figure 8’s on your clit as one of her hands made it’s way down.

you swore if she kept that motion up you would cum on the spot, the aching and ever so tightening feeling in the pit of your stomach growing.

she pulled back, the feeling of that pit in your stomach disappearing. you came to clench around nothing, bucking your hips into the air as ellie had moved to reposition herself. “patience, sweet girl. i gotcha, y’know i gotcha.” her body moved to the edge of the bed, though she leaned over and helped scoot you to the edge of the bed to make the job easier for her.

“‘m promise, won’t leave ya’ hanging.” you nodded at her words, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch her get down on the floor at the edge of the bed. once again, she placed your legs over her shoulders, but the new angle gave her more room to work her magic with both her fingers and her tongue.

teasingly, despite her current statement, her thumb came to press flat on your clit. the sensation made you whine, ellie watching as the slick of your pussy grew. in awe, her eyes stayed trained on it as her fingers moved from your clit to run through your slit, gathering your wetness on her fingers.

“always so pretty for me, always taste so sweet too.” she hummed, the praise making you clench on thin air once again. “els, please..” she looked at you, awaiting the words you knew she wanted to hear. “fuck me, please?”

“atta girl.”

with care, but also in a rush to finally give you what you wanted, ellie pushed her fingers past your folds, starting with two just to get you adjusted. that was enough to send you to space, seeing stars. what you were finally craving had been given to you, and it enough to have your back arching off the bed. your fingers gripped the sheets of your shared bed with the girl who’s head was between your legs.

pants and heavy mewls filled the room accompanied by ellie’s encouraging words. the gushing sound of her fingers going in and out of you at a rapid pace followed suit, getting louder as she added a third finger. “fuckkk.. you feel so good, it feels so good els!” you cried, hand reaching down to find her hair. her locked became entangled in your fingers and you urged her head towards your pussy. “please, just a little more..” you begged.

and how could she say no to you? you were her darling angel, and you looked so cute crumbling under her touch. she hadn’t even used her strap on you, and yet here you were about to come from just her fingers and words.

without hesitation, her lips found their way around your clit, sucking and licking against the sensitive nub as stars clouded your vision. “shiiiiit… i fucking love you..~” you squealed, hips bucking upwards and forcing ellie’s fingers to dive deeper into your pussy.

she had loved you too, dearly, but she was too focused on bringing you your orgasm to pull back and say it. she was just going to show you, curling her fingers in a rapid ‘come hither’ motion, getting your breath caught in your throat before you went silent altogether.

in a silent scream, your legs shook harder than they had before, ellie’s fingers still skillfully pulling in and out of you as her tongue sped up its pace - if that was even possible at this point, hell. ellie felt wet, in a way, and it wasn’t just her own slick that was gathering in her pants as she found herself grinding into the air at your response to her love filled actions.

you had squirted, and oh god did she love it. you hadn’t even noticed you did it until you came down from your high, panting and sheepishly looking down at her head between your legs. you could see your wetness dripping down her face, from her nose to her chin. with a red face, you muttered out tired apologies that she silenced with kisses to your thighs.

“it’s okay, beautiful. i always told you that you tasted sugar sweet.”

2K notes · View notes

soapels · 1 year

Text

but my hair smells of war

simon “ghost” riley x female reader

tw: nsfw, mutual pining, size kink (i guess?), reader is a jittery virgin, soft! ghost, lovey! ghost, but there’s an overall dark, forlorn theme, (angst??) slight paranoia, 18+ characters

notes: my first cod fic ever :,) bear with me here while i learn to navigate the characterizations! anyways the title is really inspired by that quote by warsan shire! do tell if you enjoyed & let me know who you’d like to see next (^_^)’’ (soap + konig brainrot is REAL lately…)

all hearts and reblogs are very appreciated!

Just outside the safehouse, crickets chirp.

It’s a pleasant backdrop to the otherwise quiet area of the stables, hay so itchy it even manages to prickle at your skin through the thick fatigues, slivers of the moon filtering in through the windows.

It’s been a long day, you’d seen awful things again (and you know this is just your call of duty but bloodshed- no matter how repetitive- never gets old, never gets easy), and up until around fifteen minutes ago, you were still on the run outside, tired; veins pumped to the hilt with adrenaline, (sometimes you wonder if these levels are healthy) and admittedly quite fearful (that never gets old either).

The path you’ve chosen is frightening at the best of times.

But now you can rest. Even if just for a moment, even if sleep comes seldom or you have to beckon it until closer to sunrise- even if tomorrow, when you return to the battle and the chaos and the ever-changing future, you won’t make it out alive.

There’s some quiet chatter in the safehouse, unconsciousness to you is like nirvana and nirvana is rare, near unobtainable, but you can vaguely make out the low rumble of Ghost’s voice, and more clearly- the lighthearted quips of Soap- and it oddly puts you at ease. Nudges you along to that inviting darkness, bones so pleasantly weak and ready for that nothingness, even if the hay is uncomfortable and you’re sure at least a spiderweb or two is lurking somewhere above in the rafters (because it’s just too dim to see, and the wooden beams block most of the moonlight from here).

You’ve never trusted Graves. (What’re you thinking? Go to sleep.) …Not entirely, at least, and the Shadows are up to no good lately- you don’t know this for sure, to be honest you’ve said no peep of your niggling qualms- but you feel it from deep within that something’s… wrong.

Or maybe it’s paranoia, maybe, most-certainly, it’s just that warrior disease settling in. It’s dark out, and you’re exhausted, and your heart always feels so laden when you’re all alone and the gunfire ceases. That’s why these awful thoughts creep in on you, you convince yourself, lashes fluttering as you approach a hopefully pleasant dream. That’s why your mind sabotages you like this.

Your comrades aren’t enemies- don’t shut them out. No one fights alone. (And now, the last thought you have before drifting off completely, is oddly of Ghost, and how his voice would rasp as he said those familiar words, and the way the foreboding skull of his mask shifts when he speaks. And that damned glow of his eyes, haunting… strangely-beautiful, whenever they flicker over to you. So cold yet distant too, like an iceberg peeking above a frozen tide, silent but fatal if you’re not careful enough to steer clear of it. They don’t call him Ghost for no reason, though you think Simon Riley is a rather befitting name too- because if he had to have one, if he had to be real, then that’d be it.)

And you’re almost there, a warm fuzziness within- so vague and shapeless as you fade from reality- almost to that quiet bliss. One of the things you learned over the taxing span of your military years- sleep is by no means a small luxury.

There’s a shuffling beside you. Faint, ever so slight. Shouldn’t be enough to wake you. But it is. It’s enough to have your eyelids flying open, all exhaustion crumbling away as you—

“Shh, sergeant,” a gruff voice hushes, and recognition clicks. “It’s me,” he’s stood at the edge of the bale, which is frankly closer than you anticipated, propping his gun against a beam before sitting himself down. You swear you feel his body heat as the backside of his thick fatigues brush against your thigh, instinctively drawing your legs closer to give him more room.

Partially confused, very caught off guard, and admittedly a bit flustered, you blink away from him, his silhouette brimmed with the pale, conniving moon as you muster up a coherent response.

“Ghost,” is all you manage to breathe. But he seems to be fine with that, those dark, untelling eyes regarding you cooly as your knuckles sheepishly brush away exhaustion from your lashes.

“Sorry, did-… are we off already?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head softly, and even his gravelly voice has dipped into something gentler, not as harsh around the edges. To see Ghost like this- so unguarded (not entirely, never, but it’s still surprising)- comrade or not, is… different, to say the least. Not in a bad way, quite the opposite. Still.

“Get some rest …Didn’t mean to wake ya.” His whisper is calming; you trust him fully, wholly, you think if he asked for your life right now you’d give it to him. Easily. Without falter. Because despite it all, his rough exterior, his sometimes-lethal temper and his unforthcoming behavior towards others, you know he’d do the same.

(He’s killed for you. Save you too many times to count.)

The crickets and cicadas thrum, but despite it all- the soothing wildlife outside and the soft rustling of hay as across the stable, Soap situates himself for the night- you’re focused on the man sat beside you, not even a foot away as he regards you almost absently. (But you’ve learned that nothing about Ghost is absent.)

And you want to listen to him, belatedly settling your head down on the bale, you really do, but there’s just something off in the air as those deep-chestnut eyes sweep over you; relaxed, too relaxed, almost as if nobody was behind them (but you know that to be false, too), a peculiar, unfamiliar drawl to them as he appraises you.

You’re dusted pale, feathered with the moon like the stars stepped down to personally kiss you, and Ghost watches you for a second more, your fluttering lashes- making no move to close- your lips, the slope of your cheek and the curls of hair framing your face- and his black skull balaclava shifts.

“Sleep, sergeant.”

“I don’t think I can,” you murmur, so quiet and faint, yet your voice manages to resonate with him regardless. It earns a halfhearted snort from him.

“Haven’t even tried, have ya?”

Maybe there’s a sliver of jest there.

You take the opportunity to make a harmless tease at him, a sweet little smile carving into your cheeks, “Well, I almost succeeded until you came along.”

His silence isn’t rewarding, but you both know you’re right, and a heavy question weasels its way into your mind. And you know he can sense it, that unspoken thickness as your lids battle exhaustion, and you also understand that Ghost doesn’t appreciate dishonesty- or a lack of divulgence where it’s due.

So you ask him.

“There was… something you wanted? If you want me to do something-“ maybe you should be embarrassed, how quick you are to jump the gun if it meant helping your Lieutenant, “I-I’ll do it. I will.”

(How are you still so sweet? After all you’ve seen? Why aren’t you hardened? Why are you the bunny in all the places wherein he’s the wolf? How is it that you still manage to glow, even when you very well might be teetering on the precipice of an untimely, surely-brutal death? Simon doesn’t know. He doesn’t. He’s good at reading the room, digging into people’s minds- even the most fucked up ones, especially so- and finding out everything dark they’ve ever felt. With you it’s different. He often struggles to piece together a conclusion from just a smile you send him, wondering if there’s another layer to it. Stilling in his tracks whenever you laugh- so soft like you always do, pleasant like euphony- feeling something unbidden in his chest start to weigh.)

His chest puffs out a little at that, and he huffs low. And Ghost looks away from you, those umber eyes trailing out towards the window up above and somewhere behind you, and for a moment he just goes impossibly still, like a dog waiting for a sound, purposely searching for something there in the wilderness that doesn’t belong.

And you can’t help but feel like the two of you are somewhat out of place also, yet then again, if you were to think someone in the world had to share your loneliness with you, it’d be Ghost. Always. (Because you feel that you know him. He doesn’t have to say a word, his eyes say nothing, but simultaneously they scream everything too. All at once. All in one long wail.)

“No,” is all he says. All gruff and rasping. But soft too, somehow. A disinclined slump to his broad shoulders he only allows you and the team to be privy to (speaking of, Soap’s kneeing a few haybales together now, squishing them in so he’s got space to roll when he inevitably ends up stirring tonight)- but even then, it’s rare.

His eyes meets yours again, all shadows with a small, conniving highlight, brimmed with his balaclava.

“Scoot ova’.” he says it so simply, but your brain goes utterly blank for a fleeting moment.

His accent is quite thick- maybe you’ve lost yourself in it again, or fell too hard in the caramel pool of his eyes, or perhaps you’re just too tired to comprehend him right now- but once it clicks, you’re obedient to his wish. Right away.

The sound of clothes rustling fills the otherwise quiet atmosphere as you shimmy yourself all the way against the wall of hay to your side, letting Ghost- all big and tall- settle in beside you as you curl up to yourself. You’d burrow inside yourself if you could, face flushing warm as your Lieutenant’s body knocks and brushes against yours, and before you know it, the gentleness of shared breathing descends over you both as your noses point to the rafters. Dark, and silent. Comfortable, but at the same time not. A wordless dance of being convinced of your composure to having it singlehandedly ripped away whenever he made the faintest move beside you.

Ghost feels just slightly similar to drowning; just that cold world beneath the waves, hurtled into a murky tide, spun beneath turbulent waters. Uneasy, unsure of where the hell you are- only that you don’t know how you got in and you don’t know how to get out. Lungs aching, chest pouring…

But he feels like the merciful gasp of air when you finally resurface, too. That glimmer of hope, that split second thought of thank God I made it out alive as your chin thrashes over the ripples.

He’s the violent ocean and the life-ring thrown to you all at once. He is the silent chaos and he is the overwhelming relief- and he isn’t a kind man but the good side of him always seems to somehow win out.

“Ghost?” You breathe again. Not sure of even why, and your body quivers with sweat and nerves because Lieutenant’s so strong and he’s laying beside you (this isn’t even odd, this has happened before- sleeping with the team in cramped, awkward places that leave literally no room for complaints, but this time it felt different, like he was somehow closer).

His breaths even out in the pleasant air. And his silence could perhaps be welcoming on its own, but he deigns you with a reply anyway.

“What?” All gruff and low, thick yet- for you, now in the fall of night- gentle too. All Ghost.

(…But maybe partially Simon Riley, too, but you have trouble distinguishing two things when you’re hardly certain one even exists.)

“…” You chew on the words you want to say- or maybe you need to say them- but you don’t know what it is that sticks to your tongue like glue, and you’re rendered stupid, jaw-gaping, for a solid moment.

So you settle for simple. You settle for something good that will suffice, something pleasant and sweet but nothing that tiptoes too close to Ghost (you’re already close enough, and he did choose this bale with you, but still, you never know with him, and he’s not the sort of man you want to question).

“Goodnight.”

You’re sure he makes a soundless scoff at that. And for a splitsecond, you decide to take a peek over, because your stupid curiosity wins out and you just have to see him one last time before a permanent stillness ensues- sheepish hues darting over to his in the dimness—

“Night,” (you think you hear a scintilla of wry humor there) “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

—Only to find they’re already on you.

︻┳═一

The next time you and your Lieutenant are ‘forced’ to bunk together is closer to three weeks later, in a ratty shed by the river.

You turn away from Ghost just in time to miss him dragging out a body (finished him with a silencer, but it doesn’t matter anyway. his buddies wouldn’t have heard. his buddies are dead) as you awkwardly look around the decrepit place.

“Fix us up a place to call it a night, soldier.”

You’re quick to obey, chirping off an obedient yes sir as you take a few steps into the old storage shed.

It’s hard to see, and this time there’s not much moonlight to work with (when the door’s closed, it’ll go utterly dark), but with your scope’s flash you spot a disarray of pallets off to the corner, and you waste no time in hauling them together. You find a few cloths- puffy vests and discarded life-jackets, toss ‘em on the wood, and call it a cot.

“There we are,” you say with a smile when he inevitably walks in, door swinging shut as he does one last quick once-over before approaching.

“Good work,” (you hate the way your chest blooms at his simple praise; you’re a soldier, aren’t you? not some stupid schoolgirl) “Now let’s huddle up and kip down. Soap and the others cleared out the second field.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod curtly, fingers hesitating for a split second before you switch off the flash, the old shed blanketed in darkness as you set your rifle down and maneuver onto the makeshift bed (you weren’t complaining, though, you’ve both slept on far worse). Ghost follows in suit, his barely-clear silhouette lowering down onto the pallets with you, minding his muscle as he settles beside you.

…And for a while, it’s nice.

It doesn’t feel as awkward as it used to months- even just weeks, ago, yet still, sometimes you swear there’s an odd thickness to the air, an unprecedented drawl of tension that, like smoke, wisps by before dissipating. Like it was never there. (Yet the smell lingers, traces of something potent and simmering in your nostrils, caught in your clothes like gunpowder. Your hair smells of war and running, and Ghost smells so similar that it almost hurts, yet he’s more charred than you, you can feel it, and if you are a solider of team 141 than he is the bombs and shelter and war and relief.)

(No, perhaps he is the battlefield.)

That strange whiff of something close to vulnerability drifts in the space between you- wanting to say something, but having no words to offer, or maybe it’s a different feeling- like when you want to add something funny to the conversation, but it suddenly inches by and you’re left in your uncertainty, holding onto the joke with a tenuous grip. (Tenuous, yes, but you still want to say it, don’t you? You’re still looking for a window to speak your mind?)

And you’re sure Ghost can sense it too, because from beside you where he lies, he shifts just a bit more than usual, antsy and unable to find a comfortable position, his gear brushing against yours as you gnaw on the insides of your cheeks, feeling the same way.

“Lieutenant-“ “Sergeant-“

He turns over to you, and you see something in those dark eyes that glints as you glance over to him. His hues widen slightly, but whatever startle you thought you might’ve gleaned there flickers out and you’re once more left in the silence- this time, somewhat awkward, waiting for the other to break it.

You called him, and he called you. But now, neither of you return it.

Surprising perhaps the both of you, after what seems like forever passes and Ghost is the one to clear his throat, rasping out a quick, dismissive goodnight when your lips finally snap open to speak-

“G-Ghost—“

“Sleep, soldier. Tomorrow’ll be hell, and m’not carryin’ ya if y’legs give out.”

(He would. Of course he fucking would.)

︻┳═一

Soap and Ghost murmur for a bit with each other, tying off the threads of the last mission as you hesitantly approach. You don’t exactly remember Soap ever making it last night, but hours before sunrise you stirred in your slumber, and are now eighty-percent convinced you heard him settling in the otherwise quiet shed, exchanging a tired grunt or two with Ghost.

And it shouldn’t bother you. The men, you mean, because you’ve known them for months now, fought and bled and killed together, stuck to each other like glue as you endured all the shitty times and awful memories. But your fingers tighten around your rifle just that much more when you near, because Ghost is just so big and strong and the two mingle together for an unseemly yet fatal duo. (They’d never hurt you, never, and you know this damn well, but you’ve always had a shy nature and their respective sets of eyes never get any easier to stare at- you think sometimes you prefer the barrel of a gun over those sage, umber voids.)

Soap’s the first to spot you, those oceanic blues drifting over Ghost’s shoulder, rippling with what you suspect to be genuine mirth as you stop a foot short of the two.

“G’mornin’, sleepyhead,” he greets with a vaguely-boyish grin that sort of twinkles, eyes running over your dewy lashes, slightly-mussed hair and the crooked bend of your straps and gear bands. You smile sheepishly in lieu of a reply, giving him a tipsy little nod that his smile deepens at before your lips part open.

(And you’re afraid your voice will quiver or give out entirely when Ghost’s eyes, sunken beneath his skull mask- but just as haunting and intricate- snake over to you. But, thank God, it doesn’t.)

“Y-You got a spare ‘clava?”

Soap’s chest puffs and swells briefly when he scoffs halfheartedly, those gorgeous hues never slipping from yours for too long as he rests a hand along the butt of his pistol in his pocket, the other dipping back into the bag slung over his shoulders. (Big and broad, his build is similar to Lieutenant’s, but Ghost is taller and holds more mass. Both are purely muscle, though, all death and chaos- Soap’s just always been more friendly with his destruction, delivers it with a laugh or a pat on the back.)

“Y’embarrassed? Don’t think I’ve ever seen a bed head quite like y’rs, lass.” He says it with a playful chuckle, stepping forward (and his legs are long, he reaches you in an instant) and proffering the black mask out to you. You accept it with soft thanks, cheeks warm from embarrassment and perhaps some odd sort of pride as he ruffles your hair and smiles. Like, really smiles, the skin around his eyes wrinkling just slightly as he nods, “there y’are, lass,” he says, “we’ll all meet up back at base, yeah?”

“You’re leaving already?” You chirp highly, traces of dejection caught in your voice (aw, you sad he’s leaving? makes two of you), eyes all starry and confused as he toys with the straps of his vest and quirks his head to the side some. “‘Fraid so, got some loose ends to tie- won’t be long, promise.”

You accept his words with a small, silent nod, offering him a gentle, if not somewhat sleepy smile as he reaches a fist forward, knuckles you lightly on your collar, and belatedly brushes past you. The heels of his boots clip dully against the floor when he reaches the janky door of the shed, daylight weaseling in through the splits and cracks of the wooden walls. Bathing the three of you in a golden porridge of early morning and twittering birds and that odd emptiness of your stomach that always churns at around six o’clock.

With one last pleasant glance to Soap (his cerulean gaze seems to linger and corrode into you, somehow) you allow him to trade a simple goodbye with Ghost, wasting no more time in slipping the mask over your head as Johnny did the same. (Even in your head, it feels forbidden to call him that- only Ghost is allowed to- you don’t know why, but were never brave enough to beg the question.)

And he departs. And the once-comfortable silence betrays you and Ghost yet again.

Still, he turns over to you, letting the door shut, watching as you lower yourself onto the pallets and fix your shoelaces. (But your thumbs tremble, wrists twitching, nervous, like the task is foreign, like it’s not one of the simplest things you’ve ever done in this business of war.)

And those brown, all-seeing eyes sweep over you (you can feel it), those thick boots of his brushing over the dusty floor as he makes his way over.

Your hues collide with his, something off in the air- a calling, or a warning maybe, but it’s heavy and the look he meets you with just before he approaches plants a pit in your belly- frightful and needy- feeling so small and perfectly useless as it builds and builds and-

“Sergeant.”

“Yes?” Breathless without any good reason.

You wonder if he feels it, too. That weight in his tummy that buckles his knees, makes them knock together, dizzies his head. Makes his heart skip faster. But the thought is dismissed too quickly, because you’re certain it’s fear you feel, strong and overwhelming- too great a respect to label. And Ghost isn’t afraid, clammy palms have never been a part of his brand. He doesn’t hesitate.

Yet, now, that all seems like rubbish. Every preconceived idea of him you held withering away as Ghost does just what you knew he never would. His hand, all big and capable (stained with blood, too) hesitates.

But this time- unlike all those sleepless nights where you felt skin brush against yours unbidden, his eyes burning against your quiet profile as his fingers contemplated over your face- it reaches you. Fulfills what it wanted to for a long time coming.

And now you’re breathless for an entirely different reason. “Ghost,” you whisper, so thin it might break- and your voice does shake, like a leaf in the wind. There’s something in his eyes, you notice, as they trail along you, his large palm swallowing up your cheek, gloved fingertips eroding the thin fabric over your skin in the best way possible.

Every lick of pain comes with a spark of pleasure, a needy, gentle ache masquerading as limitless fear.

(But those deep-brown eyes know no limits.)

“You afraid of me?” Ghost is a lot of things. But now you have a niggling, loud feeling that who you’re gaping back at now isn’t he or his mask, but rather what’s beneath it.

You shakily stand, maybe to grasp the illusion of having some control over yourself, or perhaps just to get closer to the door if you wanted to make some stupid excuse to leave. “Simon- I-“

He cuts you off with a low huff, but it sounds more like a groan than anything else- all displeased yet thrilled all at once. It shuts you up. It paralyzes you. (Barely keeping your gaze on his simmering one, you want to lie on your fucking back, and for the life of you, you don’t know why.)

When he says nothing, just continues regarding you with that weird fucking look (it’s not bad- it’s good, you think, but terrifying too) and lets his hand finally slip off your cheek, you try again.

“Simon,” (Simon hears you swallow, watches your throat bob, all tender where he’s cold, soft where he’s covered in jagged heaps of ice) “I- W-We should go.”

Ghost takes a pensive moment to respond.

“We don’t even got our mission yet, do we?”

Your confusion must be palpable, brows pinching together in a cute little knot that has his belly doing backflips as your eyes sparkle up at him. There’s an odd twinkle to his own, broad chest swelling out for a bit longer than a breath should as your lips part open.

“We-…” (f-fuck, just speak, soldier!) “We’re meeting everyone at base, yes?”

Earning no response from him, and the silence quickly killing you- you add:

“I- I thought we… Were meeting up, all of us.”

He grunts at that, low and quiet. And you look up at him like he owns the world, like there’s nobody else in it but him, and your eyes are starry and so unapologetically warm that it burns him from the inside out. His chest aches, he’s wanted you for too long a time to not act on it, to not do something about it, but for once in a very long time, Simon’s… afraid.

Or maybe uneasy is the better word, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s so big and you’re so small and sometimes he worries that if he were to touch you without gloves on, you’d wither completely.

He’s used to that game. His kisses are gunpowder. His love is death, he believes it because he’s seen it. Everywhere. All the time.

But he can’t help it, not now. Not when he’s got you all alone and it’s like the birds chirping outside are telling him to fucking do something already- and Simon knows if he doesn’t make a move, someone else will. They’ll swoop in and steal you away, scoop you off your feet and treat you like a princess- the only way you ever should be- and you’ll be happy and smiling and so fucking far from him.

Safe.

…But maybe he’s selfish. He knows he’s not all that good, he wasn’t made to love or be loved- he is a product of war and brokenness and an endless cycle of pain- but maybe you can be his good thing.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters beneath his breath, “take it off.”

“What-“

“Show me your face.”

(Hah. How ironic; when every soul in the military who’s ever crossed him has wanted to say the same damn thing, but always balked before they could because his eyes alone are killer enough.)

His voice is a little rougher now, your brain registers it as an order, so with a shaky, uncertain hand, you peel off your balaclava and hold it awkwardly in your lap. And your hair’s quite messy from a wakeful night, and your skin glows ever so slightly from sweat and sleep and smeared gunpowder and your pulse is so rapid you fear it may explode.

You want to hide from him.

But, catching both of you by surprise, Simon leans in, one hand raking up his mask- stealing a blurry glimpse of his mouth- and captures your lips in his. And he doesn’t let you hide.

Run, either; he slots his hulking body up against yours, kneeling down on the wooden pallets as he lowers you atop them, making it physically impossible to wrest yourself away if he really wanted you to stay.

(And he really wants you to stay. Fuck.)

You gasp into the kiss, eyes instinctively screwing shut because you’re so fucking embarrassed and your legs feel heavy and your bones’ve gone to jelly because Simon is so big and strong and perfect and his lips are on yours.

“Simon,” you were going for a half-rebuttal, a plea for a moment to grasp just what the hell was happening. But you make a pathetic sound closer to a moan instead, all frail and cute as you whine his given name, and it makes his pants feel that much tighter, exchanging a groan into your mouth as he holds you beneath him.

And his grip is sort of awkward, you think, like he’s made the split-second decision to go all in but now he’s worried he fucked things up and you’ll end up hating him. So his tongue prods against your soft lips, hesitant, and his long lashes occasionally brush against your cheekbone, but he ultimately pulls away.

Like the recoil of a gun; sharp, sudden. There’s a blip of panic there, of what the hell did I just do. But there’s no regret. Because in Simon’s head, it had to be done- else he would’ve crumbled, else your smile would steadily become torture and someone else would’ve done it.

Your eyes are still shut when silence falls over the rundown shed and you feel the tip of his nose carve almost awkwardly in the juncture of your neck. Because you’re afraid. Because your tummy is burning and so is your face, your heart, too. Because there’s still a little unreasonable part of you that, despite feeling his lips brush against your collar, is scared that when you open them, he’ll be staring back at you- mask rucked up and all- genuinely Simon- and you don’t want to see his face if he doesn’t want you to.

“I should stop,” he murmurs into your neck. “I should stay away.” And it almost feels like it’s all over now, the fucked-up calm after the storm. The residual smoke and death on the battlefield- the smell of gunfire and metal. Water under the bridge—

“But that’d be hell.”

And he pulls the trigger again. Those lips, cold as bullet shells, colliding with yours once more. Nipping, and all tongue with the occasional clash of teeth, but it feels so fucking good and you realize with a spark of dismay that you don’t want it to stop.

Never.

“Simon,” and you’re chanting it now, all teary-eyed, lashes thick with pleasure as his mouth descends upon you, his deft fingers already working at tearing off your clothes- straps unbuckling, gear clinking softly as it rolls off the pallets and onto the floor.

Fear- respect- or whatever the hell you’ve always felt for Ghost- bleeds into something closer to… love, you think, and your chest is swelling by the time his gloved fingertips reach there, gliding over your bare skin. And you glow in the golden streaks of young sun, flesh soft and too fucking inviting to pass up on.

(He doesn’t.)

Simon leans away, then, and you dare open your eyes at the lost contact, the lower half of his face bathed in a dim-yellow, his balaclava clinging midway up the bridge of his nose. And within the cage of the printed skull (iconic and terrifying, sort of like batman- an omen of evil’s bane on the way), his brown hues glint, all hazy- far from sober as they sweep over you.

Flickering; giving out; flickering. Burning, and then lessening, sparking like a broken fuse before it becomes so hot you feel you may wither beneath him-

“Gorgeous,” he breathes.

And he’s on you again, tongue laving at your neck and chest, one hand kneading a tender breast while he takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks. You whimper; his cock throbs; he made the impromptu decision just as Soap left that he’d bring you to ruin, and his plans haven’t changed at all.

“I need you, Simon,” you confess, because you do. You need him, you’re sure of it. On the battlefield, on base, on any fucking mission you’re given. You need him above you and on you and inside you.

(Fuck, you want him inside, you want him everywhere. In the mushy, warm crevice between your ribcages and now, between the river of your thighs. Now now now—)

There’s a screech of a zipper. It jams, but he’s impatient and dislodges it quickly, flimsy metal snapping as he shrugs off some of the weight and tugs down his pants.

And, goodness, it’s big.

Flushed red at the tip, angry and twitching as he drags you in by your hips, appraising you with this simmering, foggy look that has your legs quietly splitting. But Simon’s big all over, and you’ve always known him to be stronger (so much stronger), so when he slots himself up with your core, murmurs out a string of reassurances and fuckin’ beautiful’s, you lie back and let him take you.

You, that pretty, sopping cunt, and your virginity.

And as he deflowers you (there’s a dull, hot pain, he’s so big and thick- it hurts- but he folds himself over you and hushes you and tells you it’s okay), you think he takes your heart, too. (If he didn’t already have it.)

When the sting subsides and he realizes you’re not sniffling into his shoulder anymore, he bumps up the speed, entering a controlled, careful pace, the wood jostling beneath you as he fucks and breaks and loves you.

“Please,” you beg, “give it to me.”

“Am, darlin’,” he rasps at your ear, an echo of a high-pitched sigh there. “Giving ya everything I’ve got… And you’ll fuckin’ take it, yeah?”

When you nod and tighten up around him, those velvet walls sucking him in like a perfect vice, and pair it with a mewling yes, Simon, something in his lower abdomen clutches. A pit forming there already, all hot and pleasant as your pussy overwhelms him, beckons him further in until he’s hitting deep deep deep and a pale-pink is oozing between your legs, traces of your blood caught on his pelvis as he gives it to you. Everything. All of it.

Every piece of him, every bad memory and gentle kiss on his forehead, every grey cloud and good grade and bout of death- he stuffs it all inside you. Buries his hate and love there, cock grazing your womb as he thinks about the one he came from, and all the shouting and cracked beer bottles and spatters of smoke and red on the field.

And you suddenly tighten up around him completely, eyes going wide as your mouth gapes with some unwarranted, foreign wave of pleasure.

“There y’are,” he grunts, half breathless and half utterly feral, brown voids enamored with the sight of you crumbling beneath him as his jaw falls open and his eyes roll back. All the way back, ‘til his lashes- pale in the morning sunshine- kiss the points of his cheekbones and he can’t hide the desperate groan he tries to stifle in the dip of your neck.

Gloved hands grasping at the soft fat of your hips, digging and unintentionally hurting, leaving purplish semi-circles behind as his hips stutter one last time.

And he paints you on the inside. Roots himself there. Cums with a murky moan of your name that claws itself into every vital part of your soul and refuses to let go. (You don’t want it to.)

And the longer you two lie there, bathing in the gold of early morning, the less inclined he feels to leave.

Your fingertips, delicate as snow, graze over his back, swollen lips tickling his jawbone and the side of his face as he pants into the arch of your neck.

And his nose nestles into your aura, the messy tresses and gentle wildlife of you, gloved hands marking up your hips. And Ghost thinks your hair smells of war, too.

#call of duty #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader cod #cod x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader smut #call of duty smut #finally finished this #sorry if theres typos my brain feels like a bowl of cereal sometimes #mw2 #smut

2K notes · View notes

osakiharu · 1 year

Text

THEY FIND OUT YOU LIKE BEING PRAISED !!

[request]

content : gender neutral reader, fluff, this is sfw don’t get too excited y’all, independent!reader, reader is a uni student in draken’s, reader is independent but also quite self critical at times :(, rindou having blood all over his arms whoopsies, also me having rindou brainrot so i went a little crazy with his... i love him i can’t help it,

word count : around 500-600 each <3 little scenarios for this one hehe

characters : draken, rindou

notes : okay hi !! long time no see y’all, college is so so insane rn and m sorry for being so dead T^T this was actually a request but i have deleted it with my old requests in my inbox and i only kept the ones i moved to my drafts whoopsies </3 i hope this isn’t too bad and i hope i haven’t gotten rusty from not writing for a little but yeah have some rindou and draken as my apology <3 thankyou to dee for giving me a little help on this when i was brain dead mwah i luv u <3

˗ˏˋ DRAKEN

draken knew you always preferred to teach yourself things, to stick to your own way of studying, to not have anyone or anything interfere with your routine during exam season. he knows, without fail, you’ll always reject his proposal to help you, but eventually he finds there’s nothing he loves more than to see your cheeks redden at his praise for your work. even if you push him off and tell him to let you continue <3

“why don’t you let me help, baby? wouldn’t you get it done faster?” he mumbled into your hair before reaching forwards to take your notes from you. “i don’t need help, kenny, ‘m fine! ‘s not about doing it fast, anyways.” of course you were. even if the bags under your eyes and very few hours sleep you had under your belt said otherwise. a kiss was pressed to your cheek before he sat himself down in the chair next to you, resting his head on his crossed arms as he looked up at you. draken decided not to push you for let him help. “how’d y’r exam t’day go? know you were dreadin’ that one.” it’s sweet, you think, the way his eyelids seem to be getting harder to hold open but he’s probably still thinking up a plan to work his way around your stubbornness to get you into bed at a reasonable time.

“it was fine,” you put your notes down and turned to face him, “i finished with time to spare, too, so i don’t think i did that bad.” of course you did well. you always do, draken thought with a smile. “c’mere.” he nodded his head to the side, signalling for you to sit in his lap. his embrace was comforting, warm, too warm, even, for your tired state couldn’t help but relax into it like you’d been longing to all day. “gettin’ tired, angel?” draken could practically feel you melting into him as he rubbed up and down your back. “mhm… but i gotta finish up, kenny, c’mon.” your attempt at moving back to your original chair was futile as draken pulled you back down into a gentle kiss.

“hmm… but my baby’s so smart, ain’t ya?” he spoke against your lips, and you couldn’t help the way your cheeks reddened at his comment. “don’t think you need t’do anymore when you’re already doing so good… think ya need to come to bed with me ‘n’ get some sleep, hm?” he could feel your smile against his cheek as he kissed anywhere he could without you shying away from him. draken almost chuckled at your actions. he’d always known you to be an independent person, dealing with everything yourself, and though he was no stranger to your stresses and anxieties, seeing you this flustered was rare to him. fuck, you’re so cute.

“what’s this all about, sweets?” he pinched your cheek between a pointer and thumb, “got somethin’ you wanna tell me?” draken’s grin is wide as you peer down into your lap. you know exactly what he wants you to say, to admit that all you want to hear right now is how good you’re doing, how clever you are, to have your hard work appreciated when you feel like it’s futile and a waste of time. though you shook your head as you met his eyes once again, “shut up.” draken hummed at your response, the chewing of your lip and the remains of your bashful smile gave him the wordless answer he wanted. “c’mon then, smart ass, y’re coming to bed with me,” he patted your thigh as a signal get up, “can’t have my clever little thing over workin’ yourself when you’ve got all those other exams to do, can i?”

˗ˏˋ RINDOU

if there was one thing rindou had learned about you it was that once you start something you want to finish it, and you want to finish it well. you want to finish it yourself, it doesn’t feel the same if someone helps you, you tell him. but he knows you’re only human, so when mikey comes and drops another tower of rindou’s paperwork on your desk when you’re already up to your neck in it and it’s almost two in the morning, it’s not hard for him to notice the cracks in your resilience

“what’re you still doin’ here?” you heard rindou mumble from the doorway of your office. blood covered his knuckles and fingers, under his rings, and trailed up to his forearms in spatters. his hair was tousled and messy, violet eyes sleepier than usual. from where he leaned, he looked frightening. beautiful, but frightning. “‘m finishing paperwork.” rindou raised a brow, almost confused, as he checked the clock. two in the morning? finishing paperwork? you must’ve gone mad; it looked like you’d barely started with the piles mikey had dropped on your desk. “that’s your work, is it?” he spoke from the front of your desk. “hm? oh, no, it’s yours,” you held up the sheet you’d been writing, “i already finished my work, but mikey just asked me to get a bit of yours done while you were gone… didn’t have to do all of it but i may as well since i’ve started it.” sleepy was the smile that rested on your face. so pretty, he thought.

rindou sighed in response to your commitment and strolled over to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and giving your cheek a quick kiss. “y’know you don’t wanna do all that, baby, c’mon,” kiss, “y’half asleep anyways, let me deal with it tomorrow, kay? need t’rest that pretty head of yours now.” you sighed and slumped backwards into your chair. it’s just work, it’s not even yours, you thought to yourself. you just couldn’t stand having to hand over the responsibility of doing all that work to someone else. you knew that feeling was silly, though, you just couldn’t help it sometimes. the man behind you could already guess the response travelling up your throat, ready to be mumbled out in defeat. rindou pulled away and beckoned you with a finger to stand up, “why don’t you try thinkin’ of the stuff you've already done, hm? come here ‘n’ tell me about it, sweets.” you always appreciated rindou’s attempts at comforting you, despite him never being one to comfort people, only one to help them forget about their current issue.

you followed him to the couch in your office and laid your tired head in his lap, strong thighs like pillows to you. and although you mostly spoke through a yawn, you told him about the work you did that day. “mhm, good job, baby.” a thumb stroked your cheek before he pulled you up for a quick kiss or two by your jaw. your smile, shy and a little toothy, was felt against his lips as your cheeks reddened under his touch. “such a good little angel f’me, aren’t you? doin’ my work when you don’t need to.” he took note of how warm your cheeks were on the tips of his fingers and pulled away from your face so you could hide your timidity no longer.

rindou had always had an inkling, even before you were dating, that you enjoyed hearing things like that; having your work appreciated and acknowledged, feeling supported for once. your silly attempts at hiding your smile that never worked. he could tell you’d always been independent, enjoyed being independent, though he also knew that sometimes you wanted to take a break or to not do everything by yourself, to let someone hold your hand for a while. “i didn’t know you could be so shy, i thought you would’a told me to shut up by now.” you looked up at his stupid smirk, knowing he wanted to hear it from you. playful arguing was futile option as any attempt made was to refute rindou’s statement was a failed one. it was worth a shot. you placed your head back on his thighs and your smile said it all, “you like it when i tell you those things don’t you? it’s what you deserve to hear.”

your grin hadn’t faltered, a sigh passing your lips. “mhm... yeah.”

rindou knew he was going to tease you about this forever now. he also knew that you’d deny everything every single time <3

reblogs appreciated <33

966 notes · View notes

cryptixani · 2 years

Text

[JDVN] No Visits After Ten

absolute non-proofread brainrot, hope you freaks enjoy <3

pairing: john doe x gn! reader

warnings: nsfw, dick pics, john doe learning how to work a phone

when you first convinced john doe to get a phone, it was mainly to help him combat his seperation anxiety, especially while you were at work. while it was sweet that he wanted to have you within reach every second of every day, it was also tiring and not very practical in terms of productivity.

doe was a little hesitant with the device at first. as curious as he was about the human contraption, he couldn't fathom how it could possibly enable him to have the means to contact you wherever, whenever. so you explained.

"your phone has it's own unique number, and mine does too. and i can save your number to my phone, and vice versa. then, when you type out a message, or hit the call button, it'll contact my number and i'll see it and be able to respond, no matter where i am."

it was a very basic way of explaining things, but doe seemed to just about grasp it, and you let him try it out and play around with it. he'd spam you with messages from the living room while you were in the kitchen making dinner.

hello

i love you

you glance down at your sceen and sigh, quickly typing out a response to send back to him.

i love you too, doe.

you heard an elated giggle come from the living room a few moments later, and doe ran into the kitchen to hug you.

"my love, look at this! i got your message back so so so quickly, isn't that neat?! you typed this out with your own cute little fingers and sent it especially to me and now it's on my device and i can look at it whenever i want for the rest of time-"

"yes, doe, but please let go, dinner's about to burn-"

doe actually got fairly used to working a smartphone pretty quickly, you realized. it did kind of ease his seperation anxiety when you were at work, but you were also spammed with messages practically every five minutes. and when he learned that he could send you photographs he took? you didn't even want to count the amount of blurry photos of pigeons you received, second only to photos of your own home.

one night, when you were alone in bed, up way too late and scrolling through your socials, you got another message from doe. he hadn't messaged you in a couple hours now, so you had assumed he was asleep in his own bed, though now you had reason to believe otherwise.

can't sleep.

you frown, wondering what could be keeping your eldritch boyfriend up.

any reason why? you replied.

his response came in a couple seconds. doe was an abnormally fast typer, just like how he was an abnormally fast talker.

thinking about you, my love. you're so pretty.

you raise a brow, staring at your screen. you're unsure how to reply. sure, doe compliments you a lot, but this particular situation has never happened before. he's never been unable to sleep thinking about you, at least he's never told you so much. you're about to type out a response when he send you another message.

i love you so much. i wish i had visited you today. i miss you.

you blink. visited, as in broken into your house. you were starting to mind less and less but it was technically still breaking and entering. still, while it was hard to get him to break that habit of his, you were glad he was following your rule of 'no visits past 10pm', after the Window Incident.

you manage to type your response, hitting send.

i love you too, doe. we'll see each other again tomorrow, don't worry. go to sleep now <3

can't.

his quick, brief reply makes you more confused. you stare at your screen, face illuminated blue within your dark room. you wait for him to elaborate. instead, he sends you a photo. your eyes widen, face growing hot. a photo of his hard, flushed cock covers your screen. precum leaks from the tip. doe's hand rests atop his mess of dark pubes, holding the base, sharp black nails lightly digging into the skin.

you feel your heart quicken a little, a shift of warmth in your abdomen. you can't take your eyes off your phone screen. where did doe learn about sending nudes? your mouth is watering and your mind is racing, and it hits you that you're yet to reply.

oh.

it was the first response that came to your mind, though now that you've sent it, you're afraid it might give him the wrong idea, that you don't appreciate the photo, because you very much do-

another photo is sent to the chat, the same image, but no- you realize the little white triangle in the center and the timestamp in the bottom corner mark this as a video, doe can send videos now? you don't give yourself time to process this information before you hit play.

you're practically entranced at the sight of his shaking hand pumping his leaking cock, trying to keep a slow pace at first, but it doesn't take long to devolve into desperate and fast. his hips buck up in time, and when you turn your volume up a little you realize you can hear him panting and whining and moaning behind the shaking camera. your name is repeated multiple times, and then doe groans and squirms and mumbles "please please please please-" just before he cums. you're staring at his wildly bucking hips, having never been this desperate to feel him against you as you are now, the warmth in the pit of your stomach almost uncomfortable now. the video ends and you're left in silence, though the sound of your keyboard follows shortly after. you type your response, send it, and put your phone away to shove a hand under your pajama pants, knowing that soon enough, it wouldn't be your own.

doe stares at the message you had just sent him, wide eyes with pupils so expanded they leave only a thin ring of yellowish white. he didn't even reply, dropping his phone on his bed, screen still on while he rushed to get some clothes back on.

i'm making an exception to the no visits after 10 rule.

#john doe x reader #john doe x you #john doe visual novel #john doe game #john doe #yandere

2K notes · View notes

porcalinecunt · 9 months

Text

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄.

→ you were never ment to be a good husband, and neither was he. so what now? simple. when the spouses aren’t home, someone else is.

🎧 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

♟️𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 / 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓

𝐜𝐰 — infidelity. trans!reader. pussy slapping. degredation. some spanking. edging (?). rough sex. creampie. no aftercare. mean dom! sae. sex addiction (?).

a/n » i told yall i was cooking up smth ;) anyways, life sucks sm ass rn but sae brainrot + a need for angst got me making this. this might end up as a mini series but i’m not 100% sure yet. i’ll see how well it does on here and on ao3 (pls support my works there too 🤍) otherwise, enjoy the fic!

Cold. That’s the only thing you could feel besides your numbing fingers and goosebumps rising on your limbs. The house could get so cold during the wintertime, then again, it’s much warmer than when Rin was home.

Rin Itoshi, the man many would kill to have a chance with, who was your beloved husband. Together for half a decade now, marrying while still being quite young. To many, it was a dream come true and you cannot blame them for that. Rin had it all. Wealth, looks, a successful career as a pro soccer player. He had it all, or better said, almost had it all. Even for him, he lacked the very thing a husband should have. Love for his spouse.

He wasn’t the most loving husband, instead the polar opposite. Many days he was mostly cold, floating around you as if he was a ghost. You rarely hear him utter an “I love you” or any sweet names you’d give him. The most you get is a quick peck on the cheek, then off he goes. again and again.

So it was no surprise you’d find another man to spend spare time with, it was who it was that made it so taboo. And he had just arrived.

The doorbell rang, startling you out of your trance. Your body almost moved completely on its own, turning the knob till the door cracked open, revealing your company for the night.

He didn’t say a word, only standing there. Sae Itoshi, your seemingly brother in law. Then again, he doesn’t really deserve nor fit the title. He’s the very last person Rin would want in his home, and for very good reason. He’s cruel, untrustworthy, and a liar, but then again, he’s all the things you’d wish Rin was. Even if it came with the uglier bits. Sae didn’t waste time walking through the door, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

The man didn’t utter a ‘hello’, and was already prying at your pants. Palming at your soaking cunt, not breaking the kiss to let you breathe. He could be so greedy, so selfish. His lack of foreplay and even care for you was addictive, he was quick and straight to the point, useful when it comes to covering your act up quickly.

“S-Sae..”

You winced, but the man doesn’t stop for anything. Instead, tearing off the loose pajama top you had on and trailing his lips from your face to your jawline. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips as he carried you off into your bedroom. Plopping you onto the very bed your husband sleeps on, the sheets still smelling like him.

“Still aren’t gonna leave him?” Sae asked, his tone condescending and almost mean.

You shook your head, hearing him scoff before he began to unbutton his shirt. You felt your stomach twist once he fully shed off his white collar top, immediately going for the belt next. You sat up, almost reaching out to unzip his pants but was pushed back down. This time, his hand gripped your wrist and pinned you down.

“So impatient, Rin has been neglecting you huh..”

You quickly nodded, your cunt throbbing with need. It’s been too long since you had a cock stuff you full, your fingers couldn’t satisfy you nor could any of your toys. Rin didn’t help either, even when you two did have sex, he lacked the intimacy and treated it more like a chore if anything. You don’t remember him even trying. With Sae, however, it was almost like the man knew your body better than your own husband. It’s a damn shame you can’t always see him.

Sae climbed on top of you, crashing his lips against yours. His tongue poked and licked at your lips till he pried them open, stuffing your mouth till you whined from the overwhelming feeling. You clung onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin till it became red.

He snuck his fingers between your thighs, digging into your boxers till his slender fingers reached between your folds. He teased, pressing his thumb against your throbbing clit. He chuckled when he heard you shudder against his touch, prompting him to gently slap your cunt. Your legs snapped shut, but not enough before he forced them back open and placed another (and harder) slap. You screwed your eyes shut, hissing from the slight sting yet the rush of pleasure that sent chills down your back.

“S-Sae please—“

“Please what? Speak up.”

He leaned closer, spitting his venom in your ear. His lips touched the flushed lobe, to the point where you nearly fell backwards.

“Please fuck me, please i’ve been waiting for—“

You whispered, already breathless. You couldn’t finish, however, as Sae once again landed another and harsher slap on your soaked cunny. A loud yelp tore from your throat, before a string of sobs filled the room.

“C’mon, giving up already..?”

He inched his hand away, causing you to grab his wrist and place it back onto your weeping cunt. You pleaded, and oh did you plead. Begging for his cock, for him to use you to his heart’s content, even if he broke you a little bit. He was yours, torn out of Rin’s arms and onto his dick effortlessly. It was embarrassingly easy, but then again, Sae always gets what he wants. Always.

He finally tore your boxers off, discarding them and looked down at the view in front of him. Flustered and eager, your legs spread wide open and your eyes syrupy from the tears you shed earlier. The sight made him harder than a rock, prompting him to fish out his cock from his tight pants. It was already leaking precum, the tip a flushed red as he stroked it, lubing up his dick. You took him plenty of times, so he’d stop using lube and fuck you raw.

“You like this don’t you? Taking another man raw while Rin is away. So fuckin’ shameless..”

He hissed, emerald eyes staring down at you like a predator. His face filled with lust and a carnal desire that begs to be released, released onto someone like you. Slowly, he sunk into you, biting back a groan. He looked down, watching his cock dissapere in your tight cunny. He watched your face shift, your mouth opening into an O shape and your eyebrows tilting upwards. It was a sight he could never get bored of. He leaned down, bottoming out while pressing kisses against your cheek and jawline. You were caged between his large arms, his body hovering over yours. You couldn’t help but open your eyes a bit and stare at your lover’s face. He was so damn beautiful, almost unreal. It’s no surprise he caught your eye when you saw him for the first time.

Sae moved slowly, dragging his cock in and out while peppering open mouthed kisses against your neck and chest, his mouth eventually catching one of your nippled. He licked and toyed with it while pinching the other between his fingers, grinning when he heard your mewls and cries. The sounds you made went straight to his dick, an insatiable appetite growing in him. He just couldn’t get enough, no matter how many times he stuffed your greedy cunt.

The sound of skin slapping against one another got louder once he quickened his pace, fucking every little sound your throat hid out. “Ah-ah-ah—“ choppy moans and cut off sobs from his sharp thrusts filled the rooms till its all you could hear. You could barely hear Sae’s degrading names and the rare groan that slips off his tounge.

“Greedy thing, aren’t you?”

He muttered against your skin, pulling away as he slowed down a bit but his thrusts remained harsh. Inching closer and closer to your cervix, your eyes rolled back till you began to see stars. Your fingers curled into the sheets below you, the pit in your stomach growing till you felt like you were gonna pass out from the heat and pleasure.

“Sae..! Why did you slow do—“

A loud smack along with a stinging pain on your inner thigh cut off your whines and forced a crooked sob out of your sore throat. Before you could look up, Sae pulled you up by your arms and flipped you onto your stomach. Pulling your hips up till your on your knees, you looked up from the pillow to meet Sae’s eyes. Strands of his hair stuck to his face, his gaze focused on your current position. While he lacked the love Rin at least had, his tone dripped with lust along with his seductive details in his face and body made you disregard how he could care less about you.

Rin still had the decency to treat you like how a lover should, you were just another paramour to Sae.

And he treated you as such, slamming his heavy cock back in your abused cunt. His hands gripping on your hips, enough to surely leave hand marks. You couldn’t keep up with his pace, to the point where Sae was just pulling your numbing body onto his dick. Fucking you hard and deep like if you were a damn fleshlight.

“Sae! Sae! Sae!”

You sobbed, clawing at your bedsheets until your fingers curl into the already ruined pillow. You stuffed your face into it, trying to muffle your screams. You’d hate it if any of your neighbors overheard what you were doing when your husband was away.

“Y-you’re too good, fuck..! Ah..!”

He abruptly stopped, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing your head up from the pillow.

“Yeah? Better than your dear husband?”

In a dumbified state, your lover balls deep and your body hot and numb, you nodded.

You admitted it, you actually fucking admitted it.

He laughs, breathlessly. In a mixture of shock and appeasement, he picked up his pace until your body was practically rocking up against the bed. He kept your head up, deep emerald eyes staring holes into your mind. He didn’t have to keep guessing, he already knew anyway. He just didn’t expect you to admit it in your most vulnerable state. Usually, a good husband would reassure his love for his significant other, even in the act of infidelity. Whether it was a lie or not, the spouse would always be first and everything.

But he could make someone break that rule so easily, and it fueled his ego to no end. The rush and pleasure he gets from this, from fucking his brother’s husband dumb till his cunny was filled with his seed. Even the image of it gets his dick hard. No matter what Rin would do, Sae would always get the upper hand. Even when it came to the very person who vowed up and down to be with him till death.

That gut wrenching feeling pushed Sae over the edge, as he shoved your head into the pillow once again and pressed his body against yours. You let out one final cry as the warm feeling of his cum filling your cunny overwhelmed you, twitching and shaking underneath him. Your mind went blank, only thinking about his cock that still sat in you. Not at all about Rin, or the fact that you're doing this behind his back. You didn’t remember the overwhelming guilt that would wash over you once Sae leaves the room. The short afterglow of it all, that’ll slowly melt into the same loneliness that had you running into his arms anyways.

An addictive cycle, one you refuse to break despite the consequences it’ll bring soon enough.

Sae pulls out, the feeling of your empty cunt ruining the afterglow. You weakly turn your body around, watching him redress himself. He didn’t have the decency or time to give you proper aftercare, after all, he has better things to tend to. Better yet, a better person.

“Still with her?”

You asked, annoyance and jealousy made clear in your tone. Your lover turned around, just as he was buttoning up his shirt. His face was traced with irritation and maybe a bit of anger with the way you referred to his wife.

“Tch. Think I'm gonna leave her for you?”

“You might as well, Sae..”

He turned away at your response, clearly not listening. You rolled your eyes, staying quiet as he slips his shoes on without saying another word. He leaves the room, as you listen to him walking down the stairs and out the front door. Cold and alone, once again.

Being selfish was the worst decision you could’ve made, and not just for you.

Your phone dinged, revealing a text from your husband. With a grimace face, you opened it much to your regret.

rinnie 💙: I miss you y/n. Let’s do something together once I get back, yeah?

You clutched your phone. Rin almost never texts, let alone even says “i miss you”. Reading that message was a punch to the gut, as you could almost hear the sincerity of his message.

Bastard. Why now?

🎧 this work belongs to @porcalinecunt. reblogs and feedback are appreciated. <3

339 notes · View notes

yellowelectroslime · 3 months

Text

[notes: sorry @descendinginto-madness it took me so long i had a business test anyway here it is i didnt make it into a fic but here are just some hcs to feed ur brainrot <3]

welt is SO observant and you can’t tell me otherwise

he can tell the emotion of someone just by looking at their facial expression be it a twitch in the eyebrow or bouncing ur leg he can see it ALL

the moment he’s sensing any type of distress, he’s immediately by ur side to comfort you

he knows everyone’s likes and dislikes so he knows what to do to cheer u up immediately

he would gently knock on ur room door with a cup of hot cocao/tea/coffee with a fluffy blanket ready for u in his arms

if u need space u got all the space he can give u (haha its funny cuz hsr is in space lol) and he would tell everyone else on the express to give u some time

but if u want some company he’ll be there for u

if it’s one of those bad days where he sees you outside in the lobby by urself in the dark, he would invite u to him room :D

he’s the type of person who would have those build your own figurines

his desk i imagine would have a lot of stuff but still organised (pens, documents, paint brushes and pain supplies and a half done air plane model lol he’s silly like that)

he would let you sit on his bed and talk about what’s making u sad or just let u sleep on his bed with his company while he works

HE’S SO GRANDPA I LOVE HIM SM ;-;;;;;;

#welt yang #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #welt x reader #welt yang x reader #platonic #x reader #headcannons #hsr x reader

137 notes · View notes

just-rogi · 1 year

Text

“I DO NOT DREAM OF LABOR” this “LATE STAGE CAPITALIST BRAINROT” that- well I do. I do dream of labor. Idleness makes my hands buzz and my eyes glaze over. Of course I enjoy rest (what little of it I get with my job) but ultimately, yes, I do dream of labor. Labor is what I dream of most in fact-

I dream of creating : of having time to knit and sew and embroider my own garments, rather than let my yarn collect dust in my closet. I dream of creating poetry and art and spending hours illustrating something beautiful and having the time and energy to focus only on that.

I dream of biking the back roads of my town with my brother again collecting litter that we see and filling up plastic bags to sort into recycling and trash (two summers ago was the last time we biked together- the litter is building up now in the ditches).

I dream of tilling the soil in my mothers garden and watering the tomatoes and peppers and zucchini and Persian squash in the garden until I can harvest it. I dream of watering my neighbors garden and feeding her chickens every morning and every evening while they are away on vacation for a week. I dream of driving to my grandmothers house twice a week and bringing her fresh fruit bread and vegetables and cooking for her while she sits in the sun eating tomato salad I made.

I dream of mowing my mothers lawn and making my brother lunch and baking treats for the teachers room at work.

I dream of academia and dedicating hours to research to archaeology and anthropology and spending long hours on dig sites and in the lab as that was when I was the happiest in college.

I am one of the few people who can say that I really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, love my job and come home from work feeling a sense of fulfillment and pride in my work. I am a teacher and I dream of spending hours teaching children to read, teaching ancient civ and history, of reading texts on effecting teaching methods and finding interesting assignments for them. I dream of teaching them to draw during their free periods. I dream of taking them to the library to practice reading and language comprehension skills- of taking the time to sit with middle schoolers with learning disabilities and dedicate my time and energy to teaching them how to be functional adults and making their lives better. I dream of labor, yes, and I would bet that most of the tiktok communists who say “I do not dream of labor” fucking do to.

Labor is fulfilling. Humans dream to create and do something worthwhile- otherwise we lose our minds! But we are at such a late stage capitalism here in the west (specifically America) that we associate labor with exploitative labor.

I love my job- but I do not dream of skipping my lunch break. I do not dream of working 8:45-4:00. I do not dream of staying after work until 4:35 unpaid. I do not dream of small classrooms with little supplies. I do not dream of understaffed schools and overstuffed classrooms forcing teachers to stretch themselves too to pick up the slack. I do not dream of sending emails after working hours. I do not dream of forty minute unpaid commute due to dysfunctional public transport. I do not dream of coming home and crying from stress every night. I do not dream of my feet and ankles swelling and hurting so badly after a full day of work that all I can do when I get home is shower and sleep with my feet elevated to lessen the pain enough to slip my shoes on the next day. I do not dream of the pay being such that I have to live with four roomates in the city I live in, AS A CITY EMPLOYEE!!! IM A FUCKING PUBLIC SERVANT!! I WORK FOR THE CITY BUT DONT GET PAID ENOUGH TO LIVE IN THE CITY!!

I do dream of labor fuck I love labor but exploitation has made me resent work which I should love, and has taken up so much of my time that I have no energy to garden or to clean the roads or to knit gifts for friends and family anymore. I know that there are people who dream of being truck drivers and baristas and grocery store employees. I know that there are people who would feel fulfilled by being garbage men and construction workers and dishwashers, but who can’t because the abuse would kill them and the hours are too long.

I dream of labor I’m a world where I am not abused and where all my basic needs are met - I dream of labor in a world where labor isn’t the price of being alive, but rather one of the many joys of it.

#idk idk I’m not a philosopher or an economist #I don’t know shit #communism #i do not dream of labor #capitalist society #socialism #communist theory #labor #marxism #marxist leninist

312 notes · View notes

2ndplanetsmut · 1 year

Text

GENSHIN MEN WHEN THERE IS ONLY ONE BED!

V: Normally this blog is only for smut, however, I have some brainrot I need to get rid of, anyway here is a wholesome Genshin Boys Scenario. Please send me asks/suggestions I beg of you.

No Trigger Warnings this time. Maybe a little ooc this is my first time writing Genshin stuff.

ZHONGLI, ALHAITHAM, AYATO.

He insists on sleeping on the floor, you can not convince him to not do so no matter how hard you try. Wouldn't be caught dead in bed with another person for the sake of reputation or otherwise, he simply could not.

If somehow you drag him into the bed he will be scolding you all morning. "You shouldn't have done that, what if someone opened the door and saw the two of us"

ALBEDO, DILUC, THOMA, TIGHNARI.

Would be such a gentleman about it, "I can sleep on the floor it's really no big deal" but if you were to insist that you don't mind sharing he would take no issue with laying in the same bed.

Early morning you would open your eyes to him brushing some hair out of your face with a soft laugh and a whisper goodmorning.

ITTO, HEIZOU, VENTI, KAVEH.

He would not even offer to sleep on the floor, you are a teddy bear to him now. He would smother and cuddle you all night and it might even be kinda hard to sleep because of it.

Though when you wake up still wrapped in his arms and poke his cheek trying to wake him his groggy "Good Morning Cutie." and the yawn that follows would make up for it.

KAEYA, CHILDE.

Would be like "Oh no, I guess you and I will have to share a bed tonight" in a sarcastic tone while wiggling his eyebrows. Demands that you share as it's only fair, after all neither of you can afford to be sore in the morning.

He would pull you into bed with him, but once you're there his tone shifts. He would make sure your comfortable the whole time and the flirting would be far and few between from there.

KAZUHA, DAINSLEIF, XIAO, CYNO.

You aren't in this situation, at least not to him, there is a chair in the room and he as a person who is always on the move he is used to worse. If him not sleeping in the bed bothers you we will be quick to remind you as such.

As the morning comes around and the sun shines in your face, you look around to find him not there. Much too busy getting ready for the day before it begins. A very simple "Morning!" comes from inside the bathroom.

SCARAMOUCHE...

Insists you be the one to sleep on the floor, he's mean about it too is the worst part. Calling you all sorts of names from pathetic to stupid, "What makes you think I'd share anything with a useless piece of dirt like you," yet when and if you persist he relents.

As much as he would never admit it he catches himself enjoying the soft feeling of your arm draped around him. The morning is quiet, when you wake up it seems he's still asleep, he's not, but he would rather die then let you think he found this relaxing.

Anyway that's all for now have a good day! Would again love suggestions or requests, asks perhaps?

Let me know what you want I wanna please you almighty travelers.

#minors dni #genshin xiao #genshin scaramouche #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin wanderer #genshin x you #x reader #i dont know how to tag this #genshin keaya #genshin cyno #genshin zhongli #genshin fandom #genshin albedo #genshin alhaitham #genshin diluc #feel free to add on #genshin fluff

151 notes · View notes

rui-drawsbox · 2 months

Note

halo halo this might be out of blue but may i ask how’d you fall in love w Baxter? I wanna hear the story of like how you started to like him if you don’t mind sharing . tysm!!and i love all your artworks!!!!

AGHHHHHHH i was about to go to sleep but healty schedules are overrated. Take a sit cuz this is gonna be LONG bc i dont know how to get to the point (jump right to the end to get the 3 lines resume lmao)

if you ask me why i like right now: he's a dramatic loser. But that was when i finally understood his character! you wouldn't be surprised if tell you that i'm an idiot right? i'm super slow to read between lines and understand people, that applies to fictional characters too lmao (+add that english isn't my first language) So! at first i didn't actually understood what was going on with -well- anything :D.

Took me a few playthroughs to actually understand the game in general, i started to play before step 4 was out so all i could do was play and replay different ways to fall in love with Cove (starting to crush at step3 was my fav) but tbh he was never my *type*, Derek was interesting but just bc he like us by default. Even after playing his dlc i felt like he was just a really good friend (which was kinda weird bc to this point i've just played his romantic route). So, what's different with Baxter?

To begin with! he's... he's....... huhh my first impression wasn't actually strong tbh, i was like "huh new guy to date yay". I didn't actually understood his character the first few playthroughs ngl. I started in fond ofc to get into the dlc but *I* was pretty indifferent, probably in Drinks where we finally see Morning Baxter was that i said "oh shit he's cute" and cuteness+gapmoe is enough to make me fall for any character tbh.

But! that was not enough to provoke a brainrot like this right? i'm the "Oh i love this *forgets about in a week*" type. What sealed the deal (badum tss) was probably bc of the fandom? Once i was done replaying the dlc 5 times in a row i went straight to tumblr to feed of headcanons, fanarts and fanfics. My favorite way to understand a character is thru the fandom tbh, my favs are the long aa essays talking about a character personality.

Long story short, he was dramatic troubled flirty gap-moe guy (my fictional type, coincidentally) with an excellent storyline. I still wasn't 100% into him but he was top1 romatic choice for me (sorry Cove and Derek, love ya but platonically), so i made 2 fanarts for his dlc in may and let the hype die... only for 6 months otherwise we wouldn't be here, would we?

AH-HA-HEM the day 28th of november, beginnings of summer, i went out in the morning to do some errands with my mom, we stopped to buy vegetables in our way home and she bought a small watermelon bc i love them. That same afternoon i was eating it and thought "watermelons are finally here, summer it's officially here!" and got struck with Olba memories like a sleeper agent. (made a minicomic abt that, that's why i have the exact date lol) SO i replayed the game again, reading everything again, and oh boy i finally understood so many things, one of those things was Baxter himself!

A lot of stuff made sense once i actually took the time to comprehend his character with the information i gained out of the game (mainly all the asks ppl sent to gb). Add the way that i always played like *me* on my first playthroughs of anything and then you'll notice why he hit me so hard, it felt like i wasn't giving him enough credit before dasjkfas.

Tbh his dlc is my fav bc it has such a strong storyline, you get to know him and his insecurities thru all step 3, and have a lot of sweet moments too! (and that night goodbye?? omg it hits me so hard bc it's right after the ending song) and because step 4 it's right after you go with all the fresh memories of your summer together and seeing him so cold towards you it's so painful but also so funny because HA I CAN SEE THRU YOUR FACADE YOU STILL LIKE ME HAHAHA and i finally knew the perfect word for him: loser.

Anyways i also did a deep dive in the Olba and Baxter Ward tag here in tumblr and eat pretty much everything, also helped me to get a better grasp for all the little details i didn't noticed before bc haha i told you im an idiot?

sO yeah i made a few drawings of my Mc interacting with the characters, surprisingly it got a lot of attention from the fandom so i made a few more and when i noticed i was deep into the brainrot and i wasn't able to draw anything besides my Ruri and Baxter being cute lmao

Funfact. Ruri is a variation of Rui (duh) that i used in games when i didn't feel like i wanted to be called my name directly, now that she expropriated me of that name i use Ruru, i'm so creative right?

Long story short: it was mix of the game itself, fandom content and people actually liking my oc content. The fandom is super welcoming with everyone's oc's i love that akjdlfhask

ajksdfhasjk WOAH THAT IS SO LONG i def went over the top didnt i? I tried to explain my train of thought and fill the spaces where my memory is blurry with stuff i think i would've thought at the moment, it's also 3am so im- not entirely here tbh hjadfhkj

ANYWAYS THANKYOU ANON FOR LETTING ME RAMBLE I LOVE TALKING TO NO ONE IN SPECIFIC ABOUT THE THINGS I LOVE LOVE YAA<333

#rui thinks loudly #gonna upload the drawing i actually was staying up late for and go to sleep #took me 2 hours to write this omg im so lost #idk how much i wrote but i still feel like it wasnt enough. i need to ramble and be redundant about olba for another 3 hours

22 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 8 months

Note

I know you've written about similar things before a little but I am sick with a cold rn and I have no idea what is going on but its like I've been blasted with dottore fixation juice.

Dotties morning voice is just so... mghanhgh... he grumbles in your ear from behind about some idiot that spilled a valuable substance on even more valuable notes, nibbling on your earlobe just a little while his arms are wrapped around your waist and grasping at your shirt.

Nearly growling right in your ear as you try to get up to go to the bathroom, he already has so little freetime to sleep with you, now you're trying to leave? When you whine and pout like a puppy, begging him to come cuddle with you for days and when he finally gives in you try to leave?! (No you aren't leaving for the next hour at least, you're gonna have to hold it in.)

Ah... and being sick right now. Its nothing serious but half the time I sit around feeling half dead... I should be drinking lots of water and resting but I don't wanna! He needs to force you into bed and under the sheets, grumbling with an annoyed frown on his face. I don't like soups very much either... especially the ones meant for when you're sick, they're just icky! He tells you to shut up and eat because you're not gonna get any better running around like a headless chicken while also spreading your disease to his underlings. If you still adamantly refuse he will not hesitate to just grab your face and shove the spoon into your mouth...

Little baby zandik is worried about you and wants you to read him a story but your voice is too hoarse to do that... Dottore scoffs at his child self but allows him near you. Baby zandik happily cuddles with you even if your breath is raspy and your body shivers but skin is too hot.

Obviously I love softie and secretly a sweetie dottie but I've been going circles with a quiet and always seemingly irritated dottie... he obviously loves you and worries for you but he's not gonna start babying you! It's just something about that kind of quiet dominance... where he can only give you a disapproving shake of his head when you do something dumb, or that disappointed dad tone when you hurt yourself... villain who's secretly sweet for their lover is always cute but grumpy x sunshine is a very close second... I think I may have accidentally made him sound mean and uncaring? I mean it in a way that he acts kind of like that but he really does love you!! Idk how to explain and I'm really just going off on my sick brain rambles rn... 😔 I wish dottie was real I need a mean cuddle buddy who bites me when I say something stupid...

Oh anon I hope you're feeling better by now!! :( Make sure to get lots of rest okay? I absolutely adore this brainrot though and I hope my additions can make you feel a lil better :3

RAHHHH SCRATCHING THE WALLS AT DOTTORE’S MORNING VOICE!! My heart… ugh, the first thing you hear, see, touch in the morning is Dottore 🫠 yea he’s ranting about some fool this early but who cares!! You can probably barely even process his words when his pointy teeth are just nombing a lil bit on your teeth and then making his way to you neck… and then burying his face there as he mumbles sone more complaints ❤️ LMFAO PLEASE HIM HOLDING US HOSTAGE FRRR, Bro will NOT be letting you go anytime soon!! SMH Dot will literally use your logic against you…. Aren’t you the one barging in his lab and getting in the way of his experiments begging for cuddles? You were just getting so pouty a while ago, and now you have the gall to try and leave… isn’t this what you wanted so bad? It’s actually quite rude of you to disrespect him and his time like this… now that he actually has time. Yea soooo good luck he is keeping you in bed 🙏

Anon… take care of yourself otherwise you’ll find me at your doorstep instead!! Drink your water and rest! 😡 but yes. Avoiding these things will cause Dottie to take matters into his own hands even if he has to be mean about it. Do you have no care for your body? Trying to wrestle him is futile because you WILL find yourself in bed with a lecture of him grumbling how annoying you are… (he doesn’t mean that he just wants you to get better and take care of yourself) Refusing to eat? HELP YOUR DESCRIPTION HAS ME ROLLING 😭 He’s rough and tough but it comes from a good place you know? And you know what, I’d pretend not to eat just so Dottore can force feed me (lovingly) 😻 At least his clones are immune to illness so you can bother them! OMGGG BABY ZANDY TOO I LOVE HIM SMM 😭😭🙏❤️❤️ He is the most precious baby 😭 he opens your door a crack and peeks inside repeatedly, so worried about you until you beckon him inside and he seats at your bedside troubled. He misses your piggy back rides and stories so bad :( and will happily cuddle with you if it makes you feel better! Zandy will even read you the story this time!

AND DW ANON I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND WHERE YOU’RE COMING FROM BECAUSE I LOVE BOTH SIDES OF DOTTORE ❤️🤭🤭 HE’S SO BOTH!! He’s still just that guy who struggles with being nice outwardly, who can be mean and grouchy to you every now and then, but I think you’ve been with him enough to understand how he truly feels you know? I think he feels sort of nice that he can finally have someone who can deal with his words and won’t get scared or mad at him :) But the Doctor really does love you teehee!! I hope you feel better love!!

#smooches talks #dottore love notes <3 #zandy bb <3 #we love a secret softie and a part-time meanie dot in this house #real i need dot to cuddle me and force me to sleep otherwise he'll bite me

37 notes · View notes

k4katsujin · 4 months

Text

vamp ghost brainrot do you see my vision

DO YOU SEE MY VISION?!?!?!?!?!

ok this is v random but apparently im on a creative spree so lets enjoy it while it lastssss

context: the idea came from when i noticed ghost had lil fangs on his mask and and and

reader is tf141's medic/nurse idk how you call it but you get it also shoutout to @unabashedcroissanttreefan (PHEROMONE IS BACKK) and @cluelylikesporn mwah

also reader is not white AND a vampire. boom. not black either but i like the concept of poc/mixed vampires (and poc vampires would look so cool) (i am mixed and id look so cool as an autistic soon-to-be-adult teen vampire and you cant tell me otherwise.)

wc: 1049

also trigger warning dislocation and blood (duh there's vampirism in this fic what did you expect /lh)

also maybe ooc ghost idrk

pt 2 in the making!

"okay, lets see... who do we have next.." you said as your checked your medical files. "lieutenant riley?" (you raise an eyebrow) "strange. he never came before" you thought out loud, but you shrugged it off. "you can come in!"

"hello, y/n" ghost greeted you politely as he sat in front of you. "i hope my team hasn't been of too much trouble"

"don't worry about them!" you smile softly, "lets talk about you, for once! what brings you there? you usually never come to check ups, which i have to say isnt very professional!!" you scold him lightly, "but im glad you seem safe and well!"

ghost chuckled softly before replying: " i came here because i have been suffering from awful migraines, and i have no idea where they can possibly come from, and so i wanted to ask you if you could check? and maybe give me a stronger dose of painkillers so that i won't need to bother you every week? also, i noticed i have been having more trouble falling asleep, it's as if i found myself more... active in the nighttime, i would say?"

"mhm.. this sure is strange, but dont worry!" you reply with an assured smile. "do you have some spare time so i can do your checkup now, or do you wish to book another appointment?"

"i would like to do it now, if you don't mind"

"okay, no problem!" you smile as you put on a surgery mask, "lay down on this chair and lift up your mask just above your mouth, please! ill start off with examinating your teeth."

ghost did as you asked him to, and you started your inspection; what you saw surely was weird.

"this is strange..." you muttered to yourself, "can you please bite into this?" you asked him as you handed him a plaster mold. "it looks like your fangs... have overgrown."

"what??" ghost asked, confused. "with all due respect, you must be kidding me."

"im not" you reply, showing him the mold he bit in. "see? its like, the bite mark is... sharper than a usual one would be"

"and... do you happen to have a reason to that?" ghost starts to panic, "or even a remedy?"

"i think... i might have an idea, but don't freak out, okay?" (he nods unsurely) "you might want to sit down for this one. okay so... there have been rumors - and i insist on the word 'rumor' - of a disease that turns people into vampires, and-"

"are you telling me i'm one of those freaks?!?" ghost hurried, panicked.

"that's... insensitive to us.." you mutter to yourself, "but nevermind. no, there is no cure, you just learn to live with it.

"thats..." he thought out loud, "wait did you say us? are you a vampire too?"

"duh, just because im not white doesn't mean i cant be a vampire thats- very cliché." you reply, slightly offended. "but yes, i am."

"but- how do you even sleep at night? how do you even feed yourself ? and-" ghost's mind raced with questions.

"let me guess, you're assuming all vampires drink blood to survive, aren't you?" (he nods, slightly ashamed, but you smiled, amused at his panic) "don't worry, we aren't all like that. i'd be delighted to teach you there are a whole lot of different types of vampires! for example, i am an empathic one! which means i tend to be more well... empathic."

"and how does one know what type of vampire one is?" ghost asked, seeming childhishly interested to the point it almost looked endearing.

"thats exactly what im coming to!" you reply with a soft smile, before coming back a few moments later with a little pouch of blood. "what does this make you feel?"

"this looks delicious" he replies as his eyes lit up, "can i have a taste?"

"well then," you chuckled, "it's all settled! you're a blood drinker vampire!"

"oh." the worries then came back in his voice, "does that mean i have to..." (he gulps) "kill people to drink their blood?"

"well, technically speaking, if we were in a typical eldritch story, you would have to. but, hopefully for the writer we're not, and its a good thing im a medic, so i have plenty of those little pouches!"

ghost sighed in relief, but then panic peaked again.

"do you think we should tell others? like, price and soap?" ghost asked worried.

"no. not for now, at least." you thought for a moment, and added: "but, one thing is sure, if we dont want anybody to find out you have to do whatever it takes to not get deployed,or else... "

"we're fucked, balls deep." ghost completed your sentence. "but how? price won't allow me to stay at the base unless i get injured."

"that's exactly my point!" you say as your eyes glimmer mischievously, "but im not sure you will like the idea.."

"whatever it takes for people not to notice.." he sighs.

"good!" you reply with a smile, "please lay down on this chair,just so youre warned its gonna be a little... painful."

"what the fuck- you sprained my fucking ankle???" ghost hurried, grumbling in pain.

"what?? you wanted a reason to not get deployed, didnt you? you should thank me" you chuckled as you noticed him wincing in pain. "anyway, its time for price's meeting, take those to help you walk, and you let me do the talking to price, okay?"

ghost nodded as you both headed to the briefing room, one of his arm around your shoulder to help him walk, where price and the rest of the task force were already waiting for you.

"sorry we're late, captain!" you hurried as you and ghost entered the room.

"its fine" price replied, raising an eyebrow, "what happened to you, Lieutenant?"

"we were practicing close fighting and he accidentally sprained his ankle, sir" you reply with an assured smile.

"is that so?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, "then why didnt i see both your names in the record?"

"because we forgot, and there was nobody on the wait list, sir" you reply. "but i promise it wont happen again."

"good" price sighed, "then i suppose i have no choice but to make gaz replace you, ghost."

is all for part one i feel like its already too long help

hope you enjoyed, if you dont reblog ill snatch your toenails

22 notes · View notes

candlelight27 · 1 year

Text

Will you be my valentine?

[tags] DABI X READER, SFW, zombie or apocalypse AU, fluff, gender neutral reader but afab reader in mind, a little something suggestive in the end but otherwise just kissing, mentions of weapons. Oh and Dabi calls reader Sunshine as a nickname. 1632 words.

[note] happy st valentines day!! So glad to write a little something again :') enjoy the dabi brainrot!!! I had this idea in mind all weekend and had to write it

AO3 link

It’s been a couple of hours since Dabi left the base and you are growing anxious by the minute. How could you not? The trip to gather supplies should have taken him an hour at most.

You entertain yourself with the improvised stew you’re cooking. Rather than hunger, it was the hope of a headpat from your partner and a compliment what drove you to start making dinner, since he usually was the one to use the fire. It smells pretty good despite the limitations you face and the poor ingredients. Still, the sky is getting darker, and you fear the worse in the bottom of your heart.

As you see the diced potatoes float, you wonder what it is that you really fear in the event that Dabi doesn't come back.

Were you scared of being alone in a collapsing world? Doomed to roam around without someone else to rely on? The answer is no. You grew used to that way before meeting your latter partner.

So the unfortunate conclusion is that you’re just attached to him.

You and the once stranger tried everything to avoid this. You know that any feelings might compromise your survival rate, so you followed a set of rules: no names, no personal information, no sleeping next to each other and no physical contact.

The problem was that you had already broken two of them.

At first, you were determined to stay at least two feet away from Dabi at all times. You read somewhere that physical touched released some kind of hormones or whatever substance that increased the levels of trust and affection between two people. So it was easy: avoid touching him at all costs. It was easy… until it wasn’t that easy.

It was the dead of winter and you were trembling. Even though you were covered with several blankets and inside a building, you had never been that cold before. Dabi noticed this as he was awake, keeping an eye on the fire. He muttered a few words offering his help, you agreed, because Dabi seemed to practically radiate heat, and from then on, you slept together under the same blankets. Cuddling, to add insult to injury. And, little by little, that led to Dabi to break the other rule. He accustomed to leave small, fether-like touches on your shoulder, then poking your cheek and patting your head. And you liked it, way much more than you should.

The potatoes keep floating on the soup and Dabi hasn’t arrived yet. The sky is orange and dark blue at equal parts. You relive his touch and make up your mind. It’s something you’re going to regret, but you can’t help it.

As you take your bag and a rifle, you hear footsteps. Right after, his voice resonates in the silence of your shelter.

“Where the fuck are you going, Sunshine? It’s almost nighttime.”

Your eyes are wide open. Your hands clutch the rifle. You try to say something, anything really, but only stammering leaves your mouth.

“Well?” Dabi rises an eyebrow, ready to tease you. “Don’t tell me you were going to go out there to look for me?”

“You were gone for hours”, you justify yourself.

You can see in his face that he wants to tell you off. That you shouldn’t leave the base with all the equipment alone, that it could’ve been dangerous, that if he disappears you must keep going on. Better one person dead than two. But he says nothing about that. Dabi just sighs.

“C’mon. Let’s eat. You made dinner, right?”

After leaving on the side his heavy backpack and a couple of bags, right next to the rest of supplies, Dabi turns around and sits on the piled rugs next to the fire, over which the pot is hovering. You leave the weapon and your things where they were before, then take the bowls that are lying around and hand them to him.

“It smells so good. But why didn’t you wait for me?”, asks the man as he’s pouring you and himself a ration of stew.

“I… I thought you’d be tired, so I wanted to have it ready beforehand,” you admit. So much for not forming a bond with the man.

“If you keep doing it this well, you’ll end up in charge of cooking,” he says with a mouthful. “Are these the potatoes you grew?”

“Yes.”

You keep eating quietly until there’s nothing left. Usually, you chatter with Dabi about the latest expedition, or the state of the garden, or anything at all. However, right now, something feels off. You’re scared of the nature of your feelings for Dabi and you’re still upset about his prolongued absence. So you remain quiet. Which isn’t the smartest move, because Dabi is quite observant.

His bright blue eyes are fixed on your face.

“What’s wrong, Sunshine?” Dabi leaves the dining utensils aside and sits next to you. You prefer his warmth to that of the bonfire. He’s not shy, so he sits right next to you, his shoulder and leg bumping yours. “Usually, you don’t even greet me and proceed to rummage the bags. And usually you don’t stop talking, either, while doing so. Or while eating. So, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing”, you say, avoiding his eyes. He frowns.

“Are you mad because I took longer than what was planned? Look, I didn’t mean-”

“No”, you interrupt him. This time, you turn your face around as you shake your hands. You think of all the problems you have, the lack of food, the dangers of desperate people, anything but how close his face is. “I’m not mad, okay? Just… worried.” You don’t elaborate more.

You’re surprised when you see his smile grow. Of course he know what's going on. He can read you like a book.

“Worried?”, he chuckles. “Aw, don’t tell me you were worried that I was dead?”

“Well, what do you think? It’s way more convenient having you around than being alone”, you concede. It’s not entirely a lie.

“Sure…”

Dabi stands up. You’re going to do the same, but he sits you back with a pat on your shoulder. He fishes a couple of things from the interior of his backpack, and hides them behind his back. You are curious, moving your head around to peek, but he’s adamant on not showing anything.

“Don’t you want to know what took so long?”, the man asks.

You nod. Suddenly, two items are dropped on your lap.

One of them is a box of your favourite chocolates. To your delight, it’s not expired. The other is a gingerbread heart that reads ‘Merry Christmas’. It’s not expired either. You’re happy, for you haven’t tried anything like this in ages, yet you’re confused all the same.

“Dabi?”

“Yes?”

“Why?”

“Don’t you like it?”, your partner questions. He’s not disappointed, but calm.

“I do. But you risked your life and you don’t even like sweets.”

“Hm.” He takes the box in his hands and examines it. After a couple of seconds, he sets it aside. “Okay, to be fair, I don’t dislike them, but I prefer watching you enjoying them rather than enjoying them myself.”

“Oh”, that’s all you can say.

For a moment, you let yourself think that maybe you're not the only one affected by your situation with Dabi.

“Do you know what day is it?”

“Tuesday?”

“Didn’t you check the calendar?” He chuckles again. It might be your new favourite sound.

“Not today,” you admit.

“It’s February 14th.” Dabi smiles and scratches his neck. “The heart wasn’t supposed to say ‘Merry Christmas’, but when you raid a destroyed supermarket you can’t be too picky, you know?”

You hug the gingerbread to your heart and look into his eyes.

“Do you mean this? All of this?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Now it’s his turn to be confused.

“I was worried of not seeing you again”, you declare with a weak voice. “Not of being alone, but being witout you. I don’t really want to go back to a life without Dabi.”

His pupils go down to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Can you be clearer? Because I don’t want to do anything that will get me a punch in the face.”

You breath deeply. Dabi’s actions were basically a declaration of love, right? You had nothing to lose.

“I want to break out partnership. I’m afraid I have feelings for you.”

When did he get closer? You’re practically on Dabi’s arms, one of them surrounding your back and caging you against him, the other playing with your hair. His smell, of gunpowder, sweat and detergent, saturates your nose.

“What feelings?”, he teases. “Hate? Love? Interest?”

“Dabi, shut up, you know perfectly-”

Then, the overdue kiss comes along. His lips press against yours. It’s rather chaste, probing your willingness.

“Do you really like my mug? Haven’t you seen the scars? Do I need to look for prescription glasses next time? That may take even longer. Days of search.”

“Dabi, you’re an idiot, but you’re hot,” you say, then you kiss him again.

You don’t waste your chance and hug him back, something you’ve wanted to do for a long time. This time, the kiss is fumbling, and more intense. You feel his scarred skin, and the way he smiles into your lips. Dabi bites your lips lightly.

“This might complicate everything,” he points out.

“I don’t care”, you answer. His big hand rests on your cheek.

“In that case, if you want to complicate things further…”, he adds with the smirk of a scoundrel, “I found condoms that are good to use.”

“Dabi!” you scold as you bury your face on his chest.

He’s going to be the end of you.

#dabi x reader #dabi fluff #touya x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #sfw #fluff #dabi fanfic

124 notes · View notes

ghostussy · 1 year

Text

Hotel Rooms and Sleepy Papas

Terzo x Reader

. . .

um. it's terzo brainrot hours. also there was only one bed. <3

"Shit," grumbles Terzo, hand around the nape of his neck. "Sorry, sibling. I know it is not... ideal. Budget cuts, directly from Sister. I am sorry."

"That's okay, Papa," you tell him. "There's going to be two beds anyway. Right?"

"Si, I believe so."

For this tour, Sister Imperator had implemented a new rule; in order to pay for the bigger venues, the budget had to be adjusted in more ways than one. This meant that everyone had to share a hotel room. And she meant everyone, including Papa.

Now the two of you are walking down the hall to your shared hotel room. It was your first night on tour, the first show of many having been completed. Terzo looked beyond exhausted, face covered in smudged paint and still dressed in his suit. His movements were sluggish, voice low and quiet from overuse. You felt bad for him.

"Ah, here we are," he sounds relieved as he pulls out his keycard. He holds the door open for you, and you smile kindly at him as you pass.

You flick on the lights and immediately notice one thing.

There was only one bed.

"Ah, merda," swears Terzo. "Let me call the front desk."

So he does. After a brief conversation on the phone, he defeatedly looks to you. "They are out of rooms."

You shrug. "That's okay. I'm fine with sharing if you are."

"No, no, I can't do that to you," he says, somehow sounding even more exhausted. "I-I'll take the floor, and you-"

"No, Papa," you tell him firmly. "Respectfully, you look awful. You're sleeping in that bed one way or another, even if I have to strap you there myself." You wink at him. "I'll take the floor if you're that worried about it. Otherwise, we can share."

"N-no, we can share..." he yawns. "Augh, sorry. Your papa is... very tired." He smiles weakly.

"That's okay," you tell him. "Why don't you get ready for bed?"

"Si, si... I'll go hop in the shower."

He grabs his overnight bag and disappears into the bathroom. Shortly after you hear the shower start running, and you decide to change into your pajamas in the bedroom.

They're simple; a pair of light grey sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. While he's in the shower, you decide to get cozy in the bed and watch some TV.

After quite some time, you realize that the shower is still running. "I wonder what's taking him so long," you think. You decide to check on him.

You hop up out of the bed and knock on the bathroom door. No response.

"Papa?" you call, knocking more insistently. "Are you okay in there?" Still no response.

You wait a moment, in case he didn't hear you. Then you knock a third time and call his name, growing more concerned by his silence.

You jiggle the door handle; It's unlocked. "Papa, I'm going to come in if you don't answer me." Still no response.

You sigh and prepare yourself for whatever you're about to see. You open the door, half-expecting to see Terzo's naked ass dead on the floor. Instead, he's sitting on the closed toilet, fully dressed and asleep with the side of his face pressed against the wall. The shower is still running.

You sigh in relief and walk over, crouching in front of him. You reach out to touch his shoulder and he stirs, jerking awake when he sees you.

"Dolce, what-"

"Terzo, you fell asleep." His eyes soften at the use of his name.

"N-no, I was-" he notices the faceprint on the wall. "I was waiting for the water to warm up, is all."

"It's been forty minutes," you say gently. "I think you should just shower in the morning."

"Ah, it was still cold."

You giggle. "Sure."

You stand, noticing a black washcloth on the counter. "Is this yours? For the paint?"

He nods. "Si, I do not trust hotel cloths."

You pick up the cloth and hold it underneath the shower before turning the water off. Then you ring out the excess water before crouching in front of him again.

"Here, let me-" he starts, but you shush him.

"Allow me," you tell him, and he doesn't protest as you gently run the cloth over his cheek. Instead he closes his eyes, swaying slightly as you rub off the makeup with such tender care.

After a moment, his eyelids flutter open and he seems to come to his senses. "Where are my manners?" he mumbles. "I have cleanser in my bag."

You pass it to him, and he searches through the contents until he finds a large pink bottle. He reaches for the cloth, and you hold it out of his reach. "I'll do it."

He sighs, but hands you the bottle. Through a stifled yawn, he mumbles, "you are too kind to your Papa."

You look deeply into his eyes, glazed over and half-lidded. "You're tired."

"Si, maybe a little."

It isn't long before you have the rest of his makeup off, which is a good thing; he's dozing off as you wipe his face, and putting your pajamas at risk of being splotched with paint.

"Thank you, dolcezza," he murmurs, and you can see his eyes starting to close.

"Alright, time for pjs," you tell him, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. He bats your hands away, insisting he can do it himself. His hands are shaking, and when he clumsily pops off a button you giggle.

"Are you making fun of me? In my time of need?" He smiles, pulling his hands away. "Maybe I had better let you do it..."

So you do. A few moments later he is dressed in a white nightshirt, paired with a pair of black sweatpants. "Jus' like my paint," he tells you, words slurring.

Once he's dressed, you take a clean hotel cloth and wash the face paint off of the wall. Hopefully housekeeping won't notice the black smudges.

"Bedtime," you tell him, helping him to stand. He hums as you lead him to the bed, and he sits down. He rubs his eyes as you go around to the other side, climbing in and laying down. He does the same, sleepily pulling the blanket up.

"I am sorry, tesoro," he starts. "I am normally not this way. I apologize if I have overstepped your boundaries."

"It's alright, Papa. You didn't overstep. You're fine."

"Terzo."

"Hm?"

"Call me Terzo... please."

"Of course, Terzo."

He smiles, but does not respond. You turn your attention back to the TV, but listen as his breathing slows, eventually turning into snores. You sit up and turn out the light, leaving the TV on and keeping the remote close by so you won't have to get up again.

Some time later, you hear him shifting in his sleep. You nearly jump out of your skin when he presses himself into your side, but then you relax as he wraps his arms around your middle. You chuckle and turn off the TV, curling up close to him. You run a hand up and down his back, lips curling into a smile as you hear a quiet purr escape him.

In the morning he will be mortified, but for now he is asleep in your arms and that's all that matters.

. . .

@lightbluuestars

#terzo x reader #drabbles #terzo comfort #*slams fist on table* THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED.#overused trope but still a good one!

101 notes · View notes

miasmaghoul · 1 year

Text

With My Love As Your Garden

Mountain/Swiss fluff because I am being ruined by soft Mountain brainrot.

For @forlorn-crows and @kroas-adtam specifically because they brought up Mountain singing folk songs to his plants and it made me feel insane.

(Title is from Fall For Me by Sleep Token)

Leaves crunch beneath his boots as Swiss makes his way across the abbey's grounds. It's a cloudy day in November, the air chilly and crisp. Not cold enough to see your breath, but enough that Swiss wishes he'd thrown on a sweater before making this trek.

He'd been sent out to fetch Mountain for practice. He never took his phone to the greenhouse, and the others have taken to drawing straws for who would have to trudge through the late-autumn mud to collect Mountain when the need arises. Today was Swiss's turn, despite his grumbling, but as he pushes open the heavy glass door he finds the trip was worth it.

Swiss stands just inside the door, letting the warm, humid air inside chase the chill from his skin. From his lungs. He doesn't come here very often, and the sliver of earth magic in him truly delights in these surroundings. In the essence of life itself hanging in the air, fresh and green and new. It ensnares his senses, washes over him in soothing waves.

He fingers the leathery leaves of a nearby fern and allows himself a few minutes to bask in the beauty of it all. In the silence, the stillness, the heady summertime scent surrounding him. It's like stepping into another world, every time. It brings a calm to Swiss's otherwise mildly chaotic mind. Centers him. He should come here more, he thinks.

He's shaken out of his reverie by a soft sound in the distance, a voice. Swiss takes a deep breath through his nose, wishing he could trap this feeling in his lungs and hold it there forever. He strides slowly and silently through the rows of flowers and greenery, past the potted fruit trees that are due to be transplanted into the orchard and a pallet of fertilizer. Around the worktables and stacks of terracotta pots. Further and further, drawn in by the smooth baritone he knows too well.

Swiss finds Mountain near the far wall, knelt and hunched over something. Swiss isn't sure what, he's facing the earth ghoul's back. Mountain has his hair pulled into a loose bun at the nape of his neck, held in place by a pair of pens. He must be lost in focus, because Swiss can see ivy growing up and around his curling horns. His voice is a low rumble, and Swiss can't quite make out the words, just that Mountain is...singing.

He can't make himself interrupt, but he's too curious to stay put. Swiss tiptoes around Mountain's side, still several feet away, peering over the kneeling ghoul's shoulder. He knows he's been noticed when a cluster of small, fluffy white flowers starts growing behind Mountain's ear, a sure sign that Swiss is on his mind.

The earth ghoul is hunched over a sickly-looking rosebush, its leaves withered, its blossoms feeble and pale. The sight evokes a sadness the likes of which Swiss has rarely felt - something deep and mournful. Hollow. It's a bizarre ache in his chest, and Swiss rubs at his sternum in an effort to combat it. Mountain is singing to the plant, slowing tracing his fingertips over its petals and leaves.

"Hey Mount," Swiss says softly, hesitant to shatter the moment, "it's, uh...it's time for practice."

Mountain doesn't respond, doesn't pause, his voice low and lyrical. He continues his motions, and Swiss can't help the way his feet carry him closer, can't help the way he sinks to his knees at Mountain's side. The plants around them all seem to sway in time with his words. Words of roses and lilies, of clear water and endless love. Mountain runs delicate fingertips over a weak bloom and Swiss watches in awe as its pallor is replaced by rich, vibrant color. Brilliantly pink, like a lover's blushing cheeks. He doesn't miss the way Mountain's mouth quirks up at the corner, a smile wrapping around his song.

Mountain's movements are fluid, certain. He buries his fingers into the loose soil at the base of the bush, and slowly the leaves begin to perk up. Swiss's eyes flick all around the plant, watching the petals shift from wrinkled to silky and full. Watching the wilt of the leaves vanish, growing green and strong again. Swiss presses himself closer to Mountain's side unconsciously, resting his head on the earth ghoul's shoulder with a gentle sigh.

Mountain pulls back once he's satisfied, crooning into Swiss's ear instead. Swiss hums along, reaching out to brush his fingers over a rose with nothing but reverence. He can feel something there, beneath the magic, beneath the life, beneath everything new. He can feel...Mountain. His care, his love, his devotion. Everything that Swiss feels deep in his chest when he has the earth ghoul to himself. He can't hold back the tight sigh in his throat.

Swiss takes Mountain's hand in his, and they kneel there together until silence takes hold again and the plants stop swaying. Until Mountain plants a kiss between his horns and helps him to his feet with a gentle smile. He plucks one of the flowers from behind his own ear and holds it out to Swiss, spinning it between two fingers.

"For you, my edelweiss," Mountain says, tucking the bloom next to the base of Swiss's horn, who accepts the offering with a soft chuckle and damp lashes. He leans up and catches Mountain in a slow kiss, arms around his waist. He rests his head on Mountain's shoulder, sighing happily.

"Need to come here more often," Swiss murmurs, humming as Mountain runs a large hand over his back.

"We'll always welcome you with open arms," Mountain says, and Swiss pulls back to look up at him with a raised eyebrow. Mountain smiles, spreading his arms and indicating the entire greenhouse. "All of us."

The plants rustle in an invisible breeze, and Swiss is overcome by something he can't name. He clings to Mountain with a huffed exhale, letting the earth ghoul hold him close. They sway together for a long while, dancing to the silent song of life surrounding them.

"C'mon grasshopper," Swiss eventually mutters into Mountain's shirt, "we gotta get to practice before they send in the cavalry."

Mountain hums, pulling back to tug off his apron and let his hair down. It falls in loose waves down to the middle of his back, and Swiss wants to bury his face in it to breathe in Mountain's earthy scent. Pine and cedar and wildflowers. But that can wait until later.

For now, Swiss lets Mountain take his hand and guide him back through the greenhouse. He says goodbye to every piece of flora along the way, and Swiss swears some of them speak back.

"Love seeing you like this," Swiss says, soft and open. Mountain pauses, looking down at him and cocking his head. "In your element, I mean. You look so..." Swiss reaches up and plucks another flower from behind Mountain's ear, "...beautiful."

Mountain smiles and it's bright as the sun. He gets an arm around Swiss's waist and captures him in a kiss that has Swiss sighing and wrapping his arms around the earth ghoul's neck. Mountain pulls back, rests his forehead against Swiss's and their eyes meet. Emerald and gold, spring and summer. Balance.

"I love you too, marigold." Mountain winks and kisses a stunned-looking Swiss on the cheek, turning to head out the door. Swiss is rooted to the ground, slack-jawed. He reaches up and touches the spot Mountain kissed and breaks into a grin so wide it hurts his cheeks.

Swiss gives chase and catches up to Mountain's long strides in no time. He leaps onto the taller ghoul's back with no warning and Mountain lets out a dull oof, but catches Swiss by the backs of his knees anyway. Hitches him up while Swiss wraps his arms around Mountain's shoulders and buries his face in his hair.

"Thank you," he whispers, and Mountain squeezes the backs of his legs. Swiss rests his chin on the earth ghoul's shoulder and sighs happily, letting himself melt into the scent surrounding him. In the peace it brings. "Thank you."

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #stuff that grows from mountains head #this headcanon is ruining me

115 notes · View notes