#the effect it had on me switched on my hard hours

[amoreuxx]

hi! i was ia because i just graduated from uni 🎓 HAHA

anyway did yall see the weverse con performance in those white outfits??!?!?!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT I AM ASCENDING THOSE BODY WAVE AND SLOW HIP THRUSTS I— i might write some smut.

[surielstea]

In The Act

Based on this request.

Pairing: Modern!Azriel x Reader

Summary: In which Cassian catches Azriel and Reader who had been trying so hard to keep their relationship a secret.

Warnings: fluff | Az openly being a perv

2.6k words

"We've got to get ready Az," I murmur into his bare shoulder and he groans, pulling the sheets over our heads. I look up at him in the darkness of the blankets. "We're going to be late," I warn but he doesn't reply and rolls over, half of his body crushing me into the mattress.

"We should just stay here all day," He says, his voice still deeper than usual with the effects of sleep.

We were supposed to meet our friends for a late breakfast in less than half an hour but Azriel and I haven't even left the bed yet.

"Az, c'mon," I ran a hand through his hair, tussling it from his face while he rolled off of me, gripping my waist and taking me with him, forcing me on top of his chest.

"I'm not ready to stop being your boyfriend yet," He sighs and a smile tugs at my lips at the sentiment. "You don't have to stop, just don't mention it," I shrug, leaning forward and pressing a tender kiss to his lips which he returned with equal devotion.

We had been keeping our relationship secret from the rest of our friends for the past month, it had been only a week after I broke up with my previous boyfriend when Az and I got together— and though I trusted everyone in my friend group to keep me and Az a secret, I couldn't risk word getting out and being eternally slut shamed for the rest of my young adulthood.

"Just wait it out a few more weeks alright? Then I promise you can tell everyone I'm all yours," I hum with a cheeky smile, slowly dragging my hands up his arms and then around the nape of his neck so my chest was flush with his.

"All mine," He says with a look in his eyes that made my heart swell.

"But only if you get ready," I slide from his lap and off the bed, despite his protests.

"Gods, you're gorgeous in the mornings," He admires as he watches me stretch, his eyes particularly staring at the way my shirt lifts to expose the curve of my ass when I extend my arms upward. I yawn and take off the oversized tee, walking towards the closet in nothing but my underwear. "So gorgeous," He mumbles, mostly to himself so I pretend not to hear, but my soft smile remains.

I picked out a simple summer dress, a pale blue color with thin straps that accentuated my figure nicely. I turn to my boyfriend, looking at him, still sprawled out in the bedsheets unabashedly staring at me with so much adoration in his gaze. The warm blankets were welcoming enough, but with him in it, the bed might as well have been screaming my name.

I walk closer, closing the distance between me and the bedside. His eyes light up like he recognizes that I'm about to crawl back into bed, but instead of clambering over him, I lean down, my nose brushing his. "If you're not ready in the next ten minutes I'm revoking kisses for the rest of the week," I warn and his eyes widen a fraction, then they oddly relax.

"You couldn't keep that up if you tried," He says with a polished grin. I shrug and then begin to back away but he catches me by the back of my neck and keeps me close. "Wait I'll get ready, just give me a kiss," He immediately switches his tone and I can't help but give in, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Now do I need to help you get dressed or can you get ready by yourself?" I tease as soon as I pull away and he shakes his head, playfully pushing me away as I giggle.

The car ride had been silent for the most part, other than the music playing steadily from the radio and my botched singing. But Azriel didn't mind, just placed his hand on my thigh and continued driving with a soft hum emitting through his lips.

"You ready to ignore me all breakfast?" I say with a cheeky smile as he pulls into the parking lot.

"Don't remind me," He groans and I only laugh with a light-hearted attitude. He puts the car in park and looks at me with a pout.

"I appreciate you for being patient with me," I cup his face in my hands. "I promise I'll be so good to you tonight," I grin, leaning over the center console and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I just want to look at your ass in public without Cassian calling me out," He mutters and I chuckle, giving him an amused grin.

"How romantic," I taunt, ghosting the words over his lips. "And, because I want to take you on dates," He argues.

"Oh, I'm sure," I say, my words laced with sarcasm.

"Swear it, I can't wait to take you to your favorite restaurants," He said, fingers dancing along my thigh. I wait for him to finish that sentence. "And so I can see you in those obnoxiously tight dresses."

"There he is." I grin.

He rolls his eyes and presses his lips to mine, soft and tender, a silent goodbye because he knows that for the next hour, he won't be able to stare at me with every chance he gets. "I'll go in first, alright?" I whisper softly against his lips and he nods, pulling away and slumping into his seat.

I open the car door and give him one last look before closing it behind me. We carpooled so often it had become routine to enter a place separately, either he or I would go in first, wait a few minutes, and then the other would enter so as to not raise suspicion.

On my way inside I spotted Cassian and Nesta approaching the entrance so I held the door open, greeting them with a smile. "Morning," Cassian wiggled his brows at me and I creased my own, confused at his awfully amused tone. I look to Nesta for answers but she offers none and only gives me a smirk, doubling my confusion.

I walk behind them, following them to a table where Rhys, Feyre, and Morrigan already sat chatting. They all looked up at us with wide smiles as we seated ourselves, leaving two empty chairs to the right of me.

"I love your dress," Morrigan said from my left side, pinching the fabric between her painted nails. I smile over at her.

"Thanks, Mor," I bump her shoulder.

"How do you look so good so early in the morning?" I ask and she beams.

"It takes hard work to look this magnificent," She fans herself and I chuckle.

"It seems to pay off—" I stop my next words when someone sits beside me. I turned my head to spot Azriel doing his best to ignore me, but he was awfully obvious with the way he inched his chair closer to mine whenever adjusting his position.

"Az I haven't seen you in forever, where have you been?" I tease him, deciding that this game would be a cruel kind of fun. He looks to me, clearly unamused. But the grin on my face is contagious and sooner or later I have a gentle smile coming to his features.

"Been busy with work," He shrugs. "Plus I've been talking to this new girl," He adds.

"Who?" Morrigan gasps, now entirely interested in the gossip.

"When can we meet her?" Feyre asks with an eager smile.

"Do you like her?" Rhys crosses his arms over his chest.

"Yes, and not anytime soon," He warns the golden brunette.

"Is she the one?" I impose as a mere taunt but he looks to me with utter seriousness and a lack of hesitance.

"I think so," He answers, and something about his voice was so very honest. It was hard not to crumble into his arms, hard not to press my lips against his and melt into his every crevice.

Cassian coughs and we all look at him in concern, dropping the subject of Azriel's new girlfriend, but the tall male only dismisses us with a wave of his hand as he drinks from his water. "Don't tell me the party started without me," A familiar cold voice stated and we all looked to Amren with cheerful smiles as Rhys said, "We wouldn't dare."

Halfway into eating our food Azriel had gotten a text. I was acutely aware of everything he did, so when he pulled out his phone to check the message and choked on his food I startled. The male rarely gave away any form of a reaction so when he jumped we all looked at him confused.

But he only looked at Cassian, then to me. He discreetly passed me the phone beneath the table and then continued eating.

The message had been from Cassian, and it was not words but an image, one of me and Azriel in his car, noses touched, staring at each other with a pure expression of love. The image rocked me. Not only because it had been revealed that Cassian knew, and most likely Nesta, too, but because of the way he looked at me. I hadn't realized how obvious it must've been to all our friends that we were irrevocably in love with each other.

I look to Azriel, then to Cassian, panicked. Cassian mindlessly dug into his food as if he had no idea what he had just stirred.

"Excuse me, I fear I've grown faint," I stand, making a show out of clutching my stomach. "Oh no, do you need anything?" Feyre said with pure concern that I admired. "I'm sure it'll pass, excuse me," I clear my throat tucking my chair in then navigating my way towards the washroom.

"I'm going to check on her," Azriel silently got up, dismissing himself. "Cass, I could use some assistance,"  He added and the male who was gorging himself on food stopped his eating, only to look up at his brother. "Right," He set his fork down and chased after Azriel who did not wait for a reply and began to rush after me.

I stood in the secluded hallway, back leaning against the door of the female bathrooms. Two males approached and I squared my features, wondering what part it was I would be playing in front of Cassian. I looked to Azriel for answers but his stoic features offered me none.

"Care to explain?" Cassian immediately interrogated and Azriel shifted to my side so we were both facing the other male, a clear line drawn between us.

"What do you mean Cass?" I ask, feigning innocence. He deadpanned, but inevitably pulled his phone from his pocket and brought up the incriminating photo, noses touching, hands all over each other.

"That's not me," Azriel denies.

"Oh really?" Cassian zooms in on the image, putting Azriel's face so clearly on display. We both swallow thickly.

"Every person has seven doppelgängers each, must be one of them," The male shrugs innocently and I look at him with creased brows, he had to have known how ignorant that had sounded, right?

"You have the same tattoos," Cassian narrows his eyes at his brother, as if he even had to argue. He had photographic proof in his very hands, there was nothing more to be said.

"So it's just a coincidence that both of your doppelgängers are at this diner right now and I just so happened to see?" He arches a brow and we both shrug. He looks to us, then to the image, then back to us as if we were genuinely convincing him.

"Alright fine, it's us," I confess and Azriel looks at me slightly shocked, I had been the one hiding this from them for so long, it was my rule. There was no way he was going to let some stupid coincidence ruin everything he's been trying so hard to hide. "I had something in my eye, she was helping me get it out," Azriel cuts in and I crease my brows, gazing at him with an odd look. "It looks wrong I know but we're not like that, could you imagine?" The male looks at me with a scoff and I feign a laugh at the idea. "Me and Az? Psh, never," I wave him off and Cassian's features settle. "Not in a million years," Azriel seconds, patting my head the way one might to a little sister, the action making me viscerally cringe but I managed to contain it with a smile.

"Alright, whatever you say," Cass mumbles, either believing us or giving up entirely because he knows we won't give in, he puts his phone back into his pocket with a defeated expression and some part of me feels bad for lying, he had us trapped in a corner and we just kicked him until he let us go. I look to Azriel, silently communicating my pity. He shakes his head no, but I keep nodding with a mischievous smile.

"Hey, you've got something on your lip," I say, bringing my hand up to his jaw then rising onto my toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. His hand wraps around my waist, pulling me closer greedily. I press a hand to his abdomen and push him away because I know he wouldn't have let me go otherwise. "There, got it," I swipe my thumb over his bottom lip and he only stares at me with such wonder in his eyes, like he had never seen anything greater.

I look back to Cassian and he just stands there, stunned. "Am I dreaming?" He mumbled and I only laughed while Azriel's hold tightened around me.

"You can tell Nes, but no one else alright?" I warn.

"Wait— I don't get more information than that?" Cassian whisper-shouted and I shook my head. "No, no, no. I deserve an explanation, Azriel has been talking my ears off for years about how badly he wants you—" Cassian begins to expose but my boyfriend smacks a hand over the other male's mouth before he gets the chance to finish.

"We don't have to get into the logistics, we'll explain later, we've been gone for too long," Azriel grits out then removes his hand. "Go on now." He shoos him with a hand gesture that makes his brother grit his teeth, but inevitably he spins on his heel and stomps away.

I let my concealed amusement bubble out the moment he turned the corner, out of earshot. "We'll tell the others tomorrow, I doubt Cass can keep his mouth shut for long," I point out and Azriel nods with a chuckle, loosening his hold around my waist. "Alright, c'mon," I intertwine our hands, tugging him down the hall but he pulls me right back to him, my body pressing into his chest with the sudden change of momentum.

"Hold on, you've got something on your lip," He repeats, his thumb pulls at my bottom lip and I roll my eyes with a soft grin, rising onto my toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, warmth spreading through my body as he fills me entirely with tenderness.

"Is it gone?" I mumble when he pulls away a fraction. His gaze wanders over my lips.

"Let me check," he leans back in and I giggle into his mouth, overcome with endearment as butterflies soar in the pit of my stomach.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @cauldronboilme27 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @ireallywannasleep127 @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @secretlyhers @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @mahealanipunea @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings @lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp @nyxbranwenn @dnfhascorruptedme @summerandsalt @annamariereads16 @thisiskaylin

[gothcsz]

The Boy is Mine | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~7k wc | Part 1 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You become obsessed with the new DEA attaché.

Tags: oral (m receiving), stalking, voyeurism, dirty talk, masturbation (f), we're humping a pillow y'all, light spanking, javi's gun makes an appearance, some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, dubcon, no use of Y/N, reader is a photojournalist, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: i told myself i was going to take my time with this but i've been hyperfixated on this song and music video since it dropped... imagining my favorite pedro boy and... well i cranked this sucker out so fast. oh to break in to javi's apartment and blow him into oblivion 😫 let me know what you think! i might write a part 2 if there's interest for it xoxo mwah enjoy queridas. 🖤

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

You’ve never seen a man so handsome. So determined. So capable.

So perfect.

You knew from the moment you laid eyes on him that he was the one.

You’d been waiting outside of the embassy in the pouring rain for over an hour trying to catch him while on his break, wanting to get a quote from the new DEA attaché on his plans to tackle the Cali cartel.

That’s why you’re here in Colombia. Fresh out of grad school with a masters in photojournalism. Your advisor had presented to you a great position in South America involving documenting the war on drugs and its subsequent effects. Despite Pablo Escobar’s death, this so called war remained relentless, and with your ability to capture photos that truly are worth a thousand words, your advisor knew you’d be perfect for the job.

So here you are, immersed in a beautiful country, working your dream job. It had its bad days just like anything else; but your passion and prowess made those hard days worth it.

When he finally did emerge from the government building, you shivered and it wasn’t because you were soaking wet from the rain. 

Your handbag did little to nothing to shield you from it as you held it over your head and jogged over to him.

He immediately blew you off, quickly eyeing your appearance before giving you a simple ‘no comment’ which would usually piss you off and have you press further–– however, you were left in a trancelike state by merely being in his presence.

He was more handsome than you could have imagined. You didn’t know what he looked like before arriving, solely going off the description given to you by your boss then what little his secretary had told you when you called to ask for a meeting earlier (which you were denied).

Brows cinched together in a perpetual frown, pouty lips turned downward in a scowl with chocolate brown eyes that make you miss the warmth of your hometown. 

He had taken your breath away entirely, leaving you standing there in a puddle of both rain and arousal as he darted off in the opposite direction.

That was all you needed, really, to be thrown into a pit of absolute delusion and wanton want for Javier Peña.

You watch him relentlessly. At first, it began with scouring through the archives, reading any printings that involved him, seeing his photograph on countless articles and video footage of him giving press conferences.

The more you dived in to the professional life of the agent, the more devoted you became.

Then the following started. To and from work. Late nights at the bar. While tracking down leads. You can’t help yourself, you are obsessed. Everything this man does is fascinating, further deluding you into an infatuated trance.

You don’t know where this side of you came from. You’re usually so unproblematic and independent, your sole focus being your career with little to no time to even fathom romance.

There’s just something about him that flipped this twisted switch within you, rendering you a cock-thirsty, lovestruck mess.

One night, you watched him bring another woman home and that’s when you realized how palpable your obsession had gotten. The jealousy that bubbled in your chest became unbearable. So much, that it led you to get out of your car, climb the fire escape of his luxurious apartment building, and onto his balcony.

You observed from the other side of the glass door, in the shadows, as he took this woman on his couch.

A plethora of toxic emotions swirled within you. Envy and arousal the most intense, your thighs clenching together at the sight of his bare torso against the gentle, warm light of the singular lamp that was on.

A sheen of sweat glistened over his tan skin. He is so chiseled with a softness that makes you want to run your tongue against every dip and ridge, all the way down to the enticing trail of hair that leads right to what you crave the most.

You sighed, fantasizing about being in that lucky bitch’s spot, with his hands running all over you, kneading and squeezing your curves, the scratch of his mustache having your skin curl beneath the coarser touch. You managed to control the whimper that threatened to slip up your throat in the off chance that it got you caught.

It’s not until you felt your pager in your pocket that you returned to reality, the buzz forcefully pulling you from your erotic daydream. With a final glance at their moving bodies, at him, you swiftly descended the fire escape and to the nearest phone booth.

Since that night you’ve been insatiable. You just need one taste, a small, micro dose of him to keep your hunger at bay.

It’s not until a few days later that you return to his apartment. He’s away for work in Cali (you followed him to the airport, watching him board the plane behind your thick sunglasses and a newspaper) leaving his place empty with no surveillance. You ascend the fire escape again, the city lights of the capitol twinkling in the distance. 

Slipping your gloves on, you expertly pick the lock of the balcony door before suavely entering the space. You’ve been practicing on your own at home in preparation.

It’s neat and clean. Not much personality to it which is unsurprising considering how stoic this man is. His hardened demeanor amongst the many things about him that drive you crazy. There’s never a break in his expression, always painted with typical tension and weariness.

You wonder if you could be the one who is able to crack him. To get a reaction out of that handsome face.

After surveying the entirety of the open space, you sneak down the hallway and push open the door of his bedroom.

Immediately, his smell engulfs your senses and your eyes flutter close at the scent. It’s comforting yet enticing; nothing different than what other men smell like, but there’s something about Javier specifically that you just can’t describe.

It’s so satisfying. A fucking aphrodisiac.

Walking deeper into the room, you diligently rummage through his belongings, beginning in his en suite bathroom.

With every little piece you study, you learn more about the agent. What toothpaste he uses, the brand of razors that he buys, the specific shade of blue of his towels.

Little things you wouldn’t be able to catch during your, plainly put, stalking.

Back in the room, you open the drawer that stores his shirts, your fingers running along the front of a brightly colored pink one that’s neatly folded at the top.

You imagine yourself walking around in this and nothing else, the softness of the fabric hanging from your curves, unbuttoned enough to expose the swells of your breasts, and maybe even a nipple slip to tempt him even further.

Would he think you look sexy in his clothes?

You now stand at the foot of his large bed, the window behind it casting the silver of the moonlight against the mattress tantalizingly, as if urging you to go full on goldilocks by climbing in it and pretending it’s a bed you share with him.

You stare and you stare, lower lip pinched between your teeth before you gently crawl onto it, lowering your chest so it brushes against the duvet as your nose trails up up up until it’s at his pillow, inhaling deeply as you get a more potent smell of him. 

A sweet moan pushes through your lips, your clit throbbing in tandem with your heart as you lose yourself entirely, your mind already conjuring an erotic fantasy.

Your lips against his thick neck, licking and biting the salty skin while he fucks you in missionary. The details become so vivid; that familiar furrow of his brows as he concentrates on your soaking cunt swallowing his cock, fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he praises you for taking his dick like the good little slut that you are.

You whimper, grinding your hips against the mattress, the friction delicious against your clit, while your nose remains buried in the pillow.

Deciding that you need more, you lift your head momentarily to grab one of the other cushions and then slip your jeans off; tossing them on the floor and placing the cushion between your thighs.

Positioning yourself at the perfect angle, you bring the pillow he sleeps on up to your face and begin to grind down on the one between your legs.

Drifting back to your lewd thoughts, you picture him beneath you while your hips move at a sensual pace. You know you’d take him bare, needing to feel every vein and divot… how thick he is breaking your pussy open while simultaneously molding it to fit perfectly tight around his cock.

His mouth on your bouncing breasts, nipping and sucking on your nipples while his large hand runs down to land a harsh slap against your ass cheek, groping the skin to soothe it before repeating the action again and again and again.

You move faster against the pillow, your now ruined panties only adding to the overwhelming sensation as the wet fabric rubs against your needy pussy. 

“Javier…” His name falls from your lips in a gasp when your face leaves the pillow, your body needing fresh air but you being selfish and wanting to suffocate in his scent. You know your wetness is smearing all over the pillow but you really don’t give a fuck at the moment, too caught up in your own pleasure and delusions to think of how wrong this is.

But it feels so good.

Your free hand goes under your shirt and bra to massage your sensitive tit, stomach tightening as your orgasm begins to creep up on you.

You think of his devilishly curved nose and how fucking magnificent it’d feel nudging against your clit while you ride his face. That position specifically has always made you a little nervous due to the thickness of your thighs and ass, but you just know that he would be able to handle it like the sex god that he is.

His tongue would lap over your slit hungrily, kissing your folds before wrapping his lips around the flesh of your clit and sucking hard. The phantom sensation of it is enough to get you to hump harder against the pillow and bury your face into the one in your hands once more, your cunt clenching around nothing as euphoria washes over you.

The room is filled with your muffled moans and cries of his name as you come undone, hips wildly thrusting against the cushion and your juices absolutely soak through it.

It’s an out of body experience, really, as you attempt to return back to earth.

You’ve never came that hard, especially not on your own.

Breathing heavily, you take what feels like an eternity to calm your shaking body down. Once your mind is a little clearer, you wobble off the bed and proceed to wash the pillow you just marked like a possessive cat, lounging around his apartment until you’ve made sure everything is as he left it before swiftly making your exit.

His return comes in the form of a news broadcast. You’re in the middle of cooking dinner when you hear the anchorwoman report that one of the Cali godfathers, Gilberto Rodríguez, has been arrested thanks to the joint efforts of the DEA and Search Bloc.

The kitchen knife falls from your hands and onto the cutting board as you scurry over to the boxy television set in your living room, fingers twisting the knob to increase the volume as he appears.

You’re kneeled in front of the screen, face damn near pressed up against it as you intently watch him command the room. He stands behind a podium with microphones pointed at him from every direction, cameras shuttering, an array of men on either side of him and a large crowd gathered at the front.

“I promise you… the other three godfathers will fall.”

You nod your head as if he is speaking only to you, “That’s right baby, you tell them. So hot.” 

You stand, attention still fully on the television as that familiar stir of arousal begins to heat up within you.

He’s home and your resolve is wearing thin. Thin enough that you decide to say fuck it.

You need another taste.

Dinner is long forgotten as you go to your room, pulling open the closet and grabbing a solid black box from the top shelf.

You purchased this little number when your fantasies had begun. Wearing it around your apartment while you teased yourself, roleplaying him coming home after a long work trip and using your pussy to help him forget the horrors of his job.

Using a realistic looking dildo, you imagined it to be the man of your dreams while you fucked yourself with it in a myriad of positions.

The outfit is simple. A short, black leather dress with a corset bust and sheer sleeves that cover your shoulders and arms, doing a great job of making you look sexy. The skirt falls at your upper thigh, exposing your nylon clad legs paired with simple black heels. You slip on your mesh gloves, your red acrylics popping against the black, almost see through material.

The ensemble looks divine against your skin but you feel like something is missing. Taking one, long look at your face you realize that you’re not ready to fully reveal yourself to him, so you turn back to your closet and your eyes light up once you see the cat mask you wore to a costume party not that long ago.

You smirk at the idea.

A sexy little cat burglar. Breaking in to take what she wants.

Putting it on, your reflection stares back at you and you feel like a whole different person. The corset cinches your waist just right, your thighs curvy and inviting beneath the stockings, tits pressed together and almost spilling out the top.

The lacy mask covers half your face, leaving your glossy lips exposed with cute kitten ears at the top. 

You’d fuck yourself, honestly. This new wave of confidence does nothing but fuel your determination.

Walking over to the opposite side of your room, you tilt your head up to take in the shrine of photos you’ve made of him.

Most come from you and your camera, all those days you spent watching him and documenting his every move. Others are from newspapers then there’s some messy sketches you did out of boredom.

Your finger comes up to trace his sharp features on one of the pictures, lingering on his nose and your pussy tingles as you breathe out a wistful sigh.

You can’t wait to try him.

Throwing on a black trench coat, you leave your apartment and take the familiar route to his. It’s raining, but not harsh enough to spoil your plans. Just a light drizzle.

When you arrive, your heart sinks at the fact that he isn’t home yet. Of course. He was just on TV! You hadn’t really thought this plan all the way through, absolutely blinded by your desire.

Whatever, you take the time to touch up on your makeup and fix your hair. The night presses on until finally you see his jeep coming down the road and pulling into the garage of the building.

With a final look over in your rearview mirror, you exit the car and cross the street to make your way up the familiar ladder, careful not to slip against the slick surface with the heels you have on.

Thankfully there’s no one out tonight, and if there was you aren’t sure how the hell you’d explain what you’re doing. You don’t even know how to explain it to yourself.

The butterflies in your stomach wildly flutter once you make it to his balcony, rain droplets adorn the glass door and you crouch to keep yourself hidden.

He walks in not long after, looking exhausted as ever as he pulls his tie loose around his neck and tosses his keys into a small bowl at the entryway table. His expensive dress shoes are kicked off, suit jacket slipping from shoulders revealing how broad he is. You bite your lip.

He stalks across the apartment, not even glancing in your direction, unbuttoning part of his shirt and rolling up the sleeves. His figure is a little blurry due to the condensation on the door but you don’t care, you’re under his spell as you watch him pour himself a glass of whiskey.

Wetting your lips, you can almost taste the spicy liquor as he drinks it in one shot before pouring himself another. Except this time it’s on the rocks.

Would the ice make his lips cool? Surely. A shiver dances down your spine at the thought of them pressed against your heated skin. 

The orange street light casts softly into the space, the shadows sharpening his features and making him look more rugged and masculine and just downright fuckable. You want to so badly break through the glass and take a seat on that chiseled jaw, to have him harshly grip your ass as you fuck yourself on his tongue.

He disappears down the hallway and into his office, giving you the opportunity to sneak in like last time. You give yourself one final pep talk before fully committing, slipping off the trench coat and tossing it aside.

After picking the lock, you very diligently and quietly slide the door open and enter, shutting it behind you.

Just like the cat burglar you pretend to be, you suavely follow his trail down the hallway, leaving a wet trail of your own from the rain, stopping at the cracked door of his office.

You see him hunched over his wooden desk, back facing you, deep in thought at whatever documents lay sprawled against the surface.

His back muscles tense with every subtle move he makes, your dark eyes taking him in entirely from his slutty little waist to the curls at the nape of his neck.

You can tell he’s been frustratingly running his fingers through his hair since it’s sticking up in some places, making it look so sexily tousled.

You want to tug on it, run your fingertips against his scalp while he devours you whole.

So lost in your observance of him, you don’t catch the moan that escapes you and his head snaps up at the sound. 

Your eyes widen and you take a delicate step back, still watching as he reaches for the gun that’s nestled against his lower back.

Trying not to make too much noise, you make your way further down the hall and into his bedroom, heart in your throat as you climb into his bed, laying on your side with your body weight propped up on one hand as you anticipate his presence.

This is it. This is what you’ve been dreaming of since the moment you laid eyes on him.

The first thing you see is the silver tip of his pistol as the door opens further, then he comes fully into view with that goddamn scowl on his face that makes your skin tingle.

His breath hitches once he lays eyes on you, large hands squeezing the weapon as you sexily wave at him.

“Hello agent.”

Your sweet voice fills the space, the muted sound of the weather picking up outside serving as the perfect white noise to set the ambiance for this scene.

“Who the fuck are you and how the hell did you get in here?”

Oh, his voice. So smooth yet raspy like the whiskey and cigarettes he can’t live without.

“An admirer that saw you took down one of the godfathers and decided to come thank you in person.”

His gaze narrows, gun lowering slightly as he contemplates whether you’re a threat or not.

You are, but not in the way that he thinks.

“How did you get in?”

“That’s a trick I’m going to have to keep to myself.”

You shift your body, moving to rest on your knees and you watch as his eyes lustfully trace the contours of your figure. You’re absolutely keening beneath the heaviness of his stare, loving the fact that you have his undivided attention.

It doesn’t even worry you that he’s got a fully loaded gun pointed right at your pretty face. If anything, it just turns you on even more.

“What do you want?”

“I already told you. To thank you in person.” Your eyes roll and his jaw tightens.

“Thank me in person?” He echoes your words with a dry chuckle, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Let me show you.” Your tone is hushed and dripping with suggestion, slipping off the bed slowly and sensually.

You watch his adam’s apple bob at your change of position, letting him see you in your full get up, watching intently as his eyes land on a different part of your body with every second that passes.

“Drop the gun, Javier.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I could do right now.”

You cock your head to the side, eyes narrowing behind the mask as you contemplate your next move.

He’s standing on the rug that’s spread out against the wooden floor which gives you an idea.

“Please? I’m not going to hurt you.” You whine with a pout, beginning to lower yourself to the ground as if showing him your unwavering submission.

The seconds that tick by feel like hours as you attentively take each other in. Then you hear it, your ears twitching at the faint sound of the safety switching on and it’s enough to spur you into action.

You don’t know where this newfound strength comes from, probably the adrenaline you feel of simply existing in the same room as him. You yank the rug, causing him to lose his footing as he falls onto his back with a loud thud, the gun slipping from his grasp and sliding across the floor.

He groans out in pain but you don’t care, pulling him closer, then fully on your knees as you begin to crawl over to him.

“I told you to put the gun down.” 

He’s still on his back, making no attempt to move as you draw closer. He does lean up on his forearms, dark eyes fixed on you, watching as you shuffle on your hands and knees until you plant your hands on his shins and work your way up.

You barely graze the hardening bulge in his pants, causing him to shudder, and white heat licks at your core knowing that in this moment; he wants you too.

The two of you don’t break eye contact as you straddle him, gloved hands falling on his pecs.

“I’m not usually like this…” you begin in a gentle murmur, running your open palms anywhere you can, relishing in feeling his taut body beneath yours after fantasizing about it for so long, “Shit, it’s like news to me, but I can’t ignore my heart anymore.”

One of your hands wraps around his tie, tugging on it harshly until you’re nose to nose with the man that’s been living in your head rent free for the past few weeks.

His lust blown, brown eyes search yours, as if trying to discern your identity which you assume he’ll never figure out. You’ve only ever had that one interaction and even then he had barely paid you any attention.

You feel his breath fanning across your mouth, so badly do you want to press your lips against his but you suppress the urge.

You continue to play with him, enjoying this sense of power you have with how compliant he’s being.

You expected for him to be fully dominant, which you know he’s capable of being since you watched him fuck the shit out of that one girl. But it seems like this, your taboo act and the suddenness of it, is affecting him in an entirely different way.

You put pressure against your palms, having him lay flat on his back and you hover over him, taking in all the small details of his charming face.

The frown lines, hairs of his mustache, blemishes and faint scars. Every little detail making you fall harder and harder for him. He has no idea just how much he means to you.

“What game are you playing at here, gatita?” He gives in, entranced by this enigma of a woman that’s perched over him. His calloused hands grip at your outer thighs, blunt fingernails almost ripping the fabric of your stockings.

You hum at his touch, loving the sound of the pet name, gently rocking on his lap and clutching his shirt in your fists.

“One where you’re the prize, handsome.”

You lean forward, sticking your tongue out and slowly licking a broad stripe from his chin all the way to the tip of his nose, curling your tongue when you flick at it.

His chest vibrates with a groan and you smirk at the feeling of his cock twitching underneath his pants.

“You looked so good on the news tonight. I couldn’t help myself.”

You undo his tie, toying with the notion of wrapping it around his wrists to detain him, but with what you have planned on doing to him tonight, you’d rather keep his hands accessible. 

Maybe next time.

You toss the silky fabric aside to focus on unbuttoning his shirt. He does nothing but remain silent, his chest heaving up and down while he suppresses the primal urge to take over and fuck this sweet little thing that’s dropped herself on his lap.

And you know he’s more than capable of switching the roles. He’s strong and skilled, could easily flip you onto your back and proceed to exert his dominance over you.

But you’re the one with the grand plan here, not him, and he’s indulging in your shared fantasy by letting you do whatever it is that you want, lost in a horny daze of his own.

The silence is comfortable and it further builds the sexual tension. You finish getting his shirt undone, opening it wider to get a better look at his toned body.

“So hot. You drive me crazy, agent.” You’re so wet, the slickness of your arousal seeping through the flimsy material of your thong smears against his fancy dress pants.

“Y tú, kitten, look like something out of a wet fucking dream. I have to be dreaming.”

You giggle, blushing at his words as some coyness slips into your facade.

“You’re not dreaming. I promise you.” 

Leaning down once more, you begin to leave wet kisses against the cut of his jaw, suckling on the warm skin then running your nose along the length of his neck.

You take in a deep breath, smelling his cologne atop of his sweat and natural scent and you feel so high. 

No amount of cocaine comes close to how Javier Peña makes you feel.

You suck a love bite against a protruding vein in his neck, a grunt pushing past his lips at the sensation of your teeth grazing the skin. 

Satisfied with your possessive marking, you lick from his jaw all the way up to his ear, biting down on the lobe.

“Now I’m going to taste you.” You purr seductively, leaning back to look down at his absolutely wrecked face.

His puppy eyes stare up at you like you’re the only woman in the world, a goddess that’s decided to bestow such an erotic experience onto him. He knows you’re about to ruin his body for any other woman that comes after you.

You decide to be a little theatrical, slowly pulling off your gloves to reveal your pretty hands and fresh manicure.

He can’t help but bring his large hand up to grasp your wrist, pulling your hand closer to his face as he studies your nails before gently nipping at your fingers, then slipping two digits into his mouth, running his tongue all over them and sucking them softly.

You gasp at the sensation, not breaking eye contact while he smirks at your reaction. Suddenly, lighting strikes and the room is illuminated for a split second in the white light. 

You both look so feral, suspended in this vivacious moment.

Pulling your hand away, you let it drag down his pouty bottom lip, pinching the delicate skin before shuffling back on his lap.

You hover again, this time at eye level with his chest as you place soft kisses against his brown skin, tongue peering out to lick his pecs then down his soft tummy.

His hips buck involuntarily and you pull back, tilting your head to the side as you look down at him.

“Stay still or this little kitten is going to find someone else to play with.”

A litany of curses fall from his lips in both English and Spanish, but you pay it no mind, your attention on his belt as you unbuckle it then pop the button of his dress pants.

Leaning down, you bring your face until it’s right at his crotch and you catch the metallic zipper between your teeth.

Slowly pulling it down, your eyes flit up to him and he’s intently watching you, his own tongue hanging from his mouth like a dog in anticipation of what you’re about to do.

You press your nose into the fabric of his now exposed boxers, nuzzling your face against his erection and his breath catches in his throat.

Your wetness managed to penetrate through his pants and onto his boxers, so you kitten lick your arousal from him and he lets out a guttural moan.

Basking in the sounds of his pleasure, you continue until there’s a giant wet spot on the cotton.

Deciding that it’s time you get what you came here for, your fingers hook at the band of his bottoms, dragging them down to his mid thigh and he assists you by lifting his hips.

His cock is so fucking big. Your eyes widen at the sight as it rests against his left thigh.

It’s thick, like you imagined, with ridges and veins that are begging to be traced by the tip of your tongue.

The color of it is a little darker than the rest of his body, the weeping tip plush and leaking with excessive precum from your foreplay. It’s cut with a subtle curve, long enough to where you know if he angles it just right; he’d bruise the fuck out of your cervix.

“Mmm,” you hum, licking your lips like a woman who has been starved for far too long.

“¿Que pasó, nena? Cat got your tongue?” This asshole, teasing you as if he’s not the one at your mercy.

But is that really the truth? One would observe that you’re the one at his mercy; considering your obsession with the DEA agent.

“It just looks so delicious,” you purr, bringing your hand to hover your face.

Meeting his gaze, you seductively lick your palm, wetting it with your saliva before wrapping it around his throbbing length.

“Mierda,” he hisses, head dropping back against the hardwood floor as you begin to pump him in languid motions, getting a feel for what he likes. Attuned.

His flesh feels warm and smooth beneath your smaller hand, your thumb swipes over his tip as you collect some of his precum.

You bring it up to your lips, sucking it into your mouth and you whimper at the taste. Salty, heady, intoxicating.

You need more.

Your hand leaves his cock as you position yourself in between his strong thighs. His dick stands erect, waiting for you to lavish it in your attention.

Leaning down, you poke your tongue out to run one long, broad stripe from his balls all the way up to his head.

He shudders, fists clenching at his sides while his slit spurts out more precum.

“I got you all wet, baby.” you gloat with a gentle laugh, repeating the motion a few more times.

Each groan of his and twitch of his body influences you to keep going, placing open mouthed kisses all over his base then up and down his cock. Making out with it.

You let a wad of spit fall over his tip and watch as it drips down obscenely over his length, bringing your hand back to pump him a little faster with a tighter grip. Your saliva drips from in between your knuckles. 

“That’s it, gatita, just like that pretty girl.” He’s getting more vocal now and you’re intoxicated, drunk off his praise.

You slap the fat head of his cock against your pursed lips a few times before letting your tongue lap at the slit then sinfully lick around the tip. 

Your tongue continues its assault on his girth, lapping every inch of it like he’s a refreshing mango popsicle on a hot summer day.

The attention is then shifted on his balls as you continue to jerk him, the tip of your muscle outlining the sensitive skin before you suck one into your mouth softly.

“Puta madre, bebita, esa boquita feels like fucking heaven.”

You whimper, nuzzling your nose against his sack and taking in his musky smell. Your mouth waters, drool leaking from the corners as you reposition yourself back over his hard cock.

You part your lips, taking him slowly, inch by inch as you savor the weight of him inside your hot mouth. Your hand remains at his base while you swallow him whole, tongue lapping around the bits that it can reach.

It’s not until you feel him tickle the back of your throat that you pull back slightly, sucking your cheeks in and beginning to set a slow pace.

Up, down, up, down.

He’s so fucking big, you’re not able to take him fully down your throat… yet. You’re gonna need a moment to break open your mouth enough to fit him.

He continues with his praises. The sweet filth that fills your ears urging you to be a good girl and to suck his cock like your life depends on it.

Because it does. All you want to do is lose yourself in him, to become nothing more than just Javier’s plaything.

Tears pool at your tear ducts from the messy head you’re giving but it doesn’t deter you. You just blink them away and take him further down your throat.

You splutter and gag as he presses against your uvula, causing him to inadvertently bring his hand down to the back of your head, fisting your hair.

You wince but the pain feels delicious on your scalp. You pull away and his saliva coated cock falls from your swollen lips with a trail of spit connecting you two.

“I want you to fuck my face, Javier. Can you do that for me?”

You bat your lashes, biting on your lower lip as you look up at him.

Your back is arched sexily, giving him a good view of your ass behind you as you remain on your knees in between his legs.

“Si, gatita, whatever you want.”

He gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding you back to his cock.

He slips back into your mouth easily, his hips bucking upward to fully bury himself down your throat.

You breathe through your nose as he begins to set the pace, much harsher and faster than what you’ve been doing on your own.

The filthy sounds of his groans mixed with your gagging and squelching of your mouth fill the room and it’s like music to your ears.

You fucking love this. Love the way he’s fucking your throat and using it to get himself off.

His other hand falls down to tenderly caress your cheek, cupping your jaw and that sets off an explosion of fireworks against your needy pussy, moving your hips against nothing. The simple act is enough to get you closer to your own orgasm.

Your fingernails dig into his meaty thighs when he manages to fully situate himself into your mouth, the tip of your nose brushing against his coarse pubic hairs.

He keeps you there, depriving you of oxygen and your jaw aches with how it’s been widely unhinged for the past however long.

You don’t care about your pain, you only care about tasting his cum when he finally releases inside of you.

“I’m so close baby, god damn it I could die in this pretty little mouth. Such a filthy whore, breaking into my apartment just so you can suck my cock.”

You whimper, the sound vibrating around his shaft and you bring one of your hands down beneath your skirt and panties, rubbing tight circles against your engorged clit.

He goes back to thrusting in and out of your throat while you pleasure yourself; both of you teetering on the precipice of your respective orgasms.

The hold on the back of your head tightens as his climax begins to peak, and the tension of it is enough to send you over the edge first.

You splutter and groan all over his cock while you cum, your release coating your fingers and dripping down your folds and onto your inner thighs.

“Fuck I’m about to come. You better swallow every fucking drop gatita. Isn’t that what you came here for? Ah-shit, to milk my cock like the perverted bitch that you are?”

If you hadn’t come already, you would be now with his abrasive words and rougher thrusts of his hips.

“I bet, fuuuck, bet that pussy tastes so fucking sweet and feels as heavenly as this mouth. Ay gatita sucia, you gonna let me destroy your tight little cunt or are you going to leave me with just a taste of your boquita?”

You want to respond, to tell him that you want nothing more than to have his cock split you open, to render you a mess that can’t walk for days after getting fucked hard by him.

His thrusts stagger and he comes with a primitive growl, his hot seed spilling into your mouth and down your throat.

You moan at the feeling and he holds you flush against his pelvis while he empties his balls into you.

When he’s finally drained, you tentatively let him fall from your mouth with a lewd pop, some of his spend still resting on your tongue.

You climb up his body again, noticing the bead of sweat dripping from the tip of his brow and down his chiseled cheek. His lips are swollen, much like yours, from chewing on it due to the intensity of your ministrations.

His dark eyes are swimming with lust and adoration, shallow breaths exhaling from his nostrils.

You open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out so he can see his milky cum against the pink muscle before you retract it and swallow exaggeratedly, smirking as you bring the back of your hand up to wipe the saliva and other fluids that coat the bottom half of your face.

“Thank you for keeping us safe from the narcos, agent.” You whisper, reaching for your gloves to slip them back on.

He watches intently before he raises the hand that had just cupped your cheek affectionately to the edge of your mask, beginning to lift it up to expose your identity.

“¿Quien eres, gatita?”

You stop him by grasping his wrist harshly, shaking your head.

“Un secreto,” you whisper back, close enough to where your lips are softly brushing against each other.

Moving his hand away from your face, your eyes gaze into his one final time before you lean in to press a sweet kiss against his lips. 

It’s everything you dreamed of and more, the feeling of his mouth slotting against yours in the most passionate kiss you’ve ever shared with anyone.

You pull back before things get heated again, your mission now complete until the next time.

“I’m going to leave now,” you begin in a hushed tone, “and you’re going to stay right here. You’re not going to follow me out or stop me. Are we clear?”

Another tilt of your head and you can see the resistance in his stare, how badly he wants to keep you here like a pet. His kitten.

But he nods ever so slightly.

“Will I see you again?”

Yes, but you don’t reveal this to him so easily.

“Only if you do something worth warranting a visit.”

With that, you rise from his lap, your long legs on either side of his waist as you look down upon this man you just wrecked without giving him your name or letting him get a good look at your face.

His eyes trail over you, trying to etch the image of you in his mind for the lonely days that are about to come.

He won’t forget you, that’s for sure. You’re about to infiltrate his mind in the same manner in which he infiltrated yours.

The soft click of your heels can be heard as you depart from his bedroom, leaving him with his soft cock out and pants down his legs.

Before closing the bedroom door behind you, you stop and look at him over your shoulder.

“Goodnight agent.”

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow before he scrambles to get up, grunting at the subtle pain in his back as he tucks himself back into his pants and picks his gun up to place on the dresser.

He follows your wet trail down the hallway and to the glass door of his balcony that you purposefully left cracked; an answer to his earlier question.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

He smirks when he sees the heart shape you’ve left against the surface. 

[sunny44]

Pornstache

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Girlfriend!reader

Warnings: smut.

Summary: Carlos puts on a moustache and it seems the effect was better than he imagined.

I woke up alone in bed in the morning, which wasn't unusual considering it was a race weekend, but Carlos got up earlier than usual so I started to get suspicious.

But since I didn't have to get up now, I went back to sleep and left it up to the alarm to wake me up at the right time.

When the alarm finally went off and it was time to wake up, I got up and went straight to the bathroom to have a shower before we left and as soon as I walked into the bathroom, I saw my boyfriend with just a mustache.

"Oh my God." I said shocked, looking at him.

"Tadam." He says and I'm still shocked.

"Why did you shave it off?"

"Well, we're in Italy and it's Luigi's home race so I decided to pay homage." He says excitedly. "You didn't like it?"

"I still don't know if I like it or not." I said and looked him up and down and saw that he was only wearing his underpants.”

"The mustache is up here." He says playfully and I roll my eyes and run my hands over his face. "So?"

"It's weird." He laughed. "But I have to admit you look very sexy like that."

"Yeah?" He asked, putting his hand on my waist and starting to kiss my neck.

"I need to take a shower."

"What a coincidence, me too." He said, taking off my blouse and making me laugh.

Instead of going to the bathroom, he picks me up and carries me to the bed and gets on top of me. Without much foreplay, we were both completely naked and Carlos was already inside me.

"You know what?" he stops.

"How about you get in on the action?"

"I thought you'd never ask." I switch positions getting on top of him.

I rest my hands on his chest as I begin to move up and down slowly.

He holds my waist and lifts his own, thrusting into me hard and fast, making me moan.

I start again with slow movements and gradually increase the speed, until I feel my apex approaching and the thrusts get deeper and faster, he grabs my breasts with his hands and squeezes, when I let out a louder moan, signaling that I've reached my apex.

I continued moving faster, and he reached his peak and so did I.

We caught our breath and he had a smile on his face.

I sit on his lap without taking his member out of me, just looking at his mustache.

"Can you take another round?" he asks and I agree.

As I was already on top of him, he just pulled me up, making me sit on his face and without giving me time to think, I felt his tongue on my pussy, and it was at that exact moment that I thanked God he had that mustache. I'm sure the feel of him in me made me come even faster.

When we'd finished, we decided to take a shower.

As soon as the hot water hits our backs, I feel the relaxation coming on.

He hugs me from behind and we stay like that for a few minutes.

"You know what we didn't do?" he looks at me confused, after I turn to him and just kneel in front of him, he already knows what's going to happen.

As soon as I reach the head, I suck slowly while he grabs my hair.

I start sucking him slowly and quickly, alternating between the two, keeping eye contact with him.

As I make the movements, he bites his lip and rolls his eyes, then he makes me go a little faster until he comes in my mouth.

He's a little shaky as I get up and he kisses me very hard.

Anyway, we finished showering and while I was in front of the bathroom mirror finishing my skin care, I felt him hug me from behind.

"Look, we've done enough exercise for the one hour we're awake. Actually, the one hour I’m awake." He laughs.

"I'm not after that. At least not now.” I laughed and wiped my face dry, then turned to face him. "Did you really like my mustache?"

"God knows how much." It was his turn to laugh. "Seriously, it feels completely different with just a mustache than with a full beard."

"Good to know."

"Now I can remember what I thought you looked like."

"Like what?"

"You look like a mob in a movie, or maybe a pornstar." Then he starts laughing.

"If we'd recorded what we were doing a while ago, I'd certainly be classified as a pornstar."

"We should have recorded it then."

"Are you serious?"

"If I didn't have to live every day in fear of someone finding it or it leaking, I'd definitely record us having sex." He's impressed and kisses me. "Get dressed because we have 20 minutes to be ready.”

"All right, I'll be right there." He releases me. "Have you sorted your clothes?"

"Not yet. But I already have something in mind."

He agreed and left, I did a quick make-up and then left the room to get dressed and that's when we left the hotel room to go to the race track.

…

As soon as we arrived, we could already see people's faces of shock and amazement when they saw Carlos' new style.

Either people would love it and think he was hot (like me) or they would think it didn't look good and that he looked strange without the rest of his beard.

"Woooooow, look at that." Charles says as soon as he sees him. "Y/n, you look lovely as always and you... What inspired you to leave just the mustache?"

"I thought I'd do something different, I was inspired by Luigi."

"Oh yeah, should we dress up as Mario and Luigi for the race tomorrow?"

"Absolutely." I say, making them laugh.

After chatting for a while, we went into the garage and I went to my usual corner while Carlos and Charles went to their driver's rooms to change and start qualifying.

The excitement on the race track was palpable as everyone prepared for the qualifying session. After my brief chat with Charles, I went to my usual corner in the garage, where I could watch all the action up close without disturbing anyone. Carlos and Charles, on the other hand, went to their driver's rooms to change and prepare for qualifying.

The atmosphere in the garage was one of total concentration.

Engineers, mechanics and strategists moved in a synchronized ballet of precision and efficiency. I knew that qualifying was crucial, and everyone was determined to do their best. I felt a mixture of anxiety and excitement as I waited for the session to begin.

When it finally started, the screens around me were filled with images of the cars leaving the pits and entering the track. Carlos was one of the first to leave, and I couldn't help but feel a shiver of anticipation and the worry that was always present in me.

"Come on, Carlos, you can do it!" I muttered to myself, clenching my fists tightly.

The first few minutes of qualifying were intense. Carlos was visibly focused, doing fast, precise laps. The team was in constant communication with him, providing data and adjusting the strategy as necessary. I watched every lap with my heart in my mouth, hoping that he would manage to stay among the best.

"Carlos, we're seeing good lap times. Keep it up." The engineer's voice echoed through the speakers.

He responded with a simple "copy", but his determination was clear. The track was hot and the conditions were ideal for a fast lap. Carlos made the most of it, driving his car with skill and precision. Every corner was a masterpiece, every straight a battlefield where he sought every millisecond.

As the minutes ticked by, Carlos continued to climb the timesheets. The tension in the garage grew with every lap. I could hardly breathe, so absorbed was I in the action. Then, in the last sector of the track, he did something incredible. Carlos set a perfect lap, beating all the other times and putting himself in P1.

"That's it!" I shouted, unable to contain my excitement. Some team members flashed me complicit smiles, sharing my joy.

Carlos' engineer was also elated.

"Great job, Carlos! Pole position! Stay focused, we're going to review the data.”

"Got it. Thanks guys." Carlos' voice sounded firm, but I could sense the satisfaction in it.

The final minutes of qualifying were a mixture of tension and anticipation. Other drivers tried to beat Carlos' time, but he remained unbeatable. Each attempt failed to surpass his brilliant lap. When the timer finally went off, confirmation came: Carlos Sainz had secured pole position.

The garage erupted in celebrations. The team was hugging each other, celebrating the extraordinary result. I too couldn't help but shout with joy, jumping up and down with excitement. Carlos got out of the car with a triumphant smile, and was immediately surrounded by his team.

"Congratulations, love! You were amazing!" I said, as he approached.

"Thanks, Hermosa." He replied, his smile widening. "I told you I'd do my best."

He winked at me, and I felt my face blush again. Carlos was overjoyed, and I knew that this qualification was just the start of something even bigger. He was determined to win, and I couldn't wait to see what else he could achieve.

As he walked away to take part in the post-qualifying interviews and appointments, I couldn't help thinking that the first questions would be related to his new look.

"And what about your new look, what made you do it?" I could hear a journalist asking.

"Because we were in Italy, I decided to do something different and I took inspiration from Luigi for my look."

"And your girlfriend, what did she think?"

"She liked it a lot." He says with a suggestive tone that only I seem to understand.

"That's great. Thank you very much and congratulations on your pole position."

It was the last interview so he came straight to where I was waiting for him.

"I'm going to have a quick shower and then we can go to the hotel."

"All right." He kissed me and I started laughing.

"Why are you laughing?"

"It tickles." I said, referring to his moustache.

"You didn't complain earlier when I was sucking you..." at the same time, I put my hand over his mouth, preventing him from almost finishing.

"Eww." We heard Charles as he passed us. "Save that for when you're alone."

"He didn't even finish his sentence." I said.

"Yeah, but from his sentence and the fact that you covered his mouth so he wouldn't finish it, I can already imagine what it was." Then he went into his room.

"I didn't complain before and I'm not complaining now, it was just a statement of fact." I said.

"That's good because we're going to do a lot more than we did this morning."

"Good to know." I kissed him. "Now get in the shower because I want to go back to the hotel, put on my pajamas and eat a hamburger."

"Wow, and where am I on this plan?”

"You'll be next to me in bed eating a hamburger too."

"The day before the race? What a risk."

"Then you eat soup." He laughs.

"Okay, I'm going to take a shower now."

...

In the end Carlos had to stay longer so I came to the hotel early. I took another shower before putting on my pajamas and going to bed.

I was watching TV and was almost asleep when I heard the door opening and I hoped it was my boyfriend because I wasn't in the mood to run away.

"Hey." I said to him as soon as I turned around and saw him taking off his sneakers.

"Hey, did I wake you?"

"No, I was almost there, but I hadn't slept yet."

"Sorry it took so long, it shouldn't have.”

"It's okay, I know how race week’s work." He kisses my forehead, changes his clothes and lies down.

"Come here." He pulls me on top of him and I nuzzle my face into his neck. "Good night hermosa."

"Good night, love."

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“I love the Pornstache guys.”

[luvmila444]

play with you instead?

…………………………………………….. ☆ ★ ………………………………………………

Chris sturniolo x fmreader

summary: watching Chris preoccupied playing his video games only has you wanting him more and needy for his hands

content warning: SMUT; fingering; subby chris; praise kink; Chris is obsessed; cum eating; no actual p in v

word count: 1.2k words

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

One thing you loved the most about Chris were his perfect hands. 

They were perfect in every way. Strong large hands touching every inch of your body. Caressing you and holding you so tight yet soft.

Even when his long fingers fiddled with his gaming controller so perfectly, where he had memorised every button…every switch. Much like him with you. you couldn’t take your eyes of of them. You could only picture the way they felt on you... or better yet, in you. The way he would hold the pages of the booked looking almost identical to the way he has touched you not even a few hours ago. You were practically a drooling mess at the sight and couldn’t take your eyes of him.

A sly smile could have easily been seen on his face; he knows you are watching him again. Or rather his hands. Licking his index finger on purpose he silently chuckles when a little whimper leaves your lips. It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend nights in each other's places due to the comfort you felt around his things, whether you’d be fucking, talking about everything and anything or even maybe just sat in comfortable silence as you were just preoccupied with your phones, or video game, which Chris had promised to play the night before with his friends and brothers and yet got distracted by the others temptation. So, as you sat there eyeing your boyfriend with such lust in your eyes, you tried ever so hard to compose yourself and allow Chris to continue with his task, leaving you to go back to mindlessly scrolling on your phone rather than sleeping. 

“Interesting game?” You ask casually yet failing miserably from not distracting yourself with the barely distracted boy in front of you. 

“Mhmm, what baby? You jealous I’m playing with this game instead of with you?” Chris says when he sees you only looking back down and that hands that were placed so perfectly around the controller.

“No! go ahead. Tell me about the game or…whatever. Maybe It will help distract me from the other things i have in mind” You tease, smirking to yourself, knowing he immediately understood what you were talking about. 

“Oh yeah?” He settles his headset on his shoulders so. He has both his ears able to hear you, he barely gives you a side glance, not letting his eyes leave his game, yet still holding a smirk from knowing the effect he has on you, “and what else is on your mind, exactly?” He asked innocently but with mischievous intent laced in his words.

“Oh, y’know how i wanted to feel your fingers pump in and out of me and have your thumb rub against my swollen clit until I’m shaking and sweating against your chest” you admit nonchalantly, as you hear his let out a small gasp from the chair, he was sat in besides you. Chris didn’t expect you to be so straight forward, and this was enough for him to complete stop his game and let go of his controller down on the desk, practically dropping it with the urgentness he had done it in. what kind of a man would he be to turn someone as needy as you down. He would never admit it... but he loved when you took control. He would love the way you would tell him what to do while you praise him for pleasuring you just the way he knew you liked. May it be his cock, fingers or mouth, he only lived to satisfy you and to make you feel good.

And furthermore, you knew this. You knew that he liked it and who were you to decline a man of his needs, so you had halted the internal arguing with yourself and stood from the bed you were once led so restlessly on, leaving your phone buried amongst the sheets and straddling your boyfriends lap, facing him while staring down into his eager blue eyes which had now darkened even more from lust. 

“Who am i to say no to a girl like you then?” He whispers almost with a stutter. 

You grinned as you sucked on your bottom lips while you felt those hands pulling your panties to the side from under your skirt, instantly feeling the arousal soaked between your legs. 

As you felt him slowly rub against your nub, you let out a long-awaited breathy moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

Chris stared up at you mesmerised as he touched you perfectly, just the way you liked it. 

he briskly entered a finger into you while maintaining the steady pace of the movement on your clit. He comes a little bolder with his movements as you grab a tight grip on his messy hair and begins to fuck you at a quicker pace with his finger. 

You clench around him, making him glance in at your face. "You feel so tight." He breathes, before inserting another finger into your cunt.

“Yes, thats so good Chris, god... keep doing that” you praise as a proud smile makes his way onto his lips. He watches while his digits disappear inside you as you slowly start to grind down onto his hand, building up more friction. Chris’s cock is now rock hard in his pants as he whimpers at the sight of you absorbing all the pleasure. 

Your eyes are now rolling to the back of your head as you feel the build-up in your stomach. Chris speeds up the pace of his fingers, knowing that you were close to finishing, while he continued to flick and play with your clit. 

Your had clenches harder on his dark curls as he expertly curves his fingers to hit your g-spot repetitively. 

"Chris—oh, fuck." You whine now closing your eyes completely with you face now leaning against the top of his head, panting. “So good...so—shit.” You breathe as you feel you orgasm nearing you even more.

Chris hasn’t even touched his cock, yet he feels like he is going to burst from the erotic sounds and noises that fill the room. Only you he repeats to himself as he impales you with his fingers at an even faster speed then before until finally that coil snaps and you feel your orgasm ride through. 

You head falls onto his shoulder as you tremble from the intense wave of pleasure that rushed through you. Chris’s hands continue to help you through you orgasm until you become too sensitive. You let out a final heavy breathe before looking back up at the beautiful boy facing you.

He slowly takes his fingers out of your cunt before putting them between his lips and sucking them clean making your mouth fall open as his eyes roll into the back of his head at your sweet taste. 

You gaze at him in amazement before feeling something hard pressed against the inside of your thigh. You grin up at him and then notice his weakened, whiny expression before slowly lowering your delicate hand onto his prominent and very uncomfortable looking bulge. leaning in to whisper into his ear,

“Let’s get you sorted out as well then, shall we?”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

a/n: thank you so much for reading!! pls lmk if I’ve made any mistakes or something is wrong, i would really appreciate it!

I love you all my angels

[harveysweakness]

can you do a harvey x reader where he asks her for help with a client and in doing so she gets hurt. she tries to keep it from him but she never shows up to talk to him. idek if this makes sense but thank you ❤️❤️

WARNING: BRUISING, BLOOD, DISCUSSION OF MAN HURTING WOMAN

A/N: I have them just flirty and not yet dating in this fic! Also, there will be a part two because we all deserve to see y/n and Harvey more

“What can I do for you, Harvey?” You asked, heels clicking perfectly with the floor as you strut into his office.

“Joshua Hendricks, you know him?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“You mean the most powerful man in the health technology industry, and one of our biggest clients?” You questioned, though you were only stating facts.

“I need you to persuade him to do something,” Harvey said, eyeing you up and down in your tight, yet professional, dress.

“Persuade how?”

————-

Harvey glanced down at his watch, a frown taking over. It was fifteen past eight, and while you were known to occasionally be five minutes late, this simply wasn't you, and Harvey knew it.

Pulling out his phone, he quickly clicked your name and waited for your familiar voice. It never came. His jaw tightened while he switched gears.

"Donna, do you know if Y/N ever left from the office to come to dinner?"

"She never came back after that client meeting."

He tried to ignore the pit in his stomach. He'd asked you to see this client because you were beautiful, a senior partner, and had the willingness to sway a client with flirtation- something he hated as much as he loved. And he was beyond worried that you'd had a little...too much fun with the client.

Shaking his head, he stood and left the restaurant, heading back to the office. He needed something else to occupy his head.

Getting off of the elevator and heading down the darkened hallway, he sighed. Harvey always felt better working after hours with less people to bother him. His office always seemed more welcoming, more serene in the night. Walking in, he turned towards his records on the shelf, heart dropping at the sight.

"Oh my god," he blurted, seeing you sitting on his couch, holding your bruised wrist, a bit of blood on your arms. "What happened?"

"Harvey-"

"Who did this to you?"

"Harvey-"

"I swear, when I find him-"

"Harvey!" you shouted, effectively quieting him. As soon as he met your gaze, you burst into tears.

"Hey, Y/N," he murmured, moving quickly to sit on the table in front of you, taking a deep breath in and out before continuing, "Let me see."

Trying to calm your breathing, you held out your hands to him, letting him get a close look at the bruises encircling your wrist and the scrapes on your other. His jaw was set in a firm line and you could tell he was getting angrier by the second.

"What else hurts?"

You took a shaky breath before pulling the top of your dress slightly to the side, showing a few darkening bruises forming near your collarbone.

"Who? It was Joshua, wasn't it." It wasn't a question, it was an accusation, one you confirmed with fresh tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Harvey whispered, his eyes filling with unshed tears. You shook your head.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I asked you to go, he never would have- I'm so sorry, Y/N." He gently brushed your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. You couldn't stop the tears, no matter how hard you tried, and Harvey just leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

How long you stayed like that, you didn’t know. But you finally sat up, wiping at your tears before accepting the tissue Harvey offered.

“Can I help clean you up?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s dried, it’ll wash off in the shower.”

He didn’t quite know what to say, so he stood and went over to grab you a glass of water.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit on the defensive and I don’t know why,” you admitted.

“I would be surprised if you weren’t on the defensive.”

It was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again. “What do you want to do?”

“If we lose this client, the firm loses a lot.”

“I don’t give a damn about the firm.”

“Harvey, you and I both know that’s not true. You’re angry, so am I, but-“

“He can’t get away with it.”

“Get away with what?”

You both turned towards the door to see Jessica in the doorway, her bags and coat in hand. As soon as she got a good look at you, her face softened, she set her things down, and moved to sit on the couch next to you.

“Tell me what happened.”

Your eyes flickered to Harvey before settling back to meet her gaze. “The client, Joshua Hendricks, he thought he could get the case settled. I went to speak to him about making a statement and he didn’t like the idea very much.”

“He is no longer our client,” Jessica said simply.

“He brings in nearly a million dollars per week for us,” you responded.

“I don’t care. I will give him a call in the morning.”

“No,” Harvey interrupted. “Let me.”

Jessica looked at him, not even a hint of hesitation on her face while she nodded. “Take care of him.”

You both watched her go.

“What are you going to do to him?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Harvey answered honestly.

“I should go.”

“Let me take you. Please, Y/N.”

You were much too tired and hurt to argue. “Okay.”

———

You’d only been in Harvey’s apartment once before, when you had previously dropped off files while he was working from home after breaking his leg.

He gestured toward one of the counterstools. You took a seat, nodding to his quick ‘Be right back.’

When he came back a moment later with a first aid kit, you tilted your head. “I told you-“

“Please. Just let me take care of you.”

You nodded, feeling more vulnerable than you had in a while. Flirting with Harvey, teasing him- that was one thing. But sitting in front of him, in his apartment, while he cleaned the blood off of you and held ice packs to your wrist- that felt intimate.

He must have felt the same, because you could practically feel the emotions rolling off of him. He wouldn’t say anything, you both knew that, but you could tell he cared. You hadn’t missed the fear in his expression when he saw you sitting hurt on his office couch.

The two of you didn’t exchange a word while he took care of your bruises and blood.

“Keep the ice on,” he murmured, packing up the first aid kid and setting it back on the counter. “Drink?”

“Please. Something strong.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. After he poured you a generous cup of scotch, he handed the glass to you, eyes focused once more on your bruises.

"I'm fine."

He just continued to stare, his jaw set once again.

"Thank you."

That caused him to soften.

"No one's ever-" you paused, gesturing towards the first aid kit- "done this for me before."

"I'm glad I could," he responded, before his brow furrowed. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I knew you'd be back at the office after I missed our dinner."

"How could you have possibly known that?"

"Because I know you, Harvey," you said gently. It was easier saying that, than saying you knew skipping dinner with him would hurt him.

"You know I know you too."

You tilted your head, eyebrows raised.

"The baths filling right now with warm water, with eucalyptus salts and bubbles."

"How did you-"

"Because I know you, Y/N." He'd moved closer, his knee touching yours where you still sat. You seemed to lose yourself in his eyes, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn't even realized he was closer until his lips were mere centimeters from yours.

"You can stop me, if you want," he whispered. He was being a gentleman, giving you an out. He wouldn't do it unless you specifically gave permission.

You didn't say anything, instead leaning forward to close the gap.

[mythrilthread]

My magnum opus, the jewel of my Binderary round-up, the result of four months of hard work (that is to say, a lot of force applied over distance), the project affectionately known as The Motherfuckers (because it was rather unclear if I was going to finish these books or if they were going to be the end of me).

Force over Distance by cleanwhiteroom. It is currently also on AO3.

I was first introduced to this incredible story by a dear friend, who first sold me on actually watching SGU, and then said that they remember this fic since like 2011, which is always a promising sign. I went digging and found out I was in luck - the story was being rewritten and reuploaded on the author's blog. The next two weeks are described by the same friend as "one of the scariest moments in our cohabitation" as I'd spent literally every waking moment injecting the story directly into my eyeballs, and let me tell you, I'd not been doing a lot of sleeping at that time.

Then I gathered up my courage and reached out to CWR re: my burning desire to bind this story. And the rest, well. Let's dig into it, shall we?

This was my first time typesetting 540k words. Considering I tend to prefer larger font sizes for increased legibility, it was immediately obvious that this was going to be a multivolume project. I settled on three, as it's the relationship between three individuals that forms the core of the story.

I also knew I wanted to keep the typeset in black and white, but play around with light and dark a lot. So I did. One of the first design idea I actually had was the way I wanted to handle projected speech. Mental link between Young, Rush and Destiny is THE most vital part of the story, and I wanted to make it immediatly obvious. I also wanted to be able to take one glance at the page and tell how much of the action is actually just two guys staring each other down :) Hence the blackout effect of thoughts being represented as light over darkness.

I also wanted to preserve as much of my reading experience as possible. So I saved all the chapter quotes/summaries in the TOC, and hid the chapter content warnings in the frame of the gate that marks the beginning of each chapter. For most of the chapter the warnings stay the same, so after a while you stop really noticing them, but then you open a new chapter and see that the familiar shape of the words has changed, and get this UH-OH feeling. Which, I think is very much how it works in my design, because when the warnings change there's usually another line of text added.

For flashbacks and dream sequences I switched from italics to a lighter shade of gray. I woudn't say it's more legible per say, but it's in keeping with the overall light/dark theme.

There are instances of people using handwritten notes in the story. I collected more than a dozen of assorted handwriting fonts, with each character having their own "handwriting". So when, for example, someone begins writing in someone else's hand, you immediately know it.

The most insane, labor-intensive part of the typeset, however, was the way I decided to handle the Ancient translations. CWR's gone through the trouble of setting up hover-to-discover for it, which gives you a very different reading experience than, say, having the translations in the endnotes. So, naturally, I said to myself that I want to replicate that, and footnotes just won't do the trick. So. Every instance of Ancient in the text has an underlay of light gray Ancient script. And an OVERLAY of paper vellum with the translation printed in blue. Now, not to toot my own horn too much, but if looks SICK AS FUCK. You also MAYBE SHOULD NOT LIVE LIKE THIS. For the two copies of this work I had to cut up 10 sheets of vellum into strips, and then spent from 20 minutes to an hour per volume tipping the strips in their proper places. I then had to wear kinetic tape on both my hands to help with the joint pain. (It was worth it.)

Now for the title spread. It is also paper vellum that you see as soon as you turn the first page (the half-title), and see it covering the title of the book and author's name. And then you turn it. And the shields sing the matter wave of Destiny through the black. And yeah, I think that's very, very clever of me, actually.

Then, of course, were the endpapers. All 12 of them are unique abstract paintings done on black cardstock by hand with brush pens and correction tape, I scanned a sample of each set for posterity. All of them are my interpretations of characters' midscapes. For volume 1 I went with the fire wind of Rush's thoughts. Volume 2 was for Young, and I went for the reverse blackout poetry effect (because for all the mental talking they do, the unprojected thoughts are opaque to their counterparts) and all the loops, hairpins and blocks he does. Volume 3 is for the combination - Rush's fire wind, changing its color to match the circuitry pattern of Destiny's AI.

The rest, in comparison, is easy. All volumes are stitched with 3 strands of embroidery floss, a combination of black, blue and silvery-gray. The French double-core endbands are sewn in the same color scheme (though with a different shade of blue and gray switched for white for added contrast). The edges are painted and splattered to look like space.

The covers feature my (signature at this point, I guess) half-cloth river pattern, with the base being dark blue linen and the printed parts being Spitzer telescope images of the W51 star forge, Jack-O'-Lantern Nebula and the Eagle Nebula (courtesy of NASA), waxed by hand for added sheen. The spines are foiled in silver with a foil quill.

Each set is 5 pound of solid hand-crafted book, with one set being my personal copy, and the other sent as a gift to the author.

And that's it, folks! This has been an incredible project to work on, and I'm very proud of what I achieved with it.

[sunchyu]

Backseat — Jake.ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

[pairing]: jake × fem!reader.

[tags/warning]: smut, fluff, established relationship, car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) dry humping, cowgirl, slightly breeding, creampie, slightly manhandling, teasing, begging, switch. please let me know if i missed a few things.

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆ ────ʚ˚ɞ ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑ ๑ ⋆˚₊⋆ ────ʚ˚ɞ

The rain was pouring hard against the windshield. The wipers at maximum speed, yet the road was still barely noticeable. You try to hide your fear but Jake steal a quick side glance my way.

"It's raining a whole lot.. Maybe we should stop until it gets better?"

"We have reservation though.." You say talking about the hotel you both had, decided to stop at during the night before going on with our trip.

"I know but this is dangerous.. How about you check when it's supposed to stop" You take your phone out and realize that heavy rain is on for the whole night. Maybe he was right, stopping for the night was the right decision. The hotel was still over an hour away, but with this rain, it could take over two hours even more.

"Sure, whenever you see a gas station let's stop" The side of his lips pinch in a small smile and without turning his eyes from the road, his hand comes to lightly rub your thigh.

"A night in the car, how exciting uh?"

"Sure~" You try to sound excited, but heavy rain was never your forte. After about ten minutes of driving, he finally pulls into a gas station. You look around and look pretty deserted. "Jeez, it's closed, usually gas station are open 24h aren't they?"

"Maybe it's abandoned?"

"Don't play Jake.. You're gonna get scared by your own game.." You say knowing damn well that this kid would cry at the idea of abandoned gas station. You squint your eyes and actually.. "Actually.. You might be right, some windows are broken and the main door is closed off."

"Are you for real?"

"It's not a big deal come on just park over there and let's get in the back of the car. I'm tired." You see his eyes hesitating between where you show him to park and the abandoned building.

"I don't know it looks dangerous.."

"I'll cuddle the shit out of you"

"Ok we can park here" You laugh at his sudden change of behaviour as he gets to the parking spot You've said earlier. It was under a barely lit light. Once parked, you get in the backseat easily however it becomes a struggle when it's his turn with his awkwardly talk body.

"You ok?" You try not to laugh too much at his position.

"Ye—Yes.." He gives you one last push and he's sitting at the backseat with you. "Alright.. Let's bring those down. I think there's a blankets in the back." You take the blankets he talking about while he starts bringing the seats down making the backseat more spacious and looking actually somewhat cozy.

"No pillows though.." You pout a bit but he just smiles and lays down with the blankets.

"Right here ~" He shows his torso and you laugh lightly as you join him. You put your head on his torso feeling cozy already. The rain was tapping down on the windows, you was quick to close your eyes and drift to sleep.

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈ •┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Your eyes open slightly, the first thing you see is the car door. You had probably shifted in your sleep. Jake is now spooning you. You bring up your watch, and the time lights up showing "3:27 am" ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"Only?" You whine a bitㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"What's wrong?" You hear his raspy sleepy voice behind you, his breath on your neck that send shivers down your spine. Your eyes slightly open up, surprised by effects his simple words had on you.

"No—Nothing, I just saw it's only 3:30 am, I thought it would be later in the morning."

"You're not sleep anymore?" A familiar shiver goes now your spine again this time a bit more intense, his voice still raspy and deep. "It's still raining hard, we can't go back on the road now."

"I know I'll just try to sleep." You close your eyes, but after moving around a little you realize how hard it is to fall asleep back. You sigh a little and try to ignore the very much obvious heat present between your legs. You try to brush it off but any kind of friction makes it worst. This was just the worst time to be horny.

"Y/N, you've be squirming for the past ten minutes are you okay?" His deep voice resonates in your head, but it only becomes worst when his arms around your waist brings you flush against him. "Hum.. Y/N?"

"Yes?" You say in a weak voice

"Are you wet?" Your cheeks start to heat up. You had no idea how wet you was, but you wasn't expecting to be wet enough for him to feel it that easily through the clothes.

"Mhm.. I'm fine." You blur out, Your voice more shaky than you wanted it to be.

"Are you really?" His arm around you snakes down between your legs and he shamelessly deep his middle finger in your pants feeling your drenched clothed core. You directly moan lightly which was completely out of control. "I don't think you are." He cooes in your neck, his voice not raspy as before. Which mean he was awake and ready to tease. His finger start to form slow but intense circle around your heat making you soon a moaning mess under him.

"Ja—Jake~" His name escape your lips in relief. The more you move your hips, the more you could feel him getting hard against you. You could feel his length against your lower back and at this point you wanted to have it inside of you. "Please Jake~"

"What is it?" You was usually the dominant one in the bedroom. Jake had his moments, but he never made you ask for anything like that before.

"I want it, please~" You whine the heat in your core only getting more and more intense. You was so close but you know that you wouldn't be able to come with only his finger.

"What is it that you want baby."

"You to be inside me.." You say shyly, his hand leaves your pants which makes you whine but soon his arms take you so you can straddle him. You can finally see his face with the faint light from outside. His lips are red and parted as if he's been biting them. His eyes are hooded and filled with lust, and his hair are against his forehead all messy. You whimper lightly at the view, your eyebrows meeting in a worried expression. His hand are firmly on your hips and he grinds himself slowly against your core as if he's torturing himself more than you.

"Fuck.." The slur leaves his lips and your core throbs. Finally, he let you lightly bring your hips up so he can take his pants and boxers down under his knees. In the process, you quick to take your own pants and panties off. You take your shirt off and before you lower yourself, you grab the hem of his shirt . He gets the message and takes it off before directly having his hands on your naked hips. You lower and take him at his base. You suddenly feel his tip against your core and you shiver. It felt like last time you felt him was forever ago.

You lower yourself slowly on him. Your core is so wet you directly take him all in. He automatically closes his eyes, his lips lightly parted and quivering at the sensation. You stay sitting on him for a minute to get used to him. Your head on his lower abdomen. However, soon his hands and hips indicate you that he wants you to move. You start slowly moving up and down his length. You can perfectly feel him against your walls, every part of him is fitting so perfectly. His hips start to meet your thrust wanting to get more sensation. The windows start to fog up and pearls of sweat started decorating his body and yours.

"Shit Y/N.." He says concentrated on our connection. He then looks up and sees your hooded eyes that haven't really left any of his facial features. Observing every little detail and little movement his lips are doing. How his eyes go from open to shut tight in seconds. "Aren't you enjoying this a bit too much?" He smiles, the extremities of his lips becoming pointy.

"Maybe~" You stop your thrust and start grinding yourself against him. You can feel him deep, and his hands start making you grind harder and faster. His fingers almost bruising your flesh, and veins popping out on his forearms. "Fuuck.." You start shaking and before you really wanted it, you jerk your head back as your orgasm washing over you out of nowhere.

"Ah!.. Y/N." He moans deeply and comes deep inside as surprised as you by your sudden pulsating heat around his length. "Shiiit.." Your last moans mixing together filling the small space up with the lewd noises.

You raise yourself, letting him come out of you and feel his release come out of you slowly slightly dripping on his lower abdomen. You try to catch your breath before you can clean everything up. Once our clothes back on, You're back next to him in his arms.

"I don't think we've ever finished that fast." He says still lightly out of breath.

"Yeah, I can't tell if that was amazing or pathetic." We both laugh together.

"Maybe it's because we haven't done it in so long" He says with a bit sadness in his voice. Lately both of you been hectic with each other personal life and jobs.

"Probably, good thing we have a whole weekend ahead of us~"

© sunchyu

[chatsukimi]

ʜᴏᴄᴋᴇʏᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ!ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛᴀᴛᴏʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ⤷ genre: nsfw, fluff, smut ⤷ tropes: doing it in the change rooms, kinda enemies to lovers, feral!gojo ⤷ series (jjk men as athletes)- more coming soon..

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who plays with almost superhuman stamina and precision. he eases through matches, no sweat. everyone knows he'll be scouted by the nation's top teams.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who revels in the cheer of his fan club after each victory (Go Gojo! Go Gojo!) and who's never had a problem with the commentator, until one day he notices a particularly difficult commentary over the speakers. 'second time gojo's missed. is he really worth the clout? who's this gojo, anyway? looks like he's lacking stamina.'

he seethes through his nose.

all throughout the match, it's the same gist. you make some crude remark about the team; he scores a goal and sends you that shit eating grin, whoever you are, behind the speakers; you talk him down; he misses, then gives double the effort to score next time; repeat.

but at the end of the day, though, they lose by a fair margin. his teammate has to drag him away to stop him from throwing a tantrum.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who learns your ex is on his team. that's why you never said a good word about them. he gets passed a photo and his jaw almost drops.

you're... beautiful.

but it doesn't change the fact you'll be commentating the finals.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who recognises you an hour before the match starts, standing beside the rink. he sidles on over. 'so this is the one who took my name and drove it six feet underground?' you turn around, raising an eyebrow at the snowy haired player. your ex wasn't on the best terms with gojo, but any bad commentary was good commentary when that cheater was on the same side. 'hey, so, i heard you broke up with a member of the team. you still like the jersey?'

he notices your eyes checking him out as he shifts closer, letting his minty cologne invade your senses. your throat swallows.

gotcha.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who fucks you hard and fast in the changing room. the door rattles under your weight and you hear curse words and yells at him to hurry up on the other side.

'this doesn't change how i commentate,' you hiss out.

'wasn't expecting you to.' he grits his teeth, pushing you against the wall, ready to fuck you so well it has you switching sides. he bunches up your hands behind your back so the only movement comes from your mouth. 'let me hear you, wanna hear you,' pistoning his hips with the same concentration as when his eyes narrow on the goal. you can't stop the pleas from dribbling out.

look at you, so eager for the enemy to score. he tuts, his blue eyes feral with glee, 'aren’t you professional.’

this time, when his name escapes you in a stutter, so desperate for him to hit that spot it drugs his own mind, let's just say he isn't so bothered.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who, in the daze afterwards, hovers over your lips with an evil smirk. 'spread the good word for me, love'

he helps you find your clothes, picking up his hockey stick left on the ground, tossing you his jersey from the youth national team as he changes into his gear. he returns to the rink as though he had never left. now that's stamina.

one hearty wink at you before closing the door, as though your legs aren't weak below you and one more when he enters the rink.

guess you're back on the team.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who secures the win and your number after the match, effectively earning the all around mvp for the day. he is positively glowing when he exits the stadium, and everyone on the team knows why.

... absolutely everyone.

(extra: 'gojo, maybe you went a little far' 'what? i got the commentator back on our side! i won us the game!' 'you screwed naoya's ex' 'it was only for ten minutes! if he's insecure about that, then i think it's a question of upping his game, not downplaying mine-')

[fanaticsnail]

Aokiji for Kissing Booth please :3 (first time ask omg I just had to)

The Kissing Booth: Aokiji Kuzan for Skullfacedlady

Word Count: 700+

Notes: Your first time requesting, my first time writing for Aokiji. Wooh, I'll be writing for him again. His kiss had me feeling some kind of way, not gonna lie. Come and get a kiss, Skullfacedlady!

The crumbles of wafer-thin paper rustled into the jar beside your seat. The air around you began to grow unnaturally cold at a rate that raised alarms within you internally. You hastily sought out the source of the draft by gesturing your head from side to side, your silken blindfold prohibiting you from locating it more accurately. 

A deep rumbled chuckle hummed in front of you, as you heard your new guest place themselves on the seat in front of you. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Sometimes I can’t control myself,” the smooth baritone hummed at you, his cadence soft and teasing, “Referring to the cold, that is.” You inquisitively cocked your head to the side at his confession and furrowed your brows beneath the material shroud. 

“You’re cool?” you ask him, a soft smile forming behind your pursed lips. You jolt upright at the feeling of an icy hand gently caressing your hand, the shock at such a temperature drop shaking you and puckering your skin with each subtle touch.

“Cool as they come, baby,” he offered you with a soft hum in his flirtatious tone. You felt him lean in, his glacial radiance biting at your skin before he drew himself closer. “May I?” You nod softly, fixing your posture to sit upright as he coaxes you into himself. 

His hand came up to gently cradle your face, gently smoothing over the skin at the apple of your cheek before lowering to caress your jaw. His touches felt soft, deliberate and sultry: his fingers dipping up further to touch over your lips. 

The featherlight touches from his fingers were gently replaced by his lips molding and caressing your own. His lips were cooler than his fingers were, a pleasant shock to your senses as you leaned into his touch. He gently mouthed at you, sensually and slowly coaxing more of you to open up to him. A pair of glasses brushed with your silken blindfold, almost catching the seams of the material shrouding your vision.

Intertwining fingers with yours, he gently raised your hand up to his neck and held it there with his, the other finding your hip and gently tugging you in closer to him. His kiss felt as if he was savoring every moment, no action rushed as he gently romanced you with his lips. 

Slowly drawing out his tongue, he switched angles and gently brushed his muscle with yours. At each moment, you truly felt like you were falling in love with his lingering touch, the coolness of his kiss had each fiber of your hair follicles standing to attention. 

The lingering effects of the cold touch began to numb and swell your bruised lips. With a soft groan of disappointment, he pulled away from you and assessed your lips. Clicking his tongue, he attempted to warm your lips by placing the heel of his palm against your skin. 

“Sorry, baby,” he hummed at you, chastising myself, “I find it hard to control myself around such beautiful people sometimes. Seems you’re no exception to the rule.” He pulled his hand away from your lips, witnessing the smile drawn up over your lips. 

“I don’t mind,” you exhaled in a breathy pant, a puff of cool vapor exiting your parted lips with every word, “I find your inability to control yourself alluring, honestly. Makes me feel special.”

“Oh, you are special, sweetheart,” he chuckled down at you, gently giving you a chilly kiss on the cheek before retracting himself from you completely. “You’ll still be here in an hour?”

“I’ll be here for another hour or so, yes,” you nod in confirmation, a soft giggle fleeing your lips at the admittance. He mirrored your expression, reaching down and giving your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I’ll see you again on my way back then,” he uttered to you in a slow and laid-back tone. You reclined in your stool, pursing your lips to stifle your smile from rising on your cheeks further. 

“Looking forward to it,” you confessed, feeling his aura retreat with him and reignite your body in the natural warmth of festival air. Your lips still tingled with the lingering numbness of his icy lips on yours, a beautiful memory and promise of what's to come swelling your cheeks in a flush of warmth in anticipation.

[delimeful]

let my mind reset (6)

warnings: angst, brainwashing, torture, psychological conditioning, references to injury/gore/death, harmful surgical implants, they are really going through it now, lmk if i missed any

-

Where the hours had passed slowly before, now they seemed to slip by all too fast. Every spare moment Roman had was spent in anxious anticipation of the next session and all that came with it.

He had never seen something like the haze used on a person before. Crav’n were invulnerable to it, and he’d only ever witnessed his aunt use it briefly on one of the local fauna once, a harmless and finicky tree-dwelling species about the size of his hand.

(Roman remembered the way Marta had compelled the little creature to pace back and forth, from place to place, wearing its will away until there wasn’t any hesitation between order and action. Then, she’d sent it walking into the nearby pond.

He remembered the way its survival instinct had set in late, the way it began to thrash, and still Marta didn’t call it back. He remembered feeling relieved when his mother stepped in and put a stop to the demonstration, scooping the poor beast from its fate with disapproval etched firmly in the set of her shoulders.

He didn’t remember if the creature had lived through the withdrawal, afterwards.)

Virgil was far from a simple animal, though, and despite Roman’s half-formed nightmares, he didn’t mindlessly succumb to the influence of the drug the first time it was forced on him, nor the second or the third.

In fact, every time the other Humans entered his cell with that unsettling green canister, he seemed just as panicked as Roman, if not more, putting up as much of a fight as he could with a battered body and a wrung out mind. No matter how they tutted or scolded, the other Humans still couldn’t get the mask on him until Roux had him forcibly subdued, which was a tiny victory in itself.

That didn’t stop the drug from taking its toll each and every time.

As horrible as it sounded, the worst part was that the effects weren't painful or malicious in nature. At least that would have been easier to fight against; a logical, instinctive response to being hurt.

No, it was far more insidious than that. The haze dulled pain. First, the physical: it eased away the stiffness of sore muscles and the burning of shocked nerves, leaving only a pleasant numbness behind. Then, the mental: it stalled the production of stressful chemical compounds, replacing them with whatever was needed to trick the victim’s mind into believing they were happy, relaxed, pliable.

Roman had never seen Virgil so unwound, so carefree, and he hated how unnatural the behavior seemed on the Human. It was a miserable experience, finally seeing him without the hunted slant to his posture, and feeling sickened by the sight.

What was worse was watching it wear off.

As though a switch had been thrown in reverse, Virgil would be plagued by a creeping, unrelenting sense of panic and dread, pacing around his cell frantically until a sudden hypersensitivity to touch left him crumpled in one spot, breathing harsh and pained.

Time after time, he was shown exactly how painful withdrawal from even a few doses was, until he was left bracing for it well before the next session had even begun.

“The last guys who had me would have killed for something like this,” Virgil said, nearly panting as he laid out on his back. He had his fingers pressed against his neck, feeling his pulse. His heart was racing so hard that Roman could see the veins pulsing eerily under the skin. A heavy spike of adrenaline, unprompted by anything tangible. “Bet she has at least a few people stashed away just to drain for easy cash.”

He spoke more, like this. Out of turn, about topics that were morbid and pessimistic, as though the thoughts were tumbling free of his mind without his permission. Roman never let his negative reactions to the more grim topics go beyond his ears flickering back; it wasn’t like he had the room or right to judge. They didn’t have very many reasons to be optimistic. Besides, he’d realized early on that the more worked up Roman got, the worse Virgil got in turn.

He still didn’t know the exact details of how Dren harvesting worked, and he was fairly sure he was better off for it. The very idea of setting an entire person aside for something like that was reprehensible, and therefore entirely possible for Marta.

“She said she… she gets rid of Humans that don’t break,” he replied after a moment, the words tumbling freely from him for once. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to turn a profit from it.”

He’d been trying to match the distant, dry tone Virgil had used, but he must have missed the mark, because the Human stiffened, and drew his hand back from Roman’s grasp to press it harshly against his eyes.

Belatedly, Roman realized what he’d just implied. Virgil was one of those Humans trying not to break, was at this very moment barely clinging to his composure, and he’d just been informed he was stuck between two horrific fates worse than death. “I didn’t mean—,”

“‘S alright,” Virgil interrupted, voice rough with exhaustion. “It’s not like I didn’t know. It makes me feel a little better, honestly.”

Roman stared at him, bewildered and still slightly aghast at his own stupidity, and Virgil shifted a few fingers to peer back with one eye.

“At least some Humans didn’t fall for it, y’know? At least some of them got out in their own way,” he continued, a thin thread of hopelessness tangled up in the words. “I was starting to wonder if the rest of space was right. If we were all just destined to be monsters with the right motivation.”

Roman should have been more alarmed at the implication that Virgil felt close to succumbing, that he was nearer than he’d ever wanted to be to a Human on the brink of falling under someone else’s blatantly malignant control, but all he could feel was a painful sympathy.

“You’re not a monster,” he said, and then, more firmly— “Humans aren’t monsters.”

Virgil’s eye widened slightly, gaze intent in a way that would have made Roman bristle in the past.

“They’re just people. They can do good or bad, just like anyone else. And sure, these guys are— they’re not doing good.” A pause, and Roman forced himself to meet Virgil’s stare. “But you have. You saved Patton, and you tried to save me, and you’re— you’re not a monster. You’re a good friend.”

Virgil buried his face back in his elbow and was quiet for a long moment.

“…You’re not so bad yourself.”

—

Roman hadn’t expected Marta to show up in person, not with how much she had delegated to her brainwashed underlings thus far, but arrive she did.

“Don’t fret, ghiva’al,” she crooned to him, passing by his cell with the lightest clink of her claws dragged against the bars. “I’m here to meet your little pet, not you.”

“Don’t—,” call me that, call him that, he wanted to snarl, but his throat closed up so sharply that it sounded a little like he’d choked.

Marta made her stilted croaking laugh, sparing him a glance that might have been pitying if it had bothered to reach her cold, empty eyes. “You always did struggle with words when emotional, didn’t you? Not nearly as well spoken as your mother. What a shame to see that hasn’t changed.”

There was a sharp clacking as an aggressive shudder ran through Roman’s scales, but he still couldn’t find his voice. Not even when Marta moved on to grip the bars of Virgil’s cell, her attention shifting to the Human where he stood warily in the center of the cage.

Roman had learned more than he’d ever thought he would about Human body language over the past few weeks. He knew from the slight sway to Virgil’s every shift that the Human was drained, likely barely keeping his feet.

Still, he was upright to face Marta, his height advantage allowing him to look down at her, and that was better than being crumpled on the ground at her feet. Little victories were all they had now, and they clung to each and every one.

Roux wasn’t there, Roman realized with a jolt, and the knowledge was enough to drag his mind into overdrive, a sudden double-edged hope springing to life in his chest.

Virgil must have already realized, because the way he held himself shifted into something taut and coiled, like he was preparing to lunge forward at the first opportunity, weak or not.

“Back of the cell,” Marta commanded, voice turned brisk and blunt in a way it hadn’t been with Roman. Like she was speaking to a beast instead of a person.

Virgil didn’t move, barely deigned to acknowledge the words beyond a brief flicker of his pupils upwards.

Marta waited, letting the silence stretch for a brief moment, and then clicked her teeth together in a mild reprimand. “The hard way, then.”

Despite her apparent annoyance, the words held a sort of anticipatory delight, and Roman felt the thick tar of dread slide under his scales as he watched her slide a small, triangular remote from a pouch at her side.

When she pressed the button in the center of it, she was looking at Roman.

It was Virgil who went rigid and fell.

Despite knowing it would undercut every lie he’d tried to sell about how little he cared, despite the fact that he was playing right into her claws, Roman couldn’t help but rush to the bars separating them, a shout of horror catching in his chest.

The Human hit the ground hard but stayed chillingly frozen, with every muscle locked into hard lines. He didn’t make a sound until Marta shifted her thumb away from the button, the motion somehow allowing him to finally go limp like a puppet with strings cut.

“Virgil!” Roman managed, though the sound of it was nearly lost in the sudden loudness of the Human’s gasping breaths. He hadn’t been breathing before, Roman realized with a terrified shock.

Whatever Marta was doing, it hadn’t countered Virgil’s natural stubbornness, and he climbed back to his feet with less staggering than Roman would have expected.

His gaze caught on the tremor to Virgil’s hands, the shuddering of his pulse, and he understood. Adrenaline.

The fight or flight instinct, Virgil had called it while talking with Patton. Roman had seen him choose to fight once, at their very first meeting, but even that couldn’t compare to the speed and ferocity of the way the Human lunged now.

Marta didn’t flinch back when he made loud, skull-rattling contact with the bars, but she didn’t blink, either, keeping her eyes firmly locked on Virgil as she pressed the button once more.

Instead of letting him drop, however, she reached out and seized him by the face, claws digging in on either cheek and holding tightly.

Virgil couldn’t so much as flinch away from the pain, and Roman slammed his arm against the door of his own cell with force, furious at his own helplessness.

Marta released the trigger again, and this time, every gasping inhale Virgil took was dosed with her haze. He tried to jerk back, but it was far faster acting straight from the source, and he had barely a moment before his expression dropped to something hollow and smooth, his desperate strength wavering and then extinguishing like a flame with nothing left to burn.

“Down,” Marta commanded, releasing her grip, and Virgil stood in place for a few long heartbeats before his legs collapsed underneath him.

She waved a hand absently down at him, still scattering her haze thick in the air. “There you go. It feels so much better when you listen, doesn’t it?”

Virgil twitched, a ripple of discontent crossing his face, but didn’t respond. He was shaking relentlessly now, his entire body trembling in a way that had Roman deeply concerned.

“You’re safe with me,” Marta lied, reaching down to glide the palm of her hand over the side of Virgil’s face. “You’re only safe with me. Everyone else wants to hurt you, but I’ll make the pain go away. Always do as I say, okay?”

Virgil didn’t move away, even as her rough skin caught on the wounds her claws had left only moments ago. His breathing grew wispier, slower, until he appeared almost calm, his eyes dazed and distant.

“Let’s try this again,” Marta straightened, and when her hand left Virgil’s cheek, he strained after it for a handful of seconds. “Back of the cell.”

Virgil climbed back to his feet, and Roman closed his eyes as the Human quietly began shuffling across his stretch of cell. He felt all of six winters old again, watching his aunt lead something fuzzy and helpless back and forth, closer and closer to the water’s edge.

“Good. Now, heel.” More shuffling, wordless as a corpse.

How long did he have before Virgil took his own plunge?

—

It took longer than before for Virgil to regain coherence, afterwards.

Roman knew the moment he’d come back to himself, because the soft grip around his hand had instantly vanished, yanked away so sharply that he’d barely registered the movement before Virgil was up on his feet and backing away.

“Virgil,” he tried, and the Human shook his head, the motion harsh, his hands lifting up to grip roughly at his hair in a distressed motion Roman had only ever caught glimpses of back on the ship.

He’d continued to retreat until he hit the furthest corner of the cell, where he slid down and curled in on himself, utterly unreceptive to any of Roman’s stilted calls. Roman caught his expression crumpling into a miserable grimace before he buried his face in his knees and hid that away too.

The silence stretched.

If there were some right words to say here, Roman couldn’t find them. Even if he did, he undoubtedly wouldn’t be able to say them. The helplessness sheared against his scales like rough sand, but how could he allow himself to wallow in it when he at least still had his mind, his existence still unarguably his own?

Freshly taunted by the knowledge that he didn’t have even that much, Virgil remained still and taut and quiet in the furthest reaches of his cell for what felt like a very long time.

When he did finally stir, Roman was appalled to see the faint streaks on his face where his tears had washed away the sweat and grime.

Patton had described Human weeping as arrhythmic vocalizations, much like Ampens, but with a physical manifestation as well. Roman hadn’t known that Humans could cry silently, like a pup gone still and quiet in the face of danger, with only the barest hitching of breath to indicate distress.

The expression on Virgil now was creased into firm lines, but it didn’t seem agonized or crumbling at the edges. Rather, as he climbed to his face, he seemed to hold the same bitter resolution Roman had seen in him a few times before: during the tail end of their first meeting, and after the fight with the raiders, both times when he’d thought he was about to be left alone again.

“Roman,” he started, and then worked his jaw tersely, once, twice. Rather than continue, he held out a hand, palm-up in silent offering.

Things had changed a lot over the course of their captivity, Roman reflected as he reached out and set his own hand in the Human’s grasp with barely a shred of hesitation. It felt like second nature by now, to reach out and cling on whenever his stomach was roiling with stress.

Virgil watched him for a moment longer, and then wrapped his fingers around Roman’s hand and drew closer, slowly pulling his arm up until he had positioned Roman’s claws just above the skin of his neck.

“This,” Virgil said, each word resolute, “is the best place to sever if you want to kill a Human quickly.”

The words took a dull, ringing moment to sink in, but once they did, Roman jerked back sharply. “Virgil, what—?”

For the first time, Virgil held on, keeping his hand pinned in place with ease even as he had to grip the bars with his other hand to remain upright. Roman could see the way the Human’s pulse fluttered under the skin, a heartbeat racing visibly exactly where Virgil had indicated.

“It’s important. You need to know,” Virgil insisted, and lifted their joined hands higher, to his temple. “Head wounds bleed a lot. Gashes up here are valuable because the blood runs down and drips into their eyes, which will work pretty well as a distraction—,”

“Stop it!” Roman demanded, yanking harder as his panic increased. “I’m not going to— stop talking like that! I don’t need to know how to hurt you!”

At the start of their voyage, Roman would have done just about anything for information like this, anything to feel safe on his own ship again. So why was he learning it only now, when each word and accompanying gesture made him feel ill and rotted down to the tip of his tail?

“It’s not— Roman, it’s not about me,” Virgil said, frustration seeping into his voice. He let Roman drag his hand away from his face, but still didn’t let go. “It’s about them.”

Roman wasn’t sure he believed that. “I don’t need to kill anyone. They’re brainwashed, this is Marta’s fault! I know the truth, now.”

Virgil shook his head, ghosted the fingers of his free hand over his implant scar with a distant, sickened expression. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want guilt to be the reason— Look. If it’s them or you, I want it to be you. I want you to make sure it’s you.”

And what if it's me or you? Roman thought, but the words lodged firmly in his chest until he could barely breathe around them.

“They all made their choice,” Virgil continued once it became clear that Roman wouldn’t respond. “They’ve kept making that choice, every time. You have to want to survive, too, okay?”

Mutely, Roman nodded, trying to ignore the creeping sense of horror. He pulled Virgil’s hand back towards himself, fumbled for speech for a long moment before finding the words and hoping they didn’t feel like a betrayal when spoken aloud.

“The underbelly,” he started, and Virgil’s expression— shut down. Every hint of body language went flat like stone, and just as unyielding.

“No.” The word was final, a sentence all its own, and Roman scowled mulishly.

“But—!”

“Roman.” Virgil lifted his other arm over so that he was clasping Roman’s hand between both of his own. “You’re the only one left, right? You told me that.”

The thought was still a wound-like pang in his chest, even after all this time. “Yes,” he admitted. “But, even still—,”

“No way. I don’t want to hear it, man. There’s nobody I would be willing to use it on, anyhow.” Virgil kept his gaze locked firmly on a point past Roman’s shoulder, but his shoulders were set, his voice steadfast.

There was no point arguing. Not now, when the both of them were one wrong move from collapse.

“Okay,” Roman finally said, and forced himself not to protest when Virgil reclaimed the position of lecturer. It was a struggle not to wince away with each gory anecdote, a full guide on the quickest ways to make the Human body stop functioning or even turn on itself.

“Gut wounds are slow to kill, but they can be painful enough to debilitate. There are vulnerable organs here, below the rib cage, and damage to them is difficult to treat without surgery if the wound is severe enough…”

Still, he held himself at attention, did his best to memorize every word.

If Virgil wouldn’t accept knowledge about Roman’s own vulnerabilities as a gift of equal exchange, Roman would simply have to treasure this information with the same dedication that he applied to the rest of their small crew.

After all, knowing all the individual weak points of a Human would make it that much easier for him to protect each and every single part of Virgil.

Virgil wasn’t going to die. Not here, and certainly not by Roman’s own claws. Not if Roman had anything to say about it.

[mykneeshurt]

Knock knock

I knocked this bad boy out in an afternoon 😭 wee Simon has me by the throat. I loved writing this one, came together nicely. Again feedback and comments welcome 🥰

Warnings - 18+, sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sub Simon, switch Simon, gored, expected cod violence minors DNI

The Sarah joke got told to me years ago and it still makes me piss. This gif has me in a chokehold, it was really hard to try and describe but I tried! Enjoy

This was going to be a long mission, blistering heat, few too many safe houses and Simon ‘Ghost’ fucking Riley. You and Ghost were paired together often, you’d actually become quite close over the last year. But one thing about him? He was a fucking wind up merchant.

You took it as a compliment though, he didn’t show his sense of humour to just anyone. But Jesus Christ he could be irritating when he wanted to be. You both worked together well, he’d often be on the ground with close range weapons. He was deadly with a combat knife. And you, the silent killer from the skies with your sniper rifle, looking out for him and protecting him when needed.

Which is how you found yourself here, a top a disused warehouse in bum fuck no where. ‘You’re good to go Riley’ you signalled.

‘Affirmative’ came his dead pan response. You gave him half an hour before he started with the shit jokes, he just couldn’t help himself.

You kept a sharp eye on the rooftops and windows as he worked his way through the favela. Ghost being ghost you knew he’d try and opt for the silent method, knives first, guns later. Every now and again you’d check in, make sure he was ok.

‘Why did Sarah fall off the swing?’

Fuck sake, right on cue, letting out an audible sigh into the radio you replied ‘I don’t know.’

‘Because she had no arms.’

‘Jesus Christ …’

‘Knock knock’ he interrupted.

‘Who’s there?’

‘Not Sarah.’

‘I fuckin’ cant with you, I swear to god if they don’t kill you, I will.’ You snickered, trying to hold back a chuckle. ‘I’ll hold you to that’ he retorted. Rolling your eyes you continued to scan the buildings, bingo. ‘Riley, tango one of the roof of the apartment building to the west, tango two on top of the school. Want me to take em out?’

‘If you’d be so kind’ he cracked through the radio.

Squeezing the trigger twice you took them down with ease, your nick name in Task Force 141 was the ‘Angel of Death’. Due to your ability to effectively and silently take down enemies when needed. ‘Tangos down.’

Shifting in your snipers nest, you quickly stretched out your legs behind you before resuming your position. It was sweltering, sweat dripped down your face, your cap failing at capturing the little droplets that threatened to enter your eyes.

‘Knock knock.’

Smirking to yourself you answered ‘who’s there?’

‘Interrupting sheep.’

‘Interrupting sheep wh … ‘

‘Bahhhh.’

‘That was fucking awful Riley, great sheep impression though’ you said as you rolled your eyes. ‘I can hear you roll your eyes from here love, pack it in’ he chided. ‘Oooh gonna have to make me Riley. Now shut the fuck up, two tangos spotted.’ You quickly dealt with them with no issues.

No issues that was until you heard a grenade go off close by to your nest. Fuck, you thought to yourself. Had you given yourself away? Had they spotted you? You quickly scanned the area with your scope, nothing glaringly obvious. But it went quiet, too quiet. ‘Riley, I might have an issue. Potential compromise’ you murmured into the radio. ‘Copy. Come to the church, I’ll meet you there.’ Grabbing your items together you slipped into your tactical gear and threw your rifle over your shoulder. ‘Be there now in a minute’ you replied. ‘English’ he barked. Laughing to yourself you radioed back ‘On my way, see you in 10.’

As much as Ghost would wind you up with stupid jokes, you’d do the same back to him. You were from Wales and had a few sayings which really wound him up. The English vs Welsh banter got got old between the two of you. You’d try to teach him Welsh but he was awful at it, he loved learning the swear words though. Obviously.

You slid down the ladder at the side of the warehouse and began to creep your way through the cramped but deserted streets. The streets almost felt claustrophobic as you weaved your way around corners. That came to a blinding halt as you heard men approaching. You dived into an abandoned flat and ducked behind the window, listening intently. They were murmuring to each other, too faint for you to hear properly.

You stayed out of sight until you were sure they were gone. ‘I’d fuckin’ love a tea’ his voice made you jump as it rang through the ear piece. Pinching the bridge of your nose you replied ‘really? Now? I’m risking life and limb and you’re thinking about tea? Dickhead.’ You knew he was sat in that church just thinking up different ways to piss you off, smirking to himself. Wanker.

Once you were sure the men had gone, you peeked out the door to the abandoned flat and took in your surroundings. You needed to get up on the rooftops to see where the church steeple was. Running up the stairs in the flat you soon found a ladder to the roof top. Once above ground again you were able to see you were a few streets away from your objective. ‘I can see the church, trying to make my way on rooftop now’ you informed him.

Scaling rooftop to rooftop you tried to keep a listen out for any hostile that could appear at any time. That was until you lost your footing, as you jumped onto some corrugated iron you misjudged it and fell a story onto your back. The fall took the wind out of you, gasping for breath you scrambled into a local shop. ‘Fuck was that?’ He chimed through on the radio. Readjusting yourself you took in a deep breath ‘just fell of a roof, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just gimme 5.’

Except you didn’t have 5, a man snuck around the corner before pouncing on you, wielding a knife. Using your forearm to stop the knife from being plunged into your eye, you used your free hand you gouge at his eye. You dug your nail in just enough for the man to shriek and lose balance. As he did you used your weight to push him off you before managing to climb on top of him. Lucky bastard got a sly right hook into your face, with your lip now split open you spat blood back into his face. Giving you enough time to reach for you knife which was strapped to your thigh. As you gripped the knife the man tried again to get a hit in, unsuccessfully. Knife now in hand you drove it into the man’s throat, severing his carotid artery. You drove the knife into the left side of his chest, just for good measure. Gurgling sounds left the man’s throat as you got to your feet, wiping the blood on a rag near by.

If there was one in the building that surely meant there was more near by. You needed to get a move on. You could see the steeple from the ground now, just a little further. Rounding the corner a convoy of enemies stood between you and the church. Backing off you radioed to Ghost. ‘I’m right outside, approximately 6 men in a humvee though.’

Ghost let out a long sigh on the radio. ‘Disturb you did I? Give me a hand!’ You demanded. ‘I’ll take the 3 on my left. Ready in three … two … one … go.’

With that he expertly took out the three men with his silenced pistol from the church doorway. As you unloaded three rounds from your own gun into the remaining men. Quickly checking it was clear you scurried over to the church barging past Ghost in the process. ‘Took your time’ he greeted. Whipping round you pushed him in his firm chest ‘suck my dick Riley.’

You walked over to a mirror on the wall to examine the damage to your face. ‘Ergh, I think my nose is broken.’ You sighed. Ghost approached you from behind ‘let me see.’

Turning to face him you showed him your busted nose, dried blood caked around it. ‘Yeah looks that way love. Needs resetting.’ Staring up at him you grimaced ‘oh and you’re gonna be the one to do it I imagine?’

‘Affirmative.’

Sighing you nodded your head and placed your glove between your teeth. He took off his gloves to feel for the cartilage and bone in your nose. He stared intensely at you, the black paint around his eyes illuminated his blue eyes. He wore a skull over the top of his balaclava which made him look even more menacing. Giving a moan of permission from your mouth he nodded back at you. Without warning he shifted your nose back into place, eliciting a guttural moan from you in the process. ‘Ah fuck!’ You cried, ‘Jesus, a warning would have been nice!’ Shrugging he said ‘nah, you would have flinched. Looks better though.’

‘Ghost you copy?’ Soaps voice rang through the radios. ‘Go ahead’ he replied.

‘A convoy of tangos about to enter the favela. Not safe to come to the evac zone. Hold up there till mornin’. Get some shut eye and we’ll get you out tomorrow.’

‘A broken nose, and now I’m stuck with him for the night? Any good news for me Soap?’ You chuckled.

‘Naw, sorry hen.’

‘Don’t you hen me, you shit.’ Soaps laugh filled the ear piece before signing out.

It was getting late and your head was beyond pounding from your broken nose. ‘There’s a bedroom upstairs, can sleep there.’ Ghost said as he started walking to the staircase. Following him closely you took your hair down out of the bun it was in to try and release some tension. Luckily the sink still worked in the bathroom, not hot water but it would do to freshen up and remove the dried blood.

As you entered the bedroom he was sat on the edge of the bed, cleaning his gun. He’s removed his skull mask so only the balaclava remained. The floorboard creaked as you entered the room, he lifted his gaze slowly. He scanned your body, his eyes finally resting on your face. His head jerked a minute amount as he registered your face, while you two were good friends he’d never seen you with your hair down. His gaze almost seemed to intensify as you looked back at him with a soft smile. He quickly looked away and back down to his gun again.

‘Thanks for setting my nose. I’ll buy you a drink when we’re back’ you smiled. You walked over to the corner of the room and took off your tactical gear, placing it on an old chair. Glancing round the room you noticed there was only one bed. ‘Bunk mates tonight is it?’ You asked nodding towards the bed. He tensed his shoulders slightly before answering ‘looks like it. Don’t mind sleeping in the chair though.’

‘It gets cold as fuck here at night, it will be fine. Anyway you’re like a radiator and I’m always cold, you’d be doin me a favour.’

He nodded in silence.

A few hours passed, both of you engaging in the odd conversation. He seemed more tense than usual, and while he’s a pretty intense guy this felt new. Darkness crept into the bedroom, the faint light of the street lamps illuminating the bedroom in an orange glow. The bedroom door had been barricaded just incase and you’d sussed an escape route out one of the windows if needed.

You removed your boots and t-shirt, leaving you in your cargo pants and your vest. You could feel a pair of eyes burning into your back as you folded up your clothes. ‘Problem Lieutenant?’ You asked, without even turning round. ‘Negative.’ He said plainly. Smirking to yourself you walked over to the bed and slid in under the duvet that was left. Never ideal to sleep in used duvets but in these situations you had little choice. ‘Come on Riley, get in’ you beckoned.

He removed his shirt revealing a sleeve tattoo on his left arm. He stayed in his base layer, jeans and left his boots on. He sat in the chair opposite the bed, ‘you sleep, I’m not tired.’ Rolling your eyes you led down and pulled the duvet over you. ‘If you wanted to be a creep and watch me sleep all you had to do was say’ you laughed. He glared back at you, he was good at that.

You must have slept for an hour or two before you woke up hearing a noise outside. Sitting bolt upright you saw he was already at the window checking to see what it was. ‘Stray dog’ he said before turning around and sitting back on the chair. Sighing you swung your legs out of the bed and ran your hand through your hair. ‘Alright?’ His deep tone cut through the silence. ‘Yeah’ you sighed looking up at him ‘can I try something?’ He narrowed his eyes at you, curious.

You stood up off the bed and walked over towards him, he was sat in the chair, leg spread. Leaning on his thighs with his forearms. As you approached him he looked up at you, silent. You pressed your hands into his muscular shoulders and pushed him back into the chair. His breath visually hitched in his chest, his forearms becoming tense, the muscle rippling under his taught skin. You straddled his lap, hand still encasing his shoulders as you stared deep into his eyes. He let out a sigh of approval.

‘I’ve seen how you look at me Simon. Believe it or not, you cant hide everything you feel.’ You dragged your nails down bis base layer, feeling every dip and crevice of his toned body beneath. You placed his large hands on your hips, as you knelt up over him. ‘I know you want me’ you drawled. He remained silent, but not objecting. ‘Touch me’ you whispered into his masked ear. With that he slowly worked his hands underneath your vest. You hissed at his touch, thick calloused fingers gliding over your bare skin.

You hands worked your way to his neck, slowly pulling up his balaclava. You only pulled it up to nose, respecting the only boundary he put before you. You bit your lip slowly, your hair framing your face. With a smirk you bent down and placed your lips lightly on his. He slowly but firmly returned your kiss, gentle at first but soon became heated. ‘Yes’ you moaned into his mouth. He gently jerked his hips up, his hard cock grazing your pussy through your cargo pants. You placed your hands at the sides of his neck cupping him further into you.

‘Fuckin’ hell’ he moaned beneath you. You smiled into his mouth, slowly inserting your tongue. Your tongues danced together slowly but full of passion and need. You brought his hand to your breast before snaking your hand into his as the base of neck. He let out a small hiss. ‘You like that?’ You moaned at him. He grunted in approval. You brought your hand from the back of his head to his neck and applied pressure. You weren’t strong enough to hurt him, but it was enough to show him who was in charge here.

‘You’re gonna fuck me Simon. Aren’t you?’ He nodded slowly. ‘Mmm good boy’ you purred. You climbed off him and stood up, undoing his belt before your own. You pulled down your trousers and stepped out them revealing your tight boxer shorts. You beckoned him over to the bed where he undid his trousers and pulled down his own underwear. You led on your back on the bed, legs spread and beckoned him towards you. A filthy grin on your face.

You spat on your hand and rubbed it along your slit, mixing it with your arousal. He stayed silent, drinking you in, his cock rock hard as he approached you. He stood in-between your legs, looking down on you as you rubbed your own juices on the tip of his cock with your fingers. He hissed through his teeth before slowly sinking into you. You both let out a gasp as he stretched you open, filling you with his cock. Letting out a breath filled giggle you threw your head back exposing your neck. He slowly withdrew his cock before slamming it back in again. ‘You feel so good Simon’ you praised.

His eyes met yours, seemingly full of adoration at your praise. He descended into a brutal pace, heaving breathing emanating from beneath his mask. He gripped at your thighs, leaving marks beneath his fingers. His pupils were so dilated with pleasure all you could see was black in the space where his irises would be. ‘Don’t stop, please don’t stop’ you begged. You brought your hand down and started to circle your clit as you watched him thrust in and out of you.

‘I wanna ride you, lie on the bed’ you moaned. Doing as he was told you slowly pulled out of you before lying beneath you, you climbed on straddling his thick muscular thighs. You slowly sank down onto his cock, the stretch filling you with pleasure. You began grinding your pussy, building up a rhythm, small moans escaping you. You grabbed his neck, a whimper fell from his lips. His moans becoming more frequent and breathless. You pulled his hand to your lips, biting and sucking his thumb as you chased your orgasm.

Just as you were about to cum his eyes rolled back in his head has he moaned ‘fuck this.’ He used all of his force and rolled you underneath him, you shrieked with excitement. ‘There you are. I wondered how long it would take you’ you smiled. He planted a kiss on your lips before entering you again. He slammed into you, you’re cum dripping out of you onto the bed below. You started rubbing your clit again, chasing your high. Your walls began tightening ‘F … fuck, I’m gonna cum’ you groaned. You arched your back as you rode out your orgasm, gripped onto his forearms. You dug in your nails, leaving small crescent shaped marks.

His pace became sloppy. He was close too. ‘Such a filthy Fuckin’ bitch’ he moaned. Just as he was about to cum he pulled out, ‘open your fuckin mouth.’ Doing as you were told you opened your mouth as he pumped his cock, miking every last drop of cum onto your tongue. He leant down as he grabbed your jaw, before spitting in your mouth ‘now fuckin swallow.’ Eyes lighting up you closed your mouth and swallowed. Licking your lips as you did so.

He helped you to your feet, checking you over. ‘You’re summin else girl’ he said a smirk present under his mask. ‘So I’ve been told, we’ve still got a few hours to waste’ you said with a wink. ‘Fuck me, you’re gonna be the death of me’ he growled leaning his head back with a sigh.

[likeastarstar]

coffee in the morning - yoongi

(WARNING! smut ahead :>)

You felt him still as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

"Yoongi," You mumbled, voice verging on a plead as you pushed your face into the center of his back, breathing in his scent.

He smelt of pine and smoke, something earthy and so easy to touch. Something entirely yours. Yoongi breathed out slowly, setting down his coffee mug down on the countertop in front of him before he reached a long arm back, casually sliding his palm down your back and to your ass.

"Again?"

You felt your cheeks warm and squeezed his frame in your embrace, hiding behind him so he couldn't see the embarrassment plastered all over your face for wanting him so badly.

You couldn't bare to answer, sliding your hand instead down his torso and prying it between the fly of his pants and the counter. Yoongi's hips hitched forward, bucking into your soft palm instinctively. You squeezed his member through the thin material of his pants, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder blade.

"Please?" You begged, freezing when he turned in a fluid motion, switching places with you so you were the one pressed into the countertop of the kitchen you shared, hips flush against the edge as he pressed his growing erection into your ass.

A delicate hand swept the hair off of your back and over one shoulder, exposing the other so he could kiss his way up to your ear, "You know you don't have to feel embarrassed, right? It's good that you want your boyfriend to fuck you so often, flattering even."

"You don't think I'm needy?" You asked quietly, lips parting as he thrust against the flesh of your ass in a slow, deliberate pace.

His hand flicked his coffee further away and pushed down on your back with a flat palm between your shoulder blades, making you bend over the counter lewdly.

"Oh, I think you're needy," He teased. "I just also happen to like taking care of you."

You moaned shamelessly and any embarrassment you felt flew away as he shoved your underwear down your thighs, leaving it dangling around your ankles as he did the same to his own pants.

And to think- just a few minutes ago you had been asleep. Now you were burning awake, a red hot flame ignited in your belly as his fingers trailed through the folds of your pussy lazily.

"You're already soaked- did you dream about me?" Yoongi taunted, "Or is this from last night? You think my cum is still in you?"

He plunged his fingers into you quickly, purposefully, as if to test his theory. You said nothing- unable to formulate a response other than broken moans and desperate whines.

You were still sensitive from how hard he fucked you last night but it didn't matter, you pushed back against his fingers anyway and complained when he pulled them out. Yoongi slapped your ass in retaliation, shutting you up effectively before pushing the head of his cock into you to replace them.

"That's it- take my cock. Such a good girl for me," Yoongi groaned, "Is that better?"

"S-So much better," you stuttered, "You always make me feel so good. Yoongi- fuck."

You could tell he was smirking even though you couldn't see him, just felt his hand push the hem of your shirt up and slip underneath it.

His fingers, calloused from playing the piano and the guitar, pressing into your skin, pawing at your breasts and squeezing the sensitive nubs of your nipples.

You pressed your hands against the counter to stabilize yourself as Yoongi's hips slammed against you harder, losing yourself in the way that he touched you. Yoongi teetered on the edge of entitlement and exploratory, something nearing worship of your physical form you had only just begun to feel familiar with.

He started to move roughly, your own hips snapping back to meet his in a way that made your skin slap together audibly. The two you were rough- animalistic even, sloppy and uncalculated as the two do you indulged in each other's bodies.

You felt selfish- demanding that Yoongi fuck you into the dark hours of night and first thing when you woke up. You couldn't help it- you wanted him all the time, like a selfish cat in heat, perpetually horny and touch starved.

Who could blame you- it was Yoongi's fault for spoiling you.

He obliged to your ever desire, letting you pull him into bathroom stalls and tinted backseats of cars. He didn't mind being late for a meeting or losing a couple hours of sleep it if meant being with you like this for a little while.

"Good fucking girl," Yoongi grunted out, punctuating every word with a snap of his hips against yours, "Making me feel so good with you wet little pussy."

You closed your eyes and basked in it, feeling full and fucked open and exposed for him. It hurt- the stretch of his cock and the way his fingers dug into your skin and how tightly you were pressed against the sharp edge of the countertop- but the pain highlighted the pleasure and you felt yourself come undone around him, withering beneath Yoongi without warning.

You could feel that he was close too- the uneven pacing of his hips, the hiss he let out as you clenched around him. You shoved yourself upright, stretching an arm up and around his head so you could pull at his hair.

"Come on, Yoongi," You seethed, grinding your ass against him, "Cum in me, fill me up- I need it."

Yoongi bucked forward and warm heat followed, completely under your control as he spilled his cum inside of you. You sighed, feeling him twitch uncontrollably with aftershocks of his orgasm as his arms wound around your waist tightly.

"Fuck," He mumbled, pulling away from you after a moment.

You sighed and collapsed against the counter, cool marble pressing against your overheated cheeks. Yoongi's fingers trailed once again to your pussy, dragging through the cum dribbling out of you and pushing it back in with the tip of his middle finger, "I'll clean you up, just- give me a second."

You nodded silently, smiling as he stayed there, playing with you gently. You lost track of time and came on his fingers again before he remember he was supposed to be cleaning you up, making quick work of it once you had floated back down to earth.

He pulled your panties back over your hips and kissed your ass sweetly, helping you find your footing.

"Good morning," He said formally, pressing another kiss to the bridge of your nose. "Feel better?"

You nodded happily, a sweet smile on your face, "Loads."

Yoongi rolled his eyes playfully, a reluctant smile on his face as he leaned in, kissing you. You laughed, grabbing his coffee from where it sat, deserted. You took a sip and scrunched your nose instinctively, "This is cold."

"Well- it was hot fifteen minutes ago," Yoongi snarked, "Someone distracted me."

"Make a new batch- I want some too," You pouted, leaning your cheek against his chest.

"Try not to want me too bad in the meantime," Yoongi teased, squeezing your side before drifting off towards the coffee maker.

All you could do was laugh, trailing off behind him.

masterlist.

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: Day Four

“Obedience” — @febuwhump prompt!

If this doesn’t have Ambrose’s name written all over it >:)

Intoxicating Fear — part Xi

Read part one here

Continued from here

TW: forced to obey, mentions of SH, SH implied and referred to, mentions of scars, past Whump implied, past sh implied, past sh inferred, kidnapped Whumpee, captive Whumpee, sadistic whumper,

*~*~*~*~*

Kit walked out of his room a few hours later, looking worse off than before he went in, but Ambrose didn’t question him as he walked over to the kettle and filled it with water. He just sat at the table, watching him as he moved about, doing his best to ignore Ambrose’s stares.

Ambrose had Kit’s phone in between his thumb and index finger, using his fourth finger to twirl it slowly, in a controlled motion over itself and back again.

Kit took a mug out from the cupboard above the counter, spooned three spoons of coffee into a cup clanging the metal spoon into the mug and turning to face Ambrose. He was wedged in the corner, crossing his arms over his chest as he shrugged and asked: “what?”

Ambrose smiled, “what do you mean what?”

“Don’t play coy, Ambrose,” Kit said with a groan, wiping a hand down his face. “It doesn’t suit you. I can hear your cogs turning in your brain.”

Ambrose’s smile turned coy, “isn’t that my power, Mallory?”

Kit scoffed and turned, throwing his hands in the air.

“Whatever,” he mumbled to himself as the kettle boiled, the switch flipping up as the water rumbled soothingly within. “I’ll probably find out soon enough anyway.”

Ambrose’s smile fell when Kit turned his back, his eyebrows drawing together in quiet contemplation, whether to broach the subject or not.

“I’ve been thinking Kit,” Ambrose said after a while.

“Uh-oh,” said Kit, stirring his coffee.

Ambrose smiled, despite himself, at Kit’s inability to shut up sometimes. Kit turned again, steaming hot cup cradled between his palms as he regarded Ambrose with an impassive expression.

“Should I be worried?” Kit asked, taking a tentative sip.

Ambrose let out a soft laugh. “No. It’s actually something that could benefit both of us,” said Ambrose. Kit’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling, before immediately pinching themselves down into a frown, suspicious.

“I know,” said Ambrose. “You have every right to be skeptical, but I think… after recent events that we should consider a way to do things more effectively.”

Kit’s lips curled back into a snarl, like that of a stray dog. “You mean you want to be more efficient in how you torture me?!”

“No,” Ambrose said, dark eyes meeting Kit’s light ones, bright with anger. “I think we should be able to have a conversation without getting defensive.”

Kit scoffed, rolling his eyes to the sky. “I wonder, God, gee Ambrose, you’re right. I wonder why the fuck we can’t be civil with each other. It’s a real head scratcher, huh?”

Ambrose’s voice took an edge to it and Kit’s mockery vanished in his throat.

“There is no reason we can’t both somehow get along.”

“I don’t know, Rosy,” Kit said, which drew a cutting stare from Ambrose. “Somehow getting along with my torturer is not on my bingo card this year.”

Ambrose laughed. He laughed a moment too long at Kit’s outburst, before he settled his gaze on Kit again and his entire expression went blank like the fucking psychopath he was.

“I could take every single freedom from you, Kit,” said Ambrose, voice full of sadistic promise. Kit swallowed hard and covered it up with a sip of his coffee. “I could have you on your knees right now begging me to hurt you again—”

“You would just love that wouldn’t you?” Kit snapped. Ambrose inclined his head at Kit, a warning, so Kit shut up.

“The truth of the matter is that I don’t want you to be some drooling, half formed thing,” Ambrose said, leaving the phone on the table and getting to his feet. Kit’s expression faltered for a moment, fear flashing across his features before schooling them neutral again.

Ambrose approached slowly. Kit took an unconscious step back but was quickly reminded that he was standing in the corner of his kitchenette and silently cursed himself for cornering himself.

“I want you to struggle and fight me, otherwise you wouldn’t be as entertaining,” he said getting closer and closer. Kit tightened his grip on the mug to stop his hands from shaking. “I want you to have your free will and be, well, Kit, because you are the most fun, I’ve ever had.”

Kit swallowed, wanting to look away but too scared to do it. “Glad to be of service.”

“See?” Ambrose said, eyes bright and voice brighter as he stood in front of Kit, forcing Kit to stare up at him. “You just can’t help yourself.”

Something flittered across Ambrose’s face that Kit couldn’t quite identify. “Your defiance is what makes you so fun, but it’s tiring subduing you all the time.”

Kit didn’t dare speak, no matter how much he wanted to. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled when Ambrose put his hands on the edge of the counters boxing Kit in more. Ambrose leaned in, teeth bared in a wolfish smile as Kit’s eyes widened and he leaned back awkwardly to try and keep some space between him and his tormentor.

“See? That fear,” Ambrose whispered, as if he was saying a prayer, eyes searching Kit’s face and drinking in every last detail, every minute wince or flinch or hint of discomfort. “You just can’t bury it no matter how hard you try to hide it from me. It’s commendable really, but this doesn’t have to be just me benefiting from this relationship.”

“Relationship?!” Kit breathed with a scoff, disgust written across his face and lacing every syllable. “I want nothing to do with you!”

“But wouldn’t you enjoy your life a bit more if there were days where I didn’t have to wrestle every piece of your defiance from your body?”

The words left Kit speechless. His chest rising and falling in time with Ambrose’s. The thought of not having to worry about Ambrose’s power invading his mind sounded too good to be true, so foreign. How long had it been since Kit didn’t have to worry about Ambrose torturing him for fun? To worry about what he was going to say in case it flipped a switch in Ambrose’s brain and made him hurt Kit.

Kit was tired. He was exhausted. Life before Ambrose seemed like a dream, not a reality. He missed being ignorant. He missed not having to be terrified every day.

Ambrose got his answer when Kit’s shoulders dropped.

“See? You want it just as much as I do.”

Ambrose leaned back, backing out of Kit’s space and allowing him to stand properly again. Kit’s eyes dropped to the floor as shame flooded his system.

Deferring to a Villain?! Who was he? He was so weak; how could he kid himself into being a Hero when he couldn’t even fight a Villain for himself?! What would Mentor say if he saw Kit now?

“What do you suggest?” Kit asked, voice quiet and broken. How could thoughts of freedom take this much life from his body?! The guilt burned red up Kit’s neck, but he couldn’t not concede. He was exhausted. He just wanted a little semblance of normalcy, and if that price was whatever Ambrose named so be it.

“Your… obedience,” Ambrose said. The words hit Kit in the chest harder than a kick from a horse. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto Ambrose’s in accusation.

“You want my consent to hurt me?!” Kit barked out with a humourless laugh. “No. Absolutely not.”

Ambrose rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “Would you just hear me out before making a judgement?”

Kit clenched his jaw behind closed lips and nodded.

“I was thinking about it all. The amount of power I have to use to subdue you every day, not letting you use your power, not letting you leave the house. It doesn’t all happen naturally. My power’s working overtime 24/7 with you. It’s getting exhausting.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing. Oh boo-fucking-who, he thought, torturing someone takes effort, poor Ambrose.

“So, I came up with a proposition if you dare to consider it. I will leave you alone for most of the week,” he said, and Kit’s heart stuttered to a stop. It must have shown on his face given Ambrose’s smirk. “I will pop in sometimes, only two or three times a week. All I ask if that you obey this little schedule change without fighting me.”

Kit’s words came out breathless, “so you do want me to consent to being tortured,” he said, an unreadable expression screwing his face up tight.

“Think of it more as consent to not being tortured as you are now,” said Ambrose taking a step closer, closing the gap between them again. He placed a hand on Kit’s cheek, thumb hooked under his chin and tilted Kit’s head up. Dark eyes searching Kit’s. “Don’t you want to be free of me, even if just for a little while?”

Kit’s bottom lip trembled. He did, he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to have some kind of normal life even if it meant agreeing to this outrageous condition. He missed his life; he missed Superhero and his job. He missed grocery shopping and late nights with his friends. He missed being able to make decisions for himself.

“What else does obedience entail?” Kit asked, spitting the word obedience as if it was some monstrous creature.

Ambrose’s eyes shined a little at the question. “It means that when I do come and see you, you drop everything. You can still fight me, still defy me, curse me out do whatever you need to — but you simply accept it.”

Kit worried his bottom lip, eyes going far away as he considered Ambrose’s proposal. Ambrose stepped away, turning to lean against the opposite counter in the kitchenette. He crossed his arms over his chest, regarding Kit as he mulled everything over.

“I can see you’re conflicted, Kit, so let me sweeten the deal,” that got Kit’s hesitant eyes back on Ambrose. “If you agree to this, I won’t attack another Hero.”

It seemed as if all air left Kit’s lungs, like an anvil had fallen from the sky and landed on Kit’s shoulders weighing them down suddenly. This was Ambrose’s ultimate cruelty. Appealing to Kit’s heroic nature, forcing him to be a martyr and shoulder the burden of Ambrose’s torment to save other heroes, the people he loves. His friends, hell, at this point his family.

Kit swallowed hard. He didn’t want to be heroic; he didn’t want to shoulder this unfair burden. He didn’t want to protect everyone from this torture, he wanted… he just wanted to be left alone.

If you agree to this, I won’t attack another hero.

Which really was a double-edged sword.

If you don’t agree to this, I will attack another hero. Take another Hero hostage, do everything I’ve done to you and more. Break them, and when they break, I will let you know that it’s all because you didn’t take my deal. Then Ambrose would probably present the deal to Kit again and Kit would take it, the guilt forcing his hand.

“I can have a normal life?” Kit asked, not meeting Ambrose’s gaze.

“Semi-normal, but I can’t see why not,” Ambrose replied.

“And I’m guessing I can’t tell anyone about our little arrangement?” Kit asked, voice mutinous. Ambrose stepped closer and put a hand on Kit’s shoulder. Kit suppressed a flinch; he hated Ambrose touching him. Kit glared up at Ambrose.

“If you like I can make you forget about it all until you see my face, then you could really live a life.”

“In ignorance,” Kit spat, batting Ambrose’s hand away. “No thanks. I’d rather know what’s coming than be caught unaware again.”

Ambrose smirked. “Fine by me.”

Kit licked his lips, passing his coffee cup into his left hand before extending his right to Ambrose. “Fine then. Deal.”

“Ah,” Ambrose said, holding up a finger, “I think we should try this out before you accept.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed and let out a soft tch of disapproval. He knew Ambrose wasn’t going to make it as easy as he made it out to be.

“You’re already reneging on your deal,” Kit said, looking to the side and taking a long, slow sip of his coffee. Ambrose stepped back to lean against the opposite counter.

“I’m not, just consider this a test,” said Ambrose. Kit rolled his eyes and set his mug down on the countertop with a dull thud.

He shrugged his shoulders and said: “fine. What do you want me to do?”

Ambrose’s eyes lit up in that eerie way they did when he got an awful idea to further humiliate or cause Kit pain.

“Let’s start with something easy,” said Ambrose simply, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. “How about… sit?”

Kit scoffed and walked towards the chair beside the table. Ambrose’s voice stopped him again with a soft, “Ah.”

“What?” Kit demanded. “You said sit. I’m going to sit.”

“I didn’t say sit on a chair, Mallory.”

Kit’s eyes burned as well as the tips of his ears, shoulders bunched up. He clenched his fists at his sides and turned to face Ambrose again.

“What? You want me to sit on the ground? Like a dog?”

“Your words,” said Ambrose with an innocent smile. “Not mine.”

Kit clenched his jaw, glaring up at Ambrose and keeping eye contact as he bent his knee and dropped to the ground. He planted his butt firmly on the ground and crossed his legs.

“Now,” Kit spat. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Good,” said Kit, moving to get to his feet again. Ambrose pressed a boot down on Kit’s ankle to stop him from getting up. Kit clenched his fists tight but settled himself back onto the ground.

“I didn’t say you could get up, Mallory,” Ambrose chides, removing his foot from Kit’s ankle.

Kit crossed his arms across his chest in a huff like a child throwing a tantrum, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care what Ambrose thought of him.

“You’re such a dick,” said Kit, grumpy.

“Look at you, you’re adorable. Are you pouting?”

Kit bared his teeth up at Ambrose in reply. “Okay, you can stand up now,” said Ambrose.

Kit scoffed and remained stubbornly on the floor. “Fuck you.”

Ambrose shrugged theatrically. “Fine, I guess I was expecting too much of you when I proposed my deal.”

An obvious ploy for Kit to protest, but still Kit couldn’t do anything but protest. The thought of freedom… it was too enticing to say no to.

“Wait,” Kit grumbled, casting his eyes to the floor as his mind screamed at him for obeying Ambrose at all. “Just… wait.” Kit swallowed hard and got to his feet, still not meeting Ambrose’s hungry stare.

“Kit,” Ambrose said, but Kit still didn’t look at him. “Kit, look at me.”

Kit felt his blood flood his cheeks with humiliation as he raised his head to meet Ambrose’s gaze. His hands were shaking, with anger or frustration or shame Kit didn’t know, but he knew they were shaking and that he didn’t want them to.

“Show me your scars,” said Ambrose.

Kit took a step backwards, as if Ambrose had just assaulted him. His lips curled up and he cut his hand through the air as if to say enough.

“No,” Kit said, voice thick. “No.”

Ambrose tilted his head to the side. “Will I have to say everything twice, Mallory?”

“You are fucking loving this aren’t you?” Kit hissed, throwing his hands up in a helpless sort of gesture. “Whether I agree to your deal or not it doesn’t matter because you still get to hurt me like this. You’re fucking sick. You disgust me.”

Ambrose stared at Kit’s emotional outburst like one would judging the weather from their bedroom window in the morning. “Do I have to say it again, or are you flat out refusing?”

“Fine!” Kit snapped, voice higher, almost hysterical. Kit reached up to grab the collar of his shirt and hoisted it over his head to reveal his back, not taking it off all the way. He turned his back to Ambrose and said: “that one on my left shoulder? That’s from a nasty run in with Other Villain when Another Hero called for aid on a mission. I got it from his fucking scythe if you can believe it—”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Here,” said Kit, turning again and shrugging his shirt back on before lifting the bottom of it to reveal the scar just above his hip. It wasn’t one but three. “Villain’s whip,” Kit told Ambrose. “It stung like a bitch, but she only ever caught me once with it.”

Kit flung his shirt down and grinned at Ambrose. “There, Rosy. I showed you, my scars. I obeyed your fucking command. Are you happy?”

Ambrose hummed in the back of his throat. “We must be spending too much time together, Mallory. You’re starting to understand the power of words.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You learn to when your freedom is limited by them.”

Ambrose didn’t say anything for a moment. He pursed his lips together, taking his hands from his pockets.

“Perhaps the deal was too premature,” Ambrose said. Kit’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, his throat suddenly dry at the prospect of losing his chance at a semi-normal life again. “I’m sorry Kit,” said Ambrose. He meant it too, because he turned to go but Kit’s hand shot out before he could stop himself and grabbed Ambrose’s arm stopping him from leaving.

Ambrose looked down at the hand on his arm then at Kit’s face which was hidden behind his hair, his head tilted down.

“Okay,” Kit whispered. “I’ll show you… you just… you have to use the right words.”

Ambrose stiffened under Kit. “Which are?”

“You said show me your scars. The scars on my arm? They’re not mine,” Kit continued in that same grave, self-hating voice. He raised his head to meet Ambrose’s black eyes with his own haunted gaze. “They’re yours. I didn’t earn them; they mean nothing to me. My scars are mine, wholly mine. I got them.”

Kit ignored the way his voice cracked and let Ambrose go, rolling up his sleeve. “Not these. I didn’t get these, they were forced on me, much like you are. So there. Have I passed your fucking obedience training, or do you want me to bark?”

Ambrose couldn’t help but be a little impressed at Kit’s speech. He didn’t even look down at Kit’s arms the whole time that Kit spoke. He was too focused on the spark of defiance that defined Kit in his mind. The way it left a strange sort of glow to Kit’s features, made them brighter, more animated and life like. As if fighting back the rage he wanted to scream at Ambrose was going to energise other parts of his body.

He didn’t tremble once. He didn’t shake. Everything he said he was certain of, and he didn’t fear any retribution because of it. Ambrose wanted to see more of it, not less, and he feared if he kept Kit isolated and locked away from life forever that spark would dwindle down into nothing. He could search the entire planet ten times over and never find something like it again.

Ambrose smiled. “No Kit. You proved that you could do what you say.”

Kit’s eyes went to Ambrose’s with that same delicious conviction. Ambrose stuck his hand out and Kit shook it.

“I think we have a deal.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage roll call (tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3 ): - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland

[wroteclassicaly]

Okay… um…. Back here again with more kink hour thoughts.

this time it’s Steddie x Reader…

Imagine using the custom piece from your pegging fic… on Eddie as he’s taking Steve in his mouth 🙈

You tryna get me back on my bullshit, huh? Well… I miss my Eddie, so I can definitely oblige. 😈

Warnings: Language, anal sex, threesome, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, Eddie gets degraded, spanking, use of sex toy/harness, strap on, pegging Eddie, sub!Eddie, dom!reader and dom!Steve, established relationship, and overall NSFW content!

You’ll never be able to get over how they can both take it so well, your guys also varying in intensity on switching things up, maintaining or giving over control. Steve has his subby moments, ones you all like to relieve frequently. And then there’s Eddie… Fuck, just thinking about his outer limits subspace — it gets you soaked and Steve rock hard. Eddie Munson is one of the most vocal human beings that you’ve ever met, and that extends to the bedroom portion of your lives.

He isn’t afraid to let himself go and feel every single thing that you and Steve are doing to him, and that he’s also doing to you both. It’s one of the many reasons that Eddie Munson makes for the perfect sub, sometimes even going above and beyond your headspace during that playtime. Tonight was a no brainer, falling into this with a graceful ease, a domineering boyfriend with a old crown back on his head, the other with big doe eyes, begging to be fucked stupid and senseless. You knew everyone’s shared vibes before you even vocalized getting your favorite toy out.

You were using the strap, and you were using it on Eddie.

“So you wanna be stuffed full of her and me, Munson?” Steve had spouted off, hands on his naked hips, staring Eddie down like pitiful prey.

“He asked you a question, little boy! You gonna answer or sit there looking pathetic and empty headed?” You had came back with.

“F-fuck — yes! Do whatever you fucking want with me, m’ yours —“ Steve had grabbed his jaw with a pinching grip, cutting Ed’s sentence off with his own reply. “We know you’re ours, you fucking slut… Didn’t ask you that, now did we?” You’d never seen Eddie shake his head so fast, his cock painfully hard.

“I dunno, babe. His mouth is awfully full of explicit language tonight. I think he definitely needs it gagged. The longer we wait, the worse it’s going to be… on all of us.”

The toy is as close to Steve’s actual girth and length as you could manage, the other that mirrored Eddie’s cock, it lays in the drawer. If you’re a good girl, then you plan on putting that in Steve’s ass by nightfall, effectively rendering them both into boneless, limping messes. You’d smoke a stolen cigarette or cigar, combing through their hair as they would lay in your lap, and —

“Baby? You alive back there, you’re not giving it to me.” Eddie smarts off, interrupting your dazed daydreams, as big of a brat as he is submissive. Probably bigger.

Steve’s obliterated irises widen, a smirk on his lips as he pauses, fisting his slick cock by Eddie’s mouth. “You’re about to get what you want, man. I think more than you bargained for, actually.”

“Good. About time, because I — JESUS CHRIST!” You give him a thrust so hard that your hips collide with his ass, ramming forward, and Steve is ready to cut him off by pressing his fat cock right into Eddie’s mouth.

Back and forth, back and forth…

Eddie’s pick chain sways into the movement, and you grip his curly tresses, pulling him up and back into you, reaching around to squeeze his base. “If you don’t shut your mouth “— you let your hand drift down over his swollen head, sticky with translucent cream, and you swipe. “— I will let Steve cum in your throat, and then I’ll sit on your face. But you won’t be allowed to have anything, understand? Your poor, useless cock will ache all night, and you won’t be able to touch, yeah?”

He remains quiet, but nods. Steve smirking, neither prepared for you next action. Looking at the swell of Eddie’s cheeks, you pull them apart to see his hole stretched around the silicone, and you can’t stop your palm from cracking down on his skin, watching it immediately turn red into the rebounding jiggle. Steve’s cock (which had returned to Eddie’s mouth) jumps on his tongue, and Eddie whimpers around it, swallowing, making him take Steve in deeper.

“Dammit. Fuck.” Steve looks at you with a boasting pride. You’re out of breath, nipples hard, cunt soaking through the harness. You whack your hand over Eddie’s other cheek, his cock blurting out more pre-come, soaking the bedsheets below.

“Damn,” Steve starts, raising an amused, sweat slicked brow, at an out of it and teary eyed Eddie, “she’s gonna beat your cute ass red, honey.”

[losersimonriley]

every way that matters

(Ghost/Soap, marriage proposals, first kiss, in that order actually)

“MacRiley.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ravish!”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

The longer he thinks on it (the longer Johnny goes on listing horrid mash-ups of their surnames,) the more convinced he becomes that they should just keep their own as is. It would make the streamlining process a hell of a lot easier (as easy as it can be for a dead man with a high-clearance-only military file to get legally married. Ghost’s paperwork will be a nightmare no matter if his name is changed or not.) Plus it would mean no unnecessary confusement in the field.

Johnny is quick to veto that idea.

“Where’s the romance in that, ye numpty? C’mon. What sounds better, John Riley or Simon MacTavish?”

Ghost actually full body snorts at that one. “They both sound dead weird.”

“Och, ye wound me. There’s no other choice then. Plain ol’ Riley-MacTavish it is. Simon Rhys Riley-MacTavish,” Johnny says his name with such softness that it hurts.

And that one…that one might work. Bit of a mouthful but nobody besides an officiant is ever going to be saying his full name anyway. And Johnny, apparently.

An officiant. With the highest of clearances. At their wedding. Their make-believe wedding.

This is all, of course, a joke. They’re meant to be having a laugh on watch duty while Garrick and Price sleep their dedicated four hours. Simon had maybe forgotten himself and delved a little too deep into the idea. Maybe he forgot this wasn’t a real conversation. Easy to do with electric blue eyes lit by a full moon and a perfect mouth spouting random, sleep deprived nuggets like “What if we got married?”

“Sure. That’s the one,” he says, regretting every single one of his life choices that led him to this moment. They need to stop. Now.

“That’s the one,” Johnny repeats.

Despite it all, his own jaws keep fucking flapping. Soap tends to have that effect on him. Curious, that.

“When I was a little brat,” he’s already second-guessing the confession about to escape his lips, “I used to think I’d make the perfect husband one day. Cause my old man showed me everything not to be.”

He tries to ignore the sharp inhale that Johnny attempts to mask with a clearing of his throat.

“You would be. Anyone would be lucky to have ye, Simon. I’d certainly be beside myself,” he says that last part in a mutter, looking off into the dark of the forest.

“Right,” he whispers, sarcasm dripping from the word. He hopes they leave it at that. He thinks they have left it at that, peaceful silence promising until Soap picks it up again within minutes.

“If it weren’t for the military, the task force, would ye marry me?”

“Maybe if you asked nicely.”

“Simon. I’m serious.”

He glances up and, yes, that is Soap’s serious face. He’s staring at him so intently it might burn a hole straight through the hard shell mask and into his skull. Fuck. Fucking hell. What is this? The fuck is going on here?

“I—Johnny, we aren’t…we aren’t together,” he can’t help but ease into it as if he’s breaking the truth to Soap. And yet he phrases it as a question instead of the statement it’s meant to be.

“Ye didnae answer the question proper.”

“You didn’t ask proper,” he quips, agitation rising in his voice. Why can’t Soap just stop this? Can he not see how much it’s hurting him? He’s usually so good about reading him.

Johnny grins evilly and plucks a blade of grass from the ground, quickly tying it off. “Need ye to stand up for a sec.”

“What,” he deadpans.

“Up.”

He stands, ever the obedient dog for John fucking MacTavish.

And John fucking MacTavish stays sat on the ground, switching his position to a kneel right in front of him.

He’s going to throw up.

This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening. He’s in a dream and he’ll wake up screaming and sweating and shaking any second.

“It’s not funny anymore, Soap,” he croaks.

It hurts.

“I’m not laughin’,'' he holds the blade of grass up, haphazardly knotted into a tiny circle. “Simon Rhys Riley, would ye do me the absolute fucking honor of being my husband in all ways except legal? Sir.”

It’s so stupid. It’s pretend—he knows that, but he’s sinking to his knees anyway. “This would make me your fiancé. Not husband.”

“That a yes then?”

Johnny is serious and his smile is blinding. Not for the first time, he’s bloody thankful for having his mask on around this ridiculous man. He’s sure his entire face could rival a tomato.

Maybe it’s not a real proposal but, Simon realizes, it’s real to them. Maybe not so far as a promise, but a wish. A what if.

“We’ll wait a bit, let it marinate. Maybe this’ll turn to gold, aye?” Johnny makes to slip the…ring…onto his finger but hesitates, motioning to the glove covering Simon’s hand. “Can I?”

He nods once and the skelly glove is far too gently pulled off and replaced with another far too gentle glide of grass up his ring finger. It’s the perfect fit. It doesn’t rip, doesn’t fall off when Johnny moves his hand back into his glove. It’s as if that stupid blade of grass was meant for him.

What a stupid thought. A stupid thought for a stupid, lovesick ghost.

They blink at each other, both seeming to be in a daze of their own when something possesses Simon—something unhinged and desperate and absolutely necessary in this moment.

He yanks the mask completely off before surging forward and kissing hard enough to hurt both of their noses and quick enough to leave them both aching for more. Johnny whines pitifully and follows his lips when he pulls back.

“Think we’ve done this all backwards, LT,” Johnny breathes into his mouth, hands coming up to pet his face.

This is everything. Everything. Backwards, frontwards, sideways, he doesn’t give a fuck because Johnny is everything.

“You started it, Sergeant.”

***

Six months and six thousand kisses later, Johnny presents him with a gunmetal black ring. Fucker had it planned from the start.

Engraved on the outside:

Riley-MacTavish

And the inside:

In every way that matters.