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cu7ie · 1 year

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💋 big mouth ☆ ～('▽^人)

⠀⠀✿`` content warnings : gojo can't shut up. cervix fucking. switch reader and gojo. (gojo gets dommy at the end.) porn w/o plot. dirty talking, throat fucking, handjob, face humping, a lot of cum bc i said so nyeh nyeh, oral (dick-sucking/pussy licking), big dick gojo (and he knows it), reader has experience, gojo a little less so. stamina, gojo has it, you don't. cursing (lots of it). name-calling (both sides), afab reader. raw sex minors do not interact! 3.8k words Y'ALL.

⠀⠀✿`` author note : gojo cock is good. based as fuck please talk to me about gojo cock <3 also i fr think hes so annoying hes never quiet!! in my mind he so blah blah blah blah blah during sex . even if he dont like u he blah blah blah. also if you like my porn, reblog it! oh yeah!!! and leave comments omg... this fic got so away from me, idk how long it is its just so much fucking porn- also! @enchantedforest-network partner! join us hehehe

Gojo has a bit of a talking problem.

He's a blabbermouth at the best of times, and maybe in any other situation would you appreciate his insight. He's good at making mountains out of molehills, take your nothing and make it something; even when it's as mundane as the weather, he'll draw up his own storyboard and play all the different actors - reporter, news anchor, cameraman and "Satoru, coming to us live with the forecast,"

and at first it's charming, right? It's what endears most people to him; what attracted you in some respects. Bordering on bit of a god complex, Gojo's always been effortlessly confident; disarmingly charming; handsome to the point of aggravation. He's never a dull moment, always gives it his all, extra even when he's lazy.

But you thought maybe, just maybe,

if you shunt his pants down till they bunch around his ankles, and licked his cock from shaft to tip,

would he shut up then? Would he allow you a moment of silence (relative, because the sound of you sucking all up on his dick is decidedly extremely loud) to let your hair down, let your head bob back and forth, tongue slurping on the underside of his cock while your lips are wrapped firmly round the middle of his shaft?

"You really like sucking my dick, don't you?"

No. The answer is no.

His face has broken out into a smile, and you don't know if he's giggling out of incredulousness or nervousness - but you are surprised that all his blood hasn't gone to his dick, cause his cheeks are red. His hand cradles the back of your head graciously, sweat sliding down his nose because he has to crane his neck to ogle you.

"C'mon. You can take more of it inta your mouth - suck. Fucking suck." His hips shifty as you work your way towards the base of his shaft, and you chose to ignore the comment, what with cock in your mouth and all. He's gotten mouthy before, not like this, but it's nothing you can't handle.

See, Gojo's kinda ... easy. He can act all hard to get - er, mysterious and what not, but he's like any other aloof man with a pretty face. Afraid of gettin' close and not knowin' what to do with it. It, you know, -

And you do, but he keeps fucking up your rhythm by trying to fuck your hand. You give full strokes, rotating your wrist and pumping steady and quick, trying to look Gojo in his eyes as you're doing it, where as his gaze is dead set on your point of contact. "You're just a dog aren'tcha? Hump, hump, humpin', away." Your smile curling at the corners, at how easily he's giving himself to you. He's dripping pre,

His fat fucking cock. Thigh clenching, pussy watering, eye-widening kind of fat. Shit is so big can't even hold itself up, so you tell him "I can hold that for you," and he pants out as he nods rapidly, "Yes, please do." You get to jerking his cock and he's a whiny little bitch. "Faster" this, "More" that, moving your hand up and down his cock like you don't know what you're doing.

"Back up Satoru, I got this."

"Look at you - you're fucking panting."

And you think you'll get away with it. Get just grunt or a sigh in response. But of course his motorboat mouth starts going on...

"Yuh ... you're good, but, " He attempts nonchalance in a cherry tomato cosplay. Red red red all over. "You're holding out on me..." His tongue lolls at you playfully, and you decide anything not singing your praises wasn't worth hearing. He opens his mouth to say something else.

Your stutter your stroke (effectively cutting him off,) working your way to the head and massaging it between your thumb and forefinger. Sweat is pouring from Gojo's forehead. He's hiking his leg further apart on the couch so you have more space to touch him, your body snaking over his thigh, getting close enough for him to be able to feel your steady breaths on his cock. "Fuck! Stop - haah.." He groans like you're working him. You most definitely are. "Stop teasing.."

"A blowjob?" You purse your lips, ponder it over. "Think you'll be able to make it to the fucking?" Your breathing gets closer, and you feel him throb in your hand. "You sure seem excited! Just don't blow your load down my throat, save it for my pussy." You're teasing, licking your lips and pressing a sloppy kiss to his mushroom head. You could swear it'd gotten a little harder than before.

Only in those moments could you have recognized you gave the man a little too much power. When your pillowy, spit slicked lips wrapped around his throbbing cockhead, licking up the pre on your eager tongue, looking down and breathing deeply through your nose. He can hardly keep himself from lifting his hips and trying to pop through the other side of your throat with the damn thing!

Now, he's just a boy too big for his damn britches. He knows you give good head because of the way you move your tongue and jerk off whatever you can't reach, but it's not good enough head. He's big, sure, but for someone who talks like they fuck n' suck on the regular, something about the performance is feeling a wee bit lackluster...

And while you're busy thinking about how you got here, he's impatiently jutting his hips against your face.

"You listening to me?" His finger teasingly taps at your forehead, getting you out of your train of thought. "Don't tell me - I've already fucked your brains out? Maybe you're just a lil' cock-drunk. Got a remedy for that..."

He thrusts his hips and the rest of his dick tucks itself snugly into your wet warm mouth, head brushing past your uvula and nestling comfortably in your throat. You can't see the way your throat bulged a little, but you most definitely feel it. You make a noise, half-choke-half-whine, and he laughs gaily at the way his balls pap your chin. "Ah? You said something?" He peers down curious, your nose mingling well with the fluffy little hairs at the base of his cock.

You don't forget to breathe, although your eyes tear a little from his size. Your jaw and throat are being stretched to capacity, but you remind yourself 'through your nose'. It's fine for a bit longer - you bob up and down in relatively uninterrupted peace, til Gojo's hand on the back of your head gets a little too comfortable. "Just a little more... suck a little harder..."

Your face burns and you clutch at it, staring at him your the gaps in your fingers as he tucks into your pussy like it's supper. He's alright at it. He doesn't do it like all he's seen is shitty porn - he's really ... getting in there, actually. Oooh.... Ohh..

He starts trying to take over your flow, his grip firm enough to start bobbing your head up and down all on his own. Like your throat is just some fleshy, tight hole to fuck. Kinda makes your pussy drool, but that's besides the point. "Oh fuck.."

You moan and take it. Let him hump up into your mouth as his musk sorta clogs your nose. He's moaning so loud it drowns out most other cohesive thoughts in your mind, the plumpness of his balls cushioning your chin a little every time he tugs your head down. He's muttering stuff you can barely hear over the sound of sucking.

"Pretty baby. Here's to hoping you'll never suck anyone else's dick this good again.... holy shit..."

Eventually his grip lets up a little. It allows you more freedom in your movement for a bit. Though your jaw starts hurting sooner than later, so you give his balls a little pinch and he finally lets you up to take in a big good gulp of air.

His voice is a little shaky. "That was ... fuck ... that was nice." Your voice is a little raw, more croaky when you respond, "Just nice?" flicking his balls in irritation as you take huffing breaths. His cock twitches, shiny and coated in saliva, your drool dripping down over his sack - altogether one of your prettier pictures. "Y'know... what'd make that blowjob just a bit better?" He breathes like he missed oxygen, his sigh half content and mostly wheedling as one hand creeps towards the base of his cock, and his other gets comfy on your ass.

"You wanna fuck, Satoru?" He feigns a gasp, his mouth popping into a little surprised 'o' shape. His face can't belie his excitement, his palms clasping together almost comically before he realizes what he's doing and stops.

"Where could you have ever got that idea from...?" He says, jerking his cock a little and pointing it up to the sky. "Get over here." He pats your cheek with it. You're not against the idea, but Gojo hasn't impressed you enough yet. You poke it away with your finger, sitting up and shuffling out of your underwear. There's enough space on the couch that you can flop onto your back, looking at Gojo from between your legs, pussy pretty and glistening with your arousal.

The way he looks at you makes you squeeze down on absolutely nothing. Flustered yet wild like an animal, apprehensive like he's never sucked a clit before.

"Head first, then we fuck."

"Oh?" Gojo starts fighting to get his shirt off his head, scampering forward so fast he nearly falls into your pussy lips. "Easy boy! Down, down..." You mutter, his fingers digging into your thighs and spreading them clumsily. The aforementioned effortless confidence of Gojo seems to break away into something more sincere and somber when he lowers himself down to kiss your clit. The way he chooses to maintain eye contact throughout makes your heart flutter, and you get a bit of slick on his lips on accident.

His tongue darts over it. "Itadakimasu."

"Oh my fucking god..." Your chest almost deflates at how serious he is, nodding like he's bowing before going in with his tongue.

"Mmf..." Your sigh flutters out of you, becoming a full blown moan as his mouth firmly suctions over your clit and little labia, licking firmly and decisively. Like all of a sudden he knows what he's doing. His attention is most often directed towards your clit, suckling on it and making your thighs twitch. You push them against the side of his head but he forces you to spread them wider again, just to fuck a finger or two into you first.

Your pussy makes a little schlick noise, readily accepting him in the hot warmth of your cunt. "That's a good sign.." He meanderingly strokes his chin. "Take dick that well too?" Your head perks up, teasing underlined with irritation.

"Course. Now suck please, I liked you more with a mouth full." You smile shakily and Gojo seems to laugh in kind. Your smile is cut off by a gasp and shudder as Satoru firmly presses his finger into your wall, lifting his mouth to get a better look at your pussy as he's stretching it open. "M'sorry, did I cut you off?"

He licks the remnants of you from his damp lips, two fingers slowly thrusting in and out. All you can do is sigh, one legs flopped off the couch and the other slung over the back of it. He's alright at this. Not as good as him giving head, but it's not terrible either. Maybe you just like seeing him be quiet for more than a second.

His fingers feel like they're looking for something. First he's pushing down, and when you only grunt in response, he starts gently feeling around for that little pocket of sunshine...

"Up." You whimper, aroused but irritated with his finagling. Your hand slides down the front of your stomach, pressing softly on a spot right before your lips start and where your hair would begin to grow. "Around th-there... You got thaat?-" If his grin is anything to go by, he most certainly does. First he presses up into it like it's a button, which makes you squeak and yelp and clutch the couch, bracing for impact. Then he slowly opts you into the pleasure, trying to apply the right kind of pressure to massage a couple moans out of you, your juices coating his hand and dripping to his wrist.

"Oh, oh.." He winks cheekily as you sling your leg over his lap, positioning his cock till it's brushing up against your pretty lips, pre-cum dripping from the head of his cock as your warmth beckons him further. "...save a horse..." He sighs happily as you sink down onto him.

"Hey - don't turn my couch into a slip n' slide now." You groan, clenching down on his fingers like you mean to squeeze the life out of them. "Need - I need more." You snort when he tries to go for a third finger. He clues in quick.

"Dick? I gotchu, don't even worry about that." He tries to slide atop you to complete this jigsaw, but you got a different idea in making these pieces all fit. You push him backwards with your foot a little, getting up off your back in one motion. He backs up to allow you space, clocked in to your movements just a tad.

"Oh my God Satoru." You groan out as the tip of his cock stretches you out, your pussy sucking him up so so greedily, like you'd been waiting all night. "What... don't like my banter babe?" Gojo grunts and your brows furrow, his hand jumping to your hips and steading you when you swoon.

"N-no... Just ... aaaah .." You squeeze his shaft and he actually honest to god chokes on air. "Just - oh fuck - just shut up for a sec. Let me have thissss..." You're halfway down now, Gojo gently coaxing you further and starting to rock his hips.

Pulling up with ease and sliding down further on his fat shaft with effort, Gojo stretches you open so good your legs keep trembling, your breathing hurried even after a couple minutes - and while Gojo seems to be enjoying himself (very, very much so), he's smiling up at you and your effort, very plainly amused. Sweat starting to trickle down your forehead, you're sat wondering what's so funny.

"Yeah yeah yeah. Go on - I'm definitely not stopping you." He sighs deep, his head lolling over the couch as you start lifting yourself up and down, your hand reaching up and going for your nipples. He's too focused on your wet pussy to pay you mind for a bit, but then he's drawn to them, hypnotized. He pulls on your left with his fingers, nibbles on your right with his teeth.

"Oh!" Gojo's blue eyes flick up, wrinkled at the corners. "Mno teef?" He says, still attached to your nipple. The vibration makes you laugh, more of his cock pressing into you as your muscles relax. "Teeth is ... teeth is fine." Gojo resumes his plucking. He lets you use his cock a little like a dildo. In fact, he kind of reminds you of a perfect Ken doll. Smooth muscles you can run your hands over, nice built shoulders, pornstar dick...

"Nuffin..." He mumbles around your areola, going back to sucking and scheming. Whatever. You focus on bouncing on this cock.

...

Opting to do most of the work probably wasn't the best decision. Your legs are championing through, but you're pretty tired, and after figuring out Gojo's dick is big enough to meet your cervix you've been having the time of your life. Sometimes you get too tired to lift yourself, so Gojo is oh-so-very helpful in grinding up into you, smearing his little pre-cum kisses up against your cervix.

"I'll even do all the work." His grin was smarmy, but you didn't clock it at the time. It's cute and still makes your pussy throb, so "Go," you say. "Go off, babe."

You're gonna cum soon. Gojo notices how tight you get when it's about to happen. His take over is a little subtle, but you're so interested in reaching that stiff peak, that tightening in your stomach, just chasing, chasing, chasing,

Gojo thinks, "like a dog." He smirks into your chest. Your cursing abruptly cuts into his thoughts, however -

"Shit! - fuck fuck fuck - ugh!" Every word is punctuated by a last effort of raising and falling, raising and falling, raising, and then being pulled. Gojo tugs your hips down and your pussy spasms as your body jerks.

"Satoru!" You yelp reflexively before something like a whimper weasels itself from your lips. You tighten around Gojo and it hurts a little because he's so thick, but you moan into his shoulder unbothered. A little broken, voice horse, but mostly unbothered. Til he starts moving his hips again.

"The fuck?" You stutter, a little caught off guard as you're suddenly shifted, up and down not from your own movement, but Gojo's rabid humping. "I'm almost there - soo close - can we keep goin', pretty please?" He grinds his hips into your orgasm terribly slowly, trying to get your brain to clock into overtime.

He carefully saws himself in, making your back arch at the sensation. He slides your knees apart and holds the back of them firmly, tugging you the rest of the way onto him. The meandering pace of sex before is tossed to the side.

And regret isn't quite the right word, but you'll feel something a little like it in a second.

"Whatever you say."

Your body is boneless, so it's pretty easy for Gojo to scoop you up, though it doesn't surprise you any less. Says there's not enough space on the couch for him to spread his wings, so he lugs you back to his cozy little room, and plops you onto his bed. Towards the edge of it, so your legs dangle off as he positions himself in front of you, holding his cock at the base - which now looks angrier than before. Instead of the blushy pink dusting it at the tip, it's a deeper, aggravated red now - slapping against your cunt like this motherfucker has places to be. "Open uppp~"

You were fucking Gojo before. Now he's fucking you. Any apprehension, slow-to-start bashfulness, gone with the wind. Once the head pushes past your entrance, a good five inches of cock go alongside it immediately after. Gojo's hiking your legs onto his shoulder's as he watches your eyes suddenly blow wider than saucers, laughing genuinely at the break in your nonchalance and worn facade.

"I should have answered you properly earlier." He says, brushing a stand of sweat slicked hair away from your forehead. He leans down so close, lips a little touch and go, the intention in his eye serious and cutting. With the movement, the last couple inches of cock fill you out, making you eep! But not breaking his focus in the slightest. "I want to fuck." He drags his hips molasses like, till the head is back at your entrance. He slides it back in smoothly, earnest chuckle overshadowed by your pitchy whimper.

"But I assume you got the memo - so," The sound of skin slapping against skin resumes, his pace almost breakneck. His balls slap against your ass with such ferocity it makes you yelp the first time, whimper the second, moan the third. Gojo seems more serious now, the balls in his court and the way you squeal and reach out for anything to hold only spurs him on further.

And are promptly cut off by a vigorous pounding, the sounds of your own moans, and an downright visceral embarrassment when you realize this is the second time you're cumming and in spite of all your fucking and sucking, Satoru hasn't even came once. And as if hearing your thoughts, Gojo's playful expression closes in - his brow furrows as each roll of his hips gets more decisive.

"Pussy tryna close up shop?" He mutters near your ear when you clench on him a little too tight. "You tryna break my dick or something? I know it's good, but you can't keep it -" You don't know if your sigh is from pleasure or exasperation.

"Gojo, please." He tweaks your nipple and makes you squirm.

"Ohhhh, I see how it issss. It's Gojo now?" With every drag of his words he slows down dramatically, dragging his cock along your walls so painstakingly sensual it makes you want to scream. "What happened to Satoru?"

You start placatingly. "Satoru, I-"

After a moment, his hand comes over yours, your fingers weakly folding over his. His pumps grow harder, but slow down, his eyes clamped shut as he looks up, and -

"I'll try to make this one a two-fer." He speaks with that same smile in his voice, and you're two far gone to offer a groan or snap in response. "Y-yeah. Cum, Satoru - I wanna, I wanna cum," His eyes dart up to yours, and it's a little hard to hold his stare, but you manage.

"Yes yes pretty baby. You'll - we'll cum. Soon... real s-soon."

Your muscles feel tired, used from your last orgasm and forced to prolong operation just to take more dick. It's harder to take the full length of his shaft, your tummy flipping and your mind beyond fuzzy and fucked out. But you hold out. Just a little bit ... longer.

His thrusts start getting sloppy. The bruising piston of his hips edge off their intensity, and -

You're cumming again. Your legs are shaking and your ass feels a little numb and you're clenching so so so hard, for dear fucking life-

"Fucking hell!" Gojo bites his tongue, and pumps into you for the last time.

"Good." You gasp. "That was good." Satoru runs a thumb over your clit, teasing.

He heaves sighs like he's moved mountains, but really he's just offloading hot cum from his throbbing nuts, pressed into you very closely before going entirely still. You thought you were full before? Now you're kind of... bursting. Is that the right word? Feels that way. Gojo does a full body shudder and stretches his back out, trying to fuck his load you before he's even came it all out.

There's so much that it spurts around the sides of his dick and you can feel some of it slip out, run down your thighs, and you quiver one last time before feeling strength leave your body. Satisfaction blankets over you, a nice, full-bodied comfort. When Gojo slides out, he spurts a little cum on your tummy, the rest of it oozing out of you slow.

"Haha," His voice is a little raspy, like yours now. He arches a brow before he bends down, planting a loving kiss on your lips.

"Just good?"

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ofsgiathan · 2 years

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🍂 shiiiiin !!!!! the psyduck to my heart . we adore that you’re so invested in your characters . you always try and provide help and resources to others , too . you’re so active in projects and i hope you’re doing great . stay hydrated , rest , know that you’re amazing !

EEEEESSSSSMMMMMEEEEE!!!!!

hi. yes. ilu. <333 and we definitely live and appreciate psyduck in this household!! and while there's a lot of firsts for me when it comes to thanksgiving today ( i'm unfortunately by myself today 😔 ) i'm not gonna let it get the best of me. i just hope you know that ilu, esme, okay?? and i hope your day goes well! <333

#out of wings 》》》 positivity #oschvank #oschwank #yes ... i used both because i know you like to switch back and forth.#bwahahaha!

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seouljazzbar · 4 months

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could you do something about your sextape with the riize members? just what it would be like in general

i hope this is what you meant anon! includes nsfw links! proceed at your own risk

SHOTARO

I could be completely off base about this, but Shotaro would be a little nervous! He loves you and gets hard at just the idea of filming the two of you, but something about it makes his palm slick with nerves: so he really makes it a point to make the video about the two of you, ignoring the camera and making sweet love to you like there’s no one else in the world. He wouldn’t have to bother himself with the responsibility of making it look cinematic, as long as the camera captures how good he’s making you feel. His lips stay pressed against yours for most of it, whispering sickeningly sweet dirty talk for your ears only.

EUNSEOK

I’m not gonna like, Eunseok wants you to put on a show for him. If you’re gonna film it, might as well go all out, right? He’d be so vocal, encouraging you to get off just using him for your own pleasure. He’s so mesmerized by you that he completely forgets that you guys are even filming, switching to taking over just as you’re about to cum on his cock. Oh, my god, he’d be so cocky afterwards knowing that he caught your shrieking orgasm on camera and can watch it back as many times as he pleases. He’d mock you lovingly by reminding you just how desperate you sounded screaming “Eunseok! Fuck, right there, feels s-so good!”

SUNGCHAN

I feel like Sungchan would make you the center of attention, mainly because the tape in question would get the most play out of him. He’d pass on going out with the members to explore whatever city they’re doing promo in so he could have the room to himself, sextape playing at full volume in his headphones while he jerks his swollen cock to the procured memory of you bouncing on his cock. The memory of laving your breasts with his tongue in desperate strokes, trying to remember exactly how you tasted rocking your hips back and forth like a certified pornstar. From then on, it’d be one of his favorite (private) nicknames for you: my little pornstar

WONBIN

Oh, immediately yes. Wonbin’s agreeing to it before you even finish asking. But instead of a video where he’s fucking you, it’d be a video of you fucking him. He’s not shy to make the distinction when you guys are chatting specifics, and holy hell is he glad he spoke up. You fuck him with your strap so good that he sees stars, blacking out after his third orgasm of the night. The two of you have always been switches, but the routine of your relationship led to him taking control more than you did. But this? Capturing his whiny, fucked out cries for release with you pound his little hole? He couldn’t have written it better himself.

SEUNGHAN

Been there, done that. I feel like Seunghan would suggest sextapes fairly early on into the relationship, something you both were unspokenly on the same page about. You guys just match each other’s freak, and recording yourselves is nothing new for the two of you. He has a private folder that he refuses to even hint at having to any of his friends (your privacy is oh so important to him, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if anyone saw your intimate videos together). Whenever you guys try out something new in the bedroom, he props up the camera to capture it just in case. Your moans and cries are the soundtrack to his own personal erotic film collection.

SOHEE

Sohee agrees on the condition that you’re in control. It’s not a non-negotiable, but he knows that watching the tape back will be ten times hotter if he gets to hear you boss him around. Calling him a good boy while you bounce on his cock close enough for the camera to see every drop of slick that you have to offer. It would drive him crazy, thanking his lucky stars that he’s blessed enough to have you as his girlfriend. The video would make him cum so fast, but he wouldn’t be embarrassed– that just meant he got to start it from the beginning again.

ANTON

The only reason Anton agrees to a sextape is because you seem so excited by the idea :( he doesn’t wanna burst the bubble you’re in when you propose the idea to him, all smiley and turning up the charm. He’d do anything to make you happy, as long as he can lay down some boundaries: the only one being no faces. He’d fuck you better for it anyway, grabbing onto your hips with a grip that’ll certainly bruise, calling you a spoiled brat that would do anything if it meant getting fucked. He never admits it to you (mainly because you get all I told you so! about it)but he watches the tape any time he’s horny and you’re not around. Watching himself drill into your tight little pussy never gets old for him

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neat-crows · 8 months

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So I've been re-watching dr who for the first time ever rn, with a friend who's never seen it before, so I'm seeing all these episodes for the first time since I was 13 and picking up on a LOT that I never noticed before, and holy shit the tenth doctor is SO WEIRD to Martha Jones, and nothing exemplifies that more than the sontaran stratagem/the poison sky.... like..... he is SO weird the whole way down.

When they first see each other again their introduction directly mirrors Jack and The Doctor's in Utopia

"Doctor" "martha Jones" laugh and hug

"doctor" "captain Jack" laugh and hug

And then! they have a normal interaction!!! WIN he asks how her family is and how she is, and they're smiling and genuinely seem like friends very happy to see each other!

And then.... donna drops the fiance bomb.

He turns with a look of.... almost anger? disbelief? and asks WHAT MAN?? Then martha explains who he is and the doctor....

he looks? upset? and then like, resigned? AND THEN martha admits that her fiance is kind of similar to the doctor, and then donna asks "Is he skinny?" and his reactions

is to make a face like "yeahh" AND START NODDING????? like he's taken Martha's admission to mean she's with a man that's just like him, and honestly seems a bit smug over it, and then when Martha says no-

he looks so taken off guard and betrayed ??????????? BRO we are less than 5 minutes in..............

He then proceeds to be tetchy with her, and to be fair this is mostly because of her involvement with unit, and his discomfort with how militaristic she's gotten - which I think comes both from anger at himself for how he's changed her, and also discomfort that she's no longer "his" Martha, she's changed, and he doesn't know her as well anymore.

he tells her off, he's snide and judgmental, he won't even look at her until she tells him to, and he's honestly bitchy - Until she explains herself, and tells him off for being so judgmental, i also think his line "oh so it's my fault" is very telling because..... it literally is? like yes, you put her in situations where she had to become harder and more used to violence......... and he KNOWS it. He's doing what he did all through series 3, which is feel guilty or bad and then take it out on Martha (that's for another post though) until she stands up for herself (get his ass!!) and then when she's finished she looks at him

determined, but eyes darting back and forth waiting for his reaction, on some small level hoping for his approval

and only THEN does he start to smile, and he tells her "that sounds more like Martha Jones." she's back to feeling like she's still his (to him, Martha is acting incredibly normal and platonic). The doctor has always had a weird possessiveness with Martha, going all the way back to their first episode where he hand picked her, and in this second of her looking for his approval, he feels that again, and he IMMEDIATELY started flirting again - please go watch the scene it boggles my mind how fast he switches.

I also want to be clear, Martha isn't flirting back, she's acting extremely normally. She's clearly taken the time away from him to get over, not only romantic feelings, but any anger as well. She seems to have come to terms with how she feels with everything that happened, and she loves and cares about him, but she's not naive to his faults - I also don't think she even picks up on him being weird to her in this scene. She's no longer in tune with his every mood swing, she's not here to fix him, or cater to his needs, and so she no longer notices these small moments from him.

AND THEN.... the clone.

He never flirts with the clone. The ONLY time, is the very first time they interact, before he's realized something is wrong.

he calls her over to come with him, and his face is honestly way too close to hers. bro is a menace. but then, maybe 2 minutes later, he immediately clocks that this is not Martha.

he realizes there has to be a spy and only has to consider for half a second before he turns and asks about her family, he's already realized she's acting a little off, and the second she answers he's 100% certain.

and he gets MAD. he tells her Donna went home because she's not like her, she's not "a soldier" clearly a shot at the sontarans, but also another subtle test, the real Martha wouldn't let that slide, and he wouldn't say that to the real Martha. He continues saying Avanti, instead of Allonse-y, which is interesting, because he already knows. He's not doing this to confirm his suspicions, he's doing this as retaliation. To confirm to himself he knows Martha better than this fake, he's toying with her. BUT. He doesn't go to save Martha.

The next episode, the doctor's daughter, he refuses to accept the label of soldier, but Jenny rightfully points out that he strategizes like one And this is one such moment. He knows Martha is a clone, he's mad and upset, he could go save her right away, but he doesn't. He doesn't because it serves him best to allow her to keep shutting down the nuclear launch.

It reminds me a lot of when Cassandra possessed Rose in New Earth, he played a long for a little bit, but that was just to figure out what was happening. He IMMEDIATELY tried to fix it, I just wonder if it was any other companion if he would have done this. If it was Donna would he have left her for so long? even if it was strategic? it's this weird conflict the doctor has now that he's very very protective and a bit possessive, but he also treats her like an equal on the battlefield, and it's a weird... trust? he has in her to take care of herself.

I kind of don't want to call it trust because that sounds too positive, but I don't know another way to phrase it, but it's a forced independence and self sufficiency.

but then, he finally goes to save her

He goes and cradles her face gently, and NOTABLY says "good, still alive" MEANING HE DIDN'T KNOW??? and still left her for that long...

but he holds her gently, and fully ignores the clone. He has his back to her, and then proceeds to taunt her. He tells her he clocked her right away because of the pupil size, thin hair, and he says she smells. but we know this isn't true.

Sure maybe those physical traits are true, but that's not how he figured it out, we saw how he did it, he clocked on because he knows Martha so well, but he can't admit that. He can't admit that he knows her just as much as she knows him, just like he couldn't tell Rose he loved her.

He is so deeply angry at this clone, he makes fun of her, he yells at her, he looks at her likes she's nothing

This is his face when he kills her. He doesn't talk to her, or even TRY to save her. And we know she is alive, she has memories, and her own thoughts and feelings, and the doctor kills her while gloating because of his immense anger for hurting Martha. An anger that is also guilt.

he does not speak to her like a person (which directly leads into his treatment of Jenny in the next ep).

Parallel that to how Martha treats her, they talk about their family and she even calls the clone Martha. She really is a doctor in a way ten tried and often failed at.

And then at the end, Donna asks Martha to come with them, and she says no, and that she's happy at home, but she's better for having traveled and come back.

And the doctor looks at her

With an obvious sadness, but also acceptance. He clearly wants her here, with him, but I think he's finally come to accept that that'll never happen, and he needs to let her go.

Edit: I Like their dynamic(mostly) This is not an anti tenmartha post Him being a freak is compelling

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daddyslilchickenfingers2 · 5 months

Text

Face Sitting (Chris)

Request: reader rides chris’ face for the first time and he ends up shooting his load all over himself because it was so hot to him and her dirty talking was getting to him and everything was just so hot then the reader grinds against his stomach/chest using his cum to slide back and forth and end up cumming on him again while he jerks off because it’s hot to him

Warnings: short, plus sized reader, oral (m/f receiving), stomach riding, jerking off, slight degradation if you squint, cumming untouched, dom!chris

Y/n’s Pov

It had been a long and stressful day for both me and Chris for separate reasons. We were both extremely relieved to finally be able to just chill at my apartment for the rest of the evening without any more stress. Currently, we were lying in bed, Chris had his head on my stomach as I played with his hair. “Hey babe?” Chris asked, “Yes?” “Can we try something new? I’m hornyyyyy!” he whined. He rolled his head to look up at me with a pouty face, “What do you wanna try?” I asked intrigued, “I want you to sit on my goddamn face.” he groaned out.

I was pretty surprised he said that considering I’m not exactly some skinny bitch, but I was also skeptical because of that. “I don’t know, I don’t want to like crush you.” I told him, Chris laughed before saying “You’re not gonna crush me ya goof!” I gave him an unamused look, causing him to stop laughing.

“I’m serious, I really want you to sit on my face. Please, it sounds so hot!” he begged again, “Okay, I guess we can try it.” I told him. Within seconds, Chris was on top of me, harshly pressing his lips against mine, causing me to let out a surprised moan. He pulled away to slide off my shirt, now leaving me in only my panties as I wasn’t wearing any pants.

Almost instantaneously, Chris pulled off his sweatpants and boxers in one go before taking off my panties as well. He flipped us over so I was now on top, helping me rock my hips against his for a minute, spreading my wetness across his already hard cock. Chris laid back before sliding me up to his stomach “Ride my fucking face like a slut!” he growled, moving us both so I was now hovering over his face.

Chris pulled me down onto his face, groaning at the taste as he ran his tongue through my folds. I was trying my best not to put my full weight on him as he started harshly suck on my clit, but Chris didn’t like that. He immediately pulled me all the way down on his face before harshly grabbing my chin, forcing me to look at him.

After sending me a wink, he went back to sucking on my clit but quickly switched to giving it little licks before flicking it with his tongue. I had one hand on the headboard while the other slipped down to grab his hand, “Oh fuck, Chris- mhmm! F-Feels so good!” I whined out.

Chris let out another groan against me when he stuck his tongue into my hole and swirling it around. This made me buck my hips forward slightly causing him to let out an extremely whiny, needy moan. “S-So good! Such a good boy for me!” I moaned, causing Chris to start fucking into me with his tongue.

He brought his hands up towards my waist to make me grind against his face before bringing one hand up to choke me. I let out an extremely loud moan when he squeezed my throat harder and started sucking at my entrance, “Fuck! So c-close, gonna cum all over your pretty face!” I cried out.

Chris slapped my ass, making me realize I was now grinding on his face without his help anymore. He let out deep growl as I started to move my hips a bit faster, moaning loudly when I felt myself cum. “Oh shit- yeah, right there! Fuck, Chris- you’re s-so good!” I whined out, after I came down from my high Chris helped me moved down towards his stomach.

I didn’t really register the fact that his stomach was wet since I was still a bit dazed from my high. I looked down at him to see him breathing heavily and smiling with a fucked out expression, “Holy fuck, that was so hot! You literally just made me cum all over myself without even touching me!” he panted out.

His face was still wet with my cum but his expression was something else, he looked so hot right now. I let out another whine when his hands on my hips made me slide down his stomach a bit more as it stimulated my sensitive clit a little. Chris experimentally rocked me back and forth on his stomach a bit, groaning at the why I could easily move thanks to his cum.

“Ride my stomach, c’mon make yourself cum again like a slut.” he demanded, making me grind onto him hard. I’ll admit this was a new feeling but it felt amazing, “Spit in my hand for me babe.” Chris told me, making me a bit confused but nonetheless I complied. My confusion was quickly replaced with shock when I hear the sound of his slick hand rubbing his cock. “Are you really jerking off right now?” I question with a giggle.

Chris’ hand came up to grip my throat again, “Shut the fuck up and grind your needy little pussy against me!” he growled as we both sped up our movements. I quickly felt my high approach and before I knew it, I was cumming all over his stomach. I immediately got off of him and went down to suck his cock, harshly sucking on the head while massaging his balls.

His hands came to push my head all the way down on his cock before letting out a deep groan and cumming down my throat. I pulled off with a pop before looking up at him and licking the mixture of our cum off of his stomach. I licked all the way up to his mouth before making out with him. Chris groaned as he tasted the cum on my tongue before he flipped up over.

We lazily and sloppily made out until he pulled away “Open.” he demanded while grabbing onto my chin. I complied and immediately let out a whine when he spit into my mouth, “Swallow slut.” he growled, I did as he said and stuck my tongue out to show him I listened. “Good girl, always listen to me so well. Now let’s go get cleaned up my love.” he said helping me up, we took a quick shower and changed into new pajamas.

Once we were done, we went back to the bedroom, Chris changed the sheets before we laid down. I cuddled into his side, “The was definitely something fun, I love you handsome.” I told Chris while stroking his hair. “Oh yeah, we’re totally fucking doing that again. That was an amazing experience, thank you for trying it out with me. I love you more angel.” he replied back, placing a kiss on my neck before we slowly drifted off to sleep. We were now both content with the outcome of or say since it felt like the stress had basically felted away.

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l0vergirlv0mit · 11 months

Text

Bags

Song to go with: Bag by Clairo ❤️

Pairing: College!Hazel Callahan x Reader

Summary: you’ve been in love with your best friend for years. Watching her date people sucks especially when one of the absolutely despises you.

Contents/warning: Switch!Hazel x Switch!Reader, fingering, oral, pet names, nipple play, cursing, threats, light? violence (nothing gory), sm yearning.

A/n: for the dorm imagine Buffy and willows dorm from btvs<3. Also reader isn’t fem but also isn’t masc but is definitely masc leaning. for my in between girlies 😘.

You alarm clock rudely wakes you up with an incessant buzz. Hitting it a bit to hard it falls off your night stand making you groan into the sunlit room. You sit up with squinted eyes not noticing that Hazel was still in the dorm. “Well good morning sleepy head.” She smiles at your groggy state.

You wake up just enough to snatch the alarm clock of the ground and punch it off. “Ughhh good morning.” Your eyes finally adjust to the light fully taking Hazel in. She was still in her pjs wearing a white wife pleaser and low waisted grey sweats. “Shouldn’t you be in class right now?” You ask her confused as to why she was skipping her morning class.

“I should but Anya had me up till 2.” She clasps her hands around the back of her neck. She still had her tired raspy voice probably having woken up a couple minutes before you. “Oh god spare me.” Suppressing an eye roll you got up from the bed and grabbed your towel, getting ready to go to the showers. Anya pissed you off to no end.

And it wasn’t because she was dating the person you wanted more than anything (maybe a little bit). It was her glares and her back handed compliments that she gave you any chance she could. How she would snap at people over anything and everything she was extremely abrasive.

Your friends tried to explain that that was just her personality but you didn’t function like that you were quiet and sweet. Both didn’t mix well so she tended to single you out. Always trying to push you out of your comfort zone by teasing and getting a rise out of you. You can barley ask a waiter for ketchup let alone defend yourself. But you refuse to tell Hazel about her behavior because she was happy. She was so sweet to Hazel and that made you most livid.

“Not like that y/n we went out for our 4 months.” She grinned at your scrunched face. “How fun nothing says I love you like sleep deprivation.” She raises her eyebrows at your grouchy mood with a soft smile still on her lips.

“Oh wow someone’s moody, anyway Josie was texting the group chat about a going to the bar tonight are you gonna come?” Hazel asks you hoping you’d say yes because you never go out. “Mmm I’ll think about it Haze Ill probably have a lot of work to do.” Hazel sighs. “Pleaseeee you never come out with us anymore.” She give you a pleading look. “I have a lot of today I’ll let you know if I’m up for it.” You giggle at her childish tone and pat her shoulder then leave the dorm.

—

You let Hazel know you were coming and put your phone down and change out of your work clothes. Your style has always been a bit more grungy and masculine only really dressing a bit feminine for special events or outings.

You put on your favorite baggy black jeans that hung off your hips so beautifully. Then put on a spaghetti strap tank top and a long sleeve over it made of black mesh and lace that was completely see through. You left your hair messy and smudged black shadow and liner on your eyes. Finishing off your outfit by putting on your black docs.

Hazel was already with the group so you drove yourself to Josie, PJ, and Isabel’s shared apartment. You found your way to the apartment door knocking timidly. You rock back and forth on your feet waiting for someone to open the door.

When someone finally does it’s her. She doesn’t talk to you directly. “Y/n is here now guys can we finally leave?” She says not letting you in yet talking to YOUR friends behind the door.

Hazel quickly comes to the door and smiles brightly at you pulling you in by your hand . “Oh wow someone’s trying to get lucky tonight.” Hazel softly says nudging you. This earns you a glare from Anya.

The group sits in the living room area to catch up before heading out. Everyone’s talking but your mind is elsewhere. You’ve always been the quieter one of the group so your lack of conversation goes unnoticed.

You can’t help but stare at Hazel and Anya. A deep grief blooms in your chest. Hazels arm around Anya protectively. Anya tucks a piece of hair behind Hazels ear and kissed her on the cheek. Hazels face becomes so soft and loving it tears you apart wishing so bad that you were Anya. Hazels hand travels to her waist to pull her closer just to top it off.

You look at Anya for a bit taking in how perfect and pretty she is. She’s so feminine and put together. She was everything you would never be. She had on a full face of makeup that was perfectly done and a dress that hugged in all the right spots. She was an absolutely gorgeous girl.

You were only pulled out of this haze by Josie putting her hand on your knee. Knowing exactly what was going through your mind. You had drunkenly told her about your 2 year long crush on Hazel in a club bathroom. You look back at her with glazed over eyes and squeeze her hand as a silent thank you.

“Are you guys ready to get wasted cause I am.” Josie announced and pulled you up with her off the couch. She looks to you and smiles trying to change the mood that’s setting in. You smile back but felt suffocated anyway and had to leave. Everyone excitedly agrees and heads over the bar.

—

This bar was THE bar all the college kids go there to find hookups and get drunk. The group gets drinks to loosen up but you decide to hold off for tonight. You let your friends make you dance their tipsy state amusing you. You move timidly at first but the encouragement from your friends has you swaying to the music.

You danced with Britney trying to absorb her confidence in some way. When Hazel comes over to playfully dance with you twirling you around and giggling. She saw your shyness and was trying to remedy it.

She made you sway with her hands on your waist. It was all friendly and playful and you were best friends so it wasn’t unusual behavior.

Nonetheless you felt your face get warmer at her proximity. Anya was staring from the bar after telling Hazel she didn’t feel like dancing. Anya really thought Hazel was just going to sit there and watch all of her friends dance instead.

Anya quickly changed her mind though. Seeing you too make her jealous. Hopping out of her seat and waltzing over to shove you away from Hazel with feigned innocence. Hazel mouths sorry towards you and it was your turn to go to the bar and watch from a far. You get yourself a coke to sip on since you would be driving later, not much of a drinker anyway.

You sit there mindlessly scrolling your phone trying to keep yourself occupied. Watching them still it hurts your chest. Hazel holds Anya close she has her face in the crook of her neck holding her from behind. It was a real sight. Especially when Hazel looked so good. Her cropped white tee and baggy jeans left just enough midriff exposed to mesmerize you.

Josie comes to sit besides you breaking your trance. “I hate her.” Is all she says and she looks from Anya to you. “Me too.” You both laugh together. “Yeah she’s kind of a bitch isn’t she.” Josie remarks pressing her lips together and furrowing her brows.

“Yeah she’s something.” You huffed and smiled brighter grateful for your friendship .That’s when Josie gets a certain look that you know to well. “You wanna smoke?” She flashes you a wide grin and wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh god yes.” You take one last sip of your coke and follow her outside.

—

You and Josie walk back into the bar in a hazy giggle. After a shit talking session that had you loosing your shit and gasping at gossip. You go to dance again and you notice Anya arguing with Hazel.

Anya rolled her eyes and says something that made Hazels face contort into hurt. Hazel says something in a pout then storms off in the other direction. “Jesus they do this shit every fucking night bro.” Josie rolls her eyes following Hazel to the bathroom. Every night? You though to yourself. You were under the impression everything was great?

The anger taking over your body doesn’t let you ponder over it more. Body moving without you telling it too, you yank her shoulder to face you. She was taller than you and definitely stronger then you but you didn’t care. The face Hazel made at Anya was enough motivation. You could’ve fought 10 frat boys and won.

“Hey! What did you say to her.” You could stand her being mean to you but being mean Hazel was absolutely not allowed. “I don’t think that’s any of your business y/n.”

She looks you up and down. “I suggest you fuck off before I tell her your little secret.” She gets closer to you only inches from your face. “What do you mean secret?” You started getting nervous. She grabs your face in her hand and looks in your scared eyes. “Your in love with her. It’s pathetic really the way you gawk at her.” Her acrylics are digging into your cheeks. Frantically staring at her in disbelief.

“Start keeping your distance y/n, Im not worried about you im just annoyed that you THINK that could happen. Like she’d ever be into someone like you.”

She let’s go of your face lightly tapping it. You feel tears fill your eyes about to break the barrier of your water line. “I-i… f-fuck you Anya.” Tears cascade down your face. Anya just vocalized your internal thoughts for the past 2 years now your sure she’s some demon from hell that crawled out to make your life miserable.

Just as Hazel and Josie come out of the bathroom they see you walk quickly out of the bar. Hazel feels completely exhausted, this was supposed to be a fun night you FINALLY agreed to have fun and hang out again.

Hazel follows you out just catching up to you when you get to the door of your car. “Y/n! Wait! Please, where are you going it’s barley been an hour?” She looks at you confused eye brows pushed together and hands on her hips. “I’m tired Hazel.” You can’t face her you can’t stop the tears rolling down.

You open the door but Hazel puts a firm hand down closing it again getting frustrated at your short response. You finally look her in the eyes and she takes you in. “Holy shit y/n are you ok?” She goes to put a hand on your shoulder but you flinch. Her face becomes even more worried than before. Staring at the streaks running down your cheeks.

“Please Hazel I just wanna go home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow ok.” Hazel moves her hand from the door and lets you open it. “We will talk about this tomorrow?” She ask you to get more confirmation. “We will.” You reassured her knowing talking was the last thing you were gonna do.

You drove back to your dorm still feeling shocks of fear pulse through you at the thought of Hazel knowing you were completely in love with her. Losing her would do more than wreck you. She’s been your best friend for what felt like forever.

Finally inside your dorm you rip your clothes off and put you pjs on as fast as you could. You didn’t bother to take your make up off and fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Thank god for the weed.

—

Your woken up by the jiggling of keys. You turn to look at the time and you way overslept. “Oh your up.” She closes the door lightly walking over to your bed. She puts a brown paper on your nightstand and smiled softly at you. “I got you a bagel from the place we like, I made sure they put extra cheese and hash browns. And I got you salsa.” The same sadness you felt the night before washed over you. Her sweetness makes you fall apart in more ways then one.

“Thanks Hazel.” You can only produce a small awkward smile. “Do you wanna talk about last night?” She carefully sat next to you and put her hand on your back, rubbing up and down. “I’m ok Hazel, really it’s fine.” You brush her off.

“I can’t help you if you push me away y/n. You’ve been really distant recently I’m worried. I-i mean did I do something?” She spoke softly and looked at your face silently begging for you to look her in the eyes instead of the floor.

But you can’t you start to cry before you can even get a word out. “No you didn’t do anything I’m sorry. Last night Anya was just really mean. Well she’s mean every time I’m around her but I-I’m sorry.” You spoke through tears and hiccups not even knowing even know why you were saying sorry. Regretting everything you just said. You knew Anya was going to tell her—everything was going to be ripped away from you.

Hazels face contorted into anger and shock. You were petrified that you had made her angry at you. “Anya did this.” Her tone was steady and dark. You nodded. Her jaw was clenched and her fist balled breathing heavily. She grabs her keys and opens the door. “I’ll be back in 30 minutes.” She shut the door behind her harder than she meant too. She quite literally couldn’t control her anger. She liked Anya, a lot actually, but the fighting has gotten to much. Hazel could handle a bit of sass from her here and there. But knowing she hurt you had Hazel enraged.

—

It had been 45 minutes of you sitting there bouncing your leg. Shaking anticipating the consequences of your breakdown. You tried watching a movie to get your mind off of your situation but you couldn’t focus. The bagel on your nightstand making you nauseous just by being there. Frustrated tears forcing there way up every once in a while.

You hear the knob jiggle and keys. Your immediately alerted. Hazel calmly walks through the door and moves to where you’ve come to stand infront of your bed. She takes your face into her soft hands pulling you into the deepest kiss you’ve ever had. When she finally lets you catch your breath she looks in your watery eyes .

“Why did you never tell me.” She whispers looking over your post cry face. Your lips puffy and pink frustrated cheeks. You notice that her lip is busted and she has a mark on her cheek that is definitely going to turn into a bruise. “Y-you aren’t angry? Are you ok?” You started to tear up again from the relief.

“No baby i could never be angry at you. And I’m fine just thought I should put what I’ve learned in my boxing class to use.” As she’s wiping your tears way, your remember, her and Anya took the same boxing class; thats actually how they met. Hazel looked angry but you didn’t think she was THAT angry. “I didn’t think you thought I was pretty.” She pulls you closer to her. “What! Why is that?” She questioned from the crook of your neck. “Cause you date girls like Anya I didn’t think I was your type.”

Hazel suddenly starts placing kisses on your neck. She realizes she has you turning into putty in her hands, like she always wanted. Everything about you was captivating to her in this moment. The way you smelled, the way your skin felt, how she could hear your breathing pick up with every kiss.

Your heart was racing you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Your not gonna have to worry about Anya anymore honey, I promise. Your the only girl I want. And your sooo my type.” Hazel sucks a bruise with no warning into your neck and licks over it. “Oh my god Hazel please.” Your hand reaches up into her hair your fingers tangled in her silky brown tresses. “Please what baby?”

Your face got impossibly redder whole body on fire unsure of how to answer her. Feeling the way Hazels hands roamed you made your head spin. You just couldn’t take it anymore pulling her up lightly by the hair to have her look at you.

“I need you.”

You make sure you say it clearly. Hazels eyes become more lidded than before overcome with lust. She pushed you backwards towards her bed until you fall into her sheets.

“Y-your so beautiful.” Shes stammering seeing you laid out in HER bed. She connects your lips again teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance.

You want to make her feel as good as she’s making you feel. Her knee comes between your legs giving you relief from pulsing heart beat that’s developed.

Your grinding on each other urgently. Years of pent up sexual frustration and longing being released.

You try to keep up with her kisses the best you can. The friction making you lose control. Completely entangled in each other, hands trying to feel every part of her.

Exchanging heavy breaths and soft whimpers. It was frenzied and sloppy it was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

You tug her shirt over her head. She does the same for your exposing your bare chest. “Fuck.” Her brows pushing together as she feels her arousal pooling in her boxers. She can’t help but gently thumb your hard nipple trailing kisses from your collar bone to your breast.

She took the soft flesh into her mouth leaving hot kisses. Her hand massaged the other. Her lips wrapped around your nipple and released it with a pop. You let out a strained moan.

Her hand traveled to the waist band of your pajamas pants. Teasing you with her fingers moving back and forth under the fabric.

“Can I take these off.” She ask you her eyes begging you to say yes, desperate to see all of you. “Please” You nodded and she gently undressed you leaving your skin vulnerable to cool air for your dorm.

It doesn’t matter though, because Hazels warm body is pressed to you in a second. Her hand trails from your breast to your hip slowly, keeping your attention.

“Do you know how long Ive wanted you?” You shake your head, voice escaping you in the moment. Her finger slides through your folds, your wetness sending waves of pleasure and confidence through her. The sound alone made her ache.

“Way to fucking long.” She slips a finger in your soaked needy hole. You let out an open mouthed exhale. She slips in another finger. “Fuck! Mm-n!”

Her fingers stretched you out and the sensation was mind numbing. An endless repeat hazelhazelhazelhazel. Was all you could think about. Her fingers curled at a slow pace hitting just the right spot. Working your clit with her thumb at the same time.

“Im I making you feel good honey?” Her voice was gentle and attentive. The way she was grinding down on your thigh mixed with your pretty noises was making her go insane. Your moans start to get more frequent. As you were embarrassingly close to release so soon. “S-so good Hazel.”

“Talk to me sweetheart. This is all mine now right?” Hazel questions you her pace picking up and mouthing your tits. “All yours all yours all yours all…” You mumbled to her as your eyes flutter. “That’s right honey.” She kept a rough tempo leaving marks on your chest until you were finally coming undone under her.

Shes watches as your orgasm possesses you. Moaning her name as you arch your back grinding yourself against her fingers. “Yeah honey just like that cum for me baby.” She doesn’t stop till your squirming from overstimulation.

You catch your breath for a second before becoming focused. You didn’t want your fatigue from your orgasm to keep you from pleasing her. Hazels already pulling you into another deep kiss like before.

“I want to make you feel good now Hazel.” She seemed a little shocked. As you think about the girls she’s hooked up that’s probably not the kind of treatment she was used too.

“You don’t have to y/n, making you cum is pleasure enough.” She seemed almost nervous. You shake your head and take her hand placing the two fingers that were just fucking deep inside of you into your mouth.

Releasing them with a pop. Her eyes are droopy and mouth slightly open. Her chest breathing deeply overwhelmed with lust. “No Hazel. I really want to make you feel good.”

Hazels ripping off her sports bra without another word. You nudge her shoulder down and straddle her. She’s frantically trying to take her sweats and boxers off. You help her rip them off and throw them across the room.

The sight is beautiful she’s completely soak, all you want is to have your face between her thighs. “Can I taste you?” You ask coyly as your hands rub up and down the tops of her thighs, your words going straight to her core. “Fuck, y-yeah, yes p-please—I mean.”

You settle between her thighs leaving light kisses on her inner thighs. Hazels having a hard time keeping still with you so close to where she needed you.

You look up into her eyes through your lashes as your breath fans over her soaked cunt. She lets out a whimper on accident and it set her body on fire with embarrassment.

Finally you lick a broad stripe. Hazel sign in relief. Her fingers pulling at your roots. Your hands are hooked over her thighs keeping them apart. Tongue flicking over her clit at a pace YOU didn’t even know was possible.

Hazel eased into the feeling of being taken care of. She’s switching between look you in the eyes and looking at the ceiling when the shyness become too much. She quietly took in the sensation of being taken care of before speaking trying to get rid of the shyness.

“I’ve thought about you like this s-so many nights.” Hazel mumbles out between whimpers. You push your finger into her curling. “Yeah?” You question quickly. She throws her head back when you go back to sucking on her clit.

You add another finger. Pace becoming quicker and deeper. “I always imagined this,oh god,h-happening during one of our movie nights.” You hum into her creating a whole new sensation as her legs start to quake. “I th-thought youd take the hint. Oh god don’t stop.”

She let out a soft laugh until the knot in her stomach was becoming to much to handle. “I mean we c-cuddled for like 3 hours at a time! Shitshitshit!” Hazels grip on your hair became tight as her eyes rolled back, letting out a loud moan. The knot in her stomach snapping as the white hot feeling flushes over her.

You watch her in awe. Her chest heaving as she grinds into you her other hand gripping the headboard showing her toned tricep.

You help her fully ride out her orgasm then pull away to use your shirt to clean yourself in and lay next to her gently.

Hazel turns to look at you with a tired smile spreading across her face. She cups your cheek once more kissing your forehead. “I thought it would end like this too.” She says to you quietly. “Me too.” You reply going to kiss the tip of her nose. She looks into your eyes for a moment thinking.

Her eyebrows push together as a though crosses her mind. “Did you ever eat the bagel?” You laugh at her genuinely concerned question and pull her into an embrace, warm bodies lovingly entwined. “No I actually thought I was dying though in my defense.” Hazel pouts at you.

“Did you beat up Anya?” You question her instead. “I tried to but she honestly kicked my ass sooo bad, like embarrassing I’m so happy you weren’t there” You laughed at this too.

“I looked cool though right?” She dropped her voice dramatically. “Oh yeah sooo cool.” She gasped at your sarcasm.

When your both of yours laughter dies down it’s seems both of you have the same realization that your best friend was now your girlfriend. Eyes saying what they needed too.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You asked quietly. “Only after you eat cause a $12 bagel on a college student budget is atrocious.” She kissed your forehead and nudged you to get up.

(Thank you for reading😙)

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x you

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transchesters · 26 days

Text

sam and castiel spend their evening talking, leading dean to discover sam can speak ennochain, and sam doesn’t know what love means. inspired by this post from @wendibird !

"do you ever miss heaven? the way it used to be?" sam asks, lifting his eyes from the current men of letter's record that he is reading so he can meet castiel's eyes. the angel sits across the table from him sam and dean had just gotten back from a hunt, one that was pretty cut and dry, and now he and castiel are engaging in their own reading and research, enjoying the quiet company of one another while dean showers.

castiel glances up as well, setting down the leather-bound book he has been purusing. his brow furrows in the way it often does, the way that sam can't help but smild fondly at. "sometimes i do, yes," he answers after a moment of thought. "but then i recall that heaven was never..." he trails off, as if searching for the right words. "heaven was never as ideal and perfect as i had believed. i was ignorant and blinded by my devotion to my father, but with time and distance i have come to realize that heaven was not the home i thought it was."

sam nods silently, feeling a certain understanding for the slight grief he thinks he observes in castiel. "did you ever meet him? god, i mean?"

a fond, perhaps bittersweet smile pulls at castiel's lips as he nods. "yes. when i was created, he brought me down to earth and spoke to me about mankind. he entrusted me to care for his most beloved creations."

it's then that dean is steps into the doorway, pausing there at the domestic scene before him. he can’t help himself from eavesdropping, because what on earth could these two be talking about that has them looking all… lovey-dovey? as his brain processes the last things spoken, he realizes... he has no idea what the hell castiel had been saying. a confused expression pinches his face. had he been hearing things?

"how long ago was that?"

"you would not believe me if i told you."

"it used to be hard for me to comprehend just how old you are, or the earth and angels in general," sam starts, his own brow pinching a little, "back when we first met you. before... before the cage. but i think i understand better now." dean darts his eyes back and forth as the conversation continues, chills running down his back which cause goosebumps to erupt over his arms. as he watches, sam and castiel are switching from speaking english to... something else, and dean has no clue what.

actually, with a sudden realization, he does have a clue.

"your time there, it must have felt like... centuries. no wonder your ennochian is so good. does it bother you to speak it? i cannot imagine you have good memories of the language."

sam blinks, as if shocked by castiel’s compliment, which helps him ignore the memories that do in fact resurface. "really?" he asks, still oblivious to the minor panic attack he and castiel are subjecting dean to. "most of the time, i don't even realize i'm speaking ennochian. it just… happens, i guess. but i do like speaking it with you. i get to make new memories, with you." he doesn't try to hide the warmth behind the words as he usually does.

dean slams his book shut, suddenly unable to remain quiet. "you speak what? since when?!"

sam and castiel are both startled by the sudden exclamation, glancing over at the eldest winchester in sync, which makes dean wonder just how much he’s been missing.

"since the cage," sam answers after a moment, his brow furrowed. "i… guess i forgot to mention it."

dean scoffs, full of disbelief. "dude, what the hell? you can speak some weird, angelic language and forgot to mention it?"

"actually, the ennochian that sam speaks is even older than the tongue i am used to," castiel speaks up, as if that were a fact that would help diffuse the situation. now sam and dean both turn their confused glances at the angel, though dean is much more perturbed than sam.

"i didn’t know that," sam mumbles, sounding thoughtful at this new information. "i guess it makes sense, though. i learned from lucifer and michael, and they probably spoke a much older tongue than most angels." the names fall from his lips, coated in pain, but he ignores it.

castiel gets the sense that sam doesn't want to dwell on those names and that pain, so he just nods in agreement. "yes, i think that's the case."

"alright, y'know what, that's enough freakiness for me for the night. sam, we'll talk about this later." dean shakes his head as if disappointed, groaning as he turns on his heel and soon disappears down the hallway leading to his room. as usual, he doesn't notice the pinched and pained expression he's caused on sam's face.

sam heaves a sigh, folding his hands on the table in front of him and staring down at them as if they would provide some sort of answers. he flinches when, suddenly, castiel’s hand envelops his own.

"he speaks rashly, sam, and does not mean it maliciously," castiel says gently, meeting sam’s multicolored eyes with a smile. "he doesn’t understand."

sam tries to relax under castiel's touch and his gaze, his eyes so full of warmth and the understanding he doesn't get from his brother. but he doesn't want to think about dean right now; instead, he considers the fact that he and this wonderful angel have been dancing around whatever this was for quite some time now. but sam feels like they might be reaching a point they can't ignore any longer.

"cas…" sam trials off, because what is he supposed to say here? everything about this is wrong. castiel isn't supposed to think of him this way, isn't supposed to look at him with such fondness. "don't look at me like that. i'm just some human."

now it's castiel's turn to look pained, and he sits forward in his seat, leaning closer to the other. "sam, please, don't say such things about yourself. you are not filth."

sam's lips part in shock, but his clenching stomach stops him from speaking. "filth? i thought…" he swallows painfully and shakes his head. "lucifer called me that. i thought it meant human."

castiel lets out a sharp exhale, feeling a ball of rage grow in his stomach. "no. it doesn't." sam nods silently, leaning back in his seat which makes their hands pull apart. castiel can't help but chase the contact.

"don't we both deserve some comfort, after all of this? can't you see that i love you, very deeply, and i'm tired of hiding it?"

sam blinks, his brow furrowed as he tries to place some of the words he can't recognize. "love?" he repeats, the ennochian word foreign on his tongue. "what is that word? i don't think i've heard it." he grows even more confused when castiel gazes at him with a profound sadness. the angel squeezes his hand, almost tight enough to be painful, but sam doesn't complain.

"love. it means love, sam. i was saying that i love you."

#i hope i did this idea justice because i love it sooo much #sastiel #supernatural #sam winchester #castiel #supernatural fanfiction #kinda dean crit? i guess #nico’s drabbles

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ghostskiss · 1 year

Text

Hate

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader WC: so many omg (9.2k) Summary: On a pranking war, you end up taking something from Ghost to get back at him. He’s bound to get back at you. Warnings: 18+ Enemies to lovers, Voyeurism, Stalking (? Kinda.), Teasing, PIV, Oral (AFAB receiving), Dub-con elements (I think? Just tagging that in case. Reader wants him but isn’t letting him know it), Spit, Biting, A bit of blood, Hate Sex, Edging, Overstimulation, Creampie, Condescending!Simon, He’s kinda mean in this Sorry (heheh)

Irritation is settling into your bones. Maybe even your hair follicles. The pores in your skin. Your entire soul. The point is, you’re irritated. Pretty soon, you’re going to be pissed.

Stomping through the building to the mess hall, you fume. You’re thinking of all the ways you can get back at him. This has been going on for weeks. Months, actually. You’re ready to throw your towel in. Wave around a white flag. You don’t care how smug the bastard is going to be. You don’t care if he gives you that knowing smirk under his mask, unable to see it, but still somehow knowing he’s laughing at you anyways. Hands clenching at your sides, you swing the door open. Soap flinches, seated at the table, his eyes shooting to you. Surprise plasters on his face.

“Uh-oh. Incoming.” Soap starts, his gaze going from your storming form to his friend, Ghost. The pair are enjoying their dinner it seems.

“Riley.” You grind out, coming to a hot stop behind him. Weirdly, he had his back to the door.

He doesn’t even bother to turn.

“Yes, dear?”

Soap tries to hold a laugh back, coughing. “Shit, what’d you two get into now?”

It’s not unknown to the rest of the 141. The thing you and Ghost have, the going back and forth, the endless pranks on each other. It started as an accident, your accident. Sometimes at night when you’re lying in your bed, you stare at the ceiling, wondering what would have become of the two of you if you hadn’t done what you had. It was an accident; you even apologized to him! Multiple times. He still would not let it go. He got back at you. And then you got back at him for thinking he could get back at you. The cycle continued. Still does, to this day. All because you’d accidentally -accidentally- switched out his shampoo for yours. Something so stupid and trivial snow balled into…into this!

Your hand opens over the table, the item falling to the middle of it. You should’ve dropped it into his food. Soap looks down, shock spreading across his face before he sputters with laughter. It makes you angrier. It’d be fine if Soap was laughing at something you did to Ghost, but when it’s turned around, it makes you want to kill the both of them.

A small black plastic spider sits in the center of the table. It looks ridiculous now, under the lights of the mess hall, but it was scarier in your dark room, sitting right on top of your pillow.

Ghost lets out an unimpressed snort, “The hell is that?”

“What do you mean, ‘the hell is that?’ It didn’t crawl into my bed by itself, Ghost!” You shrill out, ready to punch him in the head, really. You never should have told anyone about your fear of spiders. It’d been another accident; this time alcohol had loosened your lips. You never thought it’d be used against you like this.

Soap slaps a hand to his mouth, trying to contain his glee. It looks like he kicks Ghost under the table. “You put that in the lass’s bed? You’re cruel, Lt.”

The man gives a noncommittal shrug and finally looks at you from over his shoulder. His mask is pulled up enough to eat. It’s normal for him to be comfortable enough to expose that much of his face in front of Soap, but the rest of the team? Forget it. He seems to notice his mistake, pulling his mask back into place. You don’t miss the curve of his smile before he does. It sends a shock down your spine, and you feel yourself falter a bit before fixing your scowl.

“You scared of a little toy? Explain to me how you’re on the team, again?” He stands, apparently done with his dinner. You have to move back to give him space, and of course, he doesn’t ask you to move. You do it anyways, pissed that he knows you’ll move to accommodate him.

You cross your arms over your chest as he pushes past you, tossing his food in the bin. He leaves the mess hall like you’re not throwing daggers at his back. Huffing, you turn back to Soap, who’s playing with the tiny plastic legs on the toy spider. Pointing the toy at you, he chuckles, shaking his head like he can’t believe it.

Sighing, you sit down, anger almost disappearing now that the idiot who caused it is gone. You snatch a bread roll off Soap’s plate, sinking your teeth down into it.

“Gotta give it to him. Where the hell do you think he found this?” He flicks the toy to the table, not bothered that you’re eating his bread.

You shrug and swallow the piece before answering, “Who knows.” Your gaze is fixed to the toy, and then a thrill runs through you. A smile crawls to your lips as you fixate on it.

“Christ, lass, you look absolutely evil.”

Standing abruptly, you push yourself away from the table. Soap calls out to you, and you ignore him. You’re on a mission now. Your feet take you through the building to the sleeping quarters. You mentally check the time. Ghost was just eating dinner. Next, he’ll be in the showers. Without fail, you can count on the routine your lieutenant keeps. It’s not like you’re paying that much attention. Everyone knows, so that they can steer clear of him. The time he eats dinner, the time he heads to the showers, the time he cleans his guns in the weaponry room. He’s very vocal on the times he needs to be left alone. Soon, he’ll be bedded down for the night. You need to utilize the time that he’s in the showers.

You’re standing outside his quarters, staring down the closed door. A nervous chill hits you. It feels violating, this plan that you’re scheming. To even be going into his quarters. Anger comes to you now. He crossed that line with you, remember? He went into your room, somewhere in between the time you’d got back from your operation with Gaz and the time it took you to get ready for bed. You’re just playing the game he started, as always. Steeling your nerves, you push the door open. Of course, it wasn’t locked. The audacity someone had to have to sneak into Ghost’s room. He’s cocky enough to think no one would.

As the door creeps open, you slip in the dark room, shutting the door as carefully as you’d open it. The dark’s adjusting to your eyes as you lean up against the door. Taking a deep breath, you regret it instantly. It smells so much like him. You step forwards into the room, captivated. You can see a bit, but you don’t want to risk turning on the light. Pulling your phone out, you activate the flashlight on. It luminates the room as much as it can, and you suck in another breath. There’s nothing personal in here. It looks barely lived in. You at least have some things in your room, books, pictures. The only reason you know it’s his room is the singular knife on his desk. That’s what you’ve come for. Not wanting to test your luck, you shoot your hand out and grab it, leaving his room.

You’re pacing quickly down the hall, passing the corridor that leads to the showers. Your walk slows to a crawl as you listen intently, ears straining to pick up anything they can. The showers are still running, good. It gives you a bit of relief, and you continue on your mission. Hiding the knife in your room is not going to work, that’d be the first place he’d look. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you look down at the object in your hand. It’s a simple pocketknife, small and black. You have no idea why he’s so fond of it. In meetings, it’s the thing he toys with, flicking it back and forth in his gloved hands, opening and closing, running a gloved finger on the edge it. It irritates you because it’s distracting, always. Price never calls him out on it either, letting him fidget with it like he’s a kid that can’t sit still. Your thumb catches on the hidden blade, popping open with a satisfying click. There’s an old engravement on the blade and you squint, trying to read it. No use. It’s obvious the blade has been used and worn over with how ever long he’s had it, years you’re guessing.

Shutting it, you ignore the wiggle of uncertainty in the back of your mind. Of course, it means something to him. That’s why you’re taking it. It’s a line the two of you have yet to cross, but you’re still pissed about the toy spider. If he’d heard the shrill of fear you’d let out, you would be more eager to do this. It was humiliating, how scared you were, only to realize the thing hadn’t moved an inch as you clutched your hand to your heart, pressed up against the door like it’d jump and attack you. The courage it took to step near it, to touch it with a pen you’d grabbed from your desk.

The memory makes you grit your teeth. You hate him. It was one thing to prank each other, it was another to come into your room and deliver your worst fear, plastic toy or not. Your hand clenches around the knife handle and you close it with determination. Fuck him. You head to the locker rooms. You have a locker, just as everyone else. You hardly use it, however, as you have too much trust in your team to ever put anything in there. Thinking back to the combination of the lock, you put it in wrong several times before getting right. Opening the empty locker, you place the knife down and shut it, spinning the lock, and checking to see if it’s locked. A tension filled sigh leaves you. For now. The tension will be back tomorrow, when he finds out his knife has gone missing, you’re sure. You’ll need to practice your poker face.

Heading back to your room, you settle down for the night. Of course, you check for any strategically placed toy spiders. When you find none, you climb slowly into bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was in here. He placed the toy on your bed. You wonder what he thought of your small space, your things. If his hand trailed on your covers before he left.

***

“No. There isn’t enough time, you’ll go out to this building,” the eraser of the pencil in your hand presses against a point on the map, “and you’ll move to the roof. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Lass—” Soap starts, and you cut him off with a mere hard look.

The two of you have been here in the mess hall for too long, arguing with half eaten bagels and coffee that’s getting cold. Going back and forth isn’t something you really do with Soap, it’s Ghost. But he’s got something up his ass about this op. The extraction is supposed to happen at a different point, he’s supposed to take the package and head to the roof of a building in the opposite direction going in. He doesn’t agree with splitting up in enemy territory, neither do you, but it’s how it has to go down. Only the two of you are assigned to this job.

“Don’t start, seriously.”

“Why don’t we get more people on this?”

“You know why, Soap. Everyone has a job to do, this is ours. I’m not about to ask Price to stretch his crew thin when it already is.”

“I know exactly who to ask. I bet if I tell Lt, he’ll do it, no questions asked.”

You roll your eyes and huff, settling back into your chair. It’s been two days since you’d stolen his knife, and he’s still livid. No one knows exactly why, he wouldn’t say what’d happened, but you knew the moment he walked into the meeting two days ago. You knew he knew that you knew why he was uptight. Not that you told him. You denied knowing anything on why he’s in a piss poor mood, even when your mates pulled you aside to ask what you did. You could’ve boasted, told everyone you finally got a one-up on him. But you liked knowing that you got so deep under his skin that he wouldn’t even ask anyone where his knife went. Wouldn’t even confront you. That should scare you, you know, but you’re high on the achievement.

Soap scrunches his nose, “Well, maybe not. You’re on his shitlist, y’know.”

“Whatever. I’m on his, he’s on mine. That doesn’t matter because he’s busy. Everyone is busy, just do your job.” You take a sip of your cold coffee, pulling a face from the temperature.

“No, I mean, you’re really on his shitlist now. He told me his knife is missing. And I saw that devious smile on your face before it disappeared. Do you even know about that thing? He’s had it since he was kid.”

You shrug, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You push away from the table, grabbing your paperwork and mug full of forgotten coffee. Making your way to the kitchen, you dump the remains of your mug into the sink, rinsing it out and washing it thoroughly. The door behind you kicks up, and you sigh.

“Seriously, if you’re going to start up again, let me remind you—” you start, turning towards who you presume is Soap.

The words die in your throat, your mouth a little open in shock. Luckily, your paperwork is on the counter, you would have dropped it otherwise. Ghost stands before you, head tilting in mock question.

“Remind me what?” His gruff voice comes out.

The air is tense, heavy with danger. You’ve been on Ghost’s bad side before. Or so you thought. Nothing can compare to what you’re feeling now, locked the kitchen with the presence of a man who is pissed. You successfully avoided him for two days, until now. Your throat dries and you swallow, the movement caught by him, his eyes dipping to your throat. He takes a daunting step forward, causing you to take one back, pressing into the sink behind you. Shit. Is this how his true enemies feel? A bead of sweat drips down your spine, your heart beating quickly under your breastbone. Dark eyes of his are latched onto yours as he moves closer, caging you in. He isn’t touching you, but you can feel the heat coming off his body in waves. Angry heat. You start to feel panicky. This isn’t the first time he’s cornered you, or tried to use his presence to make you feel uneasy. You used to pride yourself on how well you could handle the pressure from him, that you were never scared of him. This is…different. This has weight, it has fear.

“Where is it?”

His voice hits you like whiplash, your gaze shooting up to his. He simply whispered the question, anger nowhere to be heard in his tone. It makes you feel queasy. Your eyes are searching him, trying to figure out what has got him so calm, if it’s a trick. His posture says anything but. Ghost has never been able to hide anger from his tone, so how is he doing it now? He’s just watching you as you scramble for an answer, patient when he should be anything but.

“Where is what?” You counter, tone steady. You’re clinging onto the training you have to mask your nerves. Maybe he’s doing the same.

Ghost leans forward, face coming close to yours. Christ. You felt panic before, now it’s true fear. His hand comes up and you tense, ready for him to grab you, lash out at you, something. He’s moving slow, like he enjoys seeing the fear rush through you, as you press painfully into the edge of the sink behind you. He likes seeing you squirm as you try to guess what he’s doing, why he’s doing it. His hand reaches up behind you, his body pressed close to yours, eyes never leaving your face. The hand shuts the sink off behind you, the water that’d been running stops with a trickle. He steps back, like the proximity never happened.

“Well, I guess you don’t know. G’luck on your op tonight.” Ghost says, almost cheerfully, turning away and leaving the kitchen.

You blink.

Even without his presence, your heart rate doesn’t understand the danger is gone. A breath shakily leaves you as you slump against the counter. God, he was so close. He’s never been that close to you before. He’s tried to intimidate you before, sure. Chewing on your bottom lip, you think about the knife in the locker. Should you put it back? Could you sneak it back into his room without getting caught? It feels too serious, it feels like you really crossed a line here. Fuck. Then he’d know it was you, probably already does, who else would steal his things? He more than likely has already hatched a plan to get you back. There’s no point in giving it back now.

Good luck on your op tonight.

“Shit.” You mutter, his voice ringing through your mind. He’s never said that before. Praises and encouragement aren’t just given to you by him. It hardens your resolve. Grabbing your paperwork you leave the kitchen, straight to Price’s office.

Lifting a hand, you knock on the closed door in front of you. Your captain’s voice calls an affirmative to come in. You walk into the dimly lit office. Price is sitting at his desk, lazily reading some paperwork.

“Go on.” He says. Christ, what are you doing here? This is cowardice. This is the lowest Ghost has ever made you go.

“I need more time on the op Soap and I are on. We need more people. It’s insanity to have just the two of us. Soap agrees.” This isn’t a lie. None of it’s a lie, why does it feel like you’re lying to your Captain?

Price’s gaze leaves the paperwork, and he apprehends you silently. He looks surprised, leaning back into his desk chair. “You’ve never asked this before. Must be serious.”

You nod silently. What he doesn’t know is the suspicion you have about Ghost sabotaging the operation. To get back at you. It’s something you hope he hasn’t done, but why would he say that to you? Good luck.

Price lets out a sigh, “This is going to push us back. But fine. If you and Soap think it’s right. I pride myself on listening to my team. Safety first. Keep the paperwork, I’ll work it out. Tomorrow then.”

His tone is dismissive, so you salute before you turn and leave. Fuck, fuck. What is wrong with you? You’re marching down the halls to your room, ready to just mindlessly lay in bed. You have to give Ghost back his knife. This is dangerous, it has the taste of blood in your mouth. He wouldn’t really sabotage your op, right? Right? Whatever the case, you stopped the operation for a night, at least.

Flinging the paperwork haphazardly onto your desk, you sigh out, taking off your attire. If you aren’t doing the op tonight, you’re going to hole yourself in your room and think about what to do. Maybe you’ll give Ghost his knife back tonight, and finally, once and for all call a truce. It’s gone on long enough, hasn’t it? You hate to be the one to give in first, but this is serious. It was only a matter of time until it got out of hand, until one of you decided to mess with the other deeply. You always kind of thought Ghost would be the one to cross the line first, but it seems like you have. Exhaustion falls around you, seeping into your bones. You shrug your pants off and get into something comfier, a large t-shirt you like to sleep in. A nap is calling your name. You’ll deal with consequences of whatever later.

***

It’s dark when you startle awake in your bed. You’re groggy, the blankets around you are twisted at the end of your feet, like you kicked them off during your sleep. Your shirt is pulled up, exposing your bare abdomen and underwear. A groan rushes out of you when you pop yourself up to your elbows, blinking slowly. The nap had hit you hard, you feel out of sorts. Your senses are coming back to your body at a snail pace. You lift yourself up into a sitting position, flinging your legs over the edge of the bed and you fix your shirt back down. Damn, that was…that was a good nap.

Something barely moves in the corner of your eye. You freeze. It came from the small chair in the hidden corner of your room, the one you move to your desk when you need it. When you don’t, it’s where you pile your laundry before you can get around to fold it. Was that good nap making you hallucinate? Are you still dreaming? You swear it’s just your pile of clothes.

Doesn’t matter. You’re scared. You keep frozen in time like you hadn’t seen the movement, left hand inching under your pillow to find your pocketknife. It was hidden there for times like these, times when you felt nervous in your own room. Your hand brushes against nothing, the movement in the corner of your eye starting again. Heartrate spiking, you drop pretenses and brush your hand under your pillow wildly. The pile of clothes at the chair is starting to look like a body. A man.

“Looking for something?”

Shock hits you so hard you flinch, like it was a physical hit. Fuck.

“Eye for an eye, right? Isn’t that how this whole thing started?” Ghost’s low voice crawls over your body. Goosebumps run across your skin.

“Ghost, what the fuck. You scared me.” You breathe out, a bit relieved it was just him. The turning feelings from fear to relief to anger rushes over your mind. Jumping up from the bed, you face him, able to barely see him in the dark of your room.

“What the fuck!” You whisper-shout at him, “What are you doing in here?”

Not the right thing to say, you guess. He stands to his full height, yet again moving you with the mere presence of himself. He’s daunting, towering over you in the dark. You can just see the outline of him, his stature. He looks bigger in the dark like this, in the shadows. Anger is steeling your nerves.

“You were watching me sleep?” You’re still whispering, incredulous. “Wait until the team finds out what a fucking pervert you are!”

A dry chuckle comes from him, humorless. “You’ve no fucking idea.”

You don’t have the time to process what he just said, as he suddenly shoots a hand forward, gripping your jaw. Your hands cling to his forearm, clawing at him. His hands are bare and so are his arms. Shit. This shouldn’t be making you feel hot. Were you still dreaming? He’s pressing into you, making you stumble backwards until the back of your legs hit your bed. He shoves you not too kindly at all. You can see him a bit better now that he’s closer, your eyes now adjusted to the dim light. A scowl moves on your face as you lay back on your hands to glare up at him.

“What. Are you. Doing.” You hiss out at him, pissed. He thinks he can come into your room and just bully you like this? Man handle you as he pleases?

Ghost tosses your pocketknife onto your bed. You get the memo.

“Fucker. I’m going to give it back to you, okay? You didn’t have to go this far. Sabotage my op or creep into my room and piss me off to high hell. Christ, even I wouldn’t do this.”

“Oh, but you did. You creeped into my room.” Is his response. Oh, so he did sabotage your op. He didn’t deny or confirm it. No answer is an answer. Hot anger flares inside you.

You scramble up your bed, going to your knees to get somewhat more of a height than laying down. “Motherfucker, you did that first! You placed that spider on my bed! A spider, Riley!” You jab a finger into his chest, feeling the hot and hard muscle there.

“Yeah? And who started this whole thing, huh?” He asks in his timbre of a voice, the sound doing something devious to you right now. He snatches your hand that was jabbing him, gripping it with his own. You gasp lowly at the feel of his skin on yours. What the hell? You’re supposed to be mad at him. Focus.

“I told you it was an accident! How many times do I have to say, huh? When are you ever going to get it through your thick fucking skull that I didn’t mean to switch my shampoo for yours? It’s not like it made you bald!” You don’t know that - you’re sure it didn’t, but you have no idea what his hair even looks like under his mask.

“You have no idea what it made me.” Ghost growls out lowly, jerking you a bit closer to him with the hand he’s captured. Your free hand hits his shoulder in attempt to get him to let go.

“Tell me then. Tell me what was so bad about using my shampoo one time that you just had to go out of your way to make my life miserable. Tell me.”

The two of you are practically panting. You’re vibrating with anger and…need. The tension between you is crackling, the energy in the room is suffocating. You’re too close to him, dangerously thinking about things you shouldn’t be. Especially about him. Your hand is still caught in his, your other clutching his shirt over his shoulder. When did you do that? You watch him tilt closer, dark eyes on yours.

“It made me hard.”

The reaction you give him isn’t something you expect. It sobers you. It pulls you out of whatever trance he has you in. This isn’t…fuck, this isn’t how you’re supposed to feel towards him. His words shouldn’t affect you like this. It shouldn’t make your core clench, it shouldn’t make you feel slick between your thighs, it shouldn’t make you so aware of how easy it would be right now to lift up his mask and kiss him. It makes you struggle in his hold, trying to get away from him. This can’t happen. You’re supposed to hate him.

Ghost grabs your other hand, keeping you still, gripping both of them in his own, against his chest. You’re squirming and he tugs you forward again to whisper in your ear, mask brushing against your sensitive and on fire skin.

“When I opened the shampoo bottle and, fuck. And smelled you? It made me so fucking hard I had to jerk myself off. It made me so mad that you did that to me. Made my cock ache and pulse. I wanted to find you and fuck you until you couldn’t walk.”

A whimper escapes you as you think about it, Ghost in the shower, naked and soaked with running water down his broad back. Cock in one hand, shampoo in the other. It’s perverted, it’s wrong, but God, it makes you hot. Your thighs clench together to relieve your ache. You try moving again but he isn’t letting you escape him. Not now.

“Wanna know something? I’m not even mad you stole my knife. I’m mad you went into my room. I could fucking smell that shampoo of yours even after you left. I can smell it now.” For emphasis he inhales deeply, a groan coming from deep in his chest that vibrates your hands that are pressed there.

“You’re crazy.” You hiss out lowly to him, tugging against his grip.

“Mm. Maybe. Wanna know something else?” He asks, his tone a bit teasing and he tips his head back a little to watch your reactions. It’s cute, watching you act like this isn’t getting you off.

“W-what?” You squeak, watching him as closely as he’s watching you.

“I’m hard right now. Have been since I snuck in here. Watching you squirm in your sleep, like you knew I was watching, begging me to touch you. You kicked off your covers right after I got in here. Like you were already getting hot for me.”

You shake your head, trying to get his words out of your brain. “No, I wasn’t. It was – it is hot in here.” Deny deny deny. That’s the only way you’ll get out of this. Maybe this is his payback, getting you hot and bothered only to leave you high and dry.

“Really?” His gaze dips down to the front of your shirt. “If it’s so hot, why are your nipples hard like you’re cold? You cold, baby? Or is it something else?”

He’s mocking you.

You grit your teeth in annoyance. “Fuck you. This is messed up, even for you. Is this you getting back at me? You win, okay. I’m done. Good job. Now get out.”

Ghost tilts his head, like he’s studying you in question. You hold his gaze in defiance, not letting him win the staring game at least. He breaks the hold he has on your hands but doesn’t move away from you. He tilts his chin downward as he looks at you through his lashes.

“I’m not joking. This isn’t me trying to get back at you. I’m telling you. I’m telling you that I’ve been obsessed with you ever since Price brought you in. That it makes me so angry and hot that a stupid little girl like you can debase me into this.”

A slap rings into the small space. The noise comes before you even register that you hit him, his masked face turned with the movement. A pained and pleasured noise comes from him before he looks back at you, something in his eyes ablaze.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too, baby.”

When he says that, nothing holds you back anymore, your hand shooting out to grip the hard length in his pants. He chokes like he wasn’t expecting that, his head dropping to watch you palm him through his jeans. You’re not gentle, and you think he likes that. Likes that you’re touching him with angry abandon.

“Fuck, you really are hard.” You breathe out in wonder, squeezing him and rubbing him roughly. His hips buck into your hand. Your clit throbs painfully and you catch a noise in your throat.

“Gonna let me touch you now?” He asks letting out another pained noise. You nod in response, not bothering to voice it out. His hands waste no time in grabbing the front of your shirt. He isn’t taking it off, just lifting it up to see what’s underneath. He lets out a low curse, balling up the material at your neck with one hand. His fingers swipe across a nipple gently before he’s palming the weight of your breast in his hand, fingers spreading to catch all of you before squeezing hard. It makes you gasp and in response you meanly squeeze his cock back. A chuckle leaves him and he eases the hold he has on you.

He rolls a nipple through his fingers, plucking and pulling. His movements pull a low moan out of you, and he seems pleased, continuing the action. Impatiently, he tugs your shirt up and over you, leaving you just in your panties. Your hands don’t leave from him, feeling it throb under your fingers when he sits back to stare at you. Once he’s got his fill of looking, his rough and calloused hands trail up your sides, petting you heavily in anyway he can. Your head tilts a bit as he feels you up.

“You like me manhandling you, huh? Dirty girl.”

You glare up at him, letting go of his length in response. He doesn’t care, tipping you to lay on your back. The bed beneath you dips to catch your weight. Ghost’s hands trail over your thighs, up and down, catching on the waistband of your underwear. He pulls them down and you help him, glad he doesn’t comment on how your hips push up to help him slip them down. He’s taking you in again, looking up as long as he pleases, his hands trailing anywhere there’s skin. It’s overstimulating having his heavy hands paw at you. He’s hooking his hands under your knees, pushing your legs up and open, spreading you. A sharp breath intakes. Your slick is pooling, leaking, making you and the sheets messy.

“Ask me to eat you out.” He growls lowly, staring at your exposed cunt.

Your brow furrows, irritation coming to you in the fog of your arousal. “No.”

“No?” He counters, like he’s not surprised. He’s dropping to his knees, his hands still keeping your thighs spread. The angle from the bed and him on his knees is the perfect height, lining him up right to your spread cunt. He tugs his mask up, exposing the lower half of his face. You feel your pussy clench around nothing at the sight. Shit. He hovers over your pussy, attention unwavering. He spits on your aching clit. Shit. You might just ask.

“Look at you. You liked that. Don’t think I didn’t see that.” He spits on your sex again and you moan at the feeling of it. It shouldn’t be this hot to have him spit on you. His mouth opens, tongue dipping out, drool leaking from him onto your pussy.

“C’mon. C’mon. Ask. Look, I’m drooling for it baby. Don’t you want me to eat you out?” He laughs down at you, his breath and drool dripping onto your aching already sopping cunt. Your hips tilt up to try and catch his mouth. He keeps the distance between your clit and his mouth, tongue still spilling all over you.

Letting out a frustrated noise, you meekly ask, “Can you?”

“Can I what? Huh?” The tip of his tongue barely brushes against your clit and your hips flinch with the brief contact, grinding against nothing.

“Can you eat me out.” You grind out, hands ready to grab his head and shove him into your needy cunt.

He tsks, “What’s the magic word? Ask nicely.” He brushes against your clit again as he speaks. You let out a noise close to agony.

“Please, Riley. Please eat me out. Can you, please?” It’s desperate, the way you ask, your hands clenching the bed sheets beneath you. You don’t care how it sounds, how fucked out you sound, whiny and needy.

“Good girl.” He breathes out, tongue sliding into your slick from the bottom to the top. His tongue dips into your fluttering entrance up to your throbbing clit. He’s taking his time tasting you, making you grind against his face. “That’s it,” he groans against your cunt, the words vibrating through you, “grind that pussy on my face.”

You cry out, hands now clinging to his head, nails digging into his mask. You hope you’re hurting him somehow through the fabric. You’re pissed he’s making you feel this good, how good it feels to grind your sopping cunt on his tongue, lips, and chin. His hands are holding you down, letting you grind but not letting you squirm away from his mouth. Fuck, he’s going to make you cum, the way he’s devouring your pussy. Your hips tilt up and down, stuttering in the movements, your panting getting choppier, legs shaking. You feel him groan against you, knowing how close you are, continuing with his sucking, licking, tasting. He’s slurping up your pussy, latching onto your clit painfully as you cry out, back arching up as your cunt contracts painfully around nothing. Ghost doesn’t stop, licking up your arousal, your cum, everything that he can take. Letting out a satisfied noise he releases you from his mouth before you become too overstimulated. His face is wet as he stares up at your heaving form. He quickly reaches out and slaps your sensitive pussy. You squeal, legs closing tightly as you scramble away from him.

“What the fuck?!”

The question is ignored as he smiles darkly at you, standing to his full height. “Knew you’d be messy.” He groans, a bit to himself as he strokes himself through his pants. Your eyes track the movements, thighs squeezing together again.

“Fuck you,” you spit the words out at him, shooting daggers.

“You want to? Okay baby, all you had to do was say so. You didn’t have to keep playing your little games. I would’ve let you whenever you wanted.” He laughs at the look you give him, unzipping the front of his pants. Your response dies as you watch the motion. He pulls his cock out, stroking it lightly as you watch. He’s letting you take him in. Letting you think about the size and girth of him. Your gaze shoots back up to him, ready to tell him no. Hell no. That thing is not getting anywhere near you. It’ll break you in half. A smirk splays on his lips, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He doesn’t wait for you to voice your concerns, he’s dipping to the bed, placing his body over yours, caging you in with his weight.

“Let me kiss you.” He mutters down, his eyes catching yours before dipping to your parted and panting mouth.

You answer him with taking his bottom lip in between your teeth. You bite him meanly, wanting to get a reaction out of him. He laughs breathlessly, jutting his cock against your wet pussy. It makes you moan, releasing the biting hold you had on him. It lets him press his mouth against yours, sucking your lips against him. You can taste yourself on his mouth and you whine, hands running up his broad and muscled back to his face. You tilt his head, deepening the kiss. When his tongue hits yours, your hips buck up against his cock, grinding his length against you. He answers with a moan into your mouth, sucking on your tongue. You feel dizzy at the taste and feel of him.

He pulls back from your lips slightly, rolling his hips, letting you grind against his length, soaking it with yourself. “Taste so fucking good.” His head dips to your throat, his tongue blazing a hot trail up to your jaw. His mouth is nipping, tasting, pulling sounds out of you that are pathetic as you press your clit against his throbbing length. The weight of him is on you, the heat of him, it’s making you lose your mind. If you haven’t already.

“Every time you get on my fucking nerves, I think of this. Making you squirm and cry for me.”

“Shut up.” You moan out, hips tilting up at his words. You’re trying to catch the tip of him now, ready for him to fill you up. He’s not letting you, knowing exactly what you’re trying to do. Trying to get the tip of him in you so he’ll fuck you. He’s going to make you work harder for it.

“Why? You get wetter every time I say something.” He laughs dryly, “See? You just fucking keep creaming on my cock. Dirty messy girl. You want me to fuck you. Is that it? Want my cock to stretch you out?”

Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, and he groans, cock jumping between the two of you, making you both moan at the feel of it.

“Yeah. Mark me up. Make me bleed.” His voice is low and growly. He leaves your embrace to shuck his shirt off, coming back down to press you against the mattress. He catches your throat in his teeth, biting and sucking. Crying out, your nails drag down his bare back. Bastard. He hurt you on purpose, so you’d do exactly what he wanted you to. He eases the bite with his tongue, swirling and tasting.

“I h-hate you,” you hiccup, rolling your pussy against him, “just fuck me already.”

Ghost makes a noncommittal ‘hmm’ in the back of his throat as he trails kisses on your collarbones. He’s never nice and gentle for too long, delivering a mean bite without soothing the pain afterwards. You make a keening noise and thump a hand on his shoulder in frustration. He finds that pretty funny, huffing a breathless laugh against your skin as he continues is his assault, obviously in no hurry. He licks a slow and warm line across your breasts. Angry at his carelessness, at his lazy touching and licking, you lean up and catch his collarbone in your mouth. Your teeth sink down harshly.

“Fuck.” He growls out, cock thrusting against you as the taste of blood coats your lips. Of course, he’d get off on the pain. Of course, he’d think it’s the hottest thing in the world, pissing you off –

You release him with a cry, his heavy cock pressing into you now. Your heels catch underneath you, ready to scramble out from underneath him. You see the mark you made on him, the press of your teeth on his skin, the crescents already bruised. He catches you, gripping your hips as he lets out a slew of curse words as he keeps moving forward into you, mingling with your pained noises. It’s thick. So painfully thick, your wetness doing nothing to prepare you for how big his damn dick is. You pant and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to adjust to his size. Your hands scramble up to his biceps, your body trying to take him, push him away or keep him still, you’re not sure. Ghost knocks your feet out from beneath you, grabbing the back of your knees to press them up close to your chest. He’s crushing you and you let out a short angry noise as he presses closer, catching your lips with his. He sucks a kiss, dodging your still biting teeth. He keeps pressing you until he’s got you in a mating press, cock bottoming your vision fades for a moment, you let out a long and anguished noise.

He isn’t moving, he’s so still besides his panting above you, cock twitching in you. His hands flex around the hold he has on your legs, his weight pinning you down completely. He’s deep, deeper than anyone has been, filling you up more than you ever thought possible. You nod at him frantically as you moan, thinking that’ll get him to start moving, but he merely laughs down at you.

“Bratty little thing. You just needed a cock filling you up, huh? Poor girl. Oh.” He chuckles sardonically, “I can feel how much you like me talking to you. Keep clenching around me like that baby and I’m going to start thinking you’re a dirty little slut.”

“Fuck. Oh, fuck you.” You hiss out through your bared teeth, nails pressing into his forearms. Even with him still pissing you off, your pussy is clinging to him, keeping him deep and twitching around him as you feel him throb. Ghost doesn’t move his hips. One of his big hands press down the back of your thigh, leaving a fired path in its wake, stopping when his thumb comes around and press hard against your clit. He keeps the pad of his thumb dormant but presses like he’s hitting a button. Your hips twitch, not able to move or grind against him in the way he has you pinned. The pressure he’s keep makes you whine, a little in pain and beyond frustrated. All he’s done is teased you. Taking a deep breath, you gather yourself before casting your gaze on him.

“Y’know what I think? I think you don’t know how to fuck me right. I think you’re a coward, Ghost, waiting until I was asleep to come in here and have your way with me. I think you got a big thick dick and don’t know how to use it.” You sneer at him, keeping yourself dreadfully still under his cock. You don’t want to move in fear of his reaction.

He freezes, staring down at you. You can’t read him at all. He doesn’t need the mask to hide his emotions or feelings. He’s a master at this, you can tell. That spike of fear from earlier comes back. The one where he scared you in the kitchen with his presence alone. He leans slowly into you, hovering his face right above yours. His eyes are burning. He’s still, he’s so still, until his thumb starts to rub tight pressing circles around your clit. You catch a cry in your mouth, just barely, the noise turning into a higher pitched whine.

“Nice try, sweetheart. Just for that, you’ll come around my big thick dick,” he mocks your tone and words, “without me even moving. You can beg, but it’s not going to happen.”

The words he delivers darkly to you and the circles he’s pressing has you tossing your head back, hips rocking, trying to get away from the feeling. The leg that isn’t caught up in his hand kicks out, trying to catch anything solid. He’s laughing again, the noise is going to haunt you in your sleep for the rest of your life. You’re right there, you’re right there, pussy clutching around his cock painfully. A noise comes from your throat, your head tilting back up as your entire body seizes upwards, right there, you’re right there.

Ghost rips his hand away from you.

“I don’t think you deserve to come on my cock.”

You let out a pained cry, body slumping back into the bed, heart rate erratic. You were so close, cunt about to milk the shit out of the length inside you. You brave a look up at the man and immediately regret it. He’s scary like this, with you at his mercy. You watch his thumb go back to your clit. Your breath catches and he continues like he never stopped. Your body picks up right back the edge, and you mewl out, ready for him to make you let go. Let go. Let go. Right there.

He stops.

Crying out in frustration again, you slap a hand onto his chest in anger. This time he doesn’t find it funny. He lets go of your leg, gripping both hands in a single one of his. The notion of that strikes something in you. His hands are big enough to hold the two of yours. Why did you ever think you could get a one up on this man? Your hips are still tilted up, his cock keeping your lower half pinned to your mattress. You can squirm a bit better, and squirm you do. You freeze, though, when his free hand is moving back to clit, his thumb yet again torturing you. He keeps at it. Bringing you right to the edge only to back away. Right there. He stops. Right there. He stops.

Time ends up blurring together. You can barely keep your eyes open. You have no idea if it’s been five minutes or fifty. Your pussy is leaking, it’s aching painfully, your clit is so sensitive, Ghosts merely has to brush his thumb against it to bring you to the edge. He has to stop touching you for longer periods of time in between so you don’t cum immediately. He’s since let your hands ago, liking the way you clutch at him, the way you try to touch yourself so that he can knock your hands away, the way you shakily brush your fingers over his chest. He��s lost the rest of his clothes besides his soft balaclava, you’re not sure when. You no longer have the energy or brain to be mean. You tried pinching him, slapping him, biting him, anything to get him to let you cum. He has to be in pain with you, feeling how your pussy weeps and clenches around him. Your pleasure isn’t the only thing he’s denying. He’s denying his, just to see you unravel into something else under him.

Unravel you do.

By the millionth -it’s got to be the millionth- time he brushes your clit and denies you, you feel hot tears spill down your cheeks. Anger had long left you, but it’s here again. You’ll do it. You’ll beg.

“Stop! Simon, please! Please fuck, I swear to God, please. Fuck me and fuck me right, please –”

That’s as far as you get before he’s surging his hips into yours, patience worn thin. It’s all he needed to hear. Needed to hear how desperate and whiny you’d get for him, beg him to give it to you the way you need. He doesn’t care if it was delivered with anger, doesn’t care that he had to torture you to get it out. You begged him. Begged him to fuck you. You’re giving him high pitched and breathy uh uh uh’s with his erratic thrusts, music to his fucking ears.

You choke on a broken mewl, pussy flaring hot as you cum hard. You cum like you’ve never before. You feel like you leave your body as you seize up, cunt milking around Simon’s cock. He lets out a curse as he feels you, fucking you through it. Your back arches, and you’re still cumming, you’re still clutching him against you, your body worried that at any moment he’s going to stop. The orgasm rips through you like it’s destroying and rewriting every molecule in your body. A rasp leaves you by the end of it, overstimulated as Ghost keeps going. No. Oh no, he's not going to stop.

Your hands scramble to his hips, like that’ll stop him from fucking and bucking into you with oblivion. “Si—” You manage to choke out, tears spilling from your eyes again.

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you? Thought you begged for it?” He laughs, a bit winded, hands digging into your skin. God, he’s so mean, he knows it. Loves looking at how destroyed he makes you feel. He presses down into you, chest against yours as he fucks you. He bites your ear before whispering into it. “I want to ruin you. I want you to feel how ruined you’ve made me after all this time, how every time you snapped back at me, how – fuck- how every time you did shit to piss me off, every time you tried to make a joke out of me. How it’s made me feel. Feel what the fuck you’ve done to me.”

He turns your head to pull you into a kiss, a sloppy and wet kiss that leaves you breathless. With his words and spit of hate, the kiss feels gentle. It feels devastating in way you know nothing will ever compare to this kiss. Nothing will ever compare to the way he’s ruining you from the inside out, his arms wrapping around you to keep him close, the groans and moans he’s giving you as your nails dig into his skin, as your teeth mark him. You’re feeling what you’ve done to him. A broken sound leaves you as you feel yourself close again, his cock hitting just the right spot in you. It’s heavy a dragging through you, making you sob against his mouth. You’re going to feel him for days. Maybe even next week.

All you can think of is him. His cock sinking in deep, barely coming out to press harder into you. The way he tastes as you kiss him, feeling his hands grip anywhere he can touch you while he fucks you open. He’s curling into you, fucking so so deep that you swear you can see stars. He’s consuming you, ruining you just like he said. It’s brutal, but it’s sweet, his kiss subduing you into something placid, somewhere intimate. It’s messy and wet, it’s him. It’s always been him. The thought picks you up and carries you to the throes of your orgasm, hot plasma coursing your veins as your hip pick up and stutter down onto him.

“I’m gonna, ohhhh, I’m gonna—” you hiccup out, arms around his neck to keep him close. You’re licking his lips as you moan, legs coming around his waist to lock around there too.

“Fuck. Fuck. Give it to me. Give it to me, pretty girl.” He’s growling so lowly you hardly hear him as your eyes cross.

You shake your head, frantically trying to hold sane before you leave your body in another debilitating orgasm, “Come in me, Simon, please. Please. I need to feel it. Let me feel what I’ve done to you. I need it I need it.” You’re babbling, a bit nonsensical, clutching onto him so he doesn’t leave you. He’s not going to leave you. He’d never leave you.

Simon drops his head with a moan akin to a whimper before sinking his teeth into your shoulder. The pain sends you the edge, his cock surging into you with urgency. It’s so hot, filling you up, as he continues to fuck his cum deep into you. It drags it out for both of you, your bodies not willing to just give up the feeling. He’s pressed so deep into you; you feel like you’re never getting him out. His hips coming to a stuttering stop, his cock still throbbing as the last waves of it roll through you.

You’re both covered in sweat, cum, spit, and who knows else what, but it feels good. It feels good having him collapse on top of you, having his weight on you like a comforting blanket. Your hands trail lazily across his shoulder blades, feeling the irritated and raised ridges of the marks your nails sliced through him. He practically purrs, nuzzling his face into your neck, inhaling you in.

“I still hate you.” You whisper to him, but your hands can’t get enough of him, feeling him up. Your mouth can’t get enough of him as you plant kisses anywhere you can reach. You feel him smile into your neck.

“I hate you too, baby.”

#this took. for.ever.#there's a reason why my user name on other platforms is hatespit #because it is so hot.#sorry not sorry #enjoy!!! ily guys so much seriously!#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mwii #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader

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hard-core-super-star · 11 months

Note

Hi rubix, love your writing btw!! so would I be able to request a wandanat x reader fic where it’s readers birthday and they don’t usually have time or people to celebrate with so Wanda and Nat decide to change that for this year and whisk her away to somewhere like Paris to celebrate and have a great time with some smut at the end 🫣

It’s my birthday in a few days and I’m in dire need of this 🤧

romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours [W.Maximoff; N.Romanoff]

pairing: top!natasha romanoff x bottom!reader x switch!wanda maximoff

summary: your girlfriends set out to make your birthday as memorable as possible.

warnings: smut -> minors, you know the drill, bye [threesome; smut so soft it borders on spicy fluff; like...one inch of plot; grinding; fingering [R receiving]; the daddy and mommy kink is implied but not explicit lmao; wanda's low-key a brat because...yeah :) ; clothed sex AGAIN because i think it's neat, okay?; cheesy ending...again]

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: hi, lovely anon, thank you for the kind words! i hope i'm not too late with this but either way, i hope you had a fantastic birthday! also, you get the honor of having requested my first ever wandanat fic so that's cool. this was my first time properly sitting down and writing for them so let me know what you think! i really hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

“Guess what.”

You look up from the book in your hands to find two pairs of expectant eyes on you. You’ve seen your girlfriends wear many faces since you met them and yet it never fails to surprise you when you catch a glimpse of the genuine joy they wear around you.

The one that makes your heart skip several beats and earns them both teasing comments from the rest of the team.

“What?” You ask as your eyes flicker back and forth between them and the proud grins on their faces.

Wanda playfully rolls her eyes at you. “That’s not how the game works, detka.”

“Come on, go easy on her,” Natasha comes to your aid for once, a subtle hint that even she must be excited about whatever news they’re hiding.

“Yeah, what Nat said.”

You and the redhead share a look that draws a soft chuckle out of your girlfriend. “Remind me how I’m the one who spoils y/n again?”

“Can you stop stalling and tell me what you’re hiding already?”

Your question earns both a glare and a laugh before you’re finally given the answer you’ve been searching for. Your girlfriends may love you more than anything else in the world but that will never stop them from teasing you like their life depends on it.

“So impatient…yes, fine, we convinced Tony to let us borrow one of his stupidly fast jets for tomorrow.”

Two pairs of green eyes watch your reaction expectantly only to find your face twisting into confusion. “Why?”

There’s a beat of silence where they both stare at each other, silently trying to figure out how to proceed. Clearly, they weren’t expecting you to question the exciting news they had brought to you.

It happens in a flash.

One second you’re sitting alone in bed and the next, your girlfriends are on either side of you, contradicting touches landing on your arms. It’s strange how easy it is to tell them apart. How cautious Natasha’s fingers still are when they trace random patterns onto your skin compared to Wanda’s gentle pressure as trails down to grab onto your hand, unmistakable tendrils of red magic moving to put your forgotten book back onto the shelf.

Natatsha’s the first to break the silence, all her earlier playfulness gone and replaced by subtle concern. “y/n, it’s your birthday tomorrow.”

“So?” You shrug. “It’s just another day.”

Wanda tightens her grip on your hand and successfully steals back your attention. “Nonsense, malyshka. You deserve to be celebrated.”

“Guys, it’s not a big deal,” you assure them. “I really don’t need anything. Plus, I have too many things to do.”

“Not anymore.” A sweet kiss is placed on your lips before you can voice your complaints. “We’re stealing you away tomorrow.”

“But what about-”

“Already talked to Steve.”

“And-”

“Kate will understand.”

“How-”

“Stop looking for excuses, detka.” Natasha rolls her eyes as she pulls you closer to her. “You’re coming with us.”

You want to argue, you truly do, but then Wanda’s gluing herself to your side, eager hands slipping under your shirt, and you quickly come to the conclusion that spending all day with them is the best way to spend any day.

Including a birthday.

Especially since you’re more than used to treating it like every other day of the year. It’s not that you don’t like celebrating it, you’re just always too busy to make real plans and no one’s ever thought to surprise you before.

But of course, your girlfriends aren’t like anyone else.

Which is how they manage to get you onto one of Tony’s jets, reminding you of the existence of time zones and how you have to leave right now if you want to make it to your surprise destination on time. You don’t really mind either way but you’re pretty sure you haven’t seen them this excited about something in a while so you go along with them anyway.

The jet ride seems never-ending despite how fast the aircraft is supposed to be. It doesn’t help that you’ve been having trouble sleeping peacefully the past few nights and Wanda’s running a hand through your hair in the way that makes you melt.

“You’re allowed to go to sleep, you know?” Natasha whispers with a teasing smirk. “We still have a long while to go.”

“Whose idea was this again?” You grumble as you drop your head down onto the redhead’s shoulder.

“Don’t be a brat, love. You’ll thank us when we get there.”

You bite back the rest of your complaints and sink into the sweet arms of a dreamless sleep. You miss the way your girlfriends watch over you the entire time as well as the long list of things they each want to see and the various ridiculous ways in which they propose to get everything done.

They ultimately agree to let you choose once you’re awake again…something that backfires when the jet finally lands and you’re still far off in dreamland. They go back and forth on whether they should wake you or not, especially since it’s morning where you've landed and the jetlag will definitely destroy you.

You look far too cute to rouse though so Natasha gathers you up into her arms with ease and carries you in her strong embrace the rest of the way.

When you finally do wake up, a few hours have passed and you're safe inside the lavish hotel room Wanda reserved using one of Tony’s endless credit cards. The change in scenery startles your drowsy mind before you feel familiar arms pulling you close.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” Wanda says softly as she easily pulls you onto her lap.

“Hi,” you mumble, tucking your head into the crook of her neck.

“Hi, darling. How's the birthday girl feeling? Still sleepy?”

“A little.” You let out a soft sigh as your girlfriend’s hands travel inside your loose shirt, slender fingers tracing random shapes onto your warm skin. “I’m sorry I ruined the trip.”

She scoffs and the sound instantly reminds you of Natasha which pulls a small smile onto your face. “You didn't ruin anything, detka. It's your birthday.”

You don't say anything in response and your girlfriend is quick to pull your thoughts away from their current trajectory. She keeps exploring your waist with one hand while the other one comes up to playfully tug on your hair.

“How about you stop hiding and look at your surprise, hm?”

It’s unclear whether it’s her words or her grip on your hair that makes you obey but neither of you mind. You reluctantly lift your face from its hiding place and let the green-eyed woman guide your gaze toward the large window of the room.

You gasp the second you realize where you are. “You guys brought me to Paris!”

Your excitement manages to break through your exhaustion which earns you a laugh from your loving witch. “Only the best for our girl.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe a little.”

You turn your head at the sound of Natasha’s voice, eager hands reaching out for her instantly. Your silent request is instantly fulfilled and the redhead easily slips into bed next to Wanda.

“I can't believe you would do this for me.”

“Believe it, malyshka.” She leans forward and easily captures your lips with her own.

Wanda huffs as she’s left out of the moment, her hands wandering under your shirt once again. You're too lost in the kiss to notice where her fingers are going until they brush against your nipples.

The sensation makes you jump which makes you grind against the witch’s thigh in a way that leaves you gasping for air.

“That’s cheating,” Natasha warns after she pulls away from you.

“What happened to spoiling the birthday girl?”

This time, you're the one who gets left out of the moment as they fight for the control that always rests in the Russian’s hands. They get caught up in their knowing stares and bruising kisses, leaving you aching and panting for their attention.

It’s a game they love playing with you but you’re far too desperate already to last much longer without their hands on you.

Thankfully, Wanda decides to take pity on you. She gives your hardened nipples a soft tug, smirking against Natasha’s lips when she feels your hips buck once more. “I think someone’s feeling a little needy.”

The redhead turns to look at you, a perfectly raised eyebrow painting her face with the stern humor you've come to know so well. “Is that right, kotenok? Are you feeling needy?”

You nod, all the heat in your body rushing down from your face to between your thighs. “Please don’t tease.”

“Aw, look at that, Nat. You're not going to deny her when she looks like that, are you?” You're not sure if Wanda’s actually being genuine or not but you don't really care as long as she’ll help you get what you want.

“Who’s the brat now?” She chuckles before reaching out for you, pulling you onto her lap, and leaving behind a pouty Wanda. “Come here, let me give you what you want.”

The Russian is true to her words and wastes no time in sliding a hand past the waistband of both your pants and your underwear. Your complaints about the lack of sink-on-skin contact between you are forgotten as Wanda situates herself behind you, plump lips trailing feather-light kisses up your neck.

A gasp tumbles out of your lips once Natasha’s fingers finally find your drenched cunt. She moves slowly, almost too slowly, but you already know she’ll be quick to remind you to be patient if you dare whine.

“You don’t have to be so cautious, detka,” Wanda whispers against your flushed skin. “It’s your birthday, remember?”

“Don’t listen to her, it’s always so much better for you when you’re a good girl.” She easily slips two fingers into your waiting hole, barely holding back a laugh as your pussy swallows her digits.

Your hands grip her shoulders for stability while they both work in tandem to make you lose the last bits of control you still have over yourself.

The witch’s hands find their way under your shirt yet again except this time she’s gripping your hips and helping you move in time with the redhead’s movements. It’s the slowest, most agonizing, of dances and yet the pleasure has you arching your back in seconds.

“Look at you,” Natasha coos, taking a mental picture of how delicious you look writhing in Wanda’s arms. “You’re so pretty when you’re like this, malyshka.”

Your walls clench the second you hear the affectionate petname and the Russian can’t resist the urge to lean forward and attach herself to your neck. Her thrusts are still slow and steady but then finally, her thumb begins to circle your puffy clit.

Your head falls back against Wanda’s shoulder and she laughs as you practically go limp from the pleasure. “You’re gonna break her, ‘Tasha.”

“She likes it.” She punctuates her point by curling her fingers just right and pulling out a string of moans from deep within you. “Don’t you, darling?”

“Mhmm, please don’t stop.”

They share a look you don’t see but you do feel the evidence of yet another standoff. It’s like Wanda just can’t stop herself from pressing all of Natasha’s buttons when they’re like this. Which means it’s your job as their devoted girlfriend to let them turn your pleasure into a competition.

And they do just that.

Wanda’s grip on your hips tightens until her nails are digging into your skin and she’s practically forcing you to ride Natasha’s fingers. Natasha, for her part, increases the speed of her thrusts, launching you closer and closer toward your orgasm. She’s still drawing it out of you, though, still balancing speed with soft kisses and murmured praises.

It’s a strange combination but it works perfectly. Just like your relationship with them. It’s something that transcends words, something that can’t be explained, merely felt…and it’s also exactly what brings you to the edge.

“Nat…please…”

“Please, what, detka?” Wanda responds for your girlfriend.

“Can I cum? Please?”

You half-expect them to make you beg for a little longer but it seems your special day has left them more merciful than usual. Natasha’s lips make their way up your neck and onto your jawline until she reaches your lips and gives you the permission you’re searching for.

“Go ahead, cum for us.”

You’ve heard the words thousands of times and yet they make you fall apart like nothing else. The slow build-up finally reaches its peak with one more swirl of Natasha’s thumb against your clit and you literally fall face-first into your orgasm.

“Such a good girl, love. Always so good for us.”

Your response comes in the shape of a muffled whine as you bury your face into the redhead’s neck.

The sound makes both of your girlfriends smile and Wanda moves to sit on Natasha’s other side while they wait for you to recover. “I guess we’re not leaving the hotel any time soon.”

“Are you complaining, Maximoff?”

“Shut up.”

Their bickering makes you giggle. “Wanda’s being a brat again, Nat.”

“I know.” The green-eyed woman turns her head to press a barrage of kisses against the side of your face. “I think that means she can’t join us in the shower.”

The comment draws another complaint out of the young witch and you happily rest in your girlfriend’s arms while they start up another playful argument you’ll eventually have to get in the middle of.

You don't mind though, there's no other way you'd rather spend your birthday than with them.

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starlightsuffered · 2 months

Text

God

Info - threesome (FMF), cunnalingus, unprotected sex, overstim, spitting, hitting, competition, Dom Timothée, degrading language, religion kink, cream pie

“Oh my girls,” Timothée purred. We were in our positions, the positions he had us in often. He would often switch between us.

Sometimes he’d be fucking cum deep inside me while he feasted on Lila, and other times he would be filling her as he devoured me. We were his loyal followers. We did whatever he asked. He was our God practically.

Lila and I had met on set and been thick as thieves. We’d bonded over our adoration over the lead Timothée. However, as soon as Timothée had caught wind of our crushes he became a bit of a rascal. He would flirt with both of us, making the the other boil with rage. Eventually, we are at one another’s neck. It had turned into a competition.

We’d both ended up sneaking into Timothée’s dressing room. I was in blue and she in purple. Lace and bows and glitter decorated us. We both were doing our best to put our assets on display.

Timothée had come in with a smirk. He’d smiled at us and wrapped us each in one arm. He told us there was more than enough of him to go around.

That first night had been wild. He’d sent us away on weak legs with dribbles of cum wandering down our legs. We’d ended up making out just so we could taste his dick again. Now it was a common thing because of how badly we needed it. It was like a drug or alcohol or the taste of true religion.

“That’s it,” Timothée moaned as he slipped into my pussy. His mouth lowered onto Lila’s cunt. He began our ritual. He worship us as we served him. He plunged his cock down inside me. His mouth was enough to make someone speak in tongues.

We were a sacrifice to him, our bodies taken to aid his lust and desires. I wanted him to own us on the floor of a temple or church. I wanted all those disciples to see the way you really served a deity.

“You’re my dirty whores aren’t you,” he asked. He slapped Lila’s pussy and gave me a harsh pump of his dick.

“Yes!” I wailed obediently.

“Always!” Lila responded.

“Make your concubine! Your servant!” I cried.

“No, make me your slave or your prostitute!” Lila pleaded.

“Ladies,” Timothée had raised his head again. He hadn’t stopped fucking me. I made a triumphant face at Lila. She looked like she could cry. He was harshly massaging her clit. Her head fell back as if it stole all her energy for anger.

“Be patient, there’s enough time, enough lust, enough sex to keep you both satisfied,” he smirked. He spat into Lila’s cunt. He began to devour again. His hips moved like mad.

He was insatiable. Our God didn’t stop. Even when rivulets of cum poured from us he still switched back and forth. Dick in heat, mouth on cunt. I didn’t know what was mine, or Timothée’s Or Lila’s by the end. All I knew is that whatever mixture was seeping inside of me was divine. Whatever power had made my legs tremble like this was holy. And whatever Timothée Chalamet was, he had to be part god.

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 1 year

Note

Imagine letting Wanda take your virginity. She gets the great idea to use a strap and enchant it to feel everything, that way she’s experiencing something for the first time too. She starts off by licking your pussy. Teasing you by moving her tongue everywhere except on your clit. Stretching your entrance out a bit with her tongue to prep you. Switching to her fingers and loving the way you clench around them. Making you cum on her fingers and tongue for the first time. Finally feeling ready to have her strap inside you, you pull her face up to you. Kissing her hard and sucking on her tongue, tasting yourself on her. She slowly pushes inside you causing the both of you to let out a loud moan. She’s being so soft and gentle and you’re loving it so mush. But it still feels like too much for you. Wanda notices and pulls out, giving you a break. You both cuddle for a few minutes before you decide to try again. This time wanting to ride her. Having better control of how deep and hard you go. Wanda feeling like she could cum just from watching you but holding back in hopes of releasing at the same time. Her hands on your hips and you’re rocking back and forth on her, her strap hitting your most sensitive spot every time. Wanda takes one of her hands to play with your clit causing you to clench around her and moan. The both of you cum at the same time out of breath. Relaxing on top of her while she wraps her arms around you and kisses all over your face. Then she runs a bath for the both of you.

———

Okay I’m actually kinda disappointed now because I couldn’t lose my virginity to her 😔

Awwww yes! she's so gentle with you because she wants this experience to be special and she just wants you to feel comfortable and loved ugh she's so sweet and kind.

Her moaning into you while you try and hold back your own whimpers because she's just making you feel soooo good. You accidentally call her mommy and she just absolutely loses it, her own hips rutting into the mattress as she eats you out, and gently stroked her fingers inside you, your arousal coating her face. She doesn't stop until you're whining, saying something about "I'm gonna pee, stop. Please mommy, it's too much I just wanna feel you."

She's so careful when she pushes the strap into you for the first time, inching it in slowly while she plays with your nipples and kisses your neck. It slides in quite easily, you're already soaked from her tongue, but you're still sensitive from earlier and so she lets you get on top so you're not quite as overwhelmed

Her holding back her own orgasm for you >>>>>>

She's about to come the second you sink down on her strap, you're clenching around her and you're moaning in her ear as your fingers grasp her shoulders. Little gasps leave your lips with every roll of your hips, and you're just grinding on her lap with the strap deep inside you. You can feel your orgasm building, and when you let her know, Wanda applies firm pressure against your clit. Then, she leans in and sucks a hickey into your neck, and you fall apart on her lap, your walls squeezing her strap as you come.

She comes seconds after you, and praises you while kissing you all over your face, being so so so careful as she pulls the strap out and uses her tongue to clean you up. She can't help but tease you, and by the time you're all clean and ready for a bath, you're a whining mess for her.

Here's a few things she would say:

"Go on. Kiss me, and taste your own desperation on my tongue."

"Fuck, baby. You're so tight for me, and you're dripping"

"You feel so good around mommy's strap, honey. Keep going, i just want to watch you."

"Are you gonna come? I wonder what would happen if I touched your clit, baby. Aww, you're gonna come? Wait for mommy. Oh, you make the most beautiful noises for me. Fuck... shit baby i'm gonna.. you're gonna make me come, fuck. I'm com..."

The after care would be soooo good! She just holds you and runs her hands all over you and your whole body is so pliant and soft and relaxed. She sits behind you in the bath and you rest your head on her shoulder while she get you all clean and kisses you softly everywhere.

ugh i want her, i need to find a woman who will do this bc i wanna fall in love and gentle, passionate sex >>>>>>> i'll fall immediately.

---

as always, i love to see you in my inbox! i have so much fun with these, and i hope you're feeling better soon! my dm's are always open for u ♡

#forgottenblank #wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff smut #lesbian #writing #charsgaythoughts #mcu #marvel

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year

Note

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.”

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danibee33 · 6 months

Text

Part III of undercover!Ghost 🩶

ghost x reader (callsign: Hela)

word count : 4.7k

>>> [PT 1] [PT2]

You aren’t avoiding Ghost. Not really..

Ok, maybe you are.

The week since the undercover mission had been busier than usual, so it’s not like you don’t have an excuse for your absence- you did have other duties and responsibilities to attend to collaterally to the one-four-one. But were you using said collaterals to possibly steer clear of a certain person..? Well, that’s not important.

“Been awhile, lil’ LT..”

You return Soap’s grin, looking up at him as you both take tentative steps- him reaching out first, and you deflecting,

“D’ya miss me that much, sergeant?” You say, eyes skimming his form, looking for any weakness in it, waiting for the right opening.

It wasn’t a planned meet up, you just needed something to do- you’ve been so restless lately, like no matter what you do, it’s never quite enough to stem the relentless flow of thoughts. Which is how you found yourself on the sparring mats opposite the equally restless man at such an ungodly hour.

“Always miss ye, hen..” Soap grunts just before lunging for you, attempting to swipe your leg but inadvertently opening himself up for you to get your arms and legs wrapped around torso- using your body weight to bring him to his knees,

“Steamin’ Jesus, lil LT- worse than a fuckin’-”

Whatever insults he might’ve tried to spew are cut off when you suddenly readjust, but he recovers quicker than you expect- lifting up and bringing you along with him,

“If ye wanted to cuddle, ye could’a just said so..” Soap says, that flirty little lilt at the edge of his words, the same one you’ve heard him use at the bar a hundred times now. And the lopsided smirk on his lips is all too familiar as he tightens his grip around your waist–

God, he’s such a fuckboy…

With a breathless groan, you switch your hold again, crossing your arm over his face in order to put distance between you while still keeping him mostly trapped,

“Shut it, MacTavish. I’m still winning, aren’t I?”

You go back and forth like this until you’re both struggling to breathe and your muscles begin to quiver with fatigue- throwing jokes and jabs easily. It had always been effortless to talk with Soap, banter with him came naturally, but you think it’s only because you two are alike in that way. Never at a loss for words to fill a silence.

And by the time you’re both thoroughly exhausted, all sweat and panting breaths as you stick uncomfortably to the mat, does he roll to his feet, brushing his hair back in the same motion,

“Always a pleasure, ma’am.” He grins, dwarfing your hand in his own as he tugs you up, “And we’re, uh, we’re goin’ out tomorrow night- or well, tonight, I s’pose.” he fumbles over his words in that adorable way he does sometimes, like a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher, “If ye’d like to come.. I can have LT text ye the details.”

At the mention of Simon, you feel the very tips of your ears begin to burn. The sergeant’s prompt too quickly bringing back all the thoughts and memories you had been trying to purge yourself of by coming here,

“Um.. Sure. No promises, though. It’s been busy, ya know..” You say, fighting to keep your tone flippant and casual- but John MacTavish is more keen than you might have given him credit for.

He walks by your side out of the gym, obviously searching for the right way to bring it up, until finally it’s almost like you can feel his own curiosity win over his better judgment,

“Ma’am.. Did somethin’ happen? On the last mission?” The next few seconds are filled with him trying, and somewhat failing but it’s amusing nonetheless, to explain why he’s asking- mostly due to your unusual absences since returning that night. The way you’ve been avoiding the entire team in favor of doing paperwork in your office-

Which you never did because you said you hated being back there on your own.

No, you always preferred to take care of those things in the common spaces, where the chances of having company were always high.

“Was it seein’ LT’s mug? I ken that’s always a bit of a shock for first timers, but-”

“What?” You interject, eyebrows raised in surprise, “No.. no, it has nothing to do with that..”

Well, that’s also not entirely true, is it? But you don’t think it’s for the reasons Soap’s imagining.. It’s more about the fact that everytime you even catch a glimpse of the giant man, you’re reminded of how handsome he was on his knees in front of you, how big his hands felt over your thighs, how his tongue-

“Well, just think ‘bout joinin’ us, won’t ye?”

The sheer amount of hope in Johnny’s voice pulls you out of your reverie, replacing the memory of amber eyes with bright cerulean ones, and that signature fucking smirk,

“Fine! Just chill out with the puppy dog eyes, MacTavish.. Begging like a damn dog.” You concede, waving him away and turning toward your hall without waiting for his reaction. But he doesn’t let you get far before you hear his chuckle, husky and chocked full of guile, bounce off the concrete walls,

“Woof, woof, lil LT..”

Ghost doesn’t like new places.

He doesn’t like being unfamiliar with his surroundings, because he spends too much fucking time being unfamiliar in nearly every surrounding he’s sent to. He doesn’t like leaving things up to chance, doesn’t like how much more stress accumulates around his shoulders and neck- it annoys him, the ache.

But Johnny and Gaz had just been so damn adamant about trying out a new pub. One on the opposite end of town, and he can admit it’s nicer than their usual hole in the wall, but still.

Ghost doesn’t like new places.

Well, that was until he caught sight of you. And then he found himself slightly more drawn to the low lighting that danced over your skin, the way it glowed in your eyes as your survey the bar-

“Hel’s ‘ere?” He asks, downing the last nip of bourbon in his cup.

Johnny’s head whips up then, spotting you in an instant- and there’s something about his response that causes Simon’s gaze to narrow at the shorter man. It’s too… giddy, too reverent for his liking.

“Aye! Invited her the other night.”

That ache in his neck returns but somehow significantly worse.

The other night? You had been with Johnny the other night? When this entire fucking week he hadn’t been able to get three fucking seconds alone with you-

Ok, no, he hadn’t worked up to trying to just call or text, that felt too impersonal. He was shit at all that anyway, he needs to see your body language, needs to analyze all the little expressions that give away so much more than words do. But you had somehow found a way to beat him at his own game. You turned into a ghost, only ever catching your silhouette from the corner of his eye, hearing your voice but never being quick enough to be within a few meters of you.

And possibly the worst was when he would enter a room you had been recently in, the smell of you permeating the air, causing his heart to stutter just so with every deep breath.

Fucking hell..

But here you are. And at Johnny’s request, no less.

Ghost despises new places.

Yet, he does think he could learn to like the overly enthusiastic beat of the music when he sees your hips sway to the rhythm as you wait for your drink. You’re in tight jeans and a black leather jacket that fits your figure like a goddamn glove- and he swears he can feel the silk of your skin by just memory alone, the curves of your body already etched into his mind.

“Gonna get a refill.” He grunts, already walking away from the table with the empty glass in hand.

The sound of a cup being sat on the bartop snaps you back to the present, followed by a heady rush of chills when you hear the baritone of Simon’s voice far closer to your ear than you expect,

“So, she lives.”

You let out a small breath, turning to find the burly breadth of his chest taking up nearly your entire field of view- clad in black from head to toe, which doesn’t surprise you one bit, but it’s not his usual hoodie and jacket. No, this time he’s in a black henley that fits more like a second skin, the fabric deliciously stretched over his pecs and shoulders, the top button left open to give you just a peek at the silver chain glinting underneath and… is that a tattoo?

“She does..” You say, meeting his eyes.

And you really should know better, with too many of your nights haunted by the deep amber of his irises- but the instant it happens, it’s like you’re back in that damned office all over again. The music grows faint, and the people around you turn into little more than blurs at the edge of your vision. He’s all you can feel, the heat of him, the intensity behind his gaze, the way his head tilts softly to the side, studying you as if he might be recommitting your features to memory- not that he needs to.

Because you’ve haunted him just as much. You’ve been the bane of his existence this last week, and somehow the only thing he can see when he shuts his eyes. The sole focus of his loathing and his desire-

“Ma’am, your whiskey sour-” The bartender announces from behind you, effectively breaking the spell you’ve been so wrapped up in right before you hear another small clink, “and a bourbon, neat.”

Without hesitation, Simon leans closer, big arm reaching around you to pull his glass from the bartop and the black surgical mask covering his mouth and nose down in the same motion. He keeps that same heavy gaze on you, your own eyes growing wider at the sight of his face, his crooked nose and scarred lip. You watch him take a short sip, but just as quick as it happened, his mask is back in place, and he’s stepping back,

“C’mon. Table’s over ‘ere.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt whiplash quite like seeing Ghost turn his back on you, easily carving a path through the patrons that fill the space-

But you are damn sure the infuriating Brit isn’t going to get the last word in this.

Ghost can feel your stare, feel how it’s directed right at the back of his skull. A perfect kill shot if he were a betting man. But he can also hear the quiet click of your boots following after him, the tightness in his jeans growing more noticeable with every step-

Fuck.

“Lil’ LT! Glad ye’ could make it out!” Johnny shouts over the crowd, blue eyes cast in mischief and that open sort of admiration that Ghost is sure the man couldn’t hide even if he tried.

You round the table, looking up at the Scot with a devastating smile on your lips before nudging his shoulder with your own,

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure your ego wasn’t too damaged after kicking your ass this morning, sergeant.”

“Ach! -”

Ghost can hear Johnny sputtering on and on in that terrible mashup of English and Scottish slang that’s always grated on the lieutenant’s ears- but whatever he’s saying doesn’t quite register. Instead, he can only really hear the way your laugh brightens the dim room, see the way your head tips back as you take another sip of your drink.

And it’s only then he realizes that he just wishes you would look at him like that. Wishes that he could draw the melodious sound from you, that he could be the reason you smile so brightly-

“Well, well, well-” the group looks over to see Gaz and Price meandering through the throng of bodies, the younger man with outstretched arms, “Hela! Thought you’d up and left our sorry arses!”

All Simon can do is grit his teeth as Gaz embraces you in a quick side hug, Price close behind with a warm grin even on his bearded face,

“And miss out on all the fun? You know me better than that, Garrick.” You say, raising your glass to the Captain in greeting.

So, no, Ghost doesn’t like new places.

But he can’t deny that as the next hour passes he’s smiled more than a few times at his team’s antics. And he certainly can’t say that he hasn’t missed the way you bring them all a little closer, your bubbly brand of forwardness allowing them to each get out of their heads, even if just for a little while.

“What’s this about you handin’ MacTavish's arse to him?” Price’s voice booms over the music, which has only seemed to get louder the later it gets-

Ghost watches you down the rest of your whiskey sour without so much as a flinch, your cheeks flushed such a pretty pink from the alcohol,

“I mean, is that really a surprise?” You shoot back, the man in question all but slamming his glass down on the table in rebuttal-

“Ooh- yer arse is oot the windae! I want a rematch!” Johnny’s words slur together just enough to give away how good he’s really feeling, throwing an arm over your shoulder, “Watcha say, lil LT? And this time we’ll have a proper judge, right Cap? No cheatin’-”

It really isn’t fair how you lean into him as you chuckle, that ache in Simon’s neck creeping up again at the sight.

Christ alive, why can’t he just get it together? Why does he care? You’ve never been one to shy away from physical touch… but fuck all if it doesn’t eat at him.

“Oi, who wants another round?” Gaz, thankfully interjects, drawing everyone’s attention with a collective and resounding sound off.

The others waltz away through the crowd in the direction of the bar, everyone but you- standing across from Ghost at the table, toying with the toothpick in your glass,

"Late night spar, huh?" You don't miss the added gruffness in his tone, or the fact that he refuses to look at you now, staring somewhere over your head.

And if you were a better woman, you wouldn't feel the need to play into his offputting display of jealousy- but you're you after all.. and he's Ghost. So, you give a little hum before plucking the tiny skewer from your cup,

"Couldn't sleep.." You shrug, looking up at him under you lashes, his eyes already on the maraschino cherry that drips down your fingers, "Figured I'd do something a little more productive since I was up anyway-"

Simon tracks your hand, falling right into your terrible little game as you bring the fruit to your lips- it's tooth achingly sweet when you finally bite into it, mixed with the burn of whiskey. And it's when the juice runs down your chin that you meet his gaze, swiping up the liquid on your thumb, he watches with a severity that sends a dangerous chill up your spine- not even daring to blink as you suck the digit clean.

You know he's keenly aware of exactly what you're doing, but that doesn't stop the lust and satisfaction from rushing through you at his deep growl- those coppery eyes darker than you've ever seen.

All too innocently, you flash him a smile, "I think I'll have one more.. you want anything, sir?"

Ghost thinks he can feel the crystal glass in his hand begin to splinter under his grip, unable to tear his eyes away from the red stain on your lips- it's enough to drive him mad.

He gives you a curt shake of his head, knowing that if he had another drink, he might lose whatever vague sense of self-control he's clinging onto so precariously.

And instead of watching you walk away, he turns toward the pool tables, needing something to do with his hands- because if he clenched them any fucking tighter he think he might draw blood with the way his blunt nails dig into his calloused palm.

Without waiting for the others, he racks the balls before picking up a cue stick and breaking the formation- moving around the table just as Johnny sidles up to him,

"Did’nae take ye for a billiards guy, LT.." He says, quickly working to chalk up his own cue.

Gaz and Price follow soon after, eager to join in on teams- and it works, for a short time anyway to distract him. If he can just stay focused on making each shot, then he won't have time to think about you. But, that's a rather silly notion, isn't it? Because sure enough, just as he leans in to take a shot, he spots you bump elbows with his Scottish counterpart.

"Here to give me some good luck, lil LT?" Johnny looks down at you with a lopsided grin, both hands wrapped around the cue stick as he leans on it.

You take a slow sip of your drink, just enough time to glance at Simon- sleeves now pulled up to expose the thickly corded muscles of his forearms and the faded black ball cap on his head turned backwards. He's calculated in his shot, efficiently knocking a striped ball into the nearest pocket-

"I don't think you want any of my luck, sergeant.." You drawl, eyes flitting up to see his deep blue ones already on you, "Can't say I have the best track record when it comes to that."

Soap's chuckle is warm and laced with silk in your ears, watching him copy his superior's movements, finessing his own cue to score a bankshot. Gaz is next, followed by Price, and you follow them ardently, moving around the table as they go until it's back to Ghost-

"Aye, LT-" Johnny calls, "Why don't you show Hela how to do a jump.."

You've managed to get close enough to the towering man now that he has to look down at you before glaring back at his sergeant,

"'m sure she can figure it out on 'er own, Johnny."

"I've actually never really played." You say before your better judgment can stop your mouth from moving- maybe you have had a little much to drink.

And the way Simon's jaw clenches, having taken off his mask as the other patrons slowly dispersed, makes your core tighten- biting the fleshy inside of your cheek between your teeth. You shouldn't push it. You’ve done enough of that already, haven’t you?

Yet, in one swift motion, Simon's hand is on your hip, the other taking the half-empty cup from your grasp before positioning your body in front of his. It isn't exactly gentle, there's a roughness to his movements that put you on edge, a stiffness in his voice that only stokes the the fire in your belly,

"Hold it 'ere.." You take the stick in your hand, the wood still hot from his touch, "and 'ere."

When you grab it this time, he covers your hand, easily repositioning it further down- "Like that."

Very suddenly, you're regretting putting yourself in this situation, so swept up in the feeling of Simon all but dwarfing you, his proximity far more intoxicating than any of the alcohol you've consumed tonight, that you don't notice the sly smirk on Gaz's face- nor the knowing looks shared between your teammates.

In your defense, Simon makes it hard to concentrate on much of anything with the way he slowly leans into you, urging you to bend forward- his hold light but still strong enough to make the slightest adjustments to your stance,

"Lift your elbow now." He mutters, his breath tickling over your exposed shoulder, your jacket left slung over the nearest chair. But it's his hand that catches you off guard, because unlike every other movement he's made with purpose and intention, a man simply doing a job; when he moves now, it's slow, his fingers grazing up your side before softly caressing the skin of your arm,

"Good."

You shift on your feet, your body feeling like it might combust at any moment, the one word spoken in his brassy accent threatening to unravel you on the spot.

The next few moments seem to pass in a blur, you feel him lean in just a bit closer, his left arm bracing over you on the edge of the table as his right hand lands right behind yours on the stick. Whatever he does after is more like a magic trick than logic, rushing the tip downward on the ball with enough force to nearly jerk you forward, but with enough finesse that the little sphere hops off the table- knocking what you assume was the intended target into its pocket.

It takes longer than you're proud of to recover, scrambling to put a bright smile on your face, moving when he does and hoping to whatever deities might exist that it's dark enough to hide the red hue of your cheeks,

"Look at that, a natural, ma'am!" Gaz shouts, clapping a wide palm over your back- and you try to force out a laugh, try to keep your eyes away from the dark form that's moved back towards the table now.

Away from you.

And you wish it didn't make your stomach twist, seeing him pull his mask back on and fixing his ballcap again so that the bill sits low over his eyes-

"Headin' out, Simon?" Price speaks up, an unlit cigar propped lazily between his lips now.

Simon gives his signature nod, which barely a perceptible gesture, but you're all used to it enough by now. The captain, already out past his bedtime, is happy to begin rounding up his own belongings as well, urging the sergeants to get it together and get to the truck,

"I call shotgun!" Soap calls over his shoulder, already barreling towards the exit, Garrick hot on his heels,

"Fuckin' hell.." Price grumbles, looking back at you, "Need a lift, love?"

"No, I'm good. See you tomorrow, Cap." You say, a tired smile reassuring him enough that you would get home-

And just like that, the once bustling pub is more like a ghost town when you step out into the crisp night air, watching the tail lights flicker away. You had gotten a taxi here, but you feel too wired to call for one now- your body felt like it was vibrating, still so lost in the fading memory of what happened inside. But maybe you were just imagining it.. maybe you had let those lines between reality and fantasy blur a little too close for comfort.

Simon climbed into the driver's seat, his hands hitting the steering wheel before ripping the hat and mask off and throwing them onto the dash-

"Fuck."

What was he thinking? He should have never given into it, never touched you the way he did, held you, gotten close enough to feel you against him again. Should have never fed the monster.

God-fucking-damn MacTavish and his annoying fucking antics, never knowing when to quit. Ever since the undercover mission, the man had been a hound with a scent. Testing and prodding and sticking his damned nose in places it didn't belong-

Simon loathes new places.

But there you are. Standing under the milky glow of the street lamp, your hands tangled in your hair and your cheeks puffed in frustration. And so fucking beautiful he can't stand it.

He should leave. He needs to go back to base, needs to take a shower so cold it hurts, needs to bury himself in work just like you did. He needs, he needs, he needs.

Yet, he doesn't do any of those things.

No, like the awful, depraved man he is, he steps out of the truck and makes a beeline right for you- which, looking back on it, might not have been the best course of action because the instant you see his hulking frame he watches how you go on the defensive. Your posture stiffening and your hand reaching for one of your many concealed weapons if he knows you like he thinks he does.

That's ok though, he imagines you could stab him right here in the parking lot and he wouldn't mind one bit. Hell, you could slit his throat and he would smile as he bled out at your feet.

Thankfully, you do neither of those things.

And as soon as you're within reach, he's got those big hands framing your face, crushing his lips to yours.

Shock is all you can register at first. Your mind and body flooded by adrenaline, ready for a fight when you initially saw the shadowed figure coming for you. But in those same few seconds, you recognized him, recognized every purpose driven stride, the steady sway of his shoulders-

Though him kissing you hadn't necessarily been on the list of things you had expected.

You're pulled to your tiptoes, and for a moment you think it might be a dream, the way he audibly groans when your lips begin to move against his. But he doesn't relent, and you don't want him to. So you lean up, wrapping your arms around his neck as soon as your muscles can catch up to your thoughts.

You feel his tongue gently glide over your bottom lip, a gentle urging for you to reciprocate- which you're more than happy to oblige. The kiss turning somehow more heated, sloppy even, something you had never experienced yet something that you never want to end.

But all too soon, he does pull away, his fingers threading through your hair, "I'm sorry-"

Again, hearing Simon Riley apologise was just not on the bingo card for tonight.

He presses his forehead to yours, your heavy breaths mingling with his, remnants of whiskey and bourbon filling your nostrils,

"Sorry?" You look up at him, eyebrows tightly knitted, "For what?"

"The mission.. I shouldn't have- I didn't-" --he stumbles over his words, scarred lips finally pulling into a grimace, "Hel, is it true?"

The way his gaze bores into you feels intimate, like he's trying to peel you apart, "Gonna have to be a little less vague there.. I'm smart, but I can't read minds."

Your breathy chuckle helps to ease the tension, if such a thing were possible with how close he still holds you,

"That you've never been with anyone, like that.."

Oh. GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU, MACTAVISH.

When you take a step back, he reluctantly lets you go, his expression faltering for a moment- and you hate it. Hate that you had possibly hurt him- but you just needed space to put it all together, to try to explain.

"Yes.." his face falls even more, and it's like you can feel the shame that radiates from him, your hands reaching for him on their own, fingers tangling into the fabric of his shirt, "But I wanted it.. I wanted.. you. I want you- jesus, fuck- I'm so bad at this."

"You didn't say anythin'.."

You shake your head, a laugh huffing through you as you look to the inky sky above, "Would it have changed anything?"

"I wouldn't have-"

"You wouldn't have done what you did? Why?"

That seems to stump him, his mouth opening and then closing, opening again, "You deserved more."

"Simon, just because I've never had sex doesn't mean I'm completely naive.." You initiate the kiss this time, mimicking the way he had held your face, pulling him closer, "I'm under no illusion that it's suppose to be this magical moment-"

He eagerly returns your kiss, an arm wrapping around your waist as you continue, "And, let's be honest, having 'The Ghost' on his knees was waaayy better than sex."

You feel his smile right before he bends down and hoists over his shoulder,

"Simon!"

But, your shrieks and giggles fall on deaf ears, hands smacking at his back in a lame attempt to wiggle free, "Mm.. no, no, keep screamin' my name, sweet girl. I like the way it sounds."

a/n: this one got away from me… but your honor, they’re down so bad for each other 😭 thank you for reading!!

[PT 4] (coming soon)

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #it’s getting hot in here yall #haha oops #it’s a four parter i guess #sorry?#call of duty #cod fandom #cod fanfic #john soap mactavish #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick #john price #reader #fem reader #no y/n

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randomfandomblabdom · 1 year

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Fallen Order & Survivor Musical Themes

Has anyone done this yet? Here is a comprehensive list of all of the character themes/motifs found in the Jedi: Fallen Order and Survivor video games for anyone interested. I tried to give several examples of each and also included some of my own thoughts. You can listen to many or as few links as you want. If I missed anything please feel free to add on or let me know.

FALLEN ORDER CAL KESTIS - I'm giving Cal two separate sections because I'm pretty positive he now has two separate themes and in attempts to make it less confusing, I've decided to very creatively refer to them as Fallen Order Cal and Survivor Cal. I'm a genius, I know. Fallen Order Cal is consistently heard all over both games. It's his primary theme. It feels young and heroic and wide-eyed... Remember feeling like nothing could touch you when you were young? That's the sort of feeling I get from Fallen Order Cal. It's not happy per se but it's hope and optimism sprinkled with naive youthfulness and an undertone of solemnity. He's been through some serious shit but he's a kid, he's young. The grief and trauma are there for sure but they haven't encompassed him completely. There's still some hope behind those eyes, there's a healing journey to go on, and there's a chance to take on this Empire. It's only until Survivor that the theme starts feeling a little more grounded just like the transition from childhood to adulthood. Fallen Order Cal in Survivor feels a bit less magical, that youthful spirit has diminished, that hope has dwindled.

CAL KESTIS

THE PATH OF THE THREE SAGES

PEACEKEEPERS

A FRONTIER WELCOME

ABOVE THE CLOUDS

A STEP TOO FAR

SURVIVOR CAL KESTIS - So, I originally thought this was a minor key variation of a section of Cal's theme but I've since realized that it technically is a completely separate theme. That being said, thanks to @foxykatie425 in this insanely detailed reply to my frustrations regarding this theme that put what I was hearing into musical terms way out of my element in terms of explaining, I've realized that I may have been somewhat correct. I don't know if the two themes are actually connected, that would be a question for the composers but at the very least, it's definitely a secondary darker theme for Cal as it only ever plays in reference to him and I'd wager a guess that it's the main theme of Survivor as a whole. Compared to Fallen Order Cal, Survivor Cal feels drained, heavy, tired, burdened, and above all else, dark and foreboding. There is a genuine weight to this theme that just feels sinister. There is a hint of Fallen Order Cal there but as that post says, it almost feels like it's on the verge of falling apart. He's not the same man he was five years ago and the fact that this theme is the first thing you hear music-wise in the game and accompanies your very first view of him is an incredible way of subconsciously telling that to your audience right off the bat.

DARK TIMES

ABOVE THE CLOUDS - note: this theme and Fallen Order Cal switch back and forth constantly in this track and I find that so interesting.

NOVA GARON

NIGHTSISTER MERRIN - Merrin's theme is interesting to me because it doesn't sound anything like the type of music you might use to accompany a witch or magic user. It's not necessarily fantastical or whimsical or anything of the sort. In fact, it sounds more like something you might use for a superhero. It's a little bit timid or unsure or even afraid in Fallen Order but god damn has it built in confidence and strength once Survivor rolls around. The only time you hear that sort of timidness to it again is during the first kiss on Jedha which has such interesting implications for her being a nervous wreck in that moment. I also adore how it sounds as an action cue which you hear several times throughout Survivor. It sounds like it comes straight from the best MCU movies and yes, I do mean that as a compliment.

TO DATHOMIR

PEACEKEEPERS

MERRIN

THE WILL OF THE FORCE

TRIDENT

FLIGHT

CAL & MERRIN'S LOVE THEME - Look, I genuinely did not think they would actually go through with making Cal and Merrin canon, I honestly thought they'd chicken-shit out and I was certainly not expecting them to get any sort of love theme if they did but here we are... and we somehow got both. Cal and Merrin are canon and they got a love theme. Holy fucking shit. It just has all that warmth and sweetness of a friend-to-lovers romance too.

FIELDS OF DUSK - ORCHESTRAL VERSION

CAMPFIRE

A STEP TOO FAR

THE ABYSS

BD-1 - I said in my post regarding my thoughts on the Survivor score that these two video game scores are quite possibly the closest we've ever gotten to a John Williams sound from a composer(s) who is in fact, not John Williams. Not that every piece of Star Wars music has to sound like the big man himself, part of the reason The Mandalorian theme was so positively received was that it was such a different sound for Star Wars but I stand by what I said: this is the closest a composer has gotten to a John Williams sound and they have clearly done their research. Some people might not know this but R2 and 3PO have a very small motif heard throughout the films. It's not played very often and is sometimes not very noticeable but it's there and BD-1's motif is not only similar but definitely sounds like it exists within the same universe. I also love that droids are so often musically presented as very childlike, innocent, and mischievous. BD in particular has a very playful energy.

BD-1 AND THE BOGLINGS

MERRIN

THE WILL OF THE FORCE

TRILLA SUNDURI/SECOND SISTER - Trilla's theme legitimately activates my fight or flight response and when I say that, I mean mostly my flight response cause you won't find me messing with this shit. It's very much in lieu of the famous Psycho violins which were written to heighten your senses by emulating screams. I wish we got more of it cause it's intimidating as fuck and a piece of dark side art.

FIGHT AND FLIGHT

TRILLA

THE WILL OF THE FORCE

CERE JUNDA - Don't hate me but I haven't quite fallen in love with Cere's theme yet. That's not to say it's bad by any means, it's absolutely beautiful. It has such a deep melancholy vibe to it, like an inescapable sadness. It almost has a feeling of failure to me weirdly enough.

THE PATH OF THE THREE SAGES

DESERT RUINS

SIEGE

THE VISITOR

ENO CORDOVA - I've mentioned this before but again, for people who might not know: the music that is widely considered to be the main theme of Fallen Order - so much so it was primarily used during the recap at the beginning of Survivor - is Cordova's theme. It's such an interesting artistic choice because I think many people would've made it either Cal's theme or given the entire game its own theme in general. I listen to this one a lot honestly. It's so calming and safe feeling.

THE PATH OF THE THREE SAGES

FAILURE IS NOT THE END

ENO CORDOVA'S THEME

THE NARKIS ANCHORITES

BODE AKUNA - Yes, Bode does have a theme and you know what? It slaps. I really like it. It's very adventurous and feels quite friendly which is ironic as hell. It does get some heart-wrenching renditions nearer to the end of the game. It's the music that swells when he force-pushes Cal and everyone collectively shits themselves. Oh, it also has some dark renditions as well.

ABOVE THE CLOUDS

A STEP TOO FAR

BROTHERS

THROUGH DARKNESS

RAYVIS - As far as I can tell, Rayvis does not have a set theme but he is usually accompanied by high-playing strings and his boss fight music is the best example of that. I actually don't think a lot of Rayvis moments ended up on the score soundtrack which... how dare they.

WARRIORS CODE

DAGAN GERA - I thought Dagan didn't have a theme for the longest time but it turns out he actually does have a tiny motif that I do wish had been more thoroughly realized in the score because it's so menacing and I absolutely love it. It's most prominently heard during his last confrontation with Cal. He is also usually accompanied by low-playing horns. Not always but usually.

RELEASE ME

TO THE RESCUE

GRAND OCULUS

KATA AKUNA - I'm going to rant about this one for a second, okay? I have spent the last few weeks wondering what the hell the melody that plays throughout the track Through Darkness is. I was sitting here plucking out melodies on a piano app (cause I don't own a keyboard) and was like, "Okay, it's not Cal's theme, it's not Bode's theme, it's not Merrin's theme... what the hell is that series of notes??" Yes, I'm aware that not every note has to mean something but these just felt like they did. It's played at such an emotional point in the game and for two scores that already work heavily around themes and motifs and musical ideas, it didn't make sense to me that this little series of notes would mean nothing, especially at such a poignant moment. Funnily enough, it only just occurred to me while making this post that it's fucking Kata's theme. At least I think it is. Well, motif. It's not a fully developed theme but it definitely has the makings of one. That's not even me making a wild guess either, these notes appear in other places in the story that feature Kata.

NOVA GARON

THE ABYSS

THROUGH DARKNESS

GHOST STAR - I'm adding this for fun because I think it's gorgeous and I love it but it leads me to ask: why has there been no official release of Ghost Star? With or without vocals? This is a genuine question. It does not appear on the Cantina album nor is there even a snippet of its melody on the score album. It makes me wonder if the song was maybe added later into production? Trust me, I love the orchestral cover that has been going around and people are obviously seeking it out cause the track has gained thousands of streams in the months since the game was released. It was at 10k the last time I looked on Spotify and it's currently at 24k as of writing this. I'm just genuinely surprised EA/Respawn or hell, even Lucasfilm hasn't capitalized off that.

GHOST STAR

GHOST STAR W/ VOCALS

Thank you most sincerely if you made it all the way here :)

I liked this. I should do this for more scores lol.

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gretavanlace · 2 years

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Purple Haze

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, use of marijuana, language, dirty talk, praise, degradation, sliiiiight dom/sub if you squint and turn your head just right. Idk, you guys know me by now

This goes out to my anon who asked for smoked up, lazy, dirty sex with josh, about a million years ago. I’ve lost your ask, but I hope you know I loved and appreciated your request, and I apologize for the long, long wait.

“Stop staring at me.” you run the tip of your tongue along the blunt you’ve just completed, purposely avoiding Josh’s gaze.

He sits at the opposite end of the couch, eyes boring a heated hole through you. “Can’t help it.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him curl his legs, twisting them beneath him, rendering himself even tinier than usual. “You look sexy when you roll.”

You hand him the blunt and a lighter - the green hit is his favorite. “You only think that because you can’t roll for shit.”

“Never needed to, Jake was always around to do it for me, and now I have a pretty girl to do my bidding.” He sounds pleased with himself, so naturally, you feel like knocking him down a peg.

“And you’re just okay with being a pillow princess? Happy to sit back while I do all the work?”

“Delighted.” he winks around a long, lazy hit. “This one’s a little too tight, though. You losing your touch?”

The perverted old man quip comes to you so quickly you consider getting up to check the mail for your honorary penis. “Thought you liked tight, Josh?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, passing to you after hitting it twice like a mannerless savage. “That was bad, babe. Like, Samuel level bad. We gotta work on your material.”

You smoke and pass back and forth in comfortable silence for a while until, as usual, he feels the need to fill it. “Wanna walk down to the store for weird snacks? I’ll hold your hand and pretend I like you.”

This is a favorite little game of his. Find a store and search out the strangest snacks you can find. The first time you’d played with him, he’d given you the most disappointed look you’ve ever seen grace his beautiful features when, with a smirk, you’d presented him with a cylinder of Pumpkin Pie Spice Pringles. “I said weird, love,” he’d frowned, tucking them onto a random shelf behind you. “Not disgusting.”

“No,” you sigh, crawling across the couch cushions until you can curl up like a cat with your head in his lap. “I don’t feel like going anywhere.”

“Okay,” he runs his thumb over your mouth. “Bad lip reading?”

Another of his favorites…throw on an old movie or cheesy sitcom, mute the volume, and make up your own dialogue. He is the reigning champion…mainly because his thoughts are completely unhinged at all times anyway.

You shake your head in his lap, just to feel the soft weight of his cock nudge against your temple. “You always win.”

“Sore loser, are we?” He teases softly, lifting his hips closer to you subtly.

“I’m high.” Your voice is slow and lazy…a fuzzy breath undulating along just like the haze of smoke that plays above your heads.

“Wasn’t that kind of the point?” His voice sounds just as faraway. Bluesy and thick.

Turning your face inward, you shamelessly nuzzle against his dick again through his sweats. Dragging your tongue along the length of it before bestowing a gentle bite into the girth of it. He sucks in a hiss of an inhale through those perfect teeth of his and then releases it shakily. “Watch it, baby.”

“I think you liked it.” You challenge, just before lightly biting once more. He’s harder now, and the moan you draw from his chest makes your thighs both press together and ache to spread apart.

“You want that?” His tone is guiding you down a familiar path…he’s switched on now, and you are positively alight with excitement.

“Yes.” You nod up at him with your sweetest fuck me eyes.

“Where? You want this pretty mouth all nice and full?” His thumb tugs at your bottom lip, “Or would you like to be nice and full somewhere else?

“I wanna sit on your lap.” the words drift out of you with a wandering curl of a smoky exhale as you pass the blunt back to him.

He takes it, fills his lungs and then rasps around the hit he’s still holding in. “On my lap or on my cock?”

Leaning forward, he brings his mouth to yours and gently breathes the smoke into your mouth. You accept the shared hit with lust and longing pulsing through your body hard and fast.

“So romantic, Joshua.” You tease, unable to summon much of a bullying tone…you almost sound serious, and maybe you are. No one else gets to sit on his cock, who’s to say what romance is? Shouldn’t it be in the eye of the beholder? Like beauty? Surely the universe holds millions of unique instances of love that…

Oh no, when you start thinking like Josh, you know you’re cashed. To that end, when he moves to pass to you, you shake your head and fumble up to straddle him while he leans over the arm of the couch to stub it out in a tiny clay ashtray he crafted in art class his freshman year of high school.

“Told the teacher it was a jewelry dish for my sister’s birthday so it wouldn’t be confiscated.” He likes to remind you proudly. As if his teacher actually bought his bullshit.

“Hi, cookie.” He smiles, red eyes heavy and slow as they drink you in.

“Cookie?” You laugh, rocking slowly down against him…the warmth of his cock leading you toward drowsiness, like slipping into a bath filled with fragrant, iridescent, bubbles.

“Yeah, you look good. Tempting. Plus, you taste very sweet.” He shrugs, “Also, I’m high as hell and thinking about food. We should’ve done the grocery store thing.”

“Okay,” your hips are rolling with rhythm now, his fingers gripping deliciously into your sides. “Well, it makes me feel like I’m a cocker spaniel, so quit it.”

A full-chested laugh rolls out of him as his head falls to rest against the back of the couch. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“Cute?” Your palms slide up his shirt, thumbs circling over his nipples as he hums and gasps his appreciation.

“So cute,” he pulls you down onto his lap harder, grinding up into you until the tip of his still hidden cock is sweeping over your clit. “And I’m high and hungry. What should I call you? Salt and vinegar chips? My crunchy taco supreme? Questionable leftovers? Chicken flavored ramen?”

How are you laughing this hard while simultaneously soaking through your panties?

“Mmm,” you moan, as though swooning. “Questionable leftovers, please. Fuckin’ hot.”

He quiets your giggles by wrapping one palm around your throat, the other clasping the nape of your neck, owning you as he pulls you in, nose to nose.

“But you’re my favorite thing to eat, aren’t you? So what if I just called you my pretty little cunt, like that’s all you are to me?”

The air in your lungs tumbles free on a stuttering, hitching, embarrassing, sound of lust, and the look in his eyes tells you it hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Oh…you liked that, didn’t you?”

“Josh, please…” you whimper, yanking at the waistline of his sweats.

“Needy girl.” He teases, breathing into your mouth, “On your feet.”

“No.” You protest with the smallest of pouts. “Right here.”

“Just need to get these off you, love.” He cradles your cheek and snaps at your pj bottoms. “Up.”

You feel the gentle heat of a blush rising to your cheeks. You really are gone. Cross-faded on the THC floating through your system, and him. Mostly him. “Love?” You laugh quietly as you stumble up. “What happened to Questionable Leftovers?”

His gaze lifts to yours, dark and full of lust, yet still swimming in the bliss of the blunt. “Don’t you mean, ‘What happened to my pretty little cunt’? Because, I think you liked that one better.”

Without another word, eyes locked on yours, he rids you of your pj’s and panties, himself of his sweats and then manhandles you back down against him, while you clutch your bottom lip between your teeth.

Rather than bother with your tank top, he simply yanks the neck of it down, stretching it out until your tits pop free. He nestles his face between them and murmurs against your skin; sweet nothings and filthy promises as he licks and sucks at your nipples until you’re shivering and panting, tugging at his curls, hungry for more.

“Josh, please…” the words tremble out shakily and he nibbles on the tip of your breast in response.

“Begging already?” He smiles fondly, the fine hairs of his mustache bringing chills with the movement. “Such a sweet girl. Who’s my sweet girl, hmm? Tell me.”

“Me. I’m your sweet girl.” you arch your back, sending your nipple further into his mouth, but he pulls away.

He reaches down and drags his thumb over the glistening shine you’ve glazed his cock with, then brings it to your lips. He watches on while you lick it away, savoring yourself on your tongue. “Yeah, taste…such a sweet girl, aren’t you?”

You nod and fight to keep your eyes from rolling back in your head.

“You’re dripping all over me.” He points out with that luscious rasp quieting his tone. His fingers guide your hips a bit faster. “Making such a mess of my cock with your slutty, wet, pussy…”

“Fuck,” the curse escapes you unexpectedly, interrupting him.

“Yeah?” He teases. “See? You know what you like, don’t you, baby? You’re a sweet girl for me until I start whispering filthy things.”

“Then what am I?” You yank and tug on his shirt with a lazy fever, both enjoying and hating the game all at once.

His palm cracks against the outside of your thigh, fingers digging into the soft, thick of it. “Then you're my pretty, pretty cock drunk whore. Look at you, begging for it with your whole body, all slow and gentle because you’re in the clouds and sleepy stoned. I love it.”

“Stop teasing,” you plead, sugary as cotton candy. “I want it.”

“And you’ll have it. You know I can’t deny you for long, love, but right now this just feels too fucking good.” He angles his hips to nestle the silky tip of his cock against your clit. “Beautiful cunt all slick and hot against me. Keep going. Just a little longer.”

“No.” You shock him statue-still when, in a flash of movement that should be too swift for your inebriated state - you lift your hips, wrap your fingers around the thick base of him, and slip him inside.

His arms are wrapped around you in a blazingly fast blink of an eye. “Sit still.” He orders, voice firm and unwavering…it sends a spark of electricity popping up your spine. “Naughty girl too high to know what’s good for her?”

Your eyebrow hooks defiantly, “Maybe.”

Without bothering to reply, he licks his thumb absently and drops it down to your clit. “Oh,” he grins. “This darling little clit is just hard as a rock. No wonder you’re being so pushy…you must want it bad.”

“You think my clit is darling?” You're trying to taunt him, challenging for the upper hand.

“Of course I do.” He begins circling over it with tight, silken, curls of his thumb. “So darling. So precious and pink, soft and delicate…and the things I can do to you just by babying her around a bit.” He hums, as if remembering. “Fucking perfect. Fucking darling.”

“Standing by your statement,” You gasp, trying your hardest to fuck yourself on his cock while he holds you still and sure. “Good man.”

You grow louder, nearing your end, tip-toeing along that familiar razor-sharp edge, silently praying that the way you can feel yourself clenching around his cock will coerce him into finally fucking it up into you.

And yet, he doesn’t…and it forces your hand.

“Fuck me,” you finally give in and beg. “Please baby, just fuck me.”

“Earn it.” He whispers, watching your face intently as his hand plays you like a song. “Be a good girl and fucking earn it.”

“I don’t want to earn it.” You whine, catering to his need to baby you. “I want you to just give it to me. Spoil me.”

“You’re a worthy opponent, love…” he croons softly, sounding proud. “I almost gave in. Almost. Now, come on, little girl, give it up. I can feel you right there, you’re squeezed so tight around me.”

Your head falls against his shoulder, thrashing back and forth but he’s having none of it. “Huh-uh, baby. Want you to watch me make you cum.”

Wrenching yourself back up, you train your blurry gaze on his face, and, with a whispered, “C’mon, sweetheart, right on my cock with that gorgeous little cunt…” he shoves you into the abyss.

Darkness seeps into the peripherals of your vision as you try to stay focused on his ethereal face, and the pained expression painted across it. In the end, it becomes too much, and your head lolls back with a blissful cry.

Rather than scold you for not honoring his request to keep your eyes on him, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and groans out praises and obscenities. Most of which you can’t understand through the lavender fog he has unleashed in your brain.

When, at last, the smoke clears, you find his eyes. It's as though he’s been waiting a thousand years for you for as much desperation as you find in his stare.

“Ride me,” he orders, sounding as shaky and needy as you must have just a few short moments ago. “Right now…fucking ride me, please baby, oh my god - fuck, please.”

You could tease him. You could metaphorically push him around a bit about how the tables have turned. But in reality, the tables haven’t turned at all - you want him just as badly. You want to ride him until nothing else exists in the world.

When you begin rolling your hips, sending his cock slipping in and out of your warmth with a divine, slick, drag, he doubles over away from the back of the couch and into your arms. “That’s it, sweetheart…fuck me.”

“Yeah?” You hum, raking your fingernails softly over his scalp just to feel him shudder with chills.

“Yeah. Doing so fucking good for me, baby…gonna make me cum.”

Pushing him back, you lean away, trying to find that elusive angle that will send him rutting against that perfect spot inside you, but instead, you stumble upon something that’s perfect for him.

“Right there…” he gasps, clawing his dull nails into your hips. “Oh fuck, fuck…right there. Don’t stop…right there…there there there…”

“Cum for me,” you coax, fucking him harder now as he loses it completely beneath you. Writhing and thrashing and clutching at you desperately. “Come on, baby…right inside. I want it so bad.”

With a loud, feral growl that could shake the rafters, he spills into you. His body twisting and bucking into yours, violently grasping for purchase to keep him grounded.

It takes an astonishingly long time for him to calm down, but you just pet him patiently, babying him softly, loving on him and whispering sweet things.

Normally, he would complain that you’ve only gotten off once, no matter how much you insisted you were fine. He’s almost never satisfied with once. Twice is barely sufficient in his book, but he’s too far gone. He came too hard to care, and you feel positively smug about it.

When, after a leisurely bask in the afterglow, you move to climb off his lap, he whines in protest. “Stay.”

“You know, you get very subby after you get off.” You poke gentle fun and lift away from him despite his complaints.

“I do not!” He huffs. His hand darts out to swat your ass, but he misses by a mile and slumps back against the couch rather than worrying about trying again.

“Yes, you do.” You correct, flashing him a little smile. “Now you just wait here while I run to the bathroom. I’ll be back to clean you up, and then I’m going to make sandwiches.”

“Oh great, mysterious universe,” he extends a fluid, waving hand toward the ceiling as you slip out of the room. “Full of wonder and truth, secrets and curiosities…what have I done to deserve this woman? Giver of orgasms, Bringer of sandwiches...I am unworthy.”

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