#posted it at like 4am but wanted to clean it up

[scramratz]

Missouri is hell

[lvrxly]

ִ ࣪𖤐- An Odd Feeling

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

summary: your neighbor, Simon, is a single dad. and you frequently babysit his son, Oliver. You've grown to love Oliver, buying toys for him, planning play dates, and even offering to babysit him while his dad goes on a date..wait what? You really thought after all of this Simon would choose you, but maybe he will..?

cw: simon is somewhat oblivious at the beginning >:((, mdni - smut, slight age difference (Simon is in his mid-30s while the reader is in her mid-20s), unprotected sex, breeding kink on Simon's part, oral sex (f receiving), Simon can't help but want another kid after seeing how you treat his :((

a/n: sorry this took so long to get posted! and i apologize for any grammar mistakes, i don't have the energy to edit this right now ;( (it's almost 4am).

hope you enjoy lovies ;)

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"Thanks again for this love, I should be back around 9pm, please try and get him to bed before then," Ghost says frantically as he passes his son over to you along with his diaper bag and favorite blanket.

There was that damned nickname again. 'Love'. Simon always seemed to call you love, it was almost infuriating how that little pet name could make your heart race and your cheeks heat.

Simon had a date with someone a friend of his set up for him, Soap, you think was the guys name. From a photo Simon showed you, she was pretty, gorgeous even. Slim and tall, long blonde hair, and seemingly put together.

"Yeah no problem. Have fun, try and get laid. You definitely need it," You say with a dry laugh, bouncing his son, Oliver, over to your other hip. Why the fuck would you say that? 'Get laid?' Why would you even suggest such a fucking thing knowing you can barely stomach watching him go out on this date in the first place.

He cleans up nice, a fitted pair of dark grey khaki pants with a white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled, revealing his tattooed forearms, and his sandy blonde hair slicked back out of his face, making him less shaggy looking than you were used to.

Simon laughs and waves goodbye as he turns on the heels of his dress shoes and hops down the steps of your front porch. You wave at his back, shutting the door with a heavy sigh. You turn around and set Oliver down, watching as he bolts toward the little corner of your living room which you had designated as his play area for when he comes over.

Your heart feels heavy as you walk over towards your couch, tossing Oliver's diaper bag and blanket onto one of the cushions. You flop down onto the other cushion, kicking your feet up on the coffee table that is placed in front of your couch.

Oliver looks just like his father, from what you could see anyways. Dirty blonde hair, gunmetal blue eyes, and a small dimple on his left cheek. He was an adorable kid, an easy one to babysit too.

Oliver runs up to you, a toy tractor in his hand as he holds it up to you, his other hand rested on your knee as if to help him balance better. "Tac-tar!" He exclaims.

You smile at him, taking the toy he was offering you, and touching your fingertip on his nose, causing the little boy to giggle. Enough about Simon. Oliver was your date tonight. Your own play date buddy.

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It was a little after 9pm, maybe just about 9:47, when Simon got back. He had knocked on your door for a good 5 minutes before he gave up and decided to let himself in.

He used the key that you would poorly hide under your doormat. The two of you would get into arguments about the placement of the key.

"It's the most obvious spot, love, you're gonna end up getting robbed on of these days." Simon had said the day you told him where it was, he was always worrying about your safety. You knew he was an ex-military Lieutenant, but then again that might just be the dad in him talking.

After unlocking your front door and pushing it open he begins to speak, "Sorry I was a little later than I thou-" But he cuts himself off after his eyes land on your couch.

There you laid on your back, an arm falling off the couch and a leg propped up on the back cushion, snoring lightly. That position couldn't have been that comfortable. But that's not what made him freeze. It was how his son was laying on your chest, fast asleep with his favorite blanket draped over his back. You looked as if his son was your own.

His breathe is caught in his throat as he stares at the two of you, slowly shutting the door behind him as he makes his way over to the couch.

A small smile paints his face as he stands behind the small and slightly sad turquoise couch, bending down so his forearms rested in the back cushion. He watches you sleep, his eyes dragging up and down your frame. After a moment he uses a single finger to brush a stray piece of hair off of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

His smile never falters as he pets the back of his sons head, his long blonde hair slightly sweaty from how hot it probably was being all nuzzled up to you.

You stir in your sleep, your eyes fluttering, only for them to end up shooting wide open in shock. You gasp and clutch the back of Oliver, sighing after realizing who was really watching you sleep.

You sit up, cradling Oliver in your arms, careful not to wake him. "Do you normally watch people sleep?" You say with an annoyed look on your face as you rub your eyes, sleep still attempting to pull you back in.

After regaining most of your consciousness, you stand from the couch, your clothes wrinkled and Oliver's little head on your shoulder as you hold him in your arms.

"Eh, define normally," Simon says, a joking tone noticeable in his voice. Was he trying to make a joke? Since when did Simon Riley ever makes jokes? What the hell happened at the date?

"Your in a good mood. You didn't really end up getting laid right? You know what..? I don't think I wanna know." Your words are frantic and slightly irritated. Why did you feel so...odd right now? Simon is a single man. He has the right to go on dates with beautiful women. Unfortunately.

You bounce around your kitchen, rocking your hips side to side to keep Oliver asleep for as long as possible. You can't help but notice how Simons eyes follow your hips as they move. And..what was that? Did he just groan? No no, that would be crazy.

"No I didn't get laid," He finally replies. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Almost like a breath of relief.

"If I was getting laid I would have gotten back a lot later..It takes more than 30 minutes with me, love.." Simon was suddenly behind you, his breath hot on your neck as his hands hover above your hips, heat radiating off of his tatted skin, almost scorching the flesh of your thighs through your pants.

You stop bouncing his son, glancing over your shoulder at Simon and..holy shit he was close, almost too close. Those damned eyes were pulling you under and you didn't know if you wanted to be saved.

Oliver shifts in your arms, waking up slowly. His tiny hands rub his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. Once he's awake and spots his dad he immediately makes grabby hands towards him.

You gladly hand him over to Simon, anything to get away from the man that was way way wayyyy to close for comfort. You give Oliver to his father and take a large step away from Simon. You see his smile falter but he quickly regains his composure when his son calls his name, his tiny hands on Simons cheeks.

"You have fun while I was away buddy?" He asks his son, to which Oliver responds with a vigorous nod. He then begins to blabble on about his trucks and snacks he ate, but you space out, your eyes still locked on the two of them.

Simon looked so good with a kid, he was a good dad. You can't help but imagine how good he must have been to his wife while she was pregnant. Her lose for leaving him. He's a great guy. Unfortunately, that means women probably throw themselves at him. Hot, ex-military, AND good with kids??? Yeah, they definitely do. And you would to, if you were so full of self doubt.

"Love?" You hear Simon say, his eyes now focused on you as Oliver was seemingly put down to go play for a little longer.

"I asked if you're free this weekend? Oliver is going over to his grandparents for a few days and I was wondering if you'd like to do something?" His voice was shy...that was weird. It's almost like-

"Are you asking me on a date?" You say, a teasing smirk playing across your lips.

"No no, well- no it's not like that. Just as friends, you know- without the ruckus of that one running around." When he says "that one" he points towards Oliver, who was currently crashing two tractors together and making a crash sound with his mouth.

"You know what? Sure Simon. I'll see you then."

He smiles, nodding softly as he runs his hands through his hair, the gelled effect must have worn off because it was back to its shaggy state, almost getting to the point it reached his eyes. He needed a haircut, but it's not like you didn't like the shaggy look. It was unexpectedly sexy.

Maybe it was just your hormones talking but everything about this man was unexpectedly sexy. His tired eyes from sleepless nights and early mornings, his tatted arms, a few of the tattoos colored in with what seemed like marker from Oliver, and his tall frame, almost towering over you to the point you had to look up to see his face.

You did suggest that he should get laid, but maybe you're the one who really needed the action. It's been who knows how long, and your getting so desperate that you literally can't look at him without butterflies fluttering in your stomach as well as..further south.

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After sending Simon and his son home, you immediately ran to your bedroom, quickly stripping out of your clothes and hopping into the warm water of your shower. With your back to the water and your hands in your hair, you can't help but let your mind wander back to your neighbor.

What was he doing right now? Was he helping Oliver brush his teeth? Was he just getting into the shower too? Was his shower water warm or cool? Did he have tattoos elsewhere? What did the soap look like running down his chest and down his legs..?

Okay, you need to go to bed. Sleep would do the trick. Right?

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Wrong. Sleep 100% didn't do the trick. Two full days of almost nothing but sleep and this man has been filling your head with thought of him, some more naughty than other. He had crawled into your dreams, your thoughts, and your daily life in general. You cant even pour creamer into your coffee without seeing his smug ass face in your mug.

It was now the weekend, around 7pm on a Saturday. The sun had already gone down and you were sitting in your living room, a random cheesy rom com on the television as you scrolled on your phone. You scrolled through your feed, seeing videos of your college friends out partying, drinking, and having fun. Then there was you, sitting at home with day old mascara on your lashes and sleep evident on your face.

There was a heavy knock on your door, with a raised brow you hop up from your couch and make your way over to the door, peaking through the peep hole to see who it was. And to your surprise, it was exactly who you were thinking of.

There Simon stood, a bottle of champagne and a single red rose in his hands as he bounces on his heels, he was back to his regular shaggy look, unkempt hair, white t-shirt, blue jeans, and his silver dog tag hanging from his neck.

Quickly, you open the door with a smile and invite the man in. As he walks in towards your kitchen counter you quickly become aware of your appearance. Old makeup on your face, and crinkled clothes that you couldn't be bothered to iron.

However, at this point the two of you have seen each other at your worst, hell you've seen Simon running off of two hours of sleep with a sick little Oliver who wouldn't stop crying and coughing.

"Champagne and a rose? This feels like a date to me.." You tease running a hand across his shoulder as you pass him, earning a shiver from the man. you stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island as he takes a seat on one of the barstool chairs you have, sliding the bottle towards you.

"Take it however you want love." He laughs, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face, his bicep flexing in the process, and holy fuck.

You shake your head and pop open the bottle of champagne. "I'm glad I know you and Oliver, he's a good kid."

"You're such a big help with the little guy, I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. He loves you a lot." Simon is more soft spoken than usual as he twirls the rose between his fingertips.

You're frantically searching your cabinets for those champagne glasses you got all those years ago but have never used. You swear you still had them.

"It's no biggy. He's a joy to have around and probably one of my only friends!" You laugh, sighing after you cant find those dumbass champagne glasses and grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet instead. Not quite what you'd normally drink something like champagne out of, but it would have to work.

"So I'm not considered a friend? I see how it is," Simon fakes a hurt expression as he takes a mug from you with a raised brow. His shoulders shake in silent laughter after he looks at the mug to which it read "Male Tears" in big black lettering.

You laugh along with him, "Eh, I kinda like your son more than you, he's less broody," You tease, pouring the champagne into each of your mugs. Your mug saying "Reading is Sexy" with blue lettering.

There the two of you sat, at your kitchen island drinking cheap champagne out of coffee mugs with a single red rose placed between the two of you.

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After a few hours and an entire bottle of champagne, the two of you sat on your couch together, a movie on your tv.

You sat with your legs draped across Simons lap, his hand resting on your knee as his fingers gently rubbed circles into your skin. It tickled, but in a good way.

You fought sleep, your eyelids slowly shutting and reopening. Your breath was calm and slow, a comfortable silence had fallen between the two of you.

"Gettin' sleepy love?" Simon asks with a chuckle, his deep blue eyes lingering on you as he rubs up and down the length of your leg.

You don't bother answering verbally, you don't have the energy. You shake your head in a quiet and small 'no', your hand coming up to rub your eyes. What time was it? It couldn't be that late.

With a groan, you sit up and grab your phone off of the coffee table, tapping your screen a few times for it to turn on. Your screen nearly blinds you, a curse falling from you lips as Simon merely chuckles next to you. 11:57. Almost midnight already? You thought, there's no way.

Simon peaks over your shoulder and shakes his head, running his hands over his face with a yawn. "Surely I haven't been here all that long, it's definitely past our bedtimes," he teases as he moves your legs off of his, standing from the couch with a stretch, his shirt lifting, showing off a fucking happy trail. This man was too hot for his own good. It had to be a crime at this point.

You stand next to him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you yawn, making your way lazily towards the direction of your bedroom.

"I better get ta' goin'-" Simon begins, before you cut him off.

"Oh please, theres no way in hell you came over here just to hang out as friends, Simon." Your voice is low as you stand before him, your bodies mere inches apart as you stare up at him. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, and those god damn dimples shining through as he smirks down at you. You fuckin' knew it.

His arms wrap around your waist, his face nearing yours as he walks you backwards into your kitchen, your hips hitting the kitchen island. "I've been caught."

His breath smelling of cheap champagne and cigarettes as his lips grazed yours. His lips are soft as he finally kisses you, fitting perfectly against yours.

Simons hands remove themselves from your waist, landing on the kitchen island, trapping you between him and the counter. You deepen the kiss, standing on your tippy toes to match his force, earning an audible groan from the blonde man in front of you.

When the kiss ends, nothing but heavy panting and quiet curses fill the air. "Fuckin' hell love.." he whispers against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up and down your warm skin.

Quiet whimpers leave your lips as his lips work their way up to your ear, where he whispers a phrase that makes your knees want to buckle. "Get on the fuckin' counter doll, I've waited far to long for this and my tongue is tingling for your taste.."

Obviously, you do as he says, hopping up onto the cool granite. "Atta girl," he says, his voice raspy as he tugs the waistband of your pants down, pulling them off your legs as if he's been craving you for years. Maybe he has been..

In a swift motion he pushed you onto your back, earning a quiet yelp from you as your back touched the cold surface. With his eyes glued on your panties and his hands on your plush thighs you can't help but whimper, letting your head fall back onto the counter top.

"Fuckin hell lovie, you're already so wet..." Simon says through gritted teeth, the pad of this thumb rubbing slow circles against your clit, the feeling of the pressure over the fabric of your panties was enough for you to clench around nothing.

"Simon please-" you whimper, your hips rolling against his touch, eager for more. This draws a chuckle from the man in front of you, he pulls his hand away with a smug smirk on his lips.

Not another word is shared between the two of you before Simon is kneeled on the tile flooring and he has your legs over his shoulders, his face at perfect height with your core. He pulls your panties to the side, groaning at the sight before him. He was so fucking hard right now, straining against the zipper of his pants.

He blows a cool puff of air against your cunt, watching as it flutters before it, his smirk never falters as he runs his thumb over your cunt, coving his finger in your juices.

"Riley I swear to the gods, if you don't stop playing with your food-" you begin, getting cut off with his tongue against your slit and his thumb rubbing circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue works in and out of you, flicking and sucking, the noises that fill the kitchen are positively hypnotic. Your whimpers and moans mixed with the wet noises of Simons tongue between your legs. And to top it off, every time you buck your hips against his face he moans, a low growl like noise that makes you absolutely drip.

Simon is only using one hand to hold open your legs, his right hand has traveled down to his pants, unzipping his jeans and finally giving himself that oh so needed friction that he's been deprived of. His tongue goes flat against your cunt, his head shaking side to side, flicking his tongue every so often, just enough to catch the tip of your clit.

He palms himself through his boxers, rutting into the palm of his hand. "You like that baby? You're gettin' louder.." he teases as he sucks on your clit, causing your back to arch off of the counter top and your hands to fly to his hair, tugging on the blonde strands, pressing his face into your greedy little cunt even more.

"Simon! Right fucking there, please please please..." You moan, your thighs threatening to close around his head as your legs shake with pleasure. Your breath is quick and your moans are loud as Simon god damn Riley holds your legs open, sucking and licking your clit, you were about to fall apart right then and there, but after he shoves two fingers into your cunt you absolutely crumble.

The orgasm rushes throughout your body, your grip on his hair tight. He doesn't stop though, his tongue stays glued to your clit, his fingers moving at a pace that makes your writhe, drawing out this heavenly orgasm as long as he can.

You're already fucked out as he pulls his fingers out of you, kissing your fluttering cunt, kissing up your torso and tugging your shirt over your head to kiss all the way up your lips. This kiss was everything passionate, the taste of you still lingering on his lips.

Your eyelids are heavy and your chest rises with a quick pace, still trying to come down from your high. Sweat glitters your skin, your panties hanging from your ankle and your mascara running down your cheeks. "So beautiful, so fucking gorgeous baby.." Simon whispers as he kissed you on the forehead, running his hands over your cheeks. "But we're not done yet, no no no, this night isn't over until I fill you up so full that Oliver will have a fucking sibling by tomorrow.." His voice is deep and sultry, pulling you up off the counter by your wrists and tossing you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes.

With a yelp from you, Simon gives a little smacks to your ass. His quick strides make it to your bedroom in no time at all. He tossed you on the bed, you landing on your back, your toes bouncing along with the mattress, earning a low curse from the man in front of you. He stands at the end of your bed, quickly pulling his pants and boxers off of himself. He can't go another fucking second without being inside of you.

The image of this man crawling on top of you, his ink covered arms on either side of your head and your legs on either side of your hips as he pressed against you. It was all so much, your cunt was dripping, and from what you could see so was the tip of his cock.

Holy shit his cock, it was huge, veins running up and down the length of it. You figured he was from the start, but now that it's in front of you, how the hell will it all fit?

His hands reach for your thighs, pushing them up so your knees neared your ears, the tip of his cock teases the entrance of your cunt, the bead of pre-cum smearing all over your clit. You wiggle your hips, eager for something, anything but this fucking torturous teasing that this man seems so obsessed with.

"Simon.." You moan, earning a groan from the man. His eyes have not left you this entire time, his gaze wandering up and down your figure with a look of biting desire.

"Moaning my name like that..fuck," He groans through gritted teeth, pressing the tip of his cock inside, fucking finally.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, biting down on your bottom lip as you grip the sheets.

Simons eyes shut with pleasure as he pushes into you. Only to open once again to watch your face, watching for any looks of displeasure, he makes it about half way when your eyebrows furrow and your hand flies to his torso, pressing against his abdomen as a way to tell him to stop for a second.

"It's okay lovie, breath, you're taking me so well.." He whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek, kissing away a single stray tear that had seemingly rolled down your cheek. Slowly, he continues to push into you, the two of you share a mutual moan as he finally bottoms out, his stomach pressed flush against your clit.

"Good girl, my good girl baby, yes.." He moans, his hands under your knees as he holds one leg over his shoulder and the other off the the side.

Your whimpers, his groans, and the smell of sex fills the bedroom. You rock your hips, indicating the need for friction. With pleasure, Simon gives you what you needs, rolling his hips and pulling out about half way before slamming back inside you. Your loud moans and pleases for more, more, more fill the room, causing Simon to let out a guttural groan, hai cock twitching inside of you.

Simon shifted his hips, dragging his cock out of you. It glistened with your arousal, and it made his face grow hot. He bit back a whimper when he pushed inside you once more. You gasped, and he did it again. Again and again until he had a set a rhythm that had your entire body on fire, writhing against the mattress.

"Yes yes, fuck Simon, makin' m' feel so good, I-" You whimper, your legs shaking and your eyes squeezed shut out of pure pleasure.

Simon had reached a hand down and was now rubbing circles on your clit. Your words had his brain swimming, his thrusts deepening and pace quickening. The tight ball of pleasure was drawing tighter and tighter in the base of your tummy, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good..wanna put a fuckin baby in you lovie..." His voice is low, his groans turning into whimpers as his thrusts become sloppy, he's nearing his own climax. Your own peak is nearing, your cunt fluttering around his cock, clenching and squeezing as he moves at a pace that is absolutely intoxicating.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered. "Come on my cock. That's it, baby, yeah– good fuckin' girl."

His finger moves quickly against your clit, rubbing as his cock bullies in and out of your greedy little cunt. The force of his thrusts make your tits bounce, earning deep and needy groans from the back of Simons throat.

You came around his cock with a sob of his name, your cunt squeezing him tight as the ball of pressure snapped in your tummy. Your orgasm was hard, slamming over you and rendering you breathless, your head floating. Your clit pulsed beneath the movements of his fingers.

The tightness of your cunt earned a fucked out moan from Simon as he slams in and out of you, reaching even deeper than before. You wanted to scream. He was so deep. You were so full.

"Such a good girl, suck a greedy little cunt— so tight I don't think I'll be able to pull out-, yes baby.." He blabbered helplessly as he becomes utterly pussydrunk, his head lolling back and his eyes closing with pleasure.

"M'gonna come in this tight cunt," Si whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. He spoke louder when he continued his sentence. "You want my cum, baby? You want me to come inside you? Want me to fill you up, fill this pretty tummy?"

"Yes! Please—!" You practically scream.

"I will— I'll fill you up with all of my fuckin' cum.." He moans, his thrusts sloppy and his grip on your thighs bruising. "Take it all like a good girl," he moaned. "Get you–fuck —get you pregnant. Fill you up with my kids. I'd look after you, baby."

You were basically screaming.

And with that Simon cums, your name falling from his lips as the white hot liquid spills from his cock into you. He doesn't pull out, tugging you up so that you straddled his hips, his hands on your as as he holds you up, him leaning back against the heels of his feet. The two of you share a tender kiss, his lips softly kissing your lips, cheeks, and neck.

"Fuckin' hell love.." He laughs, his voice raspy. He finally pulls out, a deep groan slipping from his lips as he watches his cum drip out of that sweet little cunt. Carefully, he lays you back down on the mattress, staring down at you with low eyes and a small smile on his lips.

"You were so good just now, you know that? So beautiful, so fuckin' hot-" He moves so he's laid beside you, his chest pressed against your back as he rubs small circles on your hip with his finger. "-I loved your moans, and the feeling of your pussy..just stay like this with me for a second, yeah?" His hand runs up and down your side, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as his breath tickles the back of your neck.

What an odd feeling. It all felt as if everything had always been like this. As if the two of you were meant to be, and this was all just natural.

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Simon and You sit in your living room together, his hand on your thigh and Oliver running back and forth with a superman action figure in hand making a 'swooshhh' sound with his mouth.

The promise ring on your finger sparkles as you look down at it, you can't take your eyes off the damn thing. It's been a week since he's given it to you, but every time you eye catches the little piece of jewelry you can't help but stare.

Three years of crushing and helping him raise his kid. One night of his name being moaned and orgasm after orgasm. Two weeks form that night he asked you out. It's been four months since he asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. But not, at the same time. It feels like you've know each other forever so it was natural. Nothing odd about falling in love so quickly.

Or maybe the love has always been there, it was the commitment and the confessions and the confusing mixed signals that were messing with the process.

But in the end everything had fallen in place. Simon still lives next door, but that is gonna change soon. He spends more and more time over at your place than his own. Both his and Oliver's clothes litter your laundry, and instead of one lonely toothbrush in the bathroom, there's now three.

Pink, Blue, and a tiny red one for Oliver.

This was how it was meant to be. Simon, Oliver, and you. And possibly another one. Simon is pretty eager for that addition. Now that was a little fast even for you.

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a/n: not to singledad!simon anymore. <33

p.s.- i tagged everyone who i saw asked to be, sorry if i missed ya! and thank you all so so much for all the love. i love all of ya so so much! <33

[hyeque]

post workout Kuroo brainrot😔 him being all sweaty, panting….oh lord. im bout to burst.

morning ritual [kuroo tetsuro]

warnings: implied sex, teasing and name calling, kuroo is sexy end of story, not proofread

notes: really a warmup as i ease my way back into writing

kuroo, who while isn’t a college or pro volleyball player, still keeps in good shape after he quit. arguably, he’s doing more working out than when he was playing high school volleyball. that’s why his suits are always tightly fitted, pecs showing through his dress shirts, his slacks showing off his thighs and ass in the right ways, biceps peaking through his shirts as well.

one thing you know that he does everyday is go on his morning jogs. he always tries his best not to wake you, but considering the giant always wraps his limbs around you every night, it’s kinda hard to not notice the absence of warmth besides you at 4am. in addition to that, he usually workouts on machinery after his jog (yay for in-home gyms).

the result is a kuroo tetsurō that is reserved for your eyes and your eyes only.

you’re usually “asleep” but this particular morning you happen to be awake early, mourning the absence of your beloved. it’s when you hear the door open and close do you quickly decide to hide yourself in the bedsheets, not wanting to be seen awake.

kuroo slips into your shared bedroom when you pretend to be asleep. you take the time to peek at him out of curiosity.

to say he looks delectable is an understatement. his workout shirt is clinging to his body like a second skin. his hair, while usually wild, lays down slightly just because of how sweaty he is. his slightly tan skin always glistens just right in the light and gives him a flattering glow.

you’re too busy oogling him that you completely miss him walking back in the bedroom. you try to cover your face in hopes he didn’t catch you drooling, but he’s perceptive as ever.

“i know you’re not sleeping, pervert.” he says, and you hear the smirk in his voice. you crack your eye open and there he is, standing over you shirtless.

“m’not a pervert.” you pout, frowning at him.

he tilts his head slightly. “yeah? then why are you eyeing me like a piece of meat right now?” he pulls back the bedsheets and you shiver once the cold air hits your skin. it isn’t long before kuroo’s looming figure is hovering over you.

the smell of his sweaty musk should repulse you, it should. but when it’s him, repulsion is the last thing you feel.

“well i’m allowed to ogle my own boyfriend. you’re not that innocent either mister.” you respond, brushing back hair from his face. you don’t miss the way that his hazel eyes have become clouded with a dusky look.

he laughs, amused by your behavior. “i guess you’re right. i should do something about that, hm?” he grabs your hands, pulling them to the side before peppering your face in kisses. they start out soft but become increasingly rough as he moves over your body.

“oh my god, tetsu! you’re so sweaty!” you giggle and try to push him away, but he continues his ministrations of kissing your face, collarbone, and neck.

“better that way, isn’t it?” he’s tugging your figure towards the edge of the bed, and you feel heat in your lower abdomen at the lack of strength he uses to do it so effortlessly. “don’t have to worry about getting clean twice.”

“maybe…” you mumble, face burning hotly as his lean body shields you. every muscular part of him seems to encase you in a way that calms you, yet excites you all at once. “maybe, if you would do something…”

standing between your legs, he kisses down your skin, tugging off your bottoms and underwear. you hitch your breath at his cold fingers resting on your hips.

his breath hits your glistening core and he smirks, centimeters away from giving you the bliss you need. he stands back up and your eyes instantly fall to the print in his gym shorts.

kuroo often calls it his morning ritual. now he doesn’t believe in superstition or anything like that, but he sure does think that fucking you just right leads to him having a great day. he’s convinced you that a business deal needs to be sealed with your lips wrapped around him, or his face in your cunt. and sometimes he’ll have you thank him for sending you to work full of his cum.

there’s something about kuroo’s stamina post workout that makes him different than any other time. and the same goes for you as well. you become clingier. needier. and he can tell you both needed release more than anything.

a sweet smile appears on kuroo’s face, but nothing about it is comforting. after all, he’s going to break you.

he strips off his reminding article of clothing, hunger in his eyes. “you’re in luck, sweetheart. i still have enough stamina and energy. i could use another workout, and you’re the perfect partner.”

[hughes-hischier]

Adore You - Mark Estapa

Based on the song “Adore you” by Harry Styles :)

bowling date night with Mark and you can’t do anything but adore the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to say you love me, I just wanna tell you something. Lately you’ve been on my mind. Honey, I’d, I’d walk through fire for you. Just let me adore you. Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do.”

You hear Mark come home after spending the day with the guys. Your puppy was barking like crazy while you could hear Mark saying hi to them.

He went to the lake with them while you and your friends went too but went home sooner. Mark stayed back to help everyone clean up.

Tonight was also date night. Almost every weekend was. No matter how late. It always happened no matter what.

“You ready, love?” Mark questioned walking into the room. “Almost…give me like five more minutes.” You say as you finish up washing your face. He smiles, while sitting down on the bed.

You and Mark went on dates almost every weekend. Either out to restaurants or just going to places like the bowling alley. The bowling alley was a personal favorite.

Seeing his face light up,as he smiles after making a strike. You couldn’t help but adore him. He was honestly the best boyfriend you can even remember having. He’s extremely sweet.

“All ready.” You take his hand, pressing a kiss into his fingers. While heading out the door Mark grabs his keys still not letting go of your hand.

The drive wasn’t to far. Mark mostly just talked about how we wanted to go to the beach again soon. He loves being out in the water. He sometimes reminds me of a man child. He gets so excited over the smallest things and it’s so adorable.

As we got to the bowling alley, we get our shoes and put our names into the board. Mark just put his as “stop sign” and you put yours “ts lover”. You and Mark always joked around with saying you were a puck bunny for him, even though you actually met Mark at a hockey game.

As the night continues, you and Mark were full of giggles and laughs. You loved nights like this. Practice and hockey free. Non of the team there. Just you and your favorite boy.

“LETS GO BABY!” Mark yells after making another strike. You giggle as he turns over all smiley. Mark sits down next to you and you put your head on his shoulder. “Wanna go get ice cream am after this?” He asks softly.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You smiled. “We can finish this game up if you want, or we can go now. It’s up to you sweetheart.”

“We can go now if you want too.” You say turning to him. After you guys returned the shoes and got back to the car.

As the night went on it got pretty late. You and Mark were sitting outside of the ice cream shop. “The sky looks so pretty. All the stars…they are extremely bright.” You say while finishing your ice cream.

liked by markestapa, edwards.73, rutgermcgroarty, and others

yourusername i love you but maybe I love our puppy more 😁

markestapa the puppy ain’t even all that but I love you more THAN THE PUPPY. 🥲

^ edwards.73 aye don’t do my bud like that Estapa.

^ markestapa be•tray•al : the action of betraying one's country, a group, or a person; treachery. "the betrayal by the king by his daughter"

rutgermcgroarty why didn’t I get icecream.

^ luca.fantilli bro fr like??

^ mackie.samo we just ain’t cool enough man 🤧

^ markestapa why do u guys comment on all my gfs posts 😐

^ lhughes_06 bc she’s better than u?

^ markestapa bruh my own teammate.

^ edwards.73 dw bro ur still my bf

^ markestapa good 😍

^ yourusername damn. My bf js got taken 😪

——————————————————————

hi sorry ik my posts have been rlly bad lately I have had no motivation whatsoever and anything I come up with I don’t like and I hide in my drafts but Lunas over and when she’s over she forces her motivation on me 🥲 (not rlly she just talks about writing and than I think of something)

But anyways me and her are doing face masks rn and listening to music and it’s 4am 😍 alr bye bye ilyg

tagging some ppl - @lunaaaaaa-nothere @jeromes-scars

[spreeapi]

raison d'etre

Summary:

Kyle finally coming home after a month long mission.

(this was my first thing i ever wrote so be warned)

also posted in ao3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/50044444

This is shit. Kyle has been off on a mission for a month now, and his scent has worn off from my favourite rite hoodies of his.

I know he’s coming back soon, hopefully tomorrow morning. But with his job, you never know what could happen. Its always scary when he leaves for another mission, not knowing any intel of what’s happening in the field, or the fact that is he even alive. I decide to take a cold shower, to clean myself, but to mostly clean my thoughts from his work and go to bed.

I wake up at 4am the next morning, just because, I want to be awake when he comes. So i put some popcorn in the microwave, wait until their done and sit down in the living room, putting on my favorite show probably for the 10th time. I take a soft blanket and lay on the couch, i stare at the ceiling, letting my mind wander off.

~~~

This is shit. Kyle thinks to himself, not the fact that he’s finally driving home but the fact that his entire body feels like its a tight knot. The only good thing in his mind right now being that he is going to see you, smell your scent, feel your body underneath him, touch every part of you…he looks down for a second before lightly swearing, his pants feeling a bit more tight than before.

Finally arriving at his home, he quickly takes the duffle bag from his backseat and basically speed walking to the door, fishing out his keys from his pocket at the same time.

When the door opens the house the first thing he can hear is that your in the living room, well at least the TV is on in the living room. He drops the bag, taking his hat and jacket off and walking into the room. That’s where he finds you, on the couch, a bag of popcorn on the coffee table but when he gets to the other side of the couch, he can see you slightly snoring and definitely asleep. A small smile finding his face.

He drops down on his knees in front of the couch, brushing out a few stray hairs from your face. “Someone fell asleep” he whispers smiling, knowing damn well there was nobody to hear him.

As if you could sense him being there, he sees you stir awake.

~~

My eyes open to find the love of my life in front of me, on his knees might i add. And i think its the best sight to ever wake up to.

A sleepy smile on my face, eyes still half open “Your home” I whisper, as if its some kind of secret. “I am” he whispers back, and kisses my forehead. My eyes open up a bit more as i pout, signalling for him to kiss my lips. A small chuckle leaving him before pressing a soft kiss on my lips, hands coming to cradle my face. After we pull away and i pull him to the couch with me, now both of us laying on our sides. “I missed you” i say, taking in his beautiful eyes for probably the 100th time in my life. “I missed you more” he says, i shake my head, a small hum of disagreement coming out of my mouth before closing my eyes again. “You tired? Lets go to bed, ok?” He doesn’t give me anytime to respond as I can feel a shift on the couch when he gets up before picking me up, walking us to the bedroom.

He places me on the bed and goes to take a shower, if I didn’t take a shower last night I would have joined him. But honestly I’m just too tired to leave bed, crawling under the covers. I can hear shuffling beside me, for my delight, Kyle is finally done with his shower and is joining me in bed. I press light kisses all over his face, too tired to speak, but wanting to show appreciation of him. He pulls me to his chest my face resting on it, listening to his calm heartbeat. I can feel myself drifting off again, but before i do a small “i love you” leaving my lips. i hear a faint “i love you too” in response and a small kiss on the top off my head.

[your-friendly-neighbourh00d-fag]

seeing as you are a fellow mcr enjoyer i have a question for you of the utmost importance: do you think mike wheeler would like mcr or not

OHOHOHOHO YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE ASKED ME THAT. you just need to know beforehand before i am doing the answering of this uestion that i am ooo osooooo normal about this topic. trust me. the most normal

ok.

he absolutely likes mcr are you kidding me look at this man

he's struggling with his mental health, he's struggling with his sexuality, he's idolising a dude with long hair, piercings and pronouns, he's trying to be more metal. it's right there. plus the fact that he is just like me fr fr so i am going like this

and giving him all of my interests + autism (BECAUSE I SAID SO)

so. the question is, what's his favourite album. what's his favourite song. which one of the members does he have a crush on. does he read the killjoys comics. does he listen to summertime at 4am and cry and think about will. ("the song as a whole is about those people you meet who pull you out of your sleep, and make you wake up to real life, the good, beautiful things...")

i think mike would have a contentious relationship with bullets, it took him a long time to get as into it as the other albums, one week its his favourite, one week he hates it etc etc. his all time favourite album is three cheers and he actually told me that himself so idc. black parade is a very close second though, and disenchanted will always make him feel feelings.

favourite songs from all the albums: Our Lady of Sorrows and and Honey This Mirror and Headfirst for Halos (<< ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME IT IS SO HIM) and a smidge of Demolition Lovers. as a treat.

Give Em Hell Kid (BFFR!!!!), The Ghost Of You (another one that makes him feel The Feelings and will get an emotional reaction always. UM SEASON ONE??) and Cemetery Drive.

I Dont Love You, Disenchanted, and Teenagers absolutely. (are you fucking kidding me??? the most mike wheeler songs EVER and i will die on this hill nobody TOUCH ME),

Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back (his self sacrificing instincts are showing), S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W (at first he hates it, but after he reads up on the lore and the whole TTLOTFK thing he gets way into it), and Planetary, for no reason other than it sounds great 👍

EDIT: Conweap his favourite overall is cw5 and his fav songs are Burn Bright, The World Is Ugly and AMBULANCE

he absolutely looked at gerard way and said i need that man's gender RIGHT NOW and was just absolutely in awe of all his tour outfits and woke will up in the middle of the night to show him a video of cheerard with a flamethrower. that was a big 'wait i can dress less masculine if i want to??' thing and helped him find his personal style i think. and i also think. he has a n eeensy weensy teeny little crush. on gerbar. shh.

also.

look at this dork.

this absolute cringefail loser.

this nerdy nerd nerd.

the absolute second that mike finds out there's a comic that inspired danger days, he s p r i n t s to the local bookstore and cleans them out immediately. he binge reads them for like two nights straight and wakes will up constantly because look look LOOK WHAT HAPPENED WILL NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THEY-- he then spends the next month entrenched in killjoy lore and ends up with posters up all around his and will's apartment like this

trying to figure out the universe. (he also writes fanfiction but nobody tell 🤫)

anyway. this is a. bit of a long post and as you can tell from my introduction i am so so so so normal about mike wheeler, mcr, and my precious little headcanons.

tldr: yes he would love mcr and no one can take that away from me.

[lovely-showtimes]

I'd like to ask for Reader moving in with Kanade and Nene (Seperately) ty!

moving in . . . ♡

characters - kanade, nene.

type - hcs.

a/n - i know that atm kanade is living with mafuyu, but for the sake of this post, we're gonna pretend she isnt shsgfsghsj

If you're moving in with Kanade, you'll have to be good at staying tidy. We all know Kanade's not very good at doing it herself

I imagine she'd at least attempt to keep everything clean for you, though

Those cups of noodles just seem to build up in her room no matter what, however...

Well, if it ever becomes too much, you can just call up that housekeeper of Kanade's, right?

You'll also often have to make sure she's taking care of herself

Gentle reminders to take breaks from her work, making sure she's getting good rest, and most of all, making sure she's actually eating healthy

She'll often call you into her room while she's working on some music and ask what your thoughts on it are

To which you'll have to say "Kanade, it's 4am, why are you still awake? Go to sleep."

(She does not go to sleep. You later find her passed out in front of her computer again. Maybe she'll actually use her own bed next time...)

Living with Nene is pretty calm

She's in her room most of the time, either playing a game of hers or practicing for an upcoming WxS show

And while she does like to keep to herself, that absolutely doesn't mean you'll never see her

She'll come up to you and ask you if you want to play something with her if you aren't busy

She usually kicks your ass at it if it's a competitive game, but sometimes she feels bad about it and lets you win

But if it's a co-op game... You two are unstoppable

You might occasionally pass by her door and hear her practicing her singing/acting

She has such an angelic voice that you can't help but stop and listen for a while

...Until she realises you're listening and stops immediately, embarrassed at having been heard

Although, if you tell her you loved it, she might sing a little something just for you. <3

[bittencandy]

Tyki Milk NSFW Alphabet List

Note: This isn't proofread yet because it's like 4am here. I'll go over everything when I have time.

A = Aftercare (what are they like after sex): 

 When he was younger and still a little inexperienced, he was awful. Truly, truly awful.

He was absolutely the type to get what he wanted and immediately dash - often while the person he had just slept with was still recovering from their recent romp and too dazed to really be aware that he had even left.

On the flip side, he had even (embarrassingly) passed out a few times after he and his current lover had reached their peaks. Snoring and still covered in cum, in a stranger's bed. He's been slapped awake and thrown out onto the street on many occasions.

If only he had a nickel.

He can at least say that's all in the past, and he's since then learned that aftercare is an important step after sex. It's even become one of his favorite aspects of it. He's usually a bit sluggish afterwards, body heavy and sapped, all relaxed and malleable like heated wax. All he wants to do is bask in the afterglow. The scent of sex in the air, the salt of your skin, the heady fragrance of your shampoo and lotions, it's all an intoxicating cocktail.

After days, weeks, sometimes months apart acting out missions for the Earl or working the mines with the boys, all he wants to do is enjoy being with you. Feeling the warm shape of your body pressed up against his after so much time apart. Murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, gently kissing the water-colored marks and bruises he left behind like little apologies, and just whispering and joking together. Just holding you against his chest and feeling you while he breathes in the nicotine of a post sex cigarette.

So, if you're eager to clean up afterwards you may have to nudge him to do it. He'll groan and moan about it but it's all in good fun. If you're in the mood for another round and goad him into cleaning up by having him join you in the bath, he'll have you up in his arms and out of bed so fast it'll make your head spin.

B = Body part (their favorite body part belonging to themselves and their partner): 

His dic-

No, but on a serious note if he had to really narrow it down, it would have to be his hands. He usually channels his abilities through his hands. Cloaking them with dark matter to block enemy blows or slice through an opponent. Releasing Teez through his palms to subdue Exorcist and Finders alike.

But he likes them best because of the effect they have on you. His hands are rough. Calloused and worn from working in the mines. From grappling an axe for hours on end to split and break apart the earth, gripping the worn splintered wood of a breast auger to twist it into the face of coal like a comically sized bottle opener. It's grueling work. But the way you react to the beaten texture of his hands is enough to make it all worth it. The way you shiver and writhe under his palms, arching against his touch.

Yeah, probably his hands.

It's so cliche, but your eyes for sure. The shape, the color, the delicate bend of your eyelashes - he loves it all. He has a thing for eye contact, so whenever he catches you staring at him it's a stroke to his ego. He can't help the mix of pride and sappy adoration that inflates his chest whenever he notices you watching him. That you're just as infatuated with him as he is with you. That you can't help but look.

When he locks gazes with you and your eyes flicker away, skipping off like a startled deer. Visibly embarrassed that you had been caught. It's so cute. So sweet. He eats it up every time. But sometimes when he meets your vision you don't look away. You level him with a flirty glare, weighted and sweet like warm honey. Your eyes dark with barely contained want. It's a proposition for a challenge. A call he can't resist.

He loves that look just as much.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): 

He's utterly filthy with it. If you leave the decision of where he cums up to him, he'll be divided that's for sure. It's a 50/50 split between pulling out and marking your body with his cum or staying deep inside and filling you up completely. He loves the way it looks against your skin. To cover you with it. To smear it across your body as a way to please that possessive little voice that nips at the back of his mind.

But he loves to watch it drip out of you as well. To push it back inside with his fingers, making sure none escapes. Of course, he can always just give you another load if it does.

Sometimes, unable to resist, he'll duck between your legs and scoop it up with his tongue. Moaning at the taste of you both. Sucking your collective mess into his greedy mouth despite how sensitive you still are. Pinning you down by trapping your twitching hips underneath a forearm so that he can lap at your dripping cunt, smearing your cum all over his face.

D = Dirty secret (a fantasy, fetish or kink that they may be reluctant to share): It's probably not all that surprising for someone like him and you've probably already had assumptions about it yourself, but he's entertained the idea of a threesome more than once.

Tyki isn't the type to be embarrassed about his kinks or new things he'd like to try in the bedroom, but this is something that he himself is on the fence about. 

Back before the two of you became involved and put a name on your relationship Tyki had been involved in many threesomes. Hell, he's been a part of orgies before. You'd be surprised the sort of parties that the bored and wealthy may throw. And as Lord Sheril's bachelor brother with a reputation for sleeping around he's been invited to many. So, there's no insecurity in that department. 

But what he is, is hesitant to do is to share you. 

It's no secret that he's a possessive lover. And as bad as it may be, it's a quality of his that you actually enjoy. 

But the thought of someone else putting their hands on you in the way that he does, seeing you bare and naked. It makes his blood boil. 

But it also excites him too. To be able to just lay back and watch you writhe on your king-sized bed, to see someone else take you in their mouth and make you cry in ecstasy. 

He'd love to make you keep eye contact with him while someone else eats you out and he jerks himself off.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?): Very experienced. Even before he was taken in by the Earl and realized his status and identity as the Noah of Pleasure, Tyki had always loved sex. The joy, the intimacy, the closeness, the trust, the pleasure that comes from it. 

Everything about it, the lead up, the game of seducing someone beforehand, the feel of skin on skin, the grip of fingers combing and gripping his hair, the relief and contentment that comes afterwards. It's all so good. It's familiar. It's peaceful. 

He spent years learning to read what someone wants just based of the pitch of a moan, the way that a body twitches or clenches, the sort of look someone gives him. It's a language all on its own. One he's perfected. 

That's not to say that his first times with you wasn't a learning experience. But that's what made it so exciting. Figuring out what you liked, what made you melt for him, cum the quickest. 

He caught on quick. Perhaps too quick. It left you breathless, lost gasping in a torrent of new sensations, clinging to him as some sort of support. 

It's safe to say that he knows what he's doing. 

F = Favorite position:

Doggy style: He loves watching the recoil of your ass hit against his hips. 

Full nelson: There's nothing like holding you and thrusting into you while you moan like a helpless bitch. 

Cowgirl (includes reverse cowgirl): He loves it whenever you take control, using him for your benefit. But if he feels like assuming control, he can always hold onto you and thrust up into your dripping cunt. 

Sixty-nine position: He's aware that it can be a tricky position, so he saves it for special occasions like an anniversary or a celebration. He loves that you're both simultaneously bringing and controlling each others pleasure together. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Ect.): It depends on the mood. It can be serious, and intense with him regardless of which one of you is in control. Completely trapped in the moment and each other's pleasure. 

You can get so lost in each other that it only feels like it's the two of you left in the whole world. 

But if someone manages to pull a muscle or hit their head or roll off of the bed and onto the floor, he's quick to laugh it off with you. 

Sex is funny sometimes. Awkward even. 

And he's glad that you love him enough to shrug off something unplanned happening. That it doesn't ruin the mood but just changes it. 

Unless of course someone pulls a muscle. Then the sex can be put on hold and a warm bath and massage is in order. Some aspirin.  

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Ect.): It depends. Back when you weren't dating, he tried to keep everything neat and clean so that he was always prepared. You never know ya know? 

But know that you're together, if he's off on a mission that'll keep you apart for a long stretch of time with no chance of you popping up on a surprise visit, he won't keep up on it too much. Mostly when he's back wandering around with Clark, Eeze and Momo. He spends hours down in the coal mines, typically around 11 to 12 hours a day, if not more. So, by the time he's back on the surface and is able to take a shower he's not really concerned about his pubic hair. 

He's busy scrubbing off layers of dark soot and dirt and sweat from his skin. Sometimes just sitting under the spray of the shower nozzle (or if he's less fortunate sponging it off from a bucket of water and hoping for the best). But if he's back home and has the means to he'll keep himself trim and clean. 

As for the carpet matching the drapes, yeah all of his hair is the same color. A gorgeous dark black color. If you squint the hair on his head is just a degree lighter because of sun exposure.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect): If he isn't in love then there's no mistake that it's just sex and that's all it is. He's not necessarily rude about it, but the boundary is definitely there and clear. He was the unobtainable bachelor before. The one that women and men alike fawned for and hoped to tie down. In his eyes you'd have to be completely disillusioned to think you'd have a chance with him apart from detached sex.

But now that he's with you, someone that he does love (even though it took his dense ass forever to open up and realize it) he makes it very apparent.

It does depend on the mood. There are times were he just wants to fuck you, to take out all of his frustrations and not think. To have sloppy gross sex that leaves you both covered in sweat and struggling to catch your breath. Sometimes he wants you to do the same to him. To just use him for your pleasure and forget all of your troubles and just be in the moment.

But other times he just wants to love and be loved. He wants you to know that you're the only one that ever truly made him feel like this. That it's you. Just you and no one else. That he loves you so much it hurts.

J = Jack off (masturbation head cannon): His libido is insane. There are times when you're having sex that you genuinely think that he's going to kill you with too many orgasms. Yes, he has made you cum so much that you've passed out. And no, he has not forgotten it. It's inflated his ego to dramatic proportions and every time you try for marathon sex, he aims to best his record.

So, it's safe to say that when the two of you are apart that he's chewing at the hypothetical bars of his enclosure.

Whenever Tyki goes without sex, he gets pent up, and when he gets pent up, he gets cranky. Touchy, pouty even.

There's a permanent scowl on his face, and a perpetual furrow on his brows.

Mild inconveniences that he would usually brush off now ruins his entire day. A quip from a hated coworker at the mines that he would usually deflect with a sarcastic jab of his own nearly sets him off. Clark and Momo have to hold him back, dragging him off with sheepish apologies thrown over their shoulders. He almost punched the supervisor once. Thank God Momo was there to catch him before he could.

It's safe to say that he jerks off at least once a day. And if he isn't able to- probably too exhausted to after a day of labor- he wakes up with an attitude.

All he has to work off is memories and a couple instant film photographs he has of you, usually stuffed in the pocket of his worn work pants or the inner pocket of his frock coat depending on the job.

If he has time, sometimes he'll edge himself for as long as he's able to and pretend that it's your hand gripping his hard cock instead of his own.

It's safe to say you're in for it once he gets back home.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Oh God, there's so many. . . Where to even start? Maybe we'll just try and narrow it down to a few.

Scent kink: It may be a strange one to some people, but there's something about your particular scent that drives him crazy. It doesn't matter if you puff on layers of perfumes or scented products. He'll love the way they interact with the natural aroma of your skin and your hair.

He especially loves it when he can smell you on his person or clothes, carrying a bit of you with him wherever he goes.

And he loves it when he can pick up his scent on you. It satisfies the possessive side of him. It's a way to telegraph to others that you belong to him and him alone.

This kink (like many) gets amplified once his inner Noah, Joyd is awoken.

Whenever he takes control of the body, he likes to cling to you using his arms and tentacles to keep you pinned to him, purring like a cat while he nuzzles his face against yours. No doubt making sure to spread his scent all across your person.

Primal play: Another one that Joyd defiantly enjoys as well, perhaps even more than Tyki if that's at all possible.

Tyki has always found pleasure in hunting you down. Especially when he's in his darker state.

He always makes sure to give you a head start of course; he doesn't want the game to end too quickly.

Precautions are always set in place, a pack full of a fresh set of clothes, snacks and a canteen full of water is within the vicinity of area of choice. The safe word is always repeated before the game starts, even though it's yet to be used. But he understands that he can be a bit intense when he's in this state.

This is something to be enjoyed, the last thing he wants to do is to harm you, even if it's an accident.

He always acts cocky during your games and at times downright feral. The longer it takes him to find you the more he loses his composure. His voice will become frayed around the edges, calling out cocky taunts into the night air, tight with shaky self-restraint while he has to physically hold himself back from sniffing you out too quickly.

He really wants to enjoy this, but damn if you don't make it difficult sometimes.

There are times when he gets worried that he's going overboard, that he needs to reel in the nasty snarl in his voice and dampen the crazed grin that pulls at his mouth. To hide the nasty fangs that his teeth had sharpened into.

But that's when he smells it, sweet and heady, curling up and settling in his lungs like an aphrodisiac. He nearly moans, he can almost taste it on his tongue.

It's arousal.

Your arousal to be specific. So very familiar but he never tires of it.

Yeah, you're enjoying this just as much as he is. And that's all it usually takes for his resolve to snap. For him to slink out of the shadows with the grace of honed predator and tackle you down onto the ground. You always let out a little squeak whenever he snatches you. But not out of fear but of complete uninhibited joy.

. . . well maybe a bit of fear but you like anyways.

Dirty talk (that has roots in degradation and praise): Dirty talk goes both ways for him, but he absolutely loves dishing it out. His ability to build you up with a little praise and sugared words or leave you a whimpering mess from a little degradation inflates his already massive ego. The way he can mold you into whatever he wants, his good girl, his sweet baby or maybe you're being a brat, a filthy slut that needs to put back in her place.

Regardless of the mood, with enough time and patience on his part and a few words he can have you a cross-eyed mess.

. . .

"That's all you are, isn't it? A little cockdrunk slut for me. All it takes is a little dick for you to go stupid. "

Your brain was complete mush at this point, useless and too overloaded with the pleasure encompassing your body to even register what he was saying. Far too focused on the drag of his cock thrusting in and out of you to even care. Repetitively hitting that devastating spot inside of you that had your body spasming like it was struck with an electrical current. Drool smearing past the corners of your mouth and your eyes nearly rolling back, all you could do was keen and weakly nod your head in agreement.

" Yeah? " He cooed mockingly, snickering under his breath. Your mushy brain had managed to catch that. That cocky shit. You'd snap at him with a snarky quip if you had the brain compacity to do it. But that is what got you in this situation to begin with. Instead, all you could do was lay and take, struggling to meet the brutal pace he had set.

" It's alright baby. I'll give you what you need," he crooned. His mouth twisting into a lethal grin. Peering at you in that intense golden shade from underneath his lashes, molten gold flashing like a warning.

He cups both of your legs from the bends of your knees and stretches them up and over his shoulders, folding your body like a sheet of paper. The change punches the air out your lungs, it lets him move so much deeper.

You didn't think your brain could lose much more of its grip. But Tyki shoves himself forward, completely trapping your body underneath his own, and grips the headboard above you to better support his weight and digs in deep.

You go boneless. Settling into the mattress completely limp. You can't even moan anymore, the drag of his cock punching the air out of your lungs with each thrust. All you can do is just sit uselessly. Lay and listen to the way the old wooden bones of the bed creeks in protest, the wet smack of skin on skin, the slick sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of your pussy.

"Aw look at that. " You can just barely manage to make out the silky cadence of his voice through the haze of it all. "And I thought I had you dumb before."

All you can do is let out a broken drunk sob, choking on air in a weak hiccup.

Then you feel him moving even closer to you, eliminating as much space between you as he can without throwing off the devastating rhythm he set. "It's alright, baby." He assures, like he isn't fucking you within an inch of your life. He takes your earlobe into his mouth, nipping and sucking before he lets it go. "You just have to lay there and take. After all, that's all your good for."

L = Location (favorite place to do the do): As long as you're alright with it, Tyki will fuck you just about any time, anywhere. He has little reservations about it. Plus, he likes the thrill of nearly being caught. 

On the beach, the grounds of Sheril's estate, in the hallway of the mansion while a lively party thrives downstairs, anywhere any time. You name it he'll do it. 

He even fingered you at the dining room table while the Earl was trying to close a deal with a possible benefactor. Don't worry, no one figured it out (apart from Wisely, obviously. You two couldn't look at each other for about a month afterwards). 

But if he had to narrow it down . . . probably somewhere private. Somewhere where you'd feel comfortable enough to ride and fuck him without abandon or worrying about being caught. 

So probably his private beach house in Portugal, miles away from any village, city or settlement. At most there may be a sailor's boat bobbing on the cerulean waters off in the horizon, far too distant to spot anything explicit happening.

On his fishing boat, in the ocean just off the shore, on the beach, or in his house you two can do whatever you want. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on? What gets them going?): You. You do. Every facet of you. Are you shy and uncertain? That turns him on. The fact that he has that sort of effect on you. That he can make you so flustered. 

Are you bold and self-assured? He may just want to break that confidence. To remind you who's in control. Or maybe he won't. He likes you in control too. Guiding his pleasure, telling him when to cum. Punishing him if he does something without your permission.

But honestly it all gets him going. The scent of you on the wind, the sound of your voice, the way you look at him, the feel of your hand on his body. All of it. It doesn't take much to set him off. 

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs): He doesn't want to genuinely hurt you. Listen, Tyki is a sadist in his own right. Yes, he likes rough sex. To mark your pretty body and be marked in return, to blot your gorgeous body in blue and yellow and green and to feel you slicing red rivulets down his back, to feel your gasping throat underneath his hand and have you grip him by his wavy locks and shove him face first into your pussy. He loves it. The pain and pleasure

But he'll refuse to do something that will cause you long lasting pain. It doesn't matter if it's days of pain or months, it's a downright loud unapologetic no!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): Just about fifty-fifty. 

He loves giving oral. To break you down and leave you a helpless quivering mess. To have that effect on someone despite only using his mouth. It gets him off. 

But he loves receiving as well.  

Feeling the pressure of your hot mouth wrapped around his throbbing cock, aiming to suck him of all he has to offer. God, there's little else that compares to it. 

If you offer to go down on him after a long taxing mission this man will absolutely melt for you. He's willing to just lay back and let you do whatever you want to him. But if you're alright with him fucking your throat and use you like a toy for his pleasure, he'll eat you out for hours if you want.

Seriously, he won't stop until you tell him to. 

P = Pace (are they face and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.): As stated before, it depends on the mood. There are different sides to sex, and in his eyes and just sticking to one is like going to a buffet and just putting a single thing on your plate. 

Why not indulge in all of it? 

Some days he wants to fuck you hard and fast. The kind of sex that leaves you aching for a week. Bruised and walking around with a limp, a reminder of what he did to you. Of how good he made you feel. The way you gasped and keened and whimpered like a mindless little thing whose sole purpose was to feel pleasure and to please him. 

On the other hand, he wants you to feel loved and cherished. You were the first to make him fall in love. Sure, he's had a few crushed over the years, and at one time in the past he did think he was in love. Hell, maybe he did love them. Back when he was young and regularly fishing off of the docks of a quaint town in Portugal, snatching bread off of carts that were parked along the main street. But they left him to survive. Marrying into a family to survive. 

He couldn't blame them despite the hurt. 

But now he has you. 

And you didn't reject the love that he displayed, in fact you went after it. You chased it even when he was too scared to. Scared of what it meant. The consequences of it. You pursued ahead. You fought. 

 So, he'll slow. He wants you to feel it. All of him. Every inch, every part. Every hideous side of him that may be alien, despite the fear he may feel. You accepted it all. 

The Earl, the Noah, Joyd, him. You accepted it all. Not without challenge but you would fight for him despite your reservations. 

He'd do whatever you wanted.

Q = Quickies (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): He's a whore for a quickie. Admittedly he does appreciate it whenever he's free to take you apart piece by glorious piece and leave you a shaken mess. But he's also pressed for time. He is rarely able to indulge in his time with you without the fear of being called to hunt down an Exorcist for the Earl or to assassinate a political rival that may jeopardize his brothers standing. 

He's always trying to fuck you if he has to opportunity and you're willing. It may be the last time for a long time that you two can be together. He wants to take advantage of that.   

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc.): He's willing to take a risk. As long as it doesn't make you uncomfortable or unravel all of the efforts that his family has made then he's pretty much sold.

As long as the stigma is just attached to him then he'll even fuck you at a fully packed soiree. He doesn't care. He really doesn't care if his social standing is stained. In fact, he welcomes it with open arms despite his brother's protests. 

But God forbid someone bad mouths you or spreads rumors. They'll probably be found dead from "mysterious circumstances".  

But yes, as long as no true impactful harm befalls you, he's down for just about anything.   

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?): His stamina is insane.

 As stated, marathon sex is definitely a thing. He has fucked you to the point of unconsciousness. And if consented he will continue to use you while you're no longer awake. 

His libido is wild. It's honestly one of the many reasons why he way hesitant to get in a relationship in the first place. He didn't know if he'd be able to find someone that would be able to keep up with his drive. And he doesn't mean that to be cocky, it comes from a place of actual concern. 

He's insatiable. He'd like to blame it on his inner Noah, but the truth is that he's been like this since he's started having sex. 

His mood plumets if he goes without you for too long, so once he's finally able to have you he's insatiable. He'll be your shadow once you're finally reunited, following you around like a lost puppy until you're somewhere isolated enough for him to snatch you up and have his way with you. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): He doesn't need them to get you off. He knows that. You know that. But he can't deny that they're fun. 

Nipple clamps, anal beads, vibrators, butt plugs, a spreader bar, whatever you like he can use to his advantage. Toys are allies not enemies. 

Want him to use something on you and he absolutely will. He'll wreck you with it. Leave you a crying mess, muscles seizing and gripping at the sheets in hopes of orienting yourself. He doesn't care.

You have a toy? It doesn't matter. it's nothing for him to be insecure about. It's a tool not a replacement. You have a favorite dildo that you like, it's okay he'll exploit it.

It's nothing compared to him.  

U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease?): Oh-hoho, he loves to tease. To tease you as much as you tease him, whether it's completely intentional or not. He'll edge you for hours if you let him. Please let him!

Slurping at your cunt and moaning into you, sending sweet vibrations up the walls of your pussy.  Holding you close by your thighs and basking in the way that you grind your sloppy pussy against his face. Sucking your throbbing clit into his mouth until you're on the edge of ecstasy and tearing himself away at the last second.

It's as painful for him as it is for you. 

He gets off to the way you cry, the incoherent moans of protest, the way you beg him to just let you cum. He loves it all so, so much! 

Please grip him by his hair and grind yourself onto his face. Please stimulate your clit on the point of his nose. It takes everything for him not to thrust down against the bed like a dog in heat.

 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): If he's in control then his groans might be subdued, short and sharp. He wants to be the one that has reins on the situation, and he doesn't want you getting the upper hand, no matter how good you feel to him. He's the boss right now and he doesn't care how much of a brat you're being or how long it may take to remind you he's the one that holds your pleasure in the palm of his hands. 

The sounds that you get out of him are clipped and guttural and low.

But when he's desperate and hungry for you he's whinny, uninhibited moaning into the air like a common whore. And you love it. He loves it. 

Unless you're inclined to gag him, the entire country will be privy to how desperate he is for you. 

W = Wildcard (a random head cannon for the character): It's nothing crazy that you probably haven't already assumed, but before you he has turned to prostitutes to quell his sexual desires. It's nothing that you hold him guilty for of course, but he appreciates it, nonetheless. 

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes):He's a little above average, about 6 inches (15.24 cm) when he's hard. Uncircumcised.

He has two veins, one that runs along the side of his cock and another less prominent one that runs underneath and fades just before reaching the head of his dick.

Lightly suck on them or trace them with your tongue and it's an easy way to get him worked up and breathless.

He's on the thicker side. No matter how many times you take him, when he splits you open there's always a bit of a stretch. Not enough to be painful, but it never fails to build a delicious ache inside as he fills you up inch after inch until he's settled deep at the base.

Y = Yearning = (how high is their sex drive?): I'm sure that you've gathered by now that his libido is off the chain. If he hasn't had it in a while, he gets irritable and whinny. Honestly from an outside perspective, it's almost pathetic how ornery he gets without sex. All sharp remarks and unforgiving sarcasm.  

He's looking for an excuse to fight at this point, which can be unusual considering that he can be forgiving towards rivals that he isn't required to mark (i.e., he was willing to give Daisya Barry and out as he was not on his list, but the Exorcist prompted a fight with him regardless and Tyki then took his life). 

But when he's strung out and desperate and you're unable to see each other it's the enemies that cross his path that suffer. He doesn't tell you this. He doesn't want you to feel guilty for their deaths. The way that he played with them like a barn cat with a mouse. 

It's not your fault. 

The yearning he feels that he has to stave in off with violence. That it's the only way to even get a sort of emotional release that even nudges the sort of relief he feels when he's with you. 

He's always missing you. No matter what. if you're apart, you're on his mind. He craves you constantly. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?): He can fall asleep fairly quickly if he doesn't have a need to stay awake afterwards. He's typically tired afterwards after weeks apart. 

He'll force himself to stay awake if you're hard pressed to get clean afterwards. But as soon as your wiped clean and settled he's out like a light. He has a lot on his plate, between keeping up with orders from the Earl, maintaining his relationships with Momo, Eeze, Clark without suspicion and keeping you satisfied without feeling like your relationship is excluded the man is spread thin. 

All he wants to do afterwards is lay back and pass out with you in his arms.

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

The Shiny Captain

A/N: I saw a post by @infinityrevengers and it made me write a shitty, non-beta'd 4am fic :). enjoy!

warnings: non, just dumb fluff

pairing: Captain Rex x gn!reader (platonic)

summery: you do your new friend Rex a favour by cleaning off his armour for him, only for him to sheepishly tell you that he doesn't want shiny armour please.

masterlist

It had only been a few weeks since you'd joined the crew on board the Resolute. The Clone Army was stretched thinly across the galaxy, and many clones that had formerly been assigned to engineering and medicine had been 'repurposed' to become soldiers like their brothers. That, of course, left a lot of vacancies in the aforementioned fields, which is why you, a civilian, with a degree in engineering and basic medic training were offered a job pretty quickly.

You liked being on the Resolute a lot. You'd only been along for one campaign, hanging out in the hangar and fixing ships - and the odd clone trooper once in a while, if it wasn't too serious or they just wanted to avoid a dressing down from Kix - and chatting with he troopers moving in and out of the ship all day. Or night. Or whatever timezone you had been in. You lost track of that the second you entered hyperspace.

One of the clones that you'd taken a particular liking to was Captain Rex. When you first met him, he sort of intimidated you. How could he not? He stood tall and proud, dual DC-17's on his hips and Jaig Eyes painted on his helmet in that deep 501st blue. Clone Captain Rex, first in Command of the renowned Skywalker's Fist. Nothing to be scared of right?

After about two days though, you found out that there truly was nothing to be scared of. You were in the mess hall with Fives and Echo, sharing a truly horrible meal - you would never get used to the brown sludge and gray cubes they grew up on - when Rex walked in and joined you. That was the first time you saw him without his helmet on and you immediately noted the blond hair and dropped a compliment, as it was the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh wow, Captain, didn't know you were a blond! That natural? Looks good on you."

Your compliment had left him a stuttering mess and you had to hold back a laugh as your image of the stoic clone captain became much more human in an instant.

"Uh... yes it- uhm, thanks... thank you, yes its natural," he had managed to get out.

The short conversation left your two companions hiding their matching grins and you wondered if you had said something wrong. You could imagine that the clones had their own culture. Their own way of doing things. Perhaps pointing out an uncommon hair colour was considered a faux-pa's?

A few days later you ran into him again and had stammered out an apology which he quickly waved off, saying you hadn't done anything wrong.

"It's just not something I grew up being... proud of," he'd explained, leaving you even more confused.

Clearly, your comment had flattered him, but there must've been something else making him feel as conflicted as he seemed to be. You decided not to push it.

But maybe you should have taken the time to learn more about what you had started calling clone culture, because it only took you a couple weeks to actually commit a pretty serious faux-pa's.

It had been the morning after a pretty tough mission. When Torrent and their Captain had wandered off a banged up gunship, looking a bit battered and bruised, you'd worried. You should've gotten to work on the gunships right away, but you took a minute to talk to Kix about injuries. He wouldn't need you to help out in the med-bay that night, but he appreciated you checking in.

The Captain noticed too, and approached you to give his thanks. You noted his armour seemed to have an extra coating of black dust on it. Likely volcanic ash from the planet they'd just returned from.

The two of you got caught up in an easy conversation, like you did many times since your initial, semi-awkward meeting. It had ended with him clipping off his armour and falling asleep leaned against some supply crates filled with parts that you were using to fix the gunships. You ended up pulling an all-nighter, not minding the Captain softly snoring behind you. In a way, it comforted you. At least this way you knew he was alright.

Once you were done it was already 0600 and you'd have to be up again in about an hour, which didn't seem like it was worth it to you. But you didn't want to wake Rex either and just leaving him behind here in the hangar while he was asleep - and without his armour strapped on - seemed wrong too.

Deciding to do him a kindness you found a rag, some water and some soap, making sure it wasn't so aggressive that it would remove the paint. You set to work, washing the dust and grime off the Captains armour until it looked white and shiny and pretty again. Like it was fresh off Kamino. You smiled at your work, pride rising in your chest. Not only had you managed to get the gunships going again, you'd also saved your friend some valuable time that he could now spent resting.

Another ten or so minutes passed and despite you fighting it, you must've drifted off, because the Captain's wrist chrono woke the both of you.

When your eyes fluttered open, you were met with the sight of the Captain stretching his arms and neck out. Maybe letting him sleep propped up against a supply crate all night wasn't the best idea. Oh well.

Rex said your name with a tired smile. "Mornin'. Managed to fix those gunships?"

"Yeah, all fixed. Even got some... extra work in," you said, trying to be onimous.

"Extra work, eh? Can't wait to see it," Rex said, reaching for his first few pieces of armour, stacked exactly the same way they were last night - you were meticulous, thank you very much. "Let's grab some caf first though, ya? I need to...," Rex trailed off.

He was halfway done putting on his armour, only the top side of his blacks still visible. He was currently holding up his chest plate turning it over in his hands. He seemed puzzled as he picked up his pauldron and vambraces, swiping his fingers over them.

You smiled up at him proudly. "I cleaned it for you! Figured I'd take some of your load of, seeing as the last mission was a little rough."

"You.... cleaned my armour?" Rex repeated slowly.

"Sure did! Now it's nice and shiny again!"

The way you smiled up at him made Rex's heart ache. You were trying to help him. To cheer him up after a tough mission. Which he appreciated, and yet. He couldn't bring himself to appreciate shiny armour. He sighed and said your name softly. "Thank you so much for... caring... but, uhm... do you remember our conversation about, uh... how did you call it? Clone culture?"

Fear crept up on your face as you fixed your eyes on him. "Yes?" you responded, only cringing slightly. This was gonna be uncomfortable.

"It's not a big deal...," Rex began.

"Really? Would you tell me if it was?"

"Uh, I.... uhm, well," Rex stammered, answering your question well enough. "Uh, the thing is... Shiny armour... Well, clones, the young ones, fresh off Kamino... We call them shinies. Because their armour-," Rex was interrupted.

"... Is shiny. And your a Captain so-," you trailed off this time.

"So I'd prefer to leave my... shiny days behind me," he chuckled awkwardly.

You nodded in understanding. "Of course! Gosh, Rex, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to..."

"Hey, hey, no, please! You were trying to help!"

"Well, that worked out great, didn't it?" you joked. It illicited a soft chuckle from him, but you could tell that somewhere, he was still slightly... disappointed, for lack of better word. "If it helps, I'd love to take one of these newly fixed gunships down planetside with you. We can... roll around in the mud or whatever, get that armour dirty again."

Rex let out a louder laugh this time, shaking his head. "Yeah, I think shiny armour is enough embarrassment for one week, but maybe I'll find a mud puddle to throw you in when you finally come planetside with us."

You chuckled at his obvious threat. "Unfortunately, I just handed in my two weeks notice. Apologies, Captain, looks like you won't get your revenge this time 'round!"

"Eh, I'll find something fitting. Now, how 'bout that caf?"

And so you made your way to the messhall with your shiny Captain, ready to defend him from Echo and Fives's quips, which you both knew were coming.

[nocturnalghoul]

Fox's Wedding

This is one of three fics that I plan to post today on my birthday as a sort of reverse present. I just want these two to be besties, and like am I wrong tho?! I'll link the other two fics here and here once I get all three posted

sorry in advance for the several perspective switches, idk man

Summary: The two get lost in laughing and cracking jokes that before they know it both plates are empty and the sun is rising up over the horizon. “Ugh I needed this bro, we have both been so caught up with everyone else lately that I feel like we haven’t hung out just the two of us in ages. I miss my buddy” Sunny laments, getting up to clear their dishes before Mountain or Dew come out and complain about the mess they made in the kitchen. “Well there is always time to change that Sunbeam, sounds like it's time for us to declare it a goof off day. Wanna come down to the lake with me?” Just some sweet Sunny and Rain being friends and goofing off content.

Words: ~1.4k

Warnings: none, this is just fluffy good times :D

Read on AO3 here, or below the cut

After tossing and turning for several hours, Sunny finally decides to give up on sleep. She still has so much on her mind that there is no hope of it all quieting down enough for her to sleep anytime soon. 

Snagging her phone from off the nightstand and frowning at the mocking way it displays 4am, she starts to wander through the halls thinking of something to do since she's up. The common room is currently a cluttered mess as everyone prepares for tour so she decides to start there and figure out how she can help out. She is lost deep in her thoughts, moving on autopilot, as she swings around the corner and smacks into somebody knocking her off balance and sending her tumbling down to the floor. 

From the ground she can see Rain grimacing as he holds out a hand to help her back up with a mumbled apology and can’t help but giggle. 

“Well hey Rain, were you just coming back from a swim?” she whispers, dragging the water ghoul towards the kitchen with her. 

“Couldn’t sleep and I thought it might relax me enough to remedy that” he whispers back, face lighting up as he clearly thinks of something. “Obviously neither of us are getting sleep any time soon. So Sunbeam, how do ya feel about scrounging up some breakfast?”

There is something more to the request that Sunny can’t quite place, but the chance to hang out alone together is a rare one and there's no way she can pass it up. “Sure, lead the way Cap’n” she teases, shoving the water ghoul towards the kitchen. 

Neither of the ghouls are as culinarily challenged as Mountain and Cirrus like to make them seem, and soon enough they get a fair spread set up with left overs for the next few hungry ghouls to blow through to snack on. Both of the ghouls have been so stressed out recently, Rain with the upcoming tour and Sunny with making sure everything is ready to run smoothly while the others are gone, that being able to focus their minds on such a clear-cut task feels soothing. 

As they sit down to eat, Sunny zones out for a minute thinking about all the things she still needs to do, but is snapped back to reality as a grape bounces off her forehead and tumbles onto her plate. “Okay yeah I get it, sorry” she giggles, popping the offending fruit into her mouth. 

The two get so lost in laughing and cracking jokes that before they know it both plates are empty and the sun is rising up over the horizon. “Ugh I needed this bro, we have both been so caught up with everyone else lately that I feel like we haven’t hung out just the two of us in ages. I miss my buddy” Sunny laments, getting up to clear their dishes before Mountain or Dew come out and complain about the mess they made in the kitchen. 

“Well there is always time to change that Sunbeam, sounds like it's time for us to declare it a goof off day. Wanna come down to the lake with me?” Rain proposes, moving to help finish the clean up process. The excited giggle from Sunny as she runs off to go change is all the confirmation he gets but it's more than enough. Already he can feel some of the anxieties of the recent few weeks beginning to fade. Today is going to be exactly what they needed. 

Once the clean up is done, Rain sets up a pot of coffee to wait for Dew and Mountain to wander out any minute now, and heads down to the lake to wait for Sunshine on the dock across the lake. Eventually the multi ghoulette appears, sitting down next to him and silently passing him a bottle of water while staring at the rising sun. “This is truly my favorite part of the day” she sighs happily, feet swinging where they hang over the side of the dock. 

Rain lets her take her moment of appreciation before looking down at where their hands are joined and giving a sharp yank as he topples forward dragging them both into the water. “Darn slippery wood” he teases, laughing at the way the ghoulettes curls stick her face when she emerges and begins to tread water. 

“Uh-huh, slippery wood indeed.” she teases back, rolling her eyes and moving to splash Rain in retaliation. “You picked this so I’m picking next.” 

She grabs his hand again and the two shift to floating on their backs, soaking in the warmth of the early morning rays and admiring the contrast to the cool water. The beauty of the sunrise might always be Sunny's favorite part of the day, but this is Rains. 

The next few hours speed by quickly enough in a grand storm of laughter and tomfoolery until it is clear that Sunny is starting to get tired of the lake and Rain collects up their sparse belongings awaiting word of the next location. It takes him all the way until the pair hit the trail leading out past the greenhouses to realize they are headed to the large orchard on the property, but really he should have guessed. When in doubt, the grand sprawl of trees is always a great guess of where to find the ghoulette. 

Right as they are about to pass the last greenhouse, they see Cirrus and Mountain running out of the door to meet them on the path. Immediately Cirrus launches into explaining she was hoping for Sunnys help, but Mountain sets down the small shrub he was holding and just sighs.

“Hmmm that does sound important Cir’, unfortunately we already assigned ourselves the task of ‘have fun’ today so you’ll have to remind me all about that tomorrow” Sunny deadpans before grabbing Rain’s arm and dashing off the path in a direct line for the trees before either of the two serious looking ghouls can protest. 

“I knew they were lost the second I heard them giggling. I needed Rain for something but I know that look on his face and we’ll just have to table all this for tomorrow and see those two at dinner.” Mountain concedes, picking up the shrub with one arm and heading back to open the door of the greenhouse for Cirrus. 

There is something about Rain and Sunny's natural temperament that is so good for the other. She is so skilled at pulling Rain out of his own head and letting him cut loose, and he is skilled at letting her shine as bright as she wants and feel truly special. In the presence of the other, all of their worries get washed away.

If you asked Rain to recount any of their path to the center of the orchard he would not be able to describe a thing. In his mind, he didn’t need any details and instead just let Sunny lead him. Unbeknownst to him she was leaving a trail for Mountain to follow to bring them to dinner later, but from his perspective they were just blindly darting through rows of trees and hoping not to trip. 

Laying down under the shade of a large tree, fruit scattered around them, the activity of the day starts to catch up as both of the ghouls start to doze. The spots of sun filtering through the leaves land around them, casting beautiful mosaics all around. The bright sun beats down, allowing them to dry off as small pockets of showers can be seen falling far off in the distance, threatening to spice up the pace of the day once again. 

“It's nice Rainbow, it's like the weather knew we were hanging out today. Seems like it was meant to be” Sunny beams beside him, and he can’t help but pull the ghoulette into a hug. “Yeah, maybe it was,” he sighs contently. 

By the time Mountain makes his way to bring them in for dinner, those showers have worked their way to the orchard, and he finds them spinning around enjoying the weather and cackling, the rain sprinkling down on their faces mixing with the tears of laughter. 

The pack was certainly put out by them goofing off all day and makes that clear at dinner, but it's clear that they don’t actually mean it. Both Rain and Sunny have been so tightly wound recently and the relief of seeing the two take care of one another far outweighs whatever annoyance their absence caused. A day like today is exactly what they both needed, and luckily they had each other to help.

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Misery Loves Company | Ghost x Nina | Restaurant AU

Okay maybe I lied, here's a little bit more of the restaurant AU. Ghost is about 34ish, Nina is 26. All my restaurant AU posts are based off of this post.

This was supposed to be smutty but it didn't work out that way. Idk man...

Nina trudged home, pulling her jacket up above her head. Her umbrella had broken a block back. The trains wouldn't open for another hour and it was impossible to get a cab at 4am.

A perfect ending to a shitty night at work. She was soaked to the bone and her hair stuck to her face. It would take another twenty minutes to walk home. She kept her head down and walked as fast as possible. She just wanted to be home.

She jumped back as a motorcycle drove up next to her. She recognized the skeleton gloves and relaxed slightly. It was just him.

"What are you doing?" Simon pushed up his visor. His question felt mocking. She always felt like he was mocking her.

"Going home." She snapped. She and him didn't get on to put it lightly. She kept walking.

He walked his bike along next to her.

"I'll give you a lift."

"I'm fine. Thank you."

"You look miserable. Let me take you home." He sounded sincere, perhaps for the first time in his life.

"Maybe I want to be miserable."

"You can be miserable in your flat." He took his helmet off and offered it to her. "Price would have my head if I had you ride without it."

She often forgot what he looked like. He spent most of his shifts with a black face mask and plastic shield. He was always handsome in a rugged way, a Raging Bull kind of way. His nose was crooked and his lip was permanently split. She knew he served with Price at one point.

She took the helmet and put it on. It was warm and smelled like sweat and spice. He held out his arm for her as she got on the bike behind him. He took her arms and wrapped them around his middle.

"Hold on." He grunted as he started up the bike again. Nina held on tight, her fingers clutching the leather of his jacket. She directed him, pulling left or right at turns. She felt bad as the rain pelted down on them. He pulled into a spot on the side of her building.

Water was dripping down his brow and eyelashes as she handed him the helmet back.

"Do you want to come inside till it stops?" She asked, pulling her jacket back over her head. He seemed hesitant. This was the most they'd communicated without yelling well ever. There was a crack of thunder a ways off and he nodded.

He stood protectively at her back as she fished her keys out of her bag and let them in.

"I'm on the second floor."

They were both quiet as they walked upstairs. The only noise was the dripping of water on the floor.

She flicked on the lights in the flat. She wasn't here much at night so all the lights were set to dim. A pink lantern above her bed, a singular pendant light in the kitchen and a floor lamp near the couch.

"I'll grab you a towel." She dumped her bag near her bed and grabbed her towel and a clean one for him. He'd taken his jacket off and hung it up.

"Thanks." He said, taking the towel and drying his hair. Nina wrapped her towel around her head. She wasn't sure what to do now. Gaz was the only one who ever really hung out and he just acted like he lived there. She wasn't a hostess.

"Tea?" She asked, scurrying off to the kitchen a half meter away. Her flat was one long room with little privacy from visitors. He followed her.

"You can pick whatever you want." She opened the cabinet filled with tea boxes and mugs as she put the kettle on. "I also have cakes and biscuits and pretty much anything."

She opened the fridge. It was filled with various square containers containing her various baking experiments. She'd been spending her days off at Alejandro's bakery in an unofficial apprenticeship. She'd always found a comfort in watching dough rise and edges brown.

Simon reached around her and grabbed a container, seemingly at random.

"Those are chocolate almond biscuits."

"They look like Los Vaqueros'." He said, taking one.

"Ale's original recipe but I don't use all almond flour because they crumble a lot" he bit into one "and then when you dip them in milk or coffee they kind of just fall apart and.."

"It's good." He nodded. "What else do you have?"

"Like eight types of biscotti..."

"Could I have coffee instead of tea?"

'"Yeah... I can do that." She nodded.

"You should change while the water boils." He said, still looking through the fridge. Maybe her constant shaking was the cold and not anxiety from having him so close.

"I'll be right back."

He nodded.

She grabbed an old jumper, sweats and a fresh pair of panties and locked herself in the bathroom. Her skin was red and damp. She untied the towel and did her best to dry off quickly.

The kettle was starting to whistle as she walked out. He had a frying pan on the stove next to it. He had a spatula in one hand, constantly moving it around in the pan. At 141 he was always moving about, barking orders, moving from dish to dish. It was strange to see him static like that.

"For a chef's daughter, you don't have any food."

"I'm not his daughter." Despite how much Price acts like she is. "You know, I invited you in to get dry, not move in."

"You missed family supper."

She shrugged, she was always running late. Eating the scraps of whatever Gaz managed to save for her in the walk in was a regular occurrence.

"You don't have to make me food." She said, a bit embarrassed now. She knew her eating habits weren't the healthiest. Sometimes it was a struggle. Food make her think of work. She'd rather scarf down a granola bar or bag of crisps. He shrugged.

"Take the kettle off the heat and get us a plate, yeah?"

She set the kettle on a trivet and handed him a plate. He'd made an omelet. He was more delicate than a man of his stature seemed capable as he folded it over and slide it onto the plate. It did look good and she realized how hungry she was. She made him coffee. She had some pre ground beans that Gaz had left a week ago and scooped them into her french press. He stopped her from pouring the water in.

"It's too hot, you'll scorch them. Let the water cool a bit, pour a little in, let it bloom then slowly add the rest."

"You're a barista as well?"

"I like coffee." He said cracking pepper over her omelet. She followed his instructions, watching him nod in her peripheral.

They sat at her tiny dining table. She ate quietly. He sipped his coffee, the container filled with various flavors of biscotti sat between them. The sun was starting to crack over the city.

"I have a question for you."

"Yes?" She asked, looking up from her plate.

"Why do you work at 141 and annoy me every day when you could be working with Ale and making things like this?"

It was a good question. She'd like to work for Ale. He, Rudy and Valeria worked seemlessly together. Coming in to the bakery at four am. Rudy on bread, Valeria on pastries and Ale on cakes. Rudy made everyone espresso shots. They'd clink their little ceramic cups together and take them down like tequila (which they did after close every late afternoon).

She'd come straight from 141 to Los Vaqueros on several occasions, leftovers in hand for everyone's breakfast.

"When am I going to steal you from Price?" Alejandro asked as they prepped piping bags. "You need more training but another set of hands would be nice."

Price was the reason.

"I owe Price," she shrugged. "He's always taken care of me, especially after...umm."

"The accident." He filled in. What a simple name for something so awful. She'd been working that day. Her phone kept going off. It was busy, a customer kept insisting his completely pink steak was cooked too much. It was a hot summer day. She'd gotten into a fight with her dad and refused to go on holiday with them to their beach cottage.

Then she went into back of house and it was quiet and everyone was looking at her with so much pity it made her furious. Kate was in the kitchen which always meant something serious. She felt her stomach drop when Price looked at her with teary eyes. Even Simon looked sad for her.

She was pulled into Kate's office by Price, with Gaz following closely behind. A car accident on some country road. Her whole family gone. Her mother, brother and father. Gaz carried her all the way out to his car. Simon had grabbed her things from her locker. She remembered going from screaming to crying to silence and back again.

She didn't work for six months and her first shift back she sat in Kate's office wrapping silverware. Price paid her the whole time. He helped her plan the funerals. He had her move in with him. Let Gaz spend the night whenever. It was already three years ago but she always felt like everyone treated her different since. Except for Simon.

"I know I'm not the best but he says he needs me because I've been there so long. Good at training all the new waitstaff or something." She picked at her food with her fork, suddenly unsettled by the jelliness of the eggs.

He nodded, unconvinced.

"The coffee is good."

She did the dishes while he made her a cup of tea, something herbal to help her sleep. She didn't question why he had three cups of coffee considering they worked the same shift. He was looking through her spice drawer and pantry.

"You're very nosey for a guest."

"I'm upset with myself for not realizing you were a baker earlier. You always smell like vanilla." He handed her the mug.

"That's just my lotion. It's not like I bathe in extract." He was standing close to her. He smelled peppery with coffee breath and some marinade mixed in. It was good on him for some reason.

"Smells like it sometimes," he chuckled. "I always know when you're at work because the lockers smell like vanilla."

"I'll be more discreet. It must be annoying smelling someone you don't like when you first walk in."

"Why do you think I don't like you?" He leaned his hand against the counter, hovering over her.

"I don't know. Just assumed I guess." She looked down at her mug. He'd put honey in it.

"I like you, Nina."

She looked up and his face was inches from hers. She felt hot. Her bottom lip was shaking. He took the mug from her and set it on the counter. His other hand brushed the hair from her face. He leaned in close and-

"Wait." She raised a hand between them and stepped backwards. She knew there was gossip about her. Rumors that she slept with Alex before he and Farah left to open their own thing. That she slept with Hadir before the big fall out. That was always sleeping with Gaz, which was partially true but he slept around much more than she ever did. That she was easy because she was sad. She was dumb to think he was nice to her for anything besides sex. He buttered her up and she almost fell right into his frying pan. "I know what people say but I'm not like that and I'm sorry if I made you think that I was."

"I'm sorry," he said, straightening and backing away from her. "I shouldn't have done that. I know you're tired and I'm in your flat making myself at home. Thank you for the coffee and biscuits."

He left her in the kitchen as he grabbed his jacket and helmet.

"For the record, I wanted to kiss you because I wanted to kiss you. Not because of what anyone has said about you." He shut the door quietly behind him.

She was stuck in that spot in the kitchen till she heard the sound of his bike fade away. She drew all her curtains shut and crawled into bed.

The tea was good.

Ya'll asked for more so here you go. They were supposed to fuck but I think I'll save that for later.

Tagging the same people as last time 💕: @water-bearz @gogh-with-the-flow @queen-ilmaree @macravishedbymactavish

resturant

[capricioussun]

4am time to post massive snippet from a note I will not be sharing the rest of <3

Personally, I see UF Papyrus as having self worth issues not so much in the way of self hatred or low self esteem (under the bravado he puts out), but rather that he hinges his self worth almost entirely on how useful he can be. It’s put a tremendous strain on his own inner relationship with himself, that he almost lacks a sense of self. He becomes what he needs to be, to survive, for acceptance, in the hope of “earning” love admiration, to keep them safe. As long as he’s successfully doing those things, nothing else matters.

He’s convinced himself of that so much, so thoroughly, that he never lets himself fail, never lets himself give up. Because if he does, then what’s the point? What’s he there for? If he can’t even do what he sees as the bare minimum, what good does he do by existing at all?

Whenever I think about surface scenarios at length, there’s almost always some point he stumbles into an existential crisis. He has such a genuinely hard time understanding the reasoning “just because”. His entire life has been means to an end but the end wasn’t an ending at all.

Despite wanting friends and acceptance and affection, those have always been a “waste of time”, or even dangerous. A vulnerability waiting to be exploited. He and Sans always stuck together because it was the smart thing to do, because no one else knew them like they knew each other, because they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they could always trust each other, and that was rare. The concept of Sans actually caring about him, enough to want to be part of his life simply because they’re brothers, isn’t entirely alien, but it’s never been enough before. If he isn’t useful to Sans, why would they bother? And since they don’t live together anymore, and Sans has Toriel to cook and clean, and he actually likes, seeks her company, why would Sans want anything to do with him?

Would he want that? Well of course! Not that he’d easily admit it, but he’d felt like he’d lost the right to being part of Sans’ life “just because” a long time ago. Back when he started feeling like more trouble than he was worth. When they barely had any food or stable shelter and it seemed like all he ever managed to do was annoy Sans or get them in trouble. Sure, he’d managed to “make himself worth it” by “pulling his own weight” eventually, but that set the standard for him.

He and Undyne were fierce allies, Captains of the North and South, she’d known him since he was a teenager, they’d looked out for each other. Maybe they each had different priorities, but at the end of the day, through even the roughest of patches, they’d formed a strong loyalty to each other. But they weren’t friends, don’t be ridiculous. The notion that she would choose to spend time with him for any other reason than that they work together is absurd. Sure, maybe they’d taken comfort in being able to relax around each other enough knowing the other wouldn’t stab them in the back, but again, that was just something to take advantage of being so rare in their society. If their furthering of trust building no longer benefits them, why would she want that? What does she gain from talking to him about “unimportant” personal matters anymore?

Frisk, Frisk at least he understands. They’re just a child, after all, they need protection and guidance. When children are young they also still need more “emotional” support, too, they’re still learning how the world works. But once they’re older and more capable of handling themself, of course they won’t need him anymore. That’s just how it works, they won’t need the protection, they wouldn’t gain anything from dealing with him beyond what would be expected professionally, and perhaps maintaining a few personal ties to help support a strong working relationship as well.

And it’s bizarrely self contained, too. He doesn’t automatically view others’ relationships through the same lens because so much of why he views his own this way stem from the burden of responsibility that’d been impressed on him from an incredibly early age, first by Gaster, then Sans, then Asgore. Sans and Toriel care about each other, simply because they do, just as Toriel cares for Frisk and Undyne and Alphys care for each other. But for him, he has to earn it. He has to be worth taking up space in someone’s life, he has to serve a purpose because he was made to serve a purpose, and it’s only exacerbated by how deeply he’d come to view his own intrinsic personality traits as negative.

Being kind, believing in the greater good, looking for the best in others was a quick way to get dusted and Sans tried desperately hard to teach that to him when they were living on the streets, because he had to. A good natured little kid like him would’ve been swallowed whole by their world and it was all Sans could do to teach him to repress and reject those tendencies. He needed to harden up and learn to prioritize himself but he never did because that contradicted with his “serving a purpose” mentality and led to Papyrus prioritizing the well being of everyone else first, but prioritizing his own well being enough to make sure he survived to be able to otherwise prioritize them.

But interests and innocence and kindness and seeking affection were bad. They were bad and would get him, and thusly Sans, killed. Loving and being happy and showing positive feelings are bad and so, inevitably, when faced with understanding he could be loved just because, he doesn’t understand why. What is there to love about someone who just is for whatever reason he needs to be?

False confidence was one key to surviving, part of his facade, but if asked why, he’d only be able to insist he is admired and respected for technical attributes. His strength, his status, his ability to protect, his loyalty, his intelligence, his ingenuity. The things that make him able to serve his purposes. He doesn’t consider the fact Sans is endlessly inspired by how immutable his kindness is. He doesn’t consider the fact Undyne thinks he’s hilarious and similarly admires his commitment to helping others. He doesn’t consider the guards might actually be loyal to him because they trust him not because of his status or power but because he’s always looked out for them, even when their own king would not.

He is incapable of seeing himself as an entire monster, and thusly incapable of understanding others can. That they could like, even love him, for every facet, not just the ones he wears proudly, pinned to his chest, a painstakingly crafted mask designed to earn approval. Maybe, maybe he might learn how to take it off, on purpose, and be able to see himself in the reflection. But I think it’d take a very, very long time.

[skysometric]

Taking Up Space

sad news: over the weekend we had to say goodbye to our beloved Smokey Joe, a gray tabby cat of 16 years, and one of four cats in our household. early last week we found him paralyzed in his back legs and tail, and his health simply declined from there. he lived a good long life filled with love, so we have no regrets.

this video sums up his personality. taken by my partner @harmonyfriends, as with all of the pictures here.

smokey was a playful, talkative, affectionate kitty. he would talk back when we said his name or asked him questions, answering with little "myows" and "mrahs." he was never much of a lap cat, but he loved to curl up next to us and rub up against us. he enjoyed playing chase around the house, just for the thrill of running back and forth.

Smokey in his Morph Ball form.

his very favorite place was the "cat pile," our big bed of comfy blankets and pillows, where my partner and i and all of the cats would go curl up after a long day. he was usually the first to join us; he'd situate himself between our legs and bury his nose in his favorite blanket, purring as loud as can be. the cat pile is already emptier without him, and we'll miss his presence dearly.

Smokey (back) is survived by his sister Lily (front).

but, like many cats, he was also a little menace sometimes.

for every nice thing i just listed, he had an annoying side. he was talkative, sure, which led to him wailing at 4am for no particular reason other than asking for company. he enjoyed playing rough – sometimes without warning, leading to lots of sharp scratches. he loved to curl up with us in bed, but when he was unhappy he'd pee on the bed, forcing us to clean up after him and lock him out of the room for a while. this, in addition to all the regular maintenance that comes with a cat (or rather, four of them!).

so when he wailed i'd get up and wrap him in a blanket so he'd get some sleep. and when we played i learned how to avoid his sensitive spots, just as he learned how to keep his claws from coming out. and when the bed smelled like pee, we'd clean it up and welcome him back on the bed with us before long.

after all, he's worth that love, and i wouldn't trade him for the world.

nestled in a blanket, happy as can be.

i'm sure in your time on the internet you've come across some flavor of post that says "you deserve to take up space." if you're like me, growing up to be proud of how little space you take up, it probably hit you hard! but it also paints a picture of something we've never been allowed to see. what does it look like to take up space, to not be pushed away, to still be deserving of love?

it looks like Smokey Joe, who we affectionately called a "pissbaby" in between hugs and kisses.

smokey's story is an illustration of what it looks like to take up space, how the same ways we share joy are sometimes the same ways we go overboard. but it's also an illustration of how to love someone who takes up space, how to be patient with them and grow with them.

so i want to carry his memory by living both sides of that coin – sharing more of myself even when it's ugly, while allowing others to do the same. after all, how else are we supposed to show our love?

[valyalyon]

October, 2024

CW below, Valya here.

I hope you all enjoy this post. October 27 was actually one of the first pieces that I wrote for this story. The next couple of posts will all have CW relating to sexual content!

Please reblog, like and follow for more! See below for more of Dreams, Ink and Embers.

DIE MASTER LIST OR #LYONDIE

CW: Explicit sexual content, affair, unprotected sex.

October 1, 2024.

When Julius and I woke up the next morning, we got ready to check out of the motel. It took me a second, but eventually I opened my mouth and spoke, “do you lie a lot to Sara?”

“Yeah, but sometimes it’s just easier as opposed to starting an argument that will go nowhere,” he said casually, opening the car door for me and walking around to get in.

“Do you think you’ll tell her the truth any time soon?” I asked, trying to make the question obvious, yet not trying to spell it out.

“About us? I don’t know, I might wait a little while longer, but I might not ever tell her about it, too… I’m not sure how I’m going to go about it yet,” all of this came so easy from his mouth.

I felt confused, I didn’t know where I belonged now. But, I didn’t want to lose whatever I had with him. I desperately wanted to keep the normalcy we were creating.

October 27, 2024.

“I’ll probably be back around 4…” Sara said curling her hair and looking over at me in the reflection.

It was 7pm right then. She’d be gone until 4am. Doubt it. She never came back from club outings until after 10 or 11am. Would always come back clean and happy.

“You look fine,”I stressed with a laugh and then went to help her with her dress. “You better have fun! Don’t forget to text me if you need to be snuck in.”

“I’m so glad you get it. Husband’s can be such a suffocating chain on you,” Sara said, annoyed and rolling her eyes, “I really hope you find someone good for you  so you can cheat on your husband. I’m not saying I’ve done it but… well, you always got to keep the marriage alive somehow.”

With those words she was out the door and I sighed. I was standing in the entryway of the house noticing how quiet everything was. Theo was asleep. Julius should have been putting Anthony to sleep. I made my way back to my room to check on my son and saw him fast asleep. I then got on my phone and checked to see if I had any texts.

1 message.

“Can you bring me snacks” was all the text from Julius said. I didn’t think I’d see this message. Ever. This was code. I went to the master bedroom and walked in to an empty dark room. Then the door shut behind me and I was obscured by darkness, and then dim lights turned on through out the room.

Before I could think, his arms were on my body. His fingers were running down into my pants and his hand was slipping under my shirt.

I let out a gasp and spoke finally, “Julius, wait, wait… I know we’ve been doing this but we haven’t… in your marriage bed? I can’t, you share this with Sara.”

“It’s your mattress that you left with me,” he said, quelling any fight back by shoving me onto the bed and beginning to ravage me.

We were making out and he was undressing me, then soon fucking me. I was trying to fight him, beg him to stop, but all I could do was moan yes while he pulled my hair.

This is the part that I can’t say if I remember it correctly. As he orgasmed, he stayed inside of me. He pumped his cock a little inside me. I felt his cream leaking and bubbling out of me.

I asked him what had he done and I saw a shift in his eyes. He continued thrusting in my soaking pussy, my cum dripping and mixing with his nut. He grabbed me by the hips and said, “well I’ll get you a Plan B in the morning. For now, I want to keep going so I can really enjoy you the way you’re meant to be enjoyed.”

“You forgot you were fucking me,” I accused him, “You were fantasizing about Sara and you came in me thinking it was her. Fuck you.” I pushed pointlessly on his chest.

He put more weight on me and kept thrusting, lifting my legs and fucking me deeper. I was crying and begging and he said, “I was fantasizing about you on birth control in your early 20s when I used to fill you with so much cum you’d leak as you walked.”

“You’ve got all the right things to say don’t you?”

“I’ve had time to practice my strategy,” he laughed and flipped me onto my hands and knees where he proceeded to ram his cock back into me and started to fuck me real hard.

His balls slapped against my clit and I moaned and shook my ass to match his energy. He started smacking my ass real hard, revving up each spank and making sure my ass cheeks were nice and red. He started taking pictures of his hand squeezing my ass and fucking me.

He then set up a camera and recorded a bit of the interaction, moving the camera to show the moment he came for a second time inside of me. I was quivering and I looked back at him almost begging him to not stop.

By this point it had been a week or so since the last time either of us had sex. Sara was around pretty frequently and Julius and I were kept apart. Now that we finally had the time, the sex was so good I didn’t want it ending. Especially since we didn’t know when Sara would come back but we knew it wouldn’t be tonight.

That night, Julius came inside me a total of three times and caught the last two creampies on film. He was holding me as we watched videos and cuddled together on the bed that used to be mine. Now some other woman would sleep in it all the time. I thought it was incredibly unfair.

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Morning Below the Skies

A FabFiveFeb - Gordon. But surprise! Gavii wrote Scott.

I used the prompt - the top. Hopefully I will have another, perhaps a birthday fic, but just in case. Happyyyyyy B-Dayyyyy fishhhhhhy

Summary: Scott and Gordon have a quiet morning

Characters: Scott Tracy, Gordon Tracy

Words: 1.7K

Post-SOS

Scott doesn’t expect an answer when he knocks on Gordon’s door. It’s out of habit that he does so. Though, he quickly follows the knock with a slow turn of the handle despite the lack of response. He silences his footsteps and gently closes the door behind him because he wants to wake him, not startle him. And out of respect for his brother’s rest, he treads carefully into the darkened room. 

His blinds are not completely light-blocking, though they are drawn closed overtop of the open window, muting the gente rush of the waves outside their villa. Generally, once Gordon falls asleep, he sleeps restlessly, deeply. But as the clock starts ticking into the early hours of morning, those many years of swimming training kick in. His mind is attuned to the first sign of the sun, and he can spring up at a moment’s notice for a rescue with a level of energy that, honestly, Scott admires. The fact that Gordon hasn’t yet awoken with the creak of the door speaks to the exhaustion residing in his muscles. Physical therapy has been draining for him.

Scott quietly hovers over the starfished sprawl of his younger brother, tangled in a mess of blankets - his comforter, the quilted sailboat designed by their grandmother, the handmade afghan that was their mother’s and passed between the brothers when they needed it most. With his fingers interlaced with the open parts of the design, between the threads of warm yarn fibers, the blanket drapes along his side and towards the edge of the bed, as if he’d been holding it and not using it for warmth. It strikes Scott just how young his brother is. 

Gordon would hate to be called small, but it's that too. Not so much in height, though he would be the shortest with Alan inching his way towards Scott. No, it was the lingering effects from his injuries retrieving Braman, the fact that he was still building up the strength in the broken arm and leg that had laid him up for weeks. 

Better than the alternative. 

Scott gently rests his hand on Gordon’s arm, giving it a slight squeeze while he says his name. As expected, it doesn’t take long for Gordon’s eyes to flutter open, and he turns to find his older brother at his bedside. 

“Scott?”

“Rise and shine.” Scott retreats, gesturing for him to come with him. He takes a sip from his water bottle while Gordon rolls himself out of bed and towards his dresser, testing his weight on leg and stretching with his whole body as he reaches for the ceiling with a yawn. 

“4AM already,” Gordon groans, though he’d fallen asleep knowing the hour of the next day’s wake up call. He and Scott planned for their excursion the day before, and part of seeing the sunrise meant getting up early to do so. “Give me five.”

Gordon eventually exits after him, having changed into a pair of light blue sweatpants and a workout tank in a pastel rainbow tie-dye. Scott raises an eyebrow at the attire, aware just how strongly his brother’s style clashes against Scott’s own favorite pair of joggers in gray and a simple black muscle tank. Scott likes clean lines and easy shades; Gordon likes loud and colorful the way John likes the stars. 

It is actually nice to see him out and about with his usual beam of brightness. For too long, his wardrobe was limited by his lack of mobility. Casts will do that to a person. And for a person like Gordon, who expressed himself fully and wholeheartedly, the limitations would’ve felt like a prison sentence. It’s finally a nice change of pace, a sign that normalcy is right around the corner.

Gordon shuts his bedroom door behind him, and frowns at what Scott knows is probably the most bewildered of proud smiles. “You’re looking at me weird. Did you sleep?” he asks him. 

“When we get back,” Scott answers without giving him time to argue, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair. “Come on.” 

The villa is silent as they traverse the bedroom hallway and step gingerly through the common areas, only speaking again once they reach the poolside patio where they won’t accidentally wake the island residents with their morning chatter. Gordon tells him about the dream he was having a few moments ago, where Sherbet was the chauffeur for FAB1 and was teaching him all of Parker’s techniques for driving a lady. 

He never finds out just what voice Sherbet sports in Gordon’s dreamworld. Caught up in the action of the dream, something about the mafia and apple strudel, Gordon misses when Scott stops at the storage shed to the side of the trail’s entrance. 

“Gordon.” He interrupts the story, he knows, but it catches his brother’s attention. The shed is barely enough space for him to enter and turn around in, but it’s there he keeps his trekking poles for longer journeys.  His brother looks up at him wide-eyed and betrayed when he presses them into his hands. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice. Use those.” 

“I can do it,” Gordon scowls.

“So can I,” Scott tells him, “and I still need these sometimes.” They assist with stability and balance and take pressure off the knees, and the only way Scott will agree to take Gordon the rest of the way to the top of the mountain is if he agrees to use the resources available to him. Crossed arms go a long way, and Gordon adjusts the length to his height before working the straps around his wrist.

“Happy?” The words are intended to bite. 

“Very.” 

From there the trail bends and spirals and though they are working their way up hill, up to the top of the island, there are plenty of sections where their walk is flat, and also plenty others where it gets steeper as they go. Gordon has to take breaks frequently. Though he’s been working his endurance back up, his leg has been out of use for a while. This was never intended to be an easy trek. 

Scott checks his watch at the top of one such hill, where Gordon is halfway down from him, dodging tree roots and leaning heavily on one of the hiking poles. Scott can hear his heavy breathing from where he waits. 

“You aren’t feeling nauseous are you?” He calls down to him. 

“No.” Gordon gulps a swig of water from the water canteen at his side. "I’m good for it. Just need… a moment.” Scott watches him visibly steel himself before he almost sprints his way up the remainder of the hill, just to call it done. “We gonna make the sunrise?” he asks once he’s alongside Scott.

They make it though. 

Scott nods, giving him that moment to breathe, a keen eye watching for signs of trembling in his weaker leg or wavering in the determination they’ve come to rely on from their resident aquanaut. He’s easier to see in the soft early light and moonshadow.

There’s false peaks along this trail. Scott knows they’re frustrating, and it’s his brother descending into a series of grunts, as nondescript as Virgil before coffee, that clues him in to just how his brother is struggling. 

The top of Tracy Point before sunrise, and the colors start to flicker over the sea just as they sit to catch their breaths, as if the sun had waited for them to make it before the show began. Scott has watched it from here thousands of times, a couple hundred of them directly after they’d lost Dad. Too many sleepless nights, and his heart had wanted the sky - as close as he could get to it from Earth. 

It hurt too much to fly, back then. 

Gordon’s eyes have glazed looking out to sea, towards a home he’s known for so long. The two of them have settled on a large boulder at the lookout; it holds them both easily, but Gordon’s got his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms locked around his legs to pull himself smaller against the face of all of that ocean, all of that sky.

“You ok?”

He nods into his legs, then slowly stretches the sore one out along the rock. “Wanna hear something funny?” 

“Hm?” 

“Bertie. I just remembered he spoke like Buddy Pendergast in my dream.” Gordon smiles at him, a brightness at the corner of his eyes. “Here in this rainy, inhospitable environment, -”

“Don’t tell Penny all that.” 

“ -I’m your driver. Bertie Creighton-Ward.” 

“You’re so strange, you know that?”

“You love me.”

Scott grabs Gordon by the shoulders and pulls him close. “You scared me.”

Gordon sighs and tries to straighten his hair where Scott’s messed with it, and there’s something suddenly so ridiculous about Gordon’s particular brand of rainbow clashing against the explosion of orange in front of them that Scott laughs. 

And laughs. 

And can’t stop himself from laughing

Because Gordon is still here. 

Gordon laughs too, either because he’s still thinking about Bertie and the mafia, or because he finds Scott laughing as an invitation or because he’s Gordon and Gordon can pry a laugh out of the most solemn of moments. Maybe not always with tact, but at least always with good intentions. 

The air is crisp, the sky easing into the comfort of blue.

Scott’s always said the downhill journey is harder than the upward, and Gordon’s knees start to give out on the way back down to the villa. After he stumbles and catches himself with the hiking poles a few times, Scott wordlessly moves to hitch him up on his back, and Gordon’s arms fall into position loosely around his neck. 

“I know what this is all about. By the way.”

“What do you mean? I just decided to go squid hunting this morning.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just drop me off at the bottom of the hill. I’d like to retain some dignity when you tell Virgil I’m not fit for duty yet.”   

“Hm, not sure that’s what I was going to suggest.” 

“So am I cleared?!”

“Light duty, Gordo.” Scott tells him. “That means the desk.”

“That means you can’t use my health as a reason not to listen to me when you’re in Four,” Gordon teases. “I’ll take the win.”

[datastate]

augh. i’m on mobile now so i can’t write out my every detailed thought (though i will probably a longer post on this later with basic descriptions for other people’s refs + for me to reflect on when/if i can draw them out), but the gist of a few of the main scenes in my mind:

- kai: very few personal items that are not clothes or gifts. never buys more food than need be, and always sets up his living space to be something that can easily be repacked and moved elsewhere. if it weren’t for his bedroom and the chidouins’ vase of flowers in the kitchen, you wouldn’t realize anyone even lived in this apartment.

- sara: the chidouins have photos of family hanging up in a lot of places, and mr. chidouin displays a photobook next to his safe on the shelving. their walls are made of dark red wood, having a warm & rich (literal and figurative) feel to it... usual upkeep thanks to kai, but they have a bit of traditional fabric as the table setting + in blankets, and then custom furniture... sara lives at the furthest end of the house, & her window is barred off... but her father gifted her a telescope. and has a desk in her room to focus in evenings so her parents can relax w tv or talking. mr. chidouin has an office on the other end of the house, reinforced soundproofing in these walls. sara has a jewelry box and small music box she keeps in the jewelry box’s drawer.. ahh and so much more.. so much more.  i will leave that for later.

- reko: an apartment that’s generally clean (bc she has friends over often), jackets strewn around near the door (she doesn’t wanna stick her jackets in with her normal clothes, and doesn’t have any other closet really) & her shoes haphazardly shoved into the shoe cabinet (except her boots). with posters plastered up in her room, almost always has a candle set on top of her dresser that’s lit. a camera at her bedside, with cool knives in her drawer. has a slightly elevated bed, with instruments tucked in the section beneath & hidden by her sheets falling over the side of the bed. so on... mostly smaller, random things hanging around to indicate she’s here. she has random notebooks she often forgets she leaves out with sketches/notes/lyrics/people's numbers, it's a fun surprise for later! (read: a friend finds it and asks her what the tagalog means and she is like hm. something management won't like. lemme rewrite this chorus and we can try it)

- shin: family has cats... they mostly stay in his room, & with general cleanliness, he rarely reuses clothes and has his laundry hamper at the end of his bed that the cats climb up to sleep with him at night. family keeps a photobook, but has no photos actually hanging around. shin’s bed is against the wall furthest from the window, which has a (now sunbleached) blanket thrown over it instead of a proper curtain because they went so long without actually getting one that’d keep the sun from peering in and waking him up despite staying up until 4am and wanting to sleep in. whole computer + desk + high quality speakers in his room with a specified drawer of labeled hard drives. very clean; despite wavering energy, he sanitizes & replaces his sheets at least once every two weeks.

- keiji: went into this a bit earlier, but yeah... unorganized place. dishes on his kitchen counters instead of cupboards, which just contributes to ingredients being in the living room of all places; has a chair in his room w clothes that aren’t dirty enough to warrant cleaning yet; tools he idly messes with & mail he has to read just tend to pile up wherever he tried settling down to work with it... mostly struggles to manage repetitive menial things on his own.

- kanna: so so many flower & other plants :] has a large tree just outside her window that she used to fantasize of crawling out of her window and climbing down. names plants, though kugie struggles to keep up. has a lot of sketches of plants scattered around because kugie keeps forgetting to buy a folder for her to put them in so they aren’t all over their dresser & the floor, but keeps her plant pattern-pressing book on her at almost all times, otherwise it’s in their shared bedside drawer. kanna is the one who likes changing sheets & finds putting on bedsheets enriching... theey have a full body mirror that the kizuchis’ grandfather made that kanna stuck so many stickers on when she was younger. kugie keeps her backpack next to her bed, in-between the table drawer; kanna has hers hanging on the foot of her bed..

+ more later...ahhi’m. so asleep. goodnigh