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sugarnspice630 · 6 months

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Happy Halloween - Seonghwa

“You look so pathetic~.”

•pairing: dom!seonghwa x gn!sub!reader

•word count: 3.1k

•tags: mdni, smut, hide & seek game, masked seonghwa, primal pray play, cnc, reader says "no"/"stop" but doesn't mean it, knife play, seonghwa is an absolute menace, degrading + praising, pet names, name calling (whore, slut, etc.), teasing, hair pulling, picture taking after sex,...did I miss anything?

Summary: Reader expressing their need for masked Seonghwa to fuck them and he certainly delivers.

A/N: I tried to keep the pronouns gender neutral the best I could, but there might be a slight fem lean to things! Please let me know what you think! Happy Halloween and happy reading!🎃

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

Texting him all day about your crazy thoughts, especially after you saw that clip of him from the Don’t Stop music video behind the scenes where he ripped the mask off his face and stretched his neck while rolling his eyes back, looking super sexy…yeah you know, *that* Seonghwa. You told him you wanted nothing more than for him to use that mask again and hunt you down in the dorm, playing hide and seek, while really wanting him to catch you and have his way with you. Of course, he only fueled your fantasy by saying things like “we’ll see what happens~”, “perhaps later tonight we can have some fun?”, and other provocative things.

He finally came back to the dorm after his schedules, but the other members were still away for the time being. You ran up to him, eager to not only see him, but to see if what you were telling him earlier in the day would come true. It was Halloween after all, what other perfect time to act like a crazed, masked, serial killer?

“Still wanna have fun~?” You teased as he softly rubbed your back.

“Hmmmmm.” He hums softly and lets go of you. He knew what you were hinting at, but he was just toying with you like he had been all day. You cross your arms and scowl at him, kinda irritated that he had been teasing you for this long and now would not do anything about it. Suddenly, he forcefully grabs your arms and lifts both of them above your head, pushing you back into the wall that was beside you. Your eyes go wide at the sudden action and you feel your face get red.

“You were saying~?” He growls softly and inched his way closer to your face, the proximity of you two causing extreme sexual tension. Him towering over you, driving you absolutely insane.

“I-I was uh-.” You could barely speak. You gazed up at his eyes and he was staring at you lustfully, looking over every ounce of your body, practically undressing you with just his eyesight. “H-...Hide and Seek?” You manage to get out, completely flustered by your closeness to him. He looks you over a little longer before letting your arms go; they fall to your sides.

“Go,” He says deeply. “15 seconds.” He’s staring at you with deep, hooded eyes. So much seduction is hidden behind them. Your body freezes for only a moment before you shoot him a quick smile and run away from him to find a hiding spot.

14…Counting down the seconds in your head, the panic sets in on where you can actually hide.

13…You don’t want it to be too obvious because you want the game to last at least a little bit.

12…Your heart rate is increasing with every second wasted.

11…Think Y/N, think!

10…An idea pops into your head and you immediately move your feet to get there.

9…You find yourself in the kitchen and there is a space below one of the countertops you think you can squeeze into.

8…Crawling down to the floor…7…You squeeze yourself into the little opening…6…it was tighter than you thought, but there is no time to change spots now.

5…You try to calm your breathing to not give your location away…4…You close your eyes, and pray that he won’t find you.

3…2…1

“Ready or not, here I come Princess~.” His deep, seductive voice echoes through the dorm. His tone sends a chill down your spine, but now is not the time to shudder it out. “Should have gone to the bathroom before he got home.” Silently cursing at yourself. Actually uncertain if you have to pee, or it’s the arousal that is slowly brewing within you.

You hear Seonghwa’s footsteps get closer to your general area. You carefully put your hands up to your mouth to silent your breathing. Seonghwa was wearing platform boots that with every step they clunked and the closer he got to your position, you could feel the wooden floor vibrate. Slowly making his way around the dorm, one slow step at a time. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, and you can only hope that you are not breathing too heavily as the beating of your heart fills your eardrums. Seonghwa gets closer to the kitchen and you try to hold your breath, to not draw attention to your hiding spot. He taps his fingers across the countertop as he makes his way through the kitchen, a habit he picked up from watching ASMR, which should be peaceful and satisfying, but in fact, is the exact opposite in this situation. The slow tapping of his fingers was replaced with the harsh sound of a knife being pulled out of the knife block, located almost directly above you. You squeeze your eyes shut and feel yourself getting lightheaded from how long you have been trying to hold your breath.

Little to your knowledge, Seonghwa had already seen where you were hiding because of the small crack at the bottom of the counter back piece. He really was toying with you at this point, giving you the most authentic experience. He continues to slowly trudge around the kitchen, enjoying the tiny whimpers you made with every step he took. You felt like you were going to pass out at any second if this continued for much longer. Claustrophobia kicking in, you feel your body getting hot and sweaty, and not because your boyfriend was about to fuck your shit up. Your hands becoming clammy, your throat becoming dry because you dare not try to swallow and have your stupid throat make that stupid airy noise and give away your position.

Seonghwa rounds the corner where the counters end and is now on the side where he could see you. His footsteps approaching closer, and closer, you try to delicately squeeze yourself further into the space, trying to not make any noise or sudden movements. Your head is now pushed into your knees and you have your head turned to the side where you can see the living room, but also the very edge of Seonghwa’s boot on the floor in front of you. Seonghwa is fully aware you are hiding right below him, but he steps away, giving you a false sense of hope. You squeeze your eyes shut one more time, hoping that he’ll go away and this “nightmare” can be over, but that unfortunately doesn’t happen. You feel a soft 2 taps on your shoulder and you can only sob as you feel your heart sink down into your stomach and your body becomes cold. You’ve been caught. You’re cornered with nowhere to run. Exactly what Seonghwa had wanted.

He grips onto your arm and pulls you out of your hiding spot, definitely gripping hard enough to bruise your skin. You try to squirm away, kicking your feet and slapping at his arms, using your elbows to drag yourself across the floor, back away from him. He only gets closer to you, and you can tell he’s pissed off. You look up at him for the first time since you left his sight, and you are met with a surprise. The mask. He must have somehow brought it home with him and put it on while you were hiding. He grabs your legs and pulls you close to him, his body towering over top of you once again.

“NO!” You scream out, “GET AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE!” If anyone was around, they would genuinely think someone broke in and was robbing you…but no one was there to save you.

“Time’s up little girl~.” He growls as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you to his bedroom, or your shared bedroom. You are still fighting for your life in his grasp, punching his back with your fists and kicking your legs, but it’s no use. The grip he has on you is too strong, and not like you really want out anyway.

“S-Stop! Put me down!” You scream out, still flailing your body around as he makes his way to your guys’ bedroom. “PARK SEONGHWA~!” You scream bloody murder, but it has no effect on him. Your vocal chords are for sure going to be shot by the end of the night.

You feel your body get thrown down and thankfully the soft mattress takes away some of the impact. Your body is shaking with fear and you can feel your eyes start to water. Seonghwa slowly makes his way on top of you on the bed, trapping your hips with his legs. You lightly kick your legs to the side and turn your head, hoping to throw his body off of yours, but that doesn’t work.

“N-No.” You cry out softly as his masked face gets closer to yours. Cowering in fear, you can’t bring yourself to look at him, closing your eyes and turning your head to the side. He tenderly grabs your chin, rubbing his thumb across your lip before twisting his hand harshly so your face is straight back at him.

“Open your eyes.” He demands softly. You open one eye and whimper when you see how close he is and that stupid mask. The mask you once thought was so hot, but now that it was directly in front of you, it was even hotter.

“Y-You don’t have to do this.” You plead, your voice breaking in between words. Seonghwa can feel your body trembling under him and he only smirks, which you can’t see, but you know that he is doing. In fact, you know he had been smirking this whole time. Seeing you scared of him awoke his primal instincts. He had to ruin you. “You're right darling~. I don’t have to,” Speaking softly, taking in the sight of your shaking frame and your watery eyes, “I want to." Those were the last words he said before he started to literally rip your clothes off of you. Throwing the shredded fabric to the side and getting aggravated when things would not come off fast enough. You could hear him groaning and growling anytime a piece of clothing got in his way. Not knowing what else to do besides toss your upper body around to fight it. Trying harder to get away from him and arching your back to again try to throw him off of you.

“N-NO!” You yell out at him again.

He grips onto your bottoms and pulls them down all the way, leaving you in only your undergarments. Now having enough of your bullshit, he takes one of his hands, grabs you by the hair, and tugs on it. You let out a whimper at the sudden pain. Seonghwa only lowly chuckles at your noises. Your eyes remain closed from when he gripped your hair. You are unaware of the item he just pulled from his pants pocket until you feel a familiar, cold sensation across the skin on your stomach. Your body twitches at the feeling and you open your eyes to see Seonghwa slowly dragging the knife he picked up from the kitchen across your skin and slowly making his way to your top. The tip of the knife dances delicately across your skin, and in no way causing any cuts to your skin, but pressing just enough to leave those little white after trails. Your heart beat increasing for the thousandth time that night. Seonghwa takes notice of your panic and only chuckles to himself before he takes the tip of the blade and pushes it down, not damaging any skin, and lifting your top piece up away from your chest.

“Hope you don’t care too much for this.” He teases before he lifts the top of the blade up and cuts through the fabric covering your chest. Your chest is now completely exposed to the cool air of the room and your nipples get hard. Seonghwa laughs softly as he watches your body change and toys the knife across your skin a little more.

“H-Hwa please…” You beg him and he only tilts his head to the side, looking at you but not actually looking at you. You watch as his shoulder shimmy up and down from the silent chuckles that leave him.

“As you wish, my love~.”

You can only watch as he undoes his belt, unzipping his pants and shimmying them just past his hips, enough to get them out of his way. Shaking your head side to side slowly and you feel tears start to well in your eyes. The fear inside consuming you. Seonghwa suddenly lunges forward, his body once again over top of yours. He yanks your underwear off of you, tossing it to the side and pushing your legs back towards you to have access to what he wants. He swiftly pushes himself into your hole and your eyes roll back into your head. He pushes his whole self into you, hearing him groan as he does so and not allowing any moments to get used to the feeling. “S-Stop! P-Please!” He takes the knife and pushes it against your throat as he pulls himself out and shoves himself back into you again. You tilt your head back into the pillows behind you and moan. “S-stop!”

“But the fun just got started~” He toys as he keeps thrusting himself into you. Your body getting used to the feeling and taking him so well, but you didn’t want him to know that. You wince as he keeps pushing himself deep into you.

“T-This isn't fun!”

“You sure~?” He thrusts his way inside you again and keeps himself there and harshly smacks the side of your hip with his free hand. You can’t help but moan loudly at the feeling and your face gets super red from embarrassment. Seonghwa laughs sadistically as he resumes pushing himself in and out of you at an alarming pace. You take your hands, place them on his chest, and push up into his body, trying to force him off of you yet again. This only causes Seonghwa to push the knife deeper into your neck and shove himself into you forcibly.

“Good try~.” He coos out. You whimper and squeeze your eyes shut. Your body slowly becoming overwhelmed by the force of his thrusts. “Can't hide like that princess~. You already tried~.” Referring back to your match of hide and seek where he pretended not to see you as you closed your eyes, hoping he would disappear if you couldn't see him, but you see where that got you.

“M-mm~! P-please stop!” Your voice becoming hoarse from the screaming and pleasing.

“Fine by me~.” Seonghwa says before he takes himself out of you and for a brief moment you think it’s over and this is where the fun ends, but that moment is short-lived as you feel him grab the sides of your body and flip you over onto your stomach. He repositions himself and shoves himself back into your aching hole. Your face is pushed into the pillow on the bed and your scream is muffled by said pillow.

“God, I love it when they scream~.” Seonghwa growls out as he keeps forcing himself in and out of your body. He takes one of his hands and grabs your hair and yanks your head up off the mattress. His thrust brings tears to your eyes and the pain of him whipping your head back causes a few tears to fall on your cheeks.

“P-please!” You beg, hoping that he’ll hear how broken you are and put this to an end.

“Mmm~. Keep begging~.” Seonghwa moans out as he puts the knife back up to your neck and keeps pushing himself into you. Your breathing stuttered as you feel the knife right against your throat again. You cannot think of anything to say or do, other than panting and breathing out while occasionally letting out moans or whimpers. “Cat got your tongue~?” He teases as he thrusts himself into you slowly, but forcefully.

“N-NO!” You cry out from the pleasure of him now going slower but still treating you rough. He keeps thrusting into you at this nicer pace, but you can tell his thrusts were getting sloppy. He struggled to keep a consistent rhythm. “Fuck!” You moan out loud and bite your tongue immediately after you realize what just came out of your mouth.

“You dirty fucking whore~! Of course you'd like this~!” He pushes your head back down into the bed and keeps fucking you hard.

“N-no! I-!” You whimper out only for it to be muffled by the sheets. Crying loudly at Seonghwa abusing your hole and sobbing into the sheets. You hear Seonghwa groaning and panting, spitting out a few curses here and there. The pleasure builds up inside you, causing you to grip the sheets beneath you and moan loudly.

“S-Stop!”

“I'm boutta cum so wish fucking granted~!” Seonghwa calls out as his thrusts become more sporadic. You are a whiny, moaning, crying mess and you can feel yourself getting close to your release. Just a few more thrusts and you knew it would be over. Seonghwa groans loudly and you can feel his cock twitch inside you.

“F-fuck~ Y-Y/N~!” You moan out loud after he calls out your name and you feel yourself cumming on his cock. Seonghwa pushes himself in and out of you a few more times before pulling out and releasing on your lower back, moaning and panting heavily and rubbing himself through his orgasm. You softly fall forward onto the bed when he removes himself from you, breathing heavily, moaning and whimpering. You feel the bed sink down and Seonghwa is back on top of you. You feel his chest pressed against your back, slightly feeling his heart beating. You open your eyes to see his phone to the side of your face, with both of you in frame.

“Smile for the camera~.” He hums before he poses with his hand on top of your head, grasping your hair and snaps a photo of you two with your fucked out face being the main focus. Leaning back and looking at the photo he just took. You hear him softly laughing behind you. “W-what's...so f-funny?” You stutter through ragged breaths. He gently flips you over and he shows you the photo he just took.

“You look so pathetic~.” He pauses as he takes the mask off his face, the exact same way he did in that video, knowing that is what you have been wanting to see all night, “Happy Halloween whore.”

Tags: @hwalysm @choisanboobenthusiast @wisejudgedragonhairdo @ivehwas @shinestarhwaa

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osamusriceballs · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 11 <3

Tsukishima x sensory deprivation

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 1,1 k

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day

"Come on, just let me take off the blindfold."

You sigh and wiggle your wrists in his grasp, only for him to snicker amusedly. "I feel like you don't fully understand the concept of sensory deprivation. The blindfold is essential for this." You can hear him click his tongue at the end of the words, feigning annoyance while he answers. "I know, but isn't it enough that you're chaining my hands to the bed?" As a cue, he wraps the silky tie around your wrists, tight, but far from painful, expertly tying the knot around your hands.

"I don't think so." He squeezes your cheeks, and you try to protest but the words come out as nonsense. "Just be patient for me. Can you do that?" You feel him shift his weight on the bed, his lips now at the shell of your ear when he whispers the words. A shiver runs down your spine and you quickly nod- maybe a bit too eager because he is quick to release a mocking snort.

You hold your breath when you feel his hands on your body, his thumbs rubbing the material of your blouse above your collarbones. Goosebumps form on your skin, his touch warm when his knuckles brush against the swell of your breast as he starts to unbutton the fabric. His hands roam around your stomach, to the cage of your ribs, just barely grazing along the fabric of your bra as soon as he has finished unbuttoning your blouse. Anticipation rushes through you, your body ever so sensitive to all of his touches while you tried to predict where he is going to touch you next. No words are exchanged when you feel him pulling back, leaving the bed for good.

"Kei?" you ask hesitantly, hearing him shuffle around and arranging some things. "Hmm? You good there?"

"Yes- but come back, Kei. Don't make me wait." You know that you sound desperate, but you can stop replaying different scenarios in your mind when you're tied to the bed like this. He clearly enjoys seeing you go crazy with anticipation. A few more moments of him arranging and rearranging stuff that feel like an eternity to you while you can't see, and you feel his weight dipping down the mattress again.

He's close.

You can't see him, but you can feel him. Feel his presence right next to you, his even and deep breaths, his smell- all of your other senses seem to tell you that he's close. Your body jolts when you suddenly feel his breath on your neck, softly breathing against your skin. "You look so pretty like this." A ragged breath escapes your lips at his words, the sudden softness in his tone adding to the intimacy of the moment.

A sudden cold sensation on your bare stomach makes you squirm. You hadn't noticed that his hands have been busied with something else, and when he presses it harder against you, you whine, feeling the cold wetness drip down to your navel. It lingers a few more moments on your skin, causing you to gasp at the freezing sensation, goosebumps forming on your skin already. You hear an almost metallic sound when the coolness disappears and he puts something away.

"Ok. Tell me what that was." His voice sounds teasing, a smirk adorning his lips for sure. "An ice cube," you reply, trying to sound neutral and put together. "Hmm, really good. I think you deserve a little reward for getting this one right." His lips travel down your collarbones, softly sucking and nibbling on your skin, causing your head to fall back and your toes to curl. His fingers hook into the cups of your bra and pull the fabric down, just enough to free your tits. His tongue softly glides over one of your hard buds, swirling and sucking just enough to make you clench your legs. He pulls back way too soon, your other nub aching for attention too. "Can you guess what's this too?" A soft and light sensation meets your neck, moving along your jaw and down your throat.

You wiggle even more in the ties when the tickling sensation doesn't stop, the soft caress going down to your collarbones, sending shivers down your spine when you can't anticipate where he'd touch you next. "And?" He sounds smug at this point, clearly satisfied when he sees how much you squirm.

"A feather." You sound breathless for sure, but it's simply the effect of the feather now tracing along your exposed breast and moving down your stomach. "You're so good at this, darling."

You ball your hands into fists when he brings his lips to your chest again, replacing the feather with his lips and giving your nipple a soft bite. "Kei-" the sensation so unexpected to you that you moan his name, the sound echoing through the room in a way that makes you burn in embarrassment. "Hmm, what is it?" he answers with his lips still attached to your skin, his voice barely a whisper in the room. "Feels good." Your head is thrown back into the pillows, your back arching your chest into his mouth.

"I'm sure it does." He pulls back, much to your disdain. "Are you ready for the next one?" Tsukishma moves further down, your body jolting when his hands open the button of your pants, slowly pulling them down your legs. You shiver when you're basically lying in front of him in your underwear, a hot wave of need rushing through your body when he hooks his fingers in the hem of your panties. Heat rises to your cheeks when he removes your panties as well, not saying anything, instead, you're only met with nerve-wrecking silence.

"Kei? What are you-" a surprised moan leaves your lips when you feel a soft sensation between your legs- his lips without a doubt, pressing kisses to your already wet folds. Your muscles tense and you involuntarily try to reach for his head, only to be restricted by the tie. His tongue licks along your folds, his nose brushing against your clit, and he has you moaning his name with these few touches already already. The wet noises of his kisses fill the room, your breaths uneven when he pushes his tongue unexpectedly in your entrance. "Oh god- Kei- so good-" you whine when he picks up his pace, licking inside of you with no mercy until he has your thighs clenching around his head. "Yeah? What feels good`? Tell me, darling. Can you guess?"

"Your tongue-" you whine when he rewards you with extra attention to your clit, sucking on the sensitive nub and toying with it with his tongue. Your body is burning from his touches already, eager for more, eager for him to fuck you like this-

"You're so good at this." He presses one last kiss to your pussy, and you feel his weight shifting on the mattress, knowing exactly what he will do next when you hear him fumble with his belt.

"I think you deserve another reward."

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writefightandflightclub · 2 months

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Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Seven (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: Phew! Well, the last couple of chapters were a lot, hey? I wonder what will happen next, tee hee! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. You give me life! ILY :-*

Word count: 8.6k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

“Hey,” you croak, as Frankie cracks the door to your room, finding you laying in the glum light. You’re on top of the covers and hugging your pillow to your chest, body curled around the white mass like you’re trying to form a human s’more.

Of course, you can’t sleep. You’re just slumped there, despondent, blinking into the crow black dark. Your tears have subsided, at least. But you feel sapped. Like you barely have any energy to feel anything anymore.

“Hey,” Frankie returns, dipping the mattress as he comes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Benny send you?” You had insisted Benny go and get some shut eye, after comforting you for the better part of half an hour. There were hugs and warm tea and threats to handle Pope if he’d done something to deserve it. He hadn’t, you’d explained. He hadn’t done a damn thing worse than you, at least.

“Negative.”

You hum neutrally and scooch your body up so that you’re sitting with your back to the headboard, knees drawn up around the pillow you still cling to like a security blanket.

“I’m gonna say something, okay?” Frankie says firmly, and you brace, fully expecting to receive some tough love. You note with relief, however, that as the man turns his head towards you, his eyes are nothing but soft. “You and me. We’re going back to your sister’s tomorrow. Get you some space.”

Space from him. That much is implied.

“No, Frankie.” Your throat tightens. All you’ve had is space. For months. The last thing you need is more.

He places a hand on your knee, his tone firm and almost paternal. He’s going to make a damn good father, you think, with a swell of pride. “That’s what we’ll do. It’s not going to be like this anymore. We’re gonna stop taking chunks out of each other.”

All you had wanted to do was to be close again. You’d never meant-

“-Frankie.”

“Just think about it.”

You nod, and Frankie pats your knee. Stifles a yawn. Presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He looks wiped. With a gust of breath he stands, preparing to leave. “G’night, chiquita. Get some rest, alright?”

“Yeah. And Frankie?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry, by the way.”

“What for?”

You sweep your hand through the air. “For the drama. Et cetera.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you know…” You cast a sidelong glance towards the black pane of the window. “Is… he coming back?”

The man drags his tongue along his lip. He does that when he’s uncertain. “He’ll be back.”

“How do you know?” You don’t remember the last time you felt or sounded so small.

“Because he’s a fucking glutton for punishment,” Frankie attempts a lopsided smile, his cheek tugging on the corner of his mouth; but it drops when he realises his joke hasn’t landed. “Just… try to get some rest. Okay?”

You nod, and you watch Frankie leave, his face murky but kind through the shadows as he gently tugs your door closed behind him.

When he’s gone, you wait a moment for his footsteps to retreat and then you cross to the window, cracking it open far enough that you can hear the gentle shush of the waves. Far enough that you could hear either the sound of a truck pulling away in the dead of night, or the front door clicking gently closed, perhaps.

You lie back on top of the bed covers, flat on your back, and your limbs stretched out like a starfish. You lie with your eyes open, staring at the ceiling - exhausted, but wide awake.

And, after who knows how long like this, you hear footsteps tramping on to the porch. You hear the front door gently being latched, and the soft pad of someone travelling up the stairs. You hear the footsteps pause outside of your door for a moment and you hold your breath. You imagine an outstretched fist, primed to knock, but you dismiss this as wishful thinking. You’ve done a lot of that lately. Too much.

Then, finally, you hear him shuffle into his room, clicking the door shut behind him.

Only then - when you know he’s back - can you sleep.

And, as you drift off, your thoughts of him merge with the soporific sounds of the waves.

You’d doubt, with how much you’ve ached for him already, that you could hurt anymore, but you know fine well that it’s possible. After all, the waves break over and over, don’t they?

They break, and they break, and they break.

***

The following morning is an awkward affair. Everyone is tetchy, and even after a very necessary lie-in, residual grumpiness abounds.

It figures. A shouting match and a rude awakening will do that.

Still, the day must go on. You get knocked down? You keep moving.

Will, ever an early riser and a true hero, brews up the first pot of coffee. Starts cooking up some breakfast, and, one by one, you and the boys filter downstairs, chasing the scent of sustenance.

“Don’t even,” you say to Tom the moment he opens his mouth, the room falling silent as you waddle sleepily downstairs, gravitating straight towards the caffeine and the relative safety of Will. Frankie, Benny, and Tom are sat around the dining table, and, you note -because of course you do- that Santiago is glaringly absent.

Maybe Frankie advised him not to come downstairs just yet. Perhaps he’s simply sulking. Or sleeping. Or avoiding you. Perhaps, maybe, possibly a million and one things, which you’ll never know the reasoning behind.

It doesn’t even matter now.

You’re done trying to figure him out. Since when did that ever get you anywhere useful?

Instead then, you attempt to refocus. To divert your attention away from your sun, and towards the wider constellation of stars you are proud to call your squad. And, of course, to your plate of breakfast - that deserves attention too.

The one thing you refuse to focus on, for the moment, is the elephant in the room.

Still, you glance -briefly- towards the mouth of the stairs.

“What else is new with you then, Benny boy? Seeing anyone?” You reach for just about the only topic you hadn’t covered with him yesterday evening - when you had been trying ever so valiantly to distract yourself from Santiago and all that he entails.

In response, his baby blues dance with mischief and he grins, raising one arm to pop a bicep in celebration even as he shovels forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth with the other. “I had myself a date the other night.” He probably flexes in his sleep, this man.

“She stay for breakfast, Benjamin?” Frankie interjects, finally managing to be vocal again now that he’s been provided with the sweet hit of his second mug of caffeine.

“‘Catfish. She was breakfast.”

You hear Will groan from over at the stove. “Too much information, Ben.”

Ben, meanwhile, looks entirely unapologetic.

“Whatever happened to being a gentleman, huh? The way your Granny raised you?” Tom enquires with a thin smile. “Thought gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but I was a gentleman, Redfly. Let her finish first ‘n’ everythin’.” Benny offers a shit-eating grin, and you are once again grateful for the distraction as the room descends into fond bickering, the back-and-forth culminating in Will whipping his sibling with a rolled tea towel for continuing to overshare, accidentally catching Tom in the crossfire.

“Those dirty-minded individuals asked the questions, man,” Benny defends, jabbing his finger around in a circle at the rest of you in accusation. “They always wanna know what action I’m getting. Hell, no-one ever asks me what I’m readin’.”

You snicker.

You glance -briefly- towards the mouth of the stairs.

“Of course not. We’re trying to live vicariously through you, man,” Tom interjects. “We don’t want to vicariously read things.”

“Especially not the pretentious shit you read, Benjamin,” Frankie digs, before collecting up the plates and conveying them over to the sink. And, given a natural lull in the conversation, Benny takes the opportunity to grab your attention.

“You still up for training later, hon? I’m tabled for a beastly session this afternoon.”

It briefly crosses your mind to wonder where Benny gets his abundance of energy. You, on the other hand, can’t even be bothered to trace that train of thought through to completion. “Yeah. Maybe, Ben. I, uh, need to drive into town this morning though.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, with a mouthful of streaky bacon, swivelling his cap to sit backwards on his head as though that will help him pay better attention to you.

You glance once more -only briefly, of course- towards the mouth of the stairs.

“Mmm-hmm. Need to grab something from the pharmacy.” You blink, attempting to look as innocent as possible, but your face burns with a flare of heat, and you can’t help but scratch your nose self-consciously.

You feel as though they all know the purpose of your trip - somehow - even though that’s impossible. And, you pray that even if they do, that they will at least have the courtesy to let it slide.

Unfortunately though, you suddenly remember that Tom exists, and that therefore, you’re likely not getting away with it that easy.

“You and Pope all out of condoms or something?” he guffaws around the lip of his coffee mug as he takes a deep swig.

“Tom,” Frankie warns, subtly shaking his head as he comes to retake his seat by you.

Oddly though, Tom’s comment barely even manages to irk you. You pat your defender on the arm. “Frankie. I’m fine.”

He surveys you regardless, to be sure, and you are grateful for it. Frankie knows fine well that Tom has a talent for rubbing you up the wrong way. The two of you have never quite seen eye to eye.

“See, she can handle herself just fine,” Tom reminds him pointedly. He never did like the way the rest of the boys fussed so damn hard over you. His tone has the veneer of light-heartedness. “You can take a joke, right?”

Your lips twitch around some halfway cruel retort, but, turns out, you truly have no ire left today. You’re all out - and besides, you’re not looking to burn any more bridges than you have already on this trip.

“Listen,” you begin sincerely, cradling your mug of coffee between your palms. Deciding to nip this in the bud before it spirals. “Are we good, Tom? I was a little bit hot-tempered yesterday. I’m sorry.”

Once again, you glance towards the mouth of the stairs. Your gaze lingers a fraction longer this time, until it ticks back to Tom.

He looks at you levelly for a moment over the rim of his mug, before his brown eyes begin to shine with a dull, metered-out warmth. Nothing like the warmth of your sun, of course, but shining on your more brightly than Tom had deigned to in a long while, at least. “Sure we are. So long as you don’t wake me up in the middle of the night again. I need my beauty sleep.”

You hold your palms up in rare surrender. “You got it.”

“What was all that about, anyway?” Tom needles, shuffling forward in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. Beside you, you can sense Frankie and Benny ready to knock him back should he dare to overstep. You wonder suddenly if you’re too harsh on the guy. If you need to loosen off, be a little kinder.

You wrap both hands more tightly around your coffee now, letting the warmth bleed through into your interlaced fingertips and the steam rise under your chin. “The usual,” you dismiss, not wanting to go into specifics. That would involve replaying it all. Would call for a digging out of the shrapnel lodged in your chest - an activity far too involved to undertake alongside a lazy breakfast. “Sometimes a storm is what it takes to clear the air, right?”

“And?” Tom cranes forwards a little more. You clock Frankie’s nostrils flaring subtly in annoyance. “Is the air clear now?”

You know what Tom’s asking. Was anything resolved? Are you two done?

Is all this over?

Apparently curious, all three of the men direct their gaze toward you, keenly awaiting your answer. You even reach for one -an answer- but you come up lacking, and your uncertainty carves a notch into your brow. Makes your mouth go dry. Your gaze flicks to the mouth of the stairs, and this time, you can’t look away from it. “I…”

Thankfully, unfortunately, you are saved and damned all at once as Santiago finally appears. Emerging from the spot you’ve been glancing intermittently at all through breakfast.

All the faces in the kitchen turn abruptly towards him as his careless footfalls sound out, and suddenly his eager skip down the stairs entirely loses steam. His pace slows, dragging to a dead halt by the time he has reached the base of the stairs.

Your eyes go as wide as they can, through no fault of your own, and despite being the focus of the whole group’s attention, Santiago stares straight ahead at you. Of course he does. Only you, as though there is no-one else in the room to acknowledge.

“Morning,” he addresses, solely to you, his expression impassive, yes - but certainly not harsh. Not angry.

“Morning,“ you respond, as brightly as possible, your eyes still wide and unblinking, and it is a little unnerving as every other head in the room swivels simultaneously around to face you. Oh good. Because you’d worried this might be awkward. You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “Will has bacon,” you offer stiffly, your whole body so full of tension it feels brittle; like it could snap.

As if the product of some hive mind, the heads swivel in unison back towards Santiago. He doesn’t drop his gaze from you, however. Doesn’t even blink - just looks between your left eye and right repeatedly. “Fabulous. Thanks.”

Sure. Okay. This is totally normal. Except… you don’t think you’ve ever heard Santiago describe something as “fabulous” in his life. But why not start now, hey? This is fine.

You watch him turn. Walk towards Will and the stove top, and when his gaze finally drops from yours it is like the taut line which was drawn across the room finally snaps, blissfully allowing some of the tension to sag with it.

“Good timing, Garcia. Here.” Will doesn’t miss a beat, transferring the spatula into Santiago’s hand and shuffling him seamlessly into his position before he can clock what’s happening. “I’m officially passing the torch of Breakfast Duty into your capable hands.“

“Uh. Sure,” Santiago obliges, obediently beginning to move the sizzling strips around the pan as Benny stands, already crowding him to jostle for seconds. Will slaps the waffled tea towel across Santiago’s shoulder for good measure too, and you die a little inside at how goddamn domestic he looks. Especially since he’s still wearing his fluffy sheepskin slippers. Rocking his bedhead of gently tousled, greying curls.

It makes you yearn.

“Want a ride into town, soldier?” Will calls to you across the space, jutting his chin up at you and snapping you from your stupor. Immediately, you scrape your chair back, the gentle throb of nerves making you eager to animate. Eager to jump on any excuse to get the hell out of there.

“Yes! Please!”

You scoop up your plate and cutlery, and you attempt to take Frankie’s to the sink too. That is, until he protectively winds his arm around it like a bear defending its cub and begins actively batting your hand away. You guess he wants second helpings too.

You sidle over to the stove then, where Santiago is dedicating himself to his latest occupation with vigour, Benny equally invested in hovering with his empty plate - and not above begging for scraps.

“Where to in town?” Santiago asks in a hushed voice, his thick eyebrow arcing. You dismiss your plate into the dish bowl to soak, and he pauses his spatula duties momentarily to await your response.

“Pharmacy.” You look at him pointedly.

His face crumples with something resembling apology. Or - perhaps more likely - regret. “Okay.”

Your eyes lock for a moment, and he looks so different to you this morning than he had in the dead of the night. It is more than the gentle morning sun giving a soft glow to his features, the dusting of late summer freckles on his nose popping in the light. It is more than the wholesome appearance of him cooking up breakfast. More than the hush in his tone, and the way his chin dips down, making his eyes look big and round and gentle as he looks at you from beneath his long sweep of lashes.

You suspect that he is purposefully making himself soft. Blunting his harsh edges so deliberately and so entirely that you fear he will sluice to the floor like the insides of a cracked egg. “You, uh… You need anything? Need me to…?”

Santiago. Honey. You’ve done quite enough already.

“No,” you say, but the word doesn’t audibly make it out the first time around. You clear your throat. “No. Thank you.”

“Okay.”

Your gaze dips to the dried, rogue fleck of toothpaste right on the corner of his mouth. You can’t explain why, but this tiny, human detail makes your chest ache. “Talk later?”

He forces his sober expression to twist into a halfway smile. His eyes grow big and earnest, that cup of coffee gaze gently warming you. “Okay.”

Don’t, you inwardly plead with him. Don’t give me hope. Don’t break me again, Santiago.

A niggle plays at your brow. It’s odd, really. You remember the words and venom spat from each of your mouths yesterday. Of course you do. But you can no longer feel the all-consuming ire that came along with them. That part -that feeling- is absent. Every scrap of anger consumed. It seems as alien to you as the raging storm must feel to the clear morning which follows.

And so, you can’t help it. Really can’t help it. You dip forwards to kiss Santiago, softly. Right on the point of his beautifully high cheekbone, giving his tea-towel adorned shoulder a light squeeze.

You leave, then, to the sight of that subtle crimson flush darkening his cheeks, your gesture evidently both confounding and flustering him.

You leave too, to the sound of Benny yelling “Look alive, Pope! Don’t burn my goddamn bacon!”. The spatula has gone limp in his hand as Santiago’s gaze trails after you, and the tension is once again pulled taut like a string across the room. You imagine a festival of blush red balloons tied all along it, rising and dancing like your hope.

You leave, with an answer to Tom’s question.

You and Santiago? Is it over?

No. It’s not done.

But you are done with being angry.

You’re done breaking, and no longer will you throw yourself against those rocks.

***

The time away from the house was useful, and the scenes of the open coast slipping by smoothed your roughened edges out like a tossed, worn pebble. The salt-saturated air humming through your wound-down window had you drinking in deep, energising lungfuls. Then, there was Will’s steady, reassuring drawl, and all the feelings of security that came along with it.

Steady, dependendable, straightforward Will. You always knew where you stood with him.

At least, that’s who he had always been to you. Not the volatile, ticking time bomb you’d heard he’d become since he’d gotten out. Since he’d almost choked a man out in the tinned produce aisle.

It was good to have time to talk with him. You were endlessly glad to hear the ways Will was moving forward. You were glad -first and foremost- for him, of course; but you couldn’t deny it bolstered your own hope too. To know that there was a route out? A path onward - even when some things attempted to drag you back? It felt good.

Speaking of things which dragged you to them, you were also grateful that Will didn’t press you (too much) on Santiago-shaped matters. In fairness, at this point the whole squad is probably sick to death of the topic. Regardless though, it was refreshing to talk about other things. About Will’s new life. His bizarro public speaking gig. His worry for Benny, as an unfailingly attentive and loyal big bro. His insistence that the “kid” is not living up to his full potential.

Benny’s doing fine, you had assured him. Benny’s… buoyant.

So, in sum, it was safe to say that despite everything, by the time you had arrived back to the house you’d felt decompressed. It made you wonder if - maybe - last night’s storm really had succeeded in clearing the air. Of course, that depended on Santiago too, and where he was at today. Whether he had any more drama brewing, up in that pretty head of his.

From his vibe this morning though? You had gotten the sense that he was oh so tired too.

It didn’t change anything of course. The fighting. The fucking. Not really. Not any of it. The anger, once given its release valve, had simply moved through you like weather. It had turned out, it was all mostly bluster. Ephemeral. Shifting. And it couldn’t touch the truth of things, could it? The permanence and depth of your love for him? Not really.

It did change something in you though, that unforgiving storm. If nothing else, it had made you acutely aware of how powerless you are. Your weather cannot move the mountains, and Santiago is as stubborn and immoveable as a wall of rock.

You’d believed, at one time, that perhaps you could succeed in shifting him. Encouraging him. Convincing him.

But now you know for sure.

The only way he’s running into your arms is of his own accord. In his own good time.

When he’s ready.

If he ever is, of course; ready. And on that topic, you’re less and less sure that he ever will be. That Santiago will ever be ready to be loved by you.

It’s sad in one way to realise that. But in another way, it’s freeing. To give up. To stop trying to shape things into what you’d hoped they could be, and to simply let things be whatever they are. To make peace with the truth of things. And peace? It may sound counterintuitive, but as a soldier, peace is all you’d ever really wanted.

Perhaps that’s why you feel calm as you pace down the track back to the house. Why there’s a spring in your step as you fix up a sandwich for yourself and Will, heading out across the dunes to where the boys laze by that frilled edge of ocean. Perhaps you feel calm because you really have exhausted all of your options.

Because there’s truly nothing else you can do.

Because it’s out of your control.

Because you cannot move mountains.

And so, when you join the group and Santiago flashes you a tentative and oh so pure smile? You return it easily this time.

You can’t change yourself and how you feel. You’ve tried that. You certainly can’t change him. You’ve tried that too.

And… why would you want to, anyway, huh? To change him? In so many ways, you think, as you watch his rich, scratchy laugh bob in his throat, and see those delicious crinkles radiate from around his eyes, he’s perfect exactly as he is.

After all, he’s your best friend.

And, for the remainder of the afternoon, you simply want to focus on that.

For today, you reckon you’ll simply have to try to see him in pieces. In fragments.

You don’t want to admit to yourself that’s the only way you can make it through, but when you do realise, it strikes you. If you too find it hard to reconcile who he’s always been to you with all that he could be, then maybe you and he never were so different after all.

He certainly could never grasp all of you at once, could he?

***

The rest of the day passes pleasantly - much to everyone’s relief, you suspect. After the card games wrap up, there is plenty more entertainment to be had. There is time whiled away goofing around with a football and a frisbee. There’s a grill session on the dunes and chilled beers and music. When the heat becomes too sticky, too intense, there are sea swims and splashing around in the waves and everyone trying to dunk Benny. There’s solitary time too. Time for sunbathing and reading and podcasting and naps; and, in between, there is the cyclical eruption and waning of amiable chatter - whenever someone sparks up with a talking point.

In sum, you all opt to just be with each other. No particular agenda in mind, and it feels good. Really good.

You’ve missed them all. Hell, even Tom, though you’d never tell him that to his face.

The stretch of beach you’ve claimed is stunning too. The sands are golden and fine-grained and the water is perfectly temperate; but, it’s a hidden gem, the patch not attracting a fraction of the stifling crowds you’d find along the main drag. Throughout the day, other people come and go, of course. There’s the family with the adorable little kids, for example. The little boy, in particular, who had seemed to take a real liking to Benny - and who’d even roped him into helping build sandcastles. You’d watched, fondly, as each of your squad’s faces had split with wholesome, eye-swallowing grins at the adorableness of it all. There was the lone woman who spent 45 minutes giving you evil eyes - apparently, you’d deducted, for daring to be surrounded by five attractive men. You’d even suspected she might march over and punch you at one point, judging from the hate seething in her eyes when Will had asked you to slather-up his milky-white back with his trusty factor 50.

Mostly though, it had stayed pretty quiet, and you and the boys had more or less had the beach all to yourselves.

Various members of the group would filter off every now and again, of course. To replenish supplies, grab a new book, or buy an ice cream from the truck which pulled up. But, there had always been a core contingent remaining, even as the intensity of the day’s heat had begun to burn off, replaced with a softer, gentler, and more oranged glow.

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t realise it, until it had already happened.

That by now, you and Santiago were alone.

You look up from your book and all of a sudden, you are the only one left lounging on the blankets. You look out to the water, and Santiago is the only figure to be found there too, currently floating on his back, bobbing over each gentle, orange-frilled wave which laps up to the shore.

Christ. When did it get so late?

Santiago must realise the predicament at a similar moment to you, you think, as by the time you have finished swivelling your head to scan the sands for signs of anyone else -finding no-one but a distant dog walker- he has already begun to wade out of the water.

It is something you have watched him do so many times today, but now that it is just the two of you, this time it hits just a little different. This time, you notice him. Really notice him. Can’t help it. You watch him rise out of the water in the golden glow of the descending sun, and shake the rivulets of water from his darkened, wetted curls. See his tan chest emerge first, the colour in his shoulders a deeper, richer brown already from a day soaking up the sun. That silver chain of his swinging and glinting in between his smooth, shapely pecs. And, you note the soft cushion of his tummy swelling over the waistband of his swim shorts, the garment sodden and clinging tightly to his ample hips and thighs. Even slipping down just a little as he wades from out of the water, revealing a hint of his happy trail as he beelines directly towards where you lay.

Your stomach twists with a deep, hot yearning, and you are grateful that you have at least a moment to compose yourself before he arrives, sea-shined and dripping, at your now deserted camp. You have the wherewithal, at least, to throw him a towel as he reaches you, trying not to stare (too much) as he begins to dry himself off.

“Thanks,” he offers, with a lazy flash of teeth, and you unconsciously rearrange yourself, very suddenly aware - now that you’re alone - that you are stripped right down to your flimsy bikini.

You see a swallow sink down Santi’s corded throat as his eyes skim down the length of you, but he is quick to obscure it. He’s still playing nice. Softening himself, you think.

With a laugh as roughly hewn as driftwood, he flicks some water at you after scrunching his hand through his sodden curls, spraying cold flecks across the bare expanse of your belly, causing you to tense and squeal. His shoulders shake with gentle mirth, and, once he’s towelled off and wrung out his shorts a little, he spreads his towel out next to you, parking his ample ass down.

“Didn’t feel like a swim? The water’s nice.”

“Nah.”

His head swivels about, eyes traversing the length of the beach. He scoops a hand around his stubble, and you hear it rasp like sand. “Where the shit did everybody go?”

You shrug with one shoulder. “Beats me. I was far too engrossed in my trashy novel to notice.” You dog-ear the page of said book and put it to one-side before leaning back, supporting your torso on bent elbows, legs still elongated before you and crossed neatly at the ankle. The position pushes your breasts out, and you swear Santiago tries valiantly to look just about anywhere else - more or less succeeding too.

“Then… I think we’re alone now.”

A mischievous smile catches the corners of your mouth. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.”

You turn your head towards him, to see if he’s picked up on your song-lyric-inspired choice of words, but the solemnity of his expression catches you off-guard. His brows are drawn down, the sockets of his eyes all shadowed despite the golden hour glow still pouring over the horizon, lighting the stark contours of him.

In unison, the two of you shift position, coming to sit cross-legged. Side-by-side, looking out over the ocean. It seems easier that way, you think. Not to face each other directly as you each say whatever it is you need to say.

You know that it’s come time to say it. That it’s overdue.

Besides, it’s undeniably beautiful, looking out across the view like this. Enjoying the lapping waves and the undulating, orange zest water stretched out below that burning sky. Now cooling, post-dip, Santiago reaches over for his trusty tartan blanket. Silently, he first tucks it around his shoulders, then he passes it around yours. It’s a stretch for the square of fabric, and so you huddle a little closer to one another, finding it is even more warming as your bodies press together. The wetness of his thigh, from those water-logged, sand-coated trunks contacts you too, but you make no effort to move away, instead resting your folded thigh just on top of his.

You can smell the ocean on him. Salt and sunshine and sunscreen. He smells like summer.

You look out across the landscape with renewed concentration as you wait for him to speak, not ready to face whatever expression his features may offer. You look outward with vigour while you wait for him to look inward, and you worry that his words - when they come - will surely be more ugly than the sight before you. Will be bitter and not sweet.

You even brace for it.

You’re so used to the storm.

Still, when he eventually speaks, you are surprised. Surprised that he is calm and steady. That his voice is like slow, warm sand pooling into your cupped hands. That his words are both bitter and sweet. “Hey. C’mere.” You link your arm into him. Lean your head onto his shoulder as his tone grows wistful. “Do you… Do you remember that night in Philadelphia?”

You smile immediately. There had been only one such night in Philadelphia.

It had been your birthday. You and Santiago had been catching a connecting flight, heading back from a deployment and en route to meet the boys off-base to celebrate. However, all the planes had been grounded due to some technical hitch with the tower. You’d been bummed that your plans had been ruined; but Santiago had come through. Had gifted you one of the best nights of your life. A very silly, drunken night, if you recall.

You cringe, hazy, smooth-edged memories flooding back. You clap a hand to your face with residual embarrassment. “Christ. The karaoke.”

Santiago chuckles warmly, and you feel his laugh reverberate through you. “It wasn’t karaoke! You hijacked the goddamn wedding band.”

Your hand clamps in dismay over your mouth now, and you lift your head from his shoulder to face him. “Oh my god. You’re right.”

Your laughs mingle together in the tight space between you, becoming indistinguishable, like the tide and the shore. “I still can’t believe you blagged our way into a wedding reception.”

“I can’t believe it took us so long to get rumbled,” his hand settles over yours, where your arm is still hooked into his.

You beam at him. “Thank God I’m stealthy.”

He pumps his eyebrows, entirely incredulous. “You? Yeah right.”

“I’m sure I must’ve helped, Pope.”

“No, cariño, no. You were not helping.” He scratches at his layer of scruff. “Shit. What was it… What did you tell the kid on the desk your name was, again?”

You try to recall, and when you remember you snort in a full-blown laugh. Your ensuing, chaotic giggle planes tears of joy out of the corners of your eyes. “Mariana Trench!”

“You’re fucking despicable. You know that?” Santiago laughs along with you, and God. It feels good. Really good. It feels effortless, your mirth sharing space like this instead of your anger. Your laughs mingle then dissipate, withdrawing gently like the retreat of a wave.

You lean your head back on to his shoulder, but your giggle fit is evidently not wholly through - not just yet. Your shoulders begin to shake up against him - gently at first, and then with a rising chuckle. “Whiskey in the jar-o,” you sing under your breath, wistfully recalling your drunken duet of choice. “Fuck, Santi. That was a good night.”

He rests his head on top of yours, the weight of it a comfort. “Yeah. Yeah it was,” he agrees. “Jesus, I’m telling you though. They were lucky we showed up. Before we livened things up? The dance floor was as dead as a battlefield after one of Redfly’s sweeps.”

You hum at the fond memory, a soft smile arcing over your face. He has you curious though. “What made you think of that night?” Why this memory, out of everything?

He stiffens noticeably up against you. Sits more upright. Presses his palms together. “That was, uh. That was the night that I-”

“-Vomited into a soup tureen?” You interject with a snort, as another random memory flashes back to you.

“No. Nope,” Santi counters decisively. “That was Cat’s Oma’s 80th.”

You giggle chaotically again. “Oh yeah. Shit.” You miss that lady. She was a sweetie.

“Hey. Listen,” Santiago begins with far more gravity. Enough gravity that you shift, turning your body as he draws your gaze to him. You had been waiting for this moment to arrive; but, now that it’s here, you wish you could cling on to the sweet things for a few moments longer. Still, you settle opposite him now, the two of you still cross-legged but positioned face to face. He adjusts the blanket around your shoulders, tugging on each corner. With a watery smile, you slide your palms on to his wrecked, perfect knees and give him a gentle squeeze there, seemingly pushing his croaked words out with the gesture too. “I want to say that I’m sorry.”

You have nothing for a moment. No words, at least. Nothing but the motion of your hands smoothing back and forth over his knees. Nothing but the pained expression as your eyes swim with an ocean of feeling, deep enough to rival the vast body of water before you.

You note that his eyes are wet too as he settles his own hands over yours, gathering them up into his grasp. He stares down intently at your hands, his brow notching with a deep frown. He drags in a slow breath and releases it. “This got so fucked up, and… that’s not it at all.” He looks back to you then, his umber eyes shining with remorse. Deep regret welling in his resonant tone. “That’s not how I want to show up for you.”

Your tongue, too, reaches for an apology as readily as your hands had reached out for him. “Fuck, Santiago. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry too.” You had never meant to hurt him. You had never wanted that.

He drops his gaze to your neat pairing of hands. Gingerly begins to smooth the rough, sea-pruned pads of his thumbs over your knuckles, your skin humming dully where he touches. “I mean it. I’m sorry for everything.” The tendons in his jaw clench, muscles slipping over bone. He drags your cupped hand into his lap, drawing an absent-minded spiral in your palm with the pad of his thumb. The sensation makes a pleasant tingle bed down beneath your skin. “I swear. I never meant for my bullshit to affect you. Christ - that was the whole fucking point. Thought the least I could do, after everything, was protect you from that.”

At his earnest words, your chest tightens, and you abruptly halt the dance of his fingers by clasping his hands, gathering them between your own palms like a prayer. Your voice cracks in half like a broken promise. “Santiago. For Christ’s sake. You think I need protecting?” The implication in his words cleaves your heart in two. “From you?”

He shrugs with one shoulder. Sniffs. The muscle in his cheek tugs up, and you feel his hands go clammy in your grasp.

He frees himself from your grip for a moment, before continuing to skim his fingers up and down your forearm arm in a gentle, tender dance. The lightness of his touch contrasts starkly with the heaviness settling into his brow, his wet, puppy dog eyes swimming beneath. “I dunno. I was always a better fucking soldier than I was a friend.” He swallows, his voice so soft you can barely hear him. “Than I was… anything else you might’ve needed me to be.”

“No. That’s not true,” you respond adamantly, your head shaking vigorously from side to side. “You’ve always been there for me.”

“Except when it counted.”

“No!” you emphasise, the thrust of your words carrying your whole body forward. You shift position, transferring on to folded knees, crouching before him in the sand. Reaching, to slip your palms up to each side of his face, and you hold him like a prayer now. “No, Santiago. Especially when it counted. Believe me.”

He tries to turn away from you - you see it. He tries to begin his retreat, like usual, but this time, you capture his roughened cheek with one palm and you hold his gaze with yours. You speak firmly, willing him to understand. “Santiago Garcia. Idiota. You’re my hero.”

He scoffs lightly. His face twitches with scepticism. With doubt. With this self-deprecation he always carries, usually so well concealed by his confidence and easy charm. And yet, as you caress his stubble-flecked cheek with your palm, he sinks gratefully into your touch. Leans against it, his eyes fanning closed and his long lashes splaying down towards his cheeks.

“God,” he breathes softly in Spanish, barely audible. “No-one has called me that in a long time." He lives in a world of aliases and nicknames, and you see the weight of his grief twist his face at hearing his name fall from your mouth.

“I mean it. Do you hear me?” you plead, snagging his eyes to yours as they drift open. “You have made my life more beautiful in a thousand ways. You’re not -and you never were- something I need protecting from.” You regard Santiago, and his pretty eyes glisten, wet with a well of scarcely contained emotion -starlight in his lashes. “I love you, Santiago. Whatever has happened. Whatever happens. I love you. Not when you’re this ‘perfect’ version of yourself you finally deem worthy of love.” You search his eyes “That’s bullshit. I love you. I love you now.”

Santiago slowly, gradually musters a nod, and you smooth your hands over him. Over his shoulders. the nape of his neck. His chest. Trying to plaster over the evident cracks as his emotion crashes like a wave against rocks. He scoops a hand around his stubble, his lower lip now downturned. Trembling with feeling. Fat, liquid tears shining in his eyes, threatening to overspill. “I love you too.”

What a terrible, sad thing, you think. That you love each other. That there’s such bounty and abundance, but that at the same time… it is never quite enough.

Maybe one day, it will be; enough.

For now though, it is still something which causes you pain. And, you can see -more clearly than ever now- that it hurts him too.

His eyes dance over everything but you. His face twists. Contorts and tightens as he wrestles with it, but he cannot hold back the tide a moment longer. Full, wet tears spill down Santiago’s cheeks, and he makes some attempt to fumble them away, until they grow too numerous. You reach for him instead, and for a moment he tries to gently bat your hand away. “Hey,” you scold, protest, smooth. “Santiago.” His eyes drop, and his gaze fixes intently on a spot in the sand as you gingerly scoop his tears away with your crooked forefinger. The finger you then trace lovingly along the length of his jaw. The finger you trace along his eyebrow. The point of his cheekbone. Every place the waning golden light paints him. Your eyes dance over him. Every contour. Every sharp angle and every hollow. Every soft, silver curl. And he stays perfectly still. Unmoving, as though he is afraid your touch will withdraw like a tide at any moment.

“I missed you,” you whisper, and it is at once bitter and sweet. “It hurts. It… hurts to be without you.”

For a stretched moment, you do not believe he will respond, the only sign of movement from him a lone tear sluicing down his sculpted cheek. But, eventually, his words come. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just…”

“Just what?”

“I need to find a way it doesn’t hurt you to be with me.” You shake your head, a protest dying on your lips as Santiago drags your hands to him. “I know you won’t buy this. You don’t have to. But I do want out. I swear it’s just this one last job with Lorea. And then I can… Then maybe we can…”

He trails off, his words waning. Breaking on the rocks.

He never could articulate a future with you, could he? Never could seem to dream that up.

You could be angry about that, you suppose, but you truly have no more anger left to give. You could be sad instead but, turns out, you’re out of that feeling too. All you have left to offer in this moment, in fact, is a small, resigned smile.

“It’s okay,” you smooth, and what’s more, you mean it. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Your fingers play over the leather and beads of his bracelets. Over the tendons in his wrist. The light hairs on his forearms.

You’re done with all of that now. Done trying to push him towards a future you’re not even sure he wants with you. Not sure he ever wanted. It’s funny almost, as you sit here, letting the future go. You sit here with him, so much history humming between you it’s like standing amidst ruins. Like you are two statues, memories and stories carved into your bodies. Sometimes, it feels like the past is all you have. But, you are thankful when the sinking, orange segment of sun draws you to it, reminding you there is one more thing you have. Something between the past and future.

You have the here and now.

You reach for it.

It’s all you’ve got. Might be all you ever have with him.

You twist your body, turning outward again, away from him. You fold your knees up to your chin and you loop your arms around them, fixing your eyes straight ahead on the undulating ocean.

“That’s one thing I always loved about you, you know,” you push out. “How you always live smack bang in the moment. I’m constantly wishing it all the fuck away, aren’t I? Always thinking fifty steps ahead.”

Santiago follows your lead, swivelling to face the sunset too. His body becomes all right angles as he plants his elbows on the points of his spread knees, his butt and the soles of his feet flat to the floor, his hands loosely laced together in the space between his legs. “You should. You should think about that stuff. You deserve all that. Everything you talked about last night.”

His words cause a tight lump to rise in your throat.

Do you?

Does he really believe that?

Because, if so, then why in the hell don’t you deserve him? Why can’t he be the one to give it to you?

You offer a theory.

“Does it bore you, or something? The thought of a future like that?” The question emerges tattered, torn on hooks in your throat which try to hold it back; but it’s something you’ve wondered for too long to suppress it any longer. You’ve wondered without ever wanting to push that thought too far - too afraid of the answer.

“Yeah,” he says levelly, not a hint of doubt in his voice, and you hold your breath. “With anyone else, yeah. But not with you.” You are relieved but that fades ever so quickly, your face crumpling into something halfway petulant.

“Then… why?”

Why is he still running?

Why is he running from the life you could offer him if it’s something he wants too?

You hear Santiago tug in and release a deep sigh. Out of the corner of your eye you see him lace his fingers together, soothing his thumb over his own hand like he’s retracing your comfort. “Because… I’m not brave like you.” His voice tips up at the end. Like a question. He reserves all of his doubt for himself, then? It’s not you he refuses to believe in?

“You’re ridiculous. You’re the bravest man I know.”

“Heh. Yeah,” he lifts a hand to self-consciously scratch at the bristle of hairs at the nape of his neck. You hug your knees more tightly to your chest. “Running into bullets. Eliminating threats, sure. But… running into safe hands? I’m a fucking coward.”

You hum, a neutral, bland sound which expresses neither agreement nor disagreement. Which takes you nowhere.

There’s nowhere left to go.

Perhaps the road ends here.

Dead end after dead end.

Only resignation.

“Maybe we were on the same path, once upon a time, huh?” You throw the statement out with little conviction. You’re giving up on the idea that your words or your actions can make the slightest bit of difference to what could be. For now, you simply wish to make sense of what is. “Maybe - I dunno. Maybe I just ran too far ahead. Racing towards this dream of the future, before you were ready to go there. Maybe I just created too much distance.”

Santiago hums now too. A tight, pensive sound. “Huh. Is that what you think happened?”

You rub your palms over your own face. Dig the heels of your hands into your eye sockets. You have as much energy as a spent wave. “Uch. I don’t know.” Wordlessly, tentatively, Santiago reaches, retucking the soft tartan blanket around your shoulders. You manage to smile softly at him, surprised that it does not feel at all forced. “Maybe we just forget all that now. Maybe we just… I dunno. Live in the moment?”

Santiago’s palm draws slow circles on your upper back. You shuffle a little closer to him. “Okay. Then what do you want?” he enquires. “Right now? In this moment?”

His arm weighs over your shoulder, huddling you closer. “Oh. I don’t know. What does it even matter?”

“We leave here tomorrow. So tell me. What do you want right now?”

You could imagine that you are tired of wanting. That all you want is a moment free of wanting anything at all. But that’s not true, is it? You want the very same thing you’ve craved for so long. You want him. Finally though, something in you has shifted. You find yourself able to envisage a future which is far more immediate. Something you can grasp now instead of distantly yearning for.

The words feel hard and tight in your chest, but by the time they reach your lips, they feel so very soft and loose. Easy to sound out. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to hurt you. All this time I missed you so much.” Unconsciously, Santiago holds you just a little more tightly. “I just…”

“What?” he whispers.

“I want us to fall asleep together. I want to hold you. I just want us to have one moment like that, Santi. Peaceful, you know? After everything, don’t we at least deserve that?” You tug in a breath to launch your next words, your throat closing protectively around them. Making them sound small. “And… And maybe…”

“What? What else?”

“Can’t we just fuck and feel happy about it? Can’t we have just one fucking moment together that doesn’t feel like an ending?”

You wait, your raw-wound words laid out in a line on the sand. You brace. You brace for them to be washed away. To have the salt poured in.

“Okay.”

Your eyes snap to his in surprise, and you find his soft, ardent gaze dancing over your features. “Okay?”

Santiago’s fingers lace with yours, and he tugs you to standing. “Come with me. Come on.”

He gathers up the remaining supplies, slinging the filled beach bag over one shoulder. Then, he folds his other arm around your middle. Tucks you into him. You let him lead you to the house, and it’s nice. It’s nice that for once, you’re not begging him to follow.

You let him lead you up the dunes, back to the house, and up the stairs.

You leave the golden, sinking sun behind you, but with Santiago’s warm, molten gaze shining on you, you still feel the sun on your face.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #santiago pope garcia #ride or die series

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genacity · 2 years

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just imagine sub!morax being a huge brat with a big ego and it’s our job to tame him. once we tame him he’ll do anything for you, from being a big ego’d god, to being our cute little slut <33

also can I be 🍷 anon? ^_^☆

⌗ zhongli egotistical

cw. sub! young! morax x dom! god/immortal! reader. gender neutral— reader has a cock. plot before porn? anal penetration/pegging, bratty morax. outdoor sex. degradation!!! slight dacryphilia + hiccuping

an. WHAT THE FUCKKK SHUT UP THIS IS SO GOOD. you have rightfully earned your place as 🍷 anon. welcome to the club!!! ٩(^‿^)۶

(ps this was finished at 11 pm and is not proofread so the end is extremely awful)

this shit is crazy. it’s crazy cause all i’m thinking of is young morax rn.

young morax who’s finally found peace in his newfound ��human vessel’— and all the things he can do with it. throwing “rocks” at his poor equal barbatos, constantly challenging his fellow archons to mindless duels that go on for hours; nothing is more thrilling than the thought of his seemingly limitless power.

and little (or not so little) you who’s finally found your own peace in between the pages of books— or crowds, if that’s what you prefer. a cunning, charming individual who has the aura of one who has roamed the world of teyvat once before. not as old, but just as seasoned as any celestial being.

the first time you encounter morax, you’re sitting underneath a tree with your favorite book, enjoying the time alone you so rarely had to cherish. outgoing or reserved, either way, you still had work to do, so any time alone is a fabulous time alone.

until morax sees you, god knows where he’s been. right away, he’s all over you, shattering your relaxed state with stupid comments on the novel in your hands. with every degrading insult towards the cover, the spine, the overview, the story, you even— made the thoughts in your mind that simply begged to break this man all the more satisfying.

“wouldn’t you rather spend your afternoon doing something more— interesting?” morax asked. your eyes narrowed as you slipped your bookmark of choice into the crevice of the pages you left off on, tossing it to the side where it slid onto the grass. you stood up, looking the archon dead in the eyes. his shoulders stiffened and his eyebrows furrowed; a reaction that could only make a smirk arise on your lips.

“and what would you consider to be ‘more interesting’, hm? i’d like to hear your thoughts,” you inquired, crossing your arms. “well, anything.” the young god pronounced, waving an arm around in your opposite direction, as to motion to the glimmering liyuean fields, dressed in a bright green glow. “even you?” you teased, eyes trained on the view before you that morax was so obviously trying to show you. “what? me? how would you ‘do me’?” he stuttered, arm strapping to his side almost immediately at your inquiry.

you chuckled lowly. “a good question, oh geo archon.” you smirked, taking a few steps towards his rigid being. “for wasting my time, you’ll allow me to show you. all i need is a yes. do we have a deal?”

morax’s breath hitched and caught in his throat, exhales becoming rarer by the second as you softly put a hand on his chest, lined with gold and the finest of silk.

“fine,” he murmured. “i’m curious as to know what such small amounts of a person could do to me that is so interesting.”

“fuck! fuck— fuck you!”

“oh, shut up. you wanted this. now take it, or say the word.”

morax whined at your harsh tone as you bottomed out inside of him. the sheer feeling your hips slapping harshly against his ass made him struggle not to cry out.

“look at you, ah…” you gasped, fingers digging into his hips, making him squirm. “now you understand what i was talking about?”

the poor archon could only huff in response. “s-still isn’t interesting to m—ME!” he squealed as your fat cock toyed with his prostate. a shiver crept down his spine as you fucked him ruthlessly, fingers feeling about desperately for something to hold onto.

you had morax on his back, legs up underneath the tree you once sat peacefully under, without a care in the world. his eyes nearly cross and thighs shaking with pleasure, the thoughts swimming about your mind sighed in satisfaction at the sight below you. from a complaining brute to a mindless slut, you swore to wear this memory like a crown for all eternity.

“look at you, fuck,” you snickered, pace quickening as morax tightened around you with a shaky sob. “where’d that foul mouth go, huh whore?”

“sh—shut up!” morax spat through breathy whines. “‘m not a, a—” “a what, morax?” you leaned in so that your noses were just inches away from touching. the geo archon whimpered at the sound of his name slipping from his lips, like honey, sugary sweet. maybe almost too sweet. “a whore! ‘m not— not a whore!” he sobbed out, fists curling so hard his palms turned pink.

you laughed sweetly as you watched his cock bob up and down with every thrust, two soft veins running up and down from his leaking tip down to the base. “such a slut, aren’t you? you knew damn well what i meant by ‘do you’, didn’t you? you’re not stupid, are you?”

he wasn’t listening to you, though. not through the feeling of your fat tip rubbing him up, the roughness of your fingertips digging into his skin, maybe even hard enough to draw blood; all he could think about was sex, sex, and more sex.

“maybe you are stupid.” you laughed, rolling your hips around enough to make the young archon sniffle. “can’t even answer me, how pathetic.”

“yeah…” your ears perked up at the weak mumble that just barely slipped past you. you slowed your thrusts until they hit a complete stop, resting your tip against morax’s prostate. “wh— wait, no, please, i—” he opened his mouth to beg, but you cut him off almost immediately. “yeah?” you repeated the words that fell from his lips.

he looked up with you with desperate eyes, hips grinding down onto your dick. “yeah.. ‘m dumb, a dumb slut.” morax whined. “whatever you said, whatever you want, ‘m yours.”

a look of satisfaction laid still in your eyes. the young archon could see it, bright and clear as a star in the midnight sky. you dipped down to plant slow kisses on morax’s collarbone, his back arching up off the ground ever so slightly at the feeling of your chest against his. you gave an experimental thrust up into him, a hoarse gasp escaping his throat.

you smiled fiendishly as you angled yourself just right, just high enough to finally let him have his orgasm. right as he was about to complain, your lips ghosted over his ear, a shiver enveloping his whole body with the softness of your words.

“glad to know you’ve finally come to your senses.”

#@ genacity ☆#@ zhongli ☆#@ 🍷 anon ☆#dom reader #sub character #genshin x reader smut #sub genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x y/n #sub zhongli #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader smut #wow okay wtf #WHY IS THIS KINDA LONG

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heartbrkr · 1 year

Text

bad posture and other habits to break

SUMMARY Doyoung will always take care of you when you neglect to.

PAIRING boyfriend!kim doyoung x gender neutral!reader

GENRE established relationship, fluff

WORD COUNT 715

WARNINGS reader forgets to eat the whole day and overworks themself, doyoung calls them beautiful

AUTHOR’S NOTE i am overworked, so... another self-indulgent piece!

MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN!

“You haven’t eaten.” It wasn’t a question. Doyoung left the house with his last memory of you keeping busy in your work area. He comes back to see you in the same uncomfortable, hunched position. It’ll feel like hell the moment you straighten your back.

“Yeah.” You reply thoughtlessly, tiredly, and quite pathetically in your boyfriend’s opinion. He’s slightly upset at the fact that you didn’t come to the door to greet him (you hadn’t heard him come in), and instead replied dryly with a single word (you didn’t realize it’s been fifteen hours, not minutes since he’s left for rehearsals), or at least look in his direction (your phone had been on Do Not Disturb, so you had no idea he was on the way home).

“What are you waiting on, then?”

“I can’t leave this now or else I won’t have enough time to finish it by the end of the week.” Doyoung understands your concern of meeting a deadline, but without anything in your system, he knows you’ll reach your breaking point immediately.

He looks at you with heavy concern, one you can feel melting into the side of your head without directly turning your head to face him. You shift the slightest, uncomfortable under his scary gaze. “Wait, how’d you know I didn’t eat?”

Doyoung pouts at you slightly, back leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed against his chest. You’re still not looking at him. “I left you breakfast on the counter. It’s 11:24 p.m. and it’s still there with my note for you. Untouched.”

You finally whip your head in his direction, disbelief plastered on your features. It hasn’t been that long, has it? “I told you I was gonna– wait, it’s eleven?! But didn’t you leave at…” Your voice trails off as you lift your phone to check the time. And it’s as Doyoung said, 11:24 p.m. is glaring down at you with the harsh screen light. Below the time are messages from him, updating you about his whereabouts and reminders to eat with hourly intervals. “So it’s been—”

“—Around fifteen hours since I told you to go downstairs and eat? Yeah.” He couldn’t help but use a stern tone on you, especially when he knows he hasn’t been lacking in reminding you constantly.

“I’ll… Sorry.” It only really hits you now that you’re exhausted, hungry, and feel a headache and backache emerging. You now also feel bad for burdening Doyoung with your incompetence after a long day, and it becomes worse when you’re sure he’s more drained than you. He comes closer and squats in front of you. Still, and constantly, worrying for your wellbeing, he maintains eye contact with you while holding your hands in his.

“It’s alright, love. You didn’t mean to and we’re working on it, right? You can’t completely break your bad habits overnight.” You nod at this solemnly, still feeling terrible.

He notices and stands back up to his full height, tugging on you to stand up too. His intention wasn’t to make you feel worse; his job as your partner is to do the exact opposite of that. “C’mon, I’ll cook something for you.”

You attempt to protest against the action with your hands still stuck together. You shift all your weight in your seat to stop him from dragging you up. “No, really, you don’t have to. You need to rest instead. You’ve worked hard today; I can make something for myself.”

“I won’t be able to rest knowing your self proclaimed meal is probably an untoasted piece of bread and a cup of noodles.”

“I– hey! I know how to cook, it’s just convenient to eat all that when I don’t have time to spare.” At your moment of distress, you forget you’re resisting Doyoung’s attempts to pull you out of your office chair and he takes advantage of this. You’re startled when he successfully starts dragging you to the kitchen, feeling your back strain even more in the process.

“Yeah, yeah,” he gently, yet playfully pushes you down onto one of the counter chairs and reroutes to the kitchen, “just sit there and look beautiful as you always do. I’ll take care of you... and your awful posture later.”

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct doyoung #nct 127 doyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung x you #doyoung x y/n #kim doyoung x reader #kim doyoung x you #kim doyoung x y/n #doyoung fluff #doyoung imagine #doyoung drabble #doyoung x gn!reader #nct imagine #nct 127 imagine #nct drabble #nct 127 drabble

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bg-brainrot · 2 months

Text

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 11: An Interrogation

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, violence, being bound, being imprisoned, angry Astarion

WC: 3.5k words, 11/?? chapters

Summary: You spend the night in vampire prison and have a difficult conversation.

A/N: Did you know that Dalyria has a strength of 16 (as do all of the rest of the spawn siblings)? Because I didn’t until I wrote this. Now imagining Astarion’s strong sister giving him piggyback rides around the underdark… Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Ao3 | [Ch10][Ch12] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

You find yourself in what you can only call vampire jail.

After being discovered by Astarion, you didn’t have a chance to run. Between him and Dal, they apprehended you embarrassingly quickly. From your memories, you’re accustomed to Astarion’s lightning reflexes, but Dal’s sheer strength came as a surprise to you. You were gagged before you could get a single word out– likely because they didn’t want you casting any spells. While you wanted to resist, the worried look on Dalyria’s face stopped you. If I act too rashly, they won't hesitate to kill me.

So you went limp. Your bag was confiscated and you were tied, gagged, blindfolded, and thrown over Dal’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You imagine if Astarion had been any less angry, he might have made a joke about your situation, but he stayed unnervingly silent throughout the whole ordeal.

While you couldn’t see anything, you could feel yourself taken through twists and turns, down steps, behind doors. Eventually you were tossed ungracefully onto the ground, where you lay now. You can feel the cold chill of stone beneath you and something else drains you as you enter this new space, like a deep part of your essence has been sapped away from you.

“Don’t even think about trying to escape,” Astarion says, breaking his silence with an icy tone. “We have sussur bloom set up throughout the entire prison, and the door is guarded night and day. You’ll stay here until we figure out what to do with you.”

You hear him stomp off before Dal speaks, “It’s you, isn’t it? That’s why he’s so angry?”

Despite the blindfold and the gag, you can sense well enough what she means. You nod.

She exhales a shaky sigh and removes your blindfold to take a better look at you. You open your eyes to the blonde woman crouching before you, standing in the doorway of what looks to be a prison cell. Her red eyes dart between yours, trying to see the truth you might be hiding from her. Satisfied with what she sees, she stands back up and says, “I’ll try speaking to him. If you are who you claim to be… thank you. For coming back.”

Without another word, she locks the cell door behind her and walks away.

You’re not sure what to do with her thanks, since you don't feel like you've done a particularly fantastic job thus far. So you just stare through the metal bars of the cell door for a while, trying, desperately, to ignore the ruinous sensation that the sussur bloom infects you with.

After a few minutes, you snap out of your stupor. You manage to get the gag out of your mouth after a few attempts and eventually give up on your wrist bindings after more than a dozen attempts. You suspect that Astarion’s skills with his hands have not deteriorated over the years, given how snugly you’re bound.

Uncomfortable, miserable, and drained of all of your strength, you lay down for your reverie. It’s likely nighttime, you guess. And it’s not like I have anything better to do.

When you’ve finally settled down enough to meditate, you’re pleasantly surprised to find yourself dreaming of the Hero’s Life again. You weren’t sure if you’d be graced with these memories anymore after their untimely demise, but you suppose you have at least a few months left until you reach full maturity.

Your eyes open to a desk full of papers, as your now all-too-familiar hands sift through them. Maybe there's something useful here, you think to yourself.

Despite your scholar’s eyes, the words are written in a language you can't quite make out. It isn't the first time this has happened to you in a dream, but it certainly is more frustrating than usual now that you're desperate for anything that could help. Your body makes some annotations in a code you've caught a few times– using the same quill you saw on Astarion's desk.

The symbols never stay long enough for you to decipher them and new papers replace them a moment later, but you get the sense that they’re nothing new to your former-self. The edges are frayed and they add fresh notes to already existing ones.

They spend hours at the desk, sorting, reading, writing. All the while, they just feel… focused. Their emotions are calm and it calms you in turn. So when a voice calls to you, your head shoots up in alarm.

"Darling?" calls your lover's voice, in a tone completely different from the one you'd heard only hours ago. It's soft, open, unguarded– much like the face that peeks around the doorway to the room you’re in. Your heart clenches in your chest at the love he regards you with.

Now that your body’s looked up, you recognize the room as Astarion’s current-day study, albeit decorated entirely differently. Your past-self smiles at his appearance and asks, “Yes, love?”

“How much longer do you plan on pouring over those papers? I was hoping we might take some time to ourselves today. And I don’t believe you’ve eaten yet, have you?”

As if not realizing how long you’d been sitting for, your body stretches, craning your neck one way then the other. “Gods, you’re right,” you hear yourself say. “Alright, let me just put this away and I’ll be right there.”

Astarion tuts at you, undoubtedly knowing better. “I’m not leaving until I see you get up from that desk,” he says, eyes narrowing at you. Your heart warms, and you’re filled with affection. He cared about you so deeply and it showed in everything he did. Even now, as he crosses his arms and dares you defy his right to take care of your well-being.

So your body sighs, standing from the desk and placing your quill back in its rightful place. “ Fine, you win. But if I come back and forget what I was doing, you’re helping me sort out some of these logistics.”

“Gladly,” Astarion says with a satisfied grin. As you walk toward him, he holds out a hand for you. You take it gladly, and you feel your past-self filled with such devotion as they return his smile.

When you wake, you find yourself in the same cold cell, wrists bound, eyes aching from unshed tears. No one is here for you now and no one seems willing to come deal with you. You wonder if you’ll die here before ever seeing Astarion in person again.

The next person you see isn’t Dal or Astarion. A few hours after waking, a large blonde man comes to your cell, bearing a pitcher of water and a filled glass.

“Drink up, elf,” the man says, gesturing to you to come closer. His tone isn’t overly demanding, nor is he aggressive. It seems like he’s merely fulfilling a duty.

You ignore his gesture. “Please let me talk to Astarion. This is all a misunderstanding,” you say, trying your best to keep the desperation from your voice and failing entirely. Your throat is scratchy and the water is appealing, but your fear of dying in this sussur-induced hell takes precedence.

The man– Petras, you think– shakes his head. “Don’t worry, you’ll talk to him soon. Dal’s making sure of it. And trust me when I say, you’re in there to keep you safe from us.”

Of course, that doesn’t come as much of a surprise to you. You did walk into a vampire's den, got caught almost immediately, and now find yourself entirely powerless to defend yourself. You decide not to dwell on that as you continue to speak to the man. “When will he come by?”

Petras looks at you with something in his eyes akin to pity, before shaking his head. “Not sure, he’s been talking with Dal for hours.” His eyes dart around to make sure no one is listening in as he changes the subject, “Are you really who you say you are?”

You only nod, and shimmy closer at the sound of excitement in Petras’s voice. It’s disappointing that these spawn siblings are more excited to see you than your former lover is, but you won’t waste this opportunity. “I am. I swear it.”

“Then are you going to help–”

The man is cut off by the sound of a door closing down the cell block. “I’ll take it from here, Petras. Leave the water. And stay nearby.” You recognize Astarion’s chilly voice, and wonder what terrifying look he must have given Petras for him to scramble to his feet so quickly.

You hear the door close behind Petras, and Astarion comes into your view. His face is severe, brows furrowed and mouth set in a hard line. He doesn’t say anything when he sees you slumped next to the cell door, your shoulders hunched visibly in defeat at your losing a chance to speak to someone who would believe you.

He leaves your line of sight again, and you hear the scrapping of chair legs on the stone floor. When he returns, he sets a wooden chair in front of your cell and sits down in front of you. Another moment of silence passes between you when he finally clears his throat and crosses his legs. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

You’re shocked by the lack of anger in his voice. Dalyria must have gotten through to him! So you lock with his red eyes between the metal bars and plead like your life depends on it, as it very well might. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean any harm to you, to your siblings. I just… I-I couldn’t leave it like that. I couldn’t let you run away from me.”

Astarion listens to your pleas, tapping a finger casually on his knee as he does so. He has all of the power in this room, and it shows in how his eyes regard you with an open calculation. “I suppose if you did mean to harm us, you would have done so already,” he finally says. You wonder if that was part of Dal’s reasoning. Then, as if you’re having an entirely different conversation, as if you’re not in a cell facing certain death, he asks you, “So, what do you think of the place?”

You blink, mind reeling at the shift. “I suppose it’s… quite nice?”

He smirks at you, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable the question made you. “Isn’t it? You'd be surprised at how much wealth a legion of spawn is capable of accumulating.”

“Yes, you have immaculate taste,” you say, hoping that that’s what he wants to hear.

The man ignores your comment, evidently not caring for your praise. “The real problem of course is that some things can't be bought. Like blood– especially in vast enough quantities for a horde of vampires. As I’m sure you’re aware, vampires have a sanguine hunger that simply cannot be satisfied."

"Are you going to eat me?" Your eyes go wide, wondering if that’s why he changed the tune of your talk.

He laughs at you, drinking in your fear like a tyrant on a throne as he leans back in the chair. "Oh I certainly wanted to,” he responds, after his laughter dies down. “Dal has convinced me that it would be… a bad idea."

Thank the gods for Dal. "Then… why are you telling me about the problem with, erm, sourcing blood?"

He looks at you for a long moment, as if expecting something to happen, but you’re not sure what. You wrack your brain, hoping for a memory, anything to come to it. When clearly nothing will, the man sighs and says, "I suppose just to complain. We can only source so much blood naturally without putting a target on our back. It gets tiresome."

You feel like you've missed something, a chance, and it frustrates you to no end to be expected to continue to converse normally and move past it. It's time for you to start grasping at what you do know. "In my memories the spawn lived in a smaller fortress, in a different part of the Underdark. It seemed dangerous. Is it at least safer here?"

His red eyes appraise you for a beat before he answers, "Yes, I suppose blood is a far lesser concern than those we used to have." He leans forward in the chair, placing his elbows on his knees to stare at you more intently. “It’s still dangerous, naturally. Over 6000 spawn attract a lot of unwanted attention, and not everyone agrees that we have a right to life– or unlife, as they see it.”

“6000? I thought you were closer to 7000?"

“Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t know, even if you are who you claim to be.” He looks down angrily, massaging his forehead with a few fingers. “We’ve lost a lot of spawn to hunters. To heroes, and to the natural dangers of the Underdark.”

“Oh.” You’re not sure what to say to that, but you do feel a pang deep in your chest. A pain that would likely reach your very soul if it could.

“Well, now that you know all of that, I guess I should ignore Dal's advice and kill you!” He says it cheerily, and you gulp. Was that his plan all along?

“What if I could convince you not to kill me?” you ask, inching your body forward as you grasp the bars with your tied hands.

Astarion seems to think about it, but it’s plainly an act. “Hmm, how about… not a chance.”

“What if I were truly the reincarnation of your former love? Would you really send their soul back to Arvandor?” you ask, staring up at him through the bars desperately.

You think you hear his breath hitch. He only says, “I would not.” His face is still, tone giving nothing away, but you can tell that the idea of it doesn’t sit well with him.

“So what will it take for you to believe me?” you ask, gripping the bars of your cell as tightly as you can to hold yourself closer, knowing that this may be your only way to survive this.

“I don’t know,” he says, and his eyes are so distant that you know he means it. There may not be a magic word for this. He may never truly believe you, even if you hand him memory after memory. Astarion’s pain may run too deep for you to be able to navigate.

You reach through the bars for the glass of water and take a shaky sip as you think. If your current-self is too ill-equipped, you decide to think like your past-self. What would I have done? I would have been straightforward. I would make sure he didn’t run away from difficult conversations. If he didn’t want to see reason, I would have made him see reason. Can I even do that?

Anything is doable when your life is on the line. So you swallow the water and begin talking, “Dal believed me. Halsin believed me. Hells, even Petras, who I barely met, seemed to believe me. Even if you don’t– or simply won’t– you should consider that sometimes giving a stranger the benefit of the doubt won’t be the end of the world. But if you’re wrong, it sounds like it may very well be the end of your world.”

Maybe it's because of the newfound strength in your words or maybe Astarion just wants to see something familiar in you, but he watches you as you speak, hung on your every word. When you’re done, he only stares at you as he weighs your words.

After more than a minute of silence, you’re not sure if he’s going to speak unprompted again. You decide to hazard a question, “Knowing that, do you still want to kill me?”

“No,” he answers curtly, eyes narrowing at you as if he’s mad that you’ve convinced him. He sits back in the chair again and points a finger at you sternly. “But if you so much as breathe near this colony again, I will kill you on the spot, do you understand?”

A step forward, you think, breathing a little easier now that your safety is more secure. However, it doesn’t resolve the matter of who you are. “What if you want to keep me around? After all, I was your love in a past life.”

"Fine,” he says, and his tone is casual again. “Let’s say you are who you say you are. Why did you come to see me?"

Again, you think back to the candid confidence of your former self. Let’s do that again. "Because for as long as I can remember, you have been all I think about. You've been in all of my waking and sleeping thoughts. I don't know what my life is without you in it." Your voice comes out strong, honesty ringing in each statement.

Astarion seems unmoved. He clicks his tongue and leans toward you, and you get vague recognition of when he’s preparing himself for a killing blow. "That's all well and good, romantic even. But it doesn't get to the heart of the matter. What do you hope to accomplish?"

Your brows furrow, and the confidence falters with your confusion. "I… guess I thought…"

“Thought what?" he asks, leaning a bit further.

“I guess I thought… perhaps we could pick up where we left off?” Your suggestion comes out like a question. Of course it’s a question, this is unprecedented territory. In fact, precedented territory was constantly telling you what a bad idea this was, practically laughing in your face at the ludicrous endeavor– Rekindle with a love from a former life? Hah, who do you think you are?

Astarion also laughs in your face. It's not cruel, it's not silly. It's utterly devoid of humor, as if he hasn’t laughed with genuine mirth in years. His words hit you like a sucker punch, “And why would I want to do that?”

The insecurities from before start to bubble backup. You think of how he spoke of you to Dalyria, of how you pale in comparison to your former self, and you feel like sobbing. But you hold yourself together, clutching at the bars like a lifeline. You say the only words you know to in this situation, the words that have given you comfort, the ones that set you on this journey in the first place, “In one of my memories, you said you would love me in every lifetime. Don't you remember?”

His response is immediate and bitter. The killing blow he’s been waiting to deliver. “The man who said that was a fool who believed in love.”

You've taken a lot of harsh words from Astarion so far, weathered them and persisted. But with that single sentence, your heart shatters. The grand illusion of your journey is dispelled. The reason you made your way here is based on a man who no longer exists, all that remains is this embittered facsimile. The Astarion that held you when you worried, that took care of you when you were ill, that loved you– this is a mere shadow of him.

You’re not certain how words come out of your mouth, but they do. Your voice sounds distant and faint, like a light breeze could scatter it, "In that case. Could you let me go? I'm afraid I've made a big mistake.” Astarion may be laughing at you, he may be angry, but you find it difficult to read his expression as tears begin to well in your eyes.

The man doesn’t comment on anything you’ve said, only issues a quick instruction for you, “Your bag is hanging near the door. Petras should be ready to escort you out.” He unlocks the door to your cell without another word. His voice sounds as distant as your own did.

You scramble to your feet as the tears begin to spill– you've tried so hard to keep from crying in front of Astarion, you certainly don’t want him to see you crying now. You’ve shown him enough vulnerability for a lifetime, you decide.

So you begin to leave, not noticing when he reaches out to untie your hands, nor when he seems to be on the verge of saying something. You certainly don’t catch the way he places a hand on his chest, as if only now realizing that part of his body could still feel pain.

You grab your bag at the end of the hall and wipe some of your tears with your sleeve. Before you leave the prison, you take a deep breath and call to him your parting words, “Even if you don’t want another life with me, please consider moving on. I saw your house, all of those lingering memories. You don’t need to mourn for another 150 years. I didn’t want that in my past life and I don’t want that now. Goodbye, Astarion.”

As you close the door behind you, you meet his eyes one last time. The only emotion you catch before the door shuts is fear.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion masterlist #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #when he's all but forgotten how to love again #whabfhtla #reincarnation trope #elf!tav #astarion x you

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meowyn · 18 days

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Linger

gender neutral reader, just some comfort set directly after chapter 11.

a/n - started to write this at 5am and it's now 7:30, god help me. this might be ooc & really short i'm sorry i've not actually posted something recent in years lololol but i love last legacy & felix sm so!!

felix didn't miss the way you clung to his side after his (and your) return from the hells, the two of you finally settling down for the night. he was perched on the edge of his side of the bed, meanwhile you lingered behind him, casting worried glances his way whenever you decided to look at him directly. though, he noticed you hadn't looked at his face once, which made his heart ache terribly for you.

whilst he was in the midst of figuring out what to say, how best to soothe your anxiety, he felt your head bump lightly onto his back while your arms slowly circled around his waist. he waited silently as he heard you inhale deeply, shakily breathing him in as you often did, and for once as you exhaled the tension didn't leave your body at all.

a worried frown tugged at his lips before he spoke, quiet and (he hoped) comforting, "what's the matter, love?"

of course, he knew what was wrong. he had just died, after all, and he'd be an absolute fool to miss the sheer terror in your eyes at that fact. he just wanted to give you a chance to let it all out yourself, to please just trouble him with this, at least.

as if you could read his mind, a muffled sob escaped you and you squeezed him tighter, and he didn't know wether he what he felt was relief of devastation.

"i'm sorry.." you murmured, sniffling in a futile attempt to stop the seemingly endless flow of tears, "you.. died today, and here i am, crying like some sort of idiot."

he sighed at that, gently untangling your fingers from his shirt before twisting around to face you.

"oh, my sweet.." he cooed, cupping your face in his hands as he wiped away your tears, kissing at your nose for good measure, "as i told you, i have died many times so-"

"that doesn't matter!" you surprise both of you by blurting out, holding onto his wrists tightly and looking at him so desperately he feels his heart nearly tumble out of his throat.

"it's just.." you mutter, pushing past your initial statement in hopes you could get your point across to him, unaware that he already understood perfectly, "i was so worried, you were so cold.. and your eyes were so hollow that even now i'm afraid to look."

he nodded empathetically, about to respond until he saw your expression change to a deep frown as you suddenly glared at him, rendering him speechless.

"god, for someone so smart you can be such an idiot. why would you jump in front of me like that? who do you think you are? batman?" frustration laced your tone as you spoke, sniffling once more as you were about to continue ranting. until you glanced at his face, that silly, boyish grin adorning his features making any negative feelings you had dissipate, in turn making him laugh fondly as a blush crept it's way up your cheeks.

"batman? who is that?" he asked, still smiling even as you shot him another glare for his teasing tone, "forgive me, but i cannot quite feel the full force of your anger when you're pouting like that."

felix chuckled again as you sighed in defeat, leaning forward until you were wrapped up fully in his embrace, he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

"i'm not angry at you," you murmured into his chest, head tucked where his shirt was left unbuttoned so you could feel his heartbeat against your ear, "though i will be if you frighten me like that again."

"i understand, however," with his fingers under your chin, he urged your head up to look at him, "whenever i have an opportunity to keep you safe, i'm going to take it. you don't understand how precious you are, do you?"

you're unable to argue with that, especially as you feel the days exhaustion set in and felix's hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.

"you're precious to me too, so please, no dying if you can help it." as you utter the words, you already know what he's thinking, and when you share a look you think back on his earlier words to you.

'but death would never keep me from you. not for long.'

then, when he holds your face in his hands once more, you're both smiling as he kisses away every remnant of your upset with every bit of devotion a votary saves for their diety. he loves you, you think, and you know you love him.

#felix escellun x reader #last legacy #last legacy felix #last legacy felix x reader #thisisterribleimsosorry

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bruabbasbellaragazza · 1 year

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Stop getting yourself hurt Guido

synopsis: you take care of mista after a dangerous mission

cw: mentions of blood, bruises, and cuts, mentions of sex but no actual sex happens, just some good ‘ol fluff

pairing: Guido Mista x reader (gender neutral)

note: i was trying to turn this into smut but it ended up being getting really cute and i was like ykw nvm😭😭 (not proof read, grammar isn’t my strong suit😩)

word count: 1.2k

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it was a regular night in the cozy Italian apartment you own in Napoli. you decided to have a chill night and snuggle up on the couch with some snacks and a terrible reality tv show. you were wearing a pair of grey men’s sweat-shorts and a tank top while engulfed under a soft fleece blanket. it was serenely calm. that was until you heard urgent knocking on your door. you jumped from the abrupt noise and paused your show. you looked at the clock and it was 11:30 pm. “who could be at the door so late? what the hell.” you said to yourself in confusion while making your way to the door.

you finally get to the door and check the peep hole. as soon as you laid eyes on him concern filled you to your core.

see, you and mista have been having a sort of “fling” (or atleast that’s what you both call it) for about a couple months now and typically after a long day’s work with the bucci gang, he’d come over to see you. sometimes you both just chill and cuddle, while other times mista has a more naughty motive. they typically always consist of you tending to his wounds with your stand before continuing on. he always finishes his missions early though and would usually start heading over earlier in the night. any later and he’d just stay at his place.

you both met at a club one day where he saved you from a way too persistent and rough guy who wouldn’t leave you alone. long story short, that man ended up with a piece of lead in his head, shot my mista’s revolver and ever since then, you and mista have been fucking each other like rabbits since then. you both developed deeper feelings since then, but neither one of you acted upon it. the mafia world is just too much for you to handle he thought.

anyways you spot mista through your door’s peephole and see him in the worst state you ever have. cuts and bruises on his face, arms and torso and his sweater spotted with a concerning amount of blood. you frantically open the door. “mista what the hell happened to you?!” you yell with concern. “nothing cara mia. just a few injuries as usual-”. he says completely unfazed with suave in his voice. “nothing guido?! you’re covered in blood! just- come in!” you say frantically trying to pull yourself together as we walks in, locking the door behind you.

“yes baby it’s nothing giorno already helped with my critical wounds but we had to keep the mission -” mista was then cut off by you “i don’t give a fuck! you look like you got hit by a truck on the way here. sit down while i run you a bath- and don’t try to protest, your taking a goddamn shower” you demanded in a motherly tone.

you made your way to your bathroom which is attached to your bedroom and start running a hot, soothing bath with epson salts and essential oils to relax his sore muscles. you also decided to add a few candles and incense to help the mood.

once you were satisfied with how the bath looked you went back out into the living area to fetch your wounded warrior. “let me walk you to the bath guido.” you say grabbing him gently. “i promise i’m fine baby. it’s okay.” you completely ignored him and took him to the bathroom anyways. when you got there you helped him get out of his soiled clothes and gently placed him in the bath. “i’ll be right back.” you said to him.

you went into the kitchen to make him your “special tea”. similar to tonio’s stand, you’re able to materialize your stand into something edible, which then heals the person’s body who ingests it. in your case, you do this with various herbs, turning them into teas.

you walk back into the bathroom with a nice hot tea in your hands for mista to drink. “here you go dipshit” you say to mista as you hand him the tea and take a seat on the side of the tub. “is that anyway to treat your guests?” mista says sarcastically, knowing you meant it out of care. “i just- i hate seeing you come over all the time so beaten and battered. i can’t help but be scared every time you go on a mission and come back looking like this. please be more careful guido.” you say voicing your anguish.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you’re falling for me bella”, mista teasingly remarks back with a smirk. “mista i’m serious! you need to be more careful! now finish drinking your tea so i can patch you up.” you say avoiding his question.

your stand worked like a charm as it always does and patched him right up leaving just a few small bruises on his body. “okay scrub yourself, and rinse off. i’ll leave ur clothes on the bed for you to change into.” you say making your way out of the bathroom. “you’re already wearing my shorts. did you miss me that much?-“ “shut up guido” you say closing the door behind you as he chuckles.

you lay out just a pair of boxer briefs and sweatpants that he left over sometime ago for him to relax in when he gets out. in the meantime, you ordered takeout to your apartment and resumed your show.

about 5 or so minutes went by and mista appeared from out of your room “if you wanted to see me half naked so bad all you had to do was ask” he says trying to annoy you. “i forgot to do laundry mista. leave me alone” you replied (you didn’t forget lol) “anyways i ordered takeout, it should be here in about 30 minutes”, you continued.

mista plopped down right next to you on the couch and pulled your hips closer to him. you placed your legs in his lap and played with his curly brown hair while focusing on your show. “you know, you’re pretty sexy when you get all concerned and yell at me like that”, he says leaning in and placing a kiss on your jaw. “i don’t care how ‘sexy’ i look. you need to stop getting yourself hurt guido.” you state facing him again.

“maybe i like getting hurt.. it gives me a reason to see your pretty face all the time.” he pulls your face closer to his and leaves a soft reassuring kiss on your lips. “Grazie cara mia” he says with a serious tone upon releasing from the kiss. you pull his face back to yours, connecting foreheads, “i love you guido” you whisper to him. he’s shocked at first, finally knowing that you reciprocate his feelings, but the only words he could muster up after that was “i love you too”

#mista #guido mista #guido mista fluff #mista fluff #mista x reader #jjba fluff #jjba golden wind #goldenwind #jjba x reader #jojos bizzare adventure vento aureo #guido mista x reader #fluff

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magpiemagica · 3 months

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-My Personal Mean Girls Movie Musical Song Ranking-

*The ranking will be based on the song in comparison to the Broadway show (how well it changes and/or honors the source material), how good it stands on its own, and my own thoughts. I have not/am not planning on watching the movie so this ranking is purely based off of the soundtrack available. I feel overall neutral when it comes to the OG musical and movie. I will not be counting Not My Fault; it's a bop but not part of the musical.

12. Stupid With Love: Same energy (or lack thereof) as What Ifs. It is very clearly modified to sound like a modern pop song. Just like What Ifs, Kady’s singer is not in a character voice. There are repetitive back vocals added, it reminds me a lot of Toe Jammer from My Singing Monsters. Stupid With Love (movie ver.) is so low energy that it doesn’t really match the situation our main character is in (falling head over heels for a boy in her math class). Much more boring/annoying than What Ifs and overall not a good song, in a pop OR musical setting.

11. Meet the Plastics: A lot less dramatic and a lot more serious/”adult”. The whole song sounds like the start of World Burn (Broadway). Grechen and Karen don't even sing or introduce themselves; it's only Regina. This song takes itself SO DAMN seriously. They do know that the reason Mean Girl’s is a cult classic is its humor and over the top nature, right?

10. Someone Gets Hurt: The song has a Billie Ellish quality to it; it is very soft-spoken for the most part and includes a lot of whisper singing. Someone Gets Hurt sounds very underwhelming, especially when you compare it to the original Broadway song. The song is supposed to be seductive but also powerful and dramatic. I think they only focused on the seductive part. The instrumentals are all toned down so much that it doesn’t fit the scene it is sung in (Regina kissing Katy’s crush, a big betrayal of their “friendship”). Ignoring the context, I don't think it works as a non musical song either.

9. Apex Predator: This cover is a total enigma to me. It is so weird sounding; the singing, instrumentals, tone, background vocals, pacing. Apex Predator is SO all over the place. Maybe it makes sense in the context of the movie? I honestly have no idea what was going on with this song but it didn’t sound…good. No disrespect to Auli’i or Jaquel; they did the best with the direction they were given. Really disappointing considering Apex Predator was a pretty strong song in the Broadway musical.

8. Revenge Party: This song feels a bit disconnected from itself. The instrumentals don't match the singer’s energy, especially Janis’ strong singing voice. This is a song about getting revenge so why does it sound so mellow? Auli'i vocals are really nice in this song but everything else falls pretty flat. Janis saying “Yes, bitch!” did make me chuckle though; caught me a bit off guard.

7. What’s Wrong With Me?: It is fine for what it is; it gets the job done. Not really a lot to say.

6. What Ifs: A new song written for the movie. The song sounds kinda somber and low energy; very different from the upbeat and hopeful song it is replacing, Roar. Angourie Rice has a nice voice; it’s just very soft and fits much better to a genre like pop. Speaking of pop, that is the weirdest part about What Ifs, it doesn’t sound like a musical theater song at all. What Ifs is a totally fine pop song but in my opinion, it fails in the context of a musical. The song tells us pretty much nothing about Katy or her circumstances. It's just a fine pop song.

5. A Cautionary Tale: The first song (and impression) of the Mean Girls musical movie. A lot more edgy sounding; it sounds like the musical was trying to really stray away from the classic Broadway style as much as they could. It has a lot less singing variety (less note variety, belts, etc.) Some of the stuff that they change, I really don't like (like the background oohs and cut of Janis and Damian’s witty banter). It feels more foreboding and boring than fun and exciting.

Less energy, less of a campy atmosphere :(

4. I’d Rather Be Me: Auli'i vocals are great in this but the instrumentals are underwhelming. I don't know why this movie is straying away from loud and powerful musical choices. Mean Girls is all about drama; why isnt that energy showing up in the music? I’m confused and tired.

3. World Burn: Another song that is super dramatic in context but not in execution. Renee’s riffs and belts are awesome (as always). It's not bad but not very good either.

2. Sexy: Thank you Avantika for giving us some much needed joy to the soundtrack💗! She totally embodies Karen in this song. Sexy has a funky instrumental. Sexy in the movie is very fun!

I See Stars: It’s pretty good. The instrumentals match the energy of the song, the singing is great, the background vocals add a lot, it's just an overall good cover.

Songs cut from songs from Broadway: It Roars, Where Do You Belong?, Fearless, Stop, Whose House Is This?, More Is Better, Do This Thing

Overall: I saw this movie making a bit of negative buzz and as a musical theatre nerd, I wanted to know what everyone was talking about. Based off what I've seen/listened to, Mean Girls is a musical that doesn't want to be a musical. This negatively affects the music. Hopefully studios see the reception and improve this movie's flaws in future projects.

#magpieposting #mean girls #renee rapp #mean girls musical #mean girls movie #musical movies #soundtrack #musicals #musical theatre #broadway #regina george #cady heron #theatre kid #tina fey #mean girls 2024

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kitakati · 8 months

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Sim Upload - Fernando Martinez 🎶 (La Flaca - Universe)

I had a request to share him so I thought I would post publicly in case anyone else wanted him in their game! Link to the onedrive folder with tray files, cc that follows TOU guidelines, and notes where you can find all the rest of his cc! Keep in mind that I made this sim for myself, so he uses a TON of cc, I didn't change any of it to minimize anything but you can download what cc you'd like! All cc used is already released and free, however, there are THE SIMS RESOURCE CURSEFORGE and PATREON links throughout, so keep that in mind. Hope you enjoy, please read my tou in the notes, and tag @ kitakati if you wanna share him in your game 🥰

Fernando Martinez (He/him) (Pansexual)

Birthday October 28th Mid-20s (Scorpio)

Successful Lineage Aspiration

Family Oriented | Hot Headed | Loner | Active | Paranoid

Likes: Black, Blue, Hip Hop, Latin Pop, Singer Songwriter, Fitness, Video Games, Gossip, Arguments

Dislikes: Yellow, Winter Holiday Music, Compliments, Jokes, Complaints

Likes: Black, Blue, Hip Hop, Latin Pop, Singer Songwriter, Fitness, Video Games, Gossip, Arguments

Dislikes: Yellow, Winter Holiday Music, Compliments, Jokes, Complaints

Thank you to cc creators! I don't claim to own any cc shared.

Mods Used

Unlimited Likes/Dislikes | More Traits in Cas | Color Sliders for CAS | Cas Unlocks | Default 7V (top, feet normal, feet socks)

Slider 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 <-(nsfw site) simfileshare | Preset 1 , 2, 3

Fernando Martinez

About Him: Fernando grew up in a place where all odds were against him. His childhood was mostly full of pain, violence, and hatred toward him, not to mention having to be closeted about his sexuality (gay in high school, pansexual as an adult) up until after he had been expelled from high school for getting in too many fights. The last straw was when Fernando beat the principal's son for outing and insulting his and Isai's down-low relationship in Senior Year. After that, Fernando did part time jobs where he could get them. He was pressured by the gang in their neighborhood to get involved in small time smuggling, and he agreed if it could earn enough money to keep Mari and himself fed and clothed after their dad abandoned them. Years later, he's now out of the Boyd Heights Del Sol Valley barrio and living in Mirage Park, staying neutral with the local gangs, and helping keep watch over Isai's dad and their property. Every once in a while, Isai and him get into little arguments about how he won't accept Isai's money as thanks. Fernando prefers to fend for himself as best as he can, not caring who he hurts or steps on to survive. He is highly secretive about his issues, holding his thoughts and feelings close to his chest until he feels comfortable to trust someone who will care and listen. Fernando is extremely vigilant--you can find him always scoping his surroundings for any fast movement, slowly swaying side to side ready to move. At first glance he may seem a bit distant and cold, but he is very kind, has soft and deep emotions and takes all his relationships very seriously. Fernando is fiercely loyal to his friends and family, but he doesn't get along with people too well. He does his best until he loses his temper and has a sharp bite.

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eboychan · 2 years

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baby, i’m so mystified by how this city screams your name — b.chan

pairing: bang chan x gender neutral!idol!reader word count: 2.4k+ warnings: mentions of alcohol and the reader being drunk, suggestive innuendos (kinda, sorta), brief mentions of self-doubt and insecurities, uhh if i missed any let me know! genre: established relationship, fluff, just fluff song title credits: cornelia street by taylor swift

summary: the first ‘i love you’s’

author’s note: this was originally written as an idol!oc of a bigger story but i switched out the name and pronouns to make it suitable for a gn reader so if i missed any, i apologize! i think it should be pretty standalone for the most part! side note: i think more fic titles should be written like fall out boy songs lmao anyway, enjoy!

—

giggles filled the hallway as chan practically carried you to his dorm. your arm was slung around his shoulders as he had his arm wrapped around your waist, leading you along. you let out loud laughs every time you stumbled over your own feet and chan did his best to quiet you down.

when the two of you reached his door, he let you go so he could put in the passcode. in another fit of giggles, you came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his back. it must have caught chan off guard because the familiar beep of a failed passcode attempt rang through the hall. you didn’t have to see his face to know he was blushing. feeling mischievous, you decided to mess with him a little more.

you moved your hands under the hoodie he was wearing and splayed your hands on his toned stomach. you grinned against his back when you heard the wrong passcode beep again.

“you’re distracting me,” chan grumbled, shaking his head like he was trying to clear his mind.

you chuckled and removed your hands, instead shoving them in the pocket of his hoodie. “sorry, i’ll keep my hands to myself.”

on his final attempt, chan finally got the door opened. he put his hands in his hoodie pocket, too, in an attempt to remove you from his body but you latched on like a koala. he could only laugh as you both shuffled into the dorm, moving as one person.

it wasn’t exactly how chan had planned to spend his friday night. you were supposed to be out to dinner with friends, so he had decided to work on some tracks at the studio before resting at home the rest of the night. at around 11 pm, he got a call from one of your friends on your phone, informing him that you had gotten a little too drunk and were asking for him.

“channie,” you sing-songed, once your phone was passed back to you. “i miss you! please come get me, i don’t wanna be away from you for another second.”

chan laughed at how cutesy you were trying to talk. you didn’t use aegyo on him very often, it was usually him using it on you. he was definitely gonna hold this over your head once you sobered up.

“send me your location and i’ll be there soon,” he replied, without a second thought.

you two hadn’t seen each other in over a week due to busy schedules so he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss you, too. once he had your exact location, it didn’t take long for him to race to see you. chan found you sitting on the curb outside of the restaurant. he took a seat next to you, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you laid your head on his chest.

“why are you out here? it’s cold,” he stated.

“noooo,” you slurred out, shaking your head against his chest. “i was too hot in there.”

chan only chuckled in reply. you sat up to look at him. your cheeks were red and your hair was slightly mused from where you laid against him. he brushed his hands through the tangles and you leaned into his touch.

“wanna know why i was hot?” you asked and chan hummed. you grinned at him before responding. “i was thinking about my hot boyfriend and how much i wanna-“

“okay, we should get you home,” chan cut you off, his own cheeks going bright red but for a whole different reason from yours. he stood and pulled you up as he went.

you groaned as chan wrapped his arm around your waist to help you stand without wobbling. “i don’t want to go to my dorm, it’s too far. yours is closer.”

not wanting to argue with the intoxicated and stubborn you, chan nodded and led you all the way to his dorm. that was how he found himself helping you into his bed that night.

he slipped out of the room when he was sure you were comfortable but returned a few moments later, holding a few bottles of water. you were already drifting off when chan sat on the edge of the bed. he laughed at the slight pout on your lips as he shook your shoulder, gently.

“before you pass out, you should tell your members you won’t be home tonight,” he stated, as he rubbed your arm.

“can you do it? i’m sleepy,” you whined, gesturing to where your phone sat on the bedside table.

he chuckled again before grabbing the phone. when it lit up he was greeted by a selfie of you and your little sibling. it warmed his heart.

“what’s your passcode?”

you rolled onto your back, blinking at the ceiling for a moment. you looked to chan and recited the numbers. “1-0-0-3.”

chan froze and he felt his cheeks heat up. before he could say anything, you had already closed her eyes again. instead, he found your group chat with your group and typed a quick message letting them know you were safe and staying at his dorm for the night. he waited a few moments for a couple members to reply so he would know that they saw it. he closed your phone and set it back on the table.

when he looked back at you, you were staring at him with a sleepy smile on your face. you reached forward to lace your fingers together and chan felt his heart flutter.

“do you wanna borrow something to sleep in?” he asked you, stroking his thumb against the back of your hand.

“i would never miss a chance to steal a hoodie,” you replied, squeezing his hand in return. you beamed up at him with a look he couldn’t quite place.

chan let go of your hand as he stood and made his way over to his closet. you let out a whine at the loss of contact and he chuckled as he rummaged through his clothes. he had a plethora of hoodies and basketball shorts to choose from so it didn’t take him very long to find something for you. turning back towards the bed, he saw that you had sat up. you seemed to be sobering up a bit, your eyes far less hazy than before. you smiled gratefully at him as he handed you the clothes.

“where are you going?” he asked when you moved towards the door with the garments in your arms.

you paused to look back at him. “why, do you wanna see me get naked that badly?”

chan blushed for what seemed like the millionth time that night. you really would be the death of him.

a shit-eating grin graced your face at the sight of him getting flustered. “i’m joking. i have to pee so i was just gonna change while i was in there. unless you wanna join me? can’t guarantee it’ll be the best time but-“

“please, go change. i’m staying here,” chan grumbled, nudging you to continue your previous trek and he could hear you laugh as you made your way down the hallway.

while he waited, chan plopped down on his bed and pulled his phone out to scroll through various social media. you returned shortly and climbed into bed beside him. you immediately clung to his side like a koala, nuzzling your face into his neck and throwing an arm around his waist. chan chuckled as set his phone on the table beside yours before wrapping his own arms around you. you hummed, contently and chan was sure it wouldn’t take long for you to fall asleep like that.

just when he was sure you had, you squeezed his side and whispered his name. you moved so you were propped up on your elbow, looking down at him.

“what’s wrong?” chan asked, rubbing a hand against your back.

“i love you.”

chan blinked once. twice. and then a third time, mostly to make sure he truly was awake. the gentle smile on your face had his stomach doing flips.

“i think you’re still drunk,” he replied, jokingly. he knew his cheeks and ears had to be red at that point.

“i don’t have to be drunk to know that,” you stated, your voice sure and even. “but i sobered up a while ago.”

chan stared up at you, unsure of how to respond. you seemed to notice that his brain was in overdrive. you could always tell when he was overthinking something.

“it’s okay,” you said, the smile never leaving your face. “you don’t have to say it back right now. i’ve known it for a while so i thought i should tell you.”

“y/n, i-“

“seriously, it’s okay,” you cut him off, brushing a hand through his hair and laying back down at his side. “take your time, okay? don’t feel pressured to say it back. but let’s talk more in the morning, yeah?”

his heart was hammering in his chest and he knew you were right. it would be best to talk about it in the morning. but did you know that now he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, even with you by his side? usually, he slept so well when you were in the same bed but now his mind was already racing a mile a minute. did you really mean what you said? if you had told the chan from last year that you loved him, he probably would have immediately denied it. the chan of today felt very different, though and you were a big part of that. a big part of him still couldn’t believe you reciprocated his feelings in the first place, let alone loved him.

“chris, sleep,” you grumbled, your eyes closed. you squeezed him with the arm that was thrown over his stomach.

chan decided to comply in the end. he knew overthinking it wouldn’t get him anywhere. instead, he closed his eyes and let himself drift to sleep.

—

the next morning, chan woke up to an empty bed. when he blindly reached across the sheets and felt nothing, he was sure he had fucked up. he opened his eyes and sat to see no signs of you. maybe, you really were upset that he hadn’t said ‘i love you’ back and you were just hiding your hurt the night before. his stomach churned at the thought.

it was when he smelled the familiar scent of brown sugar and cinnamon wafting through the dorm that he realized that he might have been wrong. quickly, he scrambled from his bed and threw on a t-shirt before exiting his room. he tried his best to keep his composure as he walked to the kitchen. but when he saw you standing at the stove, still in his hoodie and shorts, he let out a sigh of relief.

hyunjin and jisung were sitting at the kitchen island, watching as you flipped the bread in the pan. the three chatted cheerfully, not noticing chan’s presence and for a moment he didn’t care. he couldn’t help but smile at the view before him. he loved getting to see some of his favorite people getting along so well. he never doubted that you all wouldn’t but it still made his heart swell with happiness.

“oh! thank goodness you’re awake,” jisung cheered, looking up at chan. “y/n said we couldn’t eat until you woke up. boyfriend privileges, i guess.”

chan chuckled as he walked further into the kitchen. he made his way over to you, standing behind you to look over your shoulder. you hummed in acknowledgement when his hand came up to rest on your waist and he took that as a sign that you weren’t mad. he knew he shouldn’t have doubted you but sometimes he just couldn’t help it.

“i’m making french toast, obviously,” you stated, turning your head to look at him. “do you want some?”

“i’d love some.” there was a beat and a pause but neither of you looked away. “i love you.”

his heart rate picked up again as you stared at him for a long moment, the spatula in your hand poised in midair. once you had processed his statement, a slow smile spread across your face.

“you’re gonna burn breakfast,” hyunjin grumbled from behind them but it seemed to break them from their stunned stupor.

you moved to flip the toast in the pan and chan moved to stand to the side, leaning against the counter to watch you. the grin didn’t leave your face as you finished two plates for hyunjin and jisung (and a third for them to wake up changbin with). chan shooed them out of the kitchen despite their protests to want to spend more time with you but the leader ignored them.

when the two of you were finally alone, you began to prep new pieces of bread with the french toast mixture. you plopped them into the pan and then looked to chan.

“you love me?” you asked but the giddiness was evident in you voice.

chan grinned back at you with a nod. “yeah, i do.”

“okay,” you replied as she moved to flip the toast.

“okay?”

you giggled at his slight confusion and shook your head. “i meant to say i love you, too but my brain is too happy and scattered so only okay came out.”

chan let out a hearty laugh before pulling you into his arms. he placed a kiss on your nose, then each cheek, and then your forehead. you whined when he stopped to stare at you again.

“we really are gonna burn breakfast,” he stated, using one hand to take the finished toast from the pan and put it on a plate. he turned the stove off as you stayed clinging to his side.

“who cares, it’s not even that good anyway,” you replied. you lifted your arms to settle them around his neck and your fingers immediately fell into his hair. “i don’t know why you guys like it so much.”

“hey, it’s the best french toast i’ve ever had!”

“you’re just saying that because you love me,” you teased and chan squeezed at your waist making you squirm.

he beamed at you. his heart had never felt so full. he wanted to stay in this moment forever, basking in your love.

“yeah. yeah, i do.”

#bang chan #stray kids #bang chan x reader #bang chan scenario #bang chan scenarios #writing #bang chan fluff #stray kids scenarios #this WILL show up

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hirik0 · 9 months

Text

Jealousy Part 11

NSFW 09Soap/Ghost

blow job, orgasm denial, face fucking, throat fucking, top Soap, bottom Ghost, brat Ghost

When Soap walk in to Ghost bedroom the first thing he sees is the massiv dildo carelessly laying next to the pillows. 'Well my toys don't maul me like a animal in heat' echos in Soaps head, Ghost said that over two weeks ago. "Fucking brat", Soap curses to himself, so he had to keep it ins his pants but Ghost just fucked himself behind his back? Unacceptable." "Simon", he calls, sitting down on the bed. Ghost just panics the second Soap calls his name, remebering what he did after the walk with Riley and how he just left the dildo on his bed. He didnt even intent to tease Soap with him having fun alone. He just simply forget to put it away. He walks to his bedroom, giving Riley a hand sign to stay. He talkes a deep breath, ready to pretend he did this on purpose just to fuck with Soap a bit. It will just be a littel fun tease. He closes the door trying to have the most inocent expresion on his face. "Something a problem Soap", he ask as neutral as possible. "Whats this Simon?", Soap ask holling up the dildo. "A Dildo", Ghost gives the most smartass tone he can muster, grinning when he sees Soaps no shit sherlock look. "And why did I find this on your bed?" "I used it, of course." Soap is clearly not impressed by his attitude and behaviour. "And you dont put it away, why?" "Do I have too, in my own home?", Ghost ask with a big smirk on his face, Soap it getting angry.

"Come here", Soap growls. Ghost steps in front if Soap supressing his accitment. "Send me here to find this, Simon?" "Yes, Sir." Soaps mouths dropps open, not expecting Ghost to admit to doing this on purpose. Ghost smirk is growing, very proud of himself, he's clearing pushing all of Soaps buttons right now. "Really think you did something here dont you Simon?" "Well you're clearly hard, so I think I did", Ghost answers smug feeling proud of himself. "Well, good that my keeping it in my pants time is over then. Hope your ready to be reminded that Im better then this peice of plastic", Soap growls his eyes darkening. Ghost swallos, thinking he actully bit more off then he can chew. "I dont know, had a pretty good time with his bad boy", Ghost taunts making a motion to the toy. Soap is off the bed before he growls: "On your knees." "Make me." Ghost thinks he never see Soap move his fast, his knees hitting the ground painfully. "Now stay there", Soap orders before sitting back on the bed. Ghost feels how hes getting hard by just how domiate Soap got on him. Blushing hard a rows of fuck filling up his brain. He flew to close to the sun, he pushed to far and now has to take the consequences of his actions in whatever way Soap sees fit. Soap uses his foot to tilt Ghost chin up before he says: "I think it's time that I finally stuff your bratty mouth." Ghost moans at this. "Well never told you that you can't use your hand", Ghost just pushes Soap a bit further, he really cant shut up at this point. Soap looks at him with hungry eyes, before he pulls Ghost to his own crotch by his hair. "I think you can do something better with yout mouth then talk back, be a good boy for ones." Ghost looks up at Soap blushing, panting, moaning. "And, because you think you can be a brat without consequense you are not allowed to come at all, till I stuff my dick in your ass." "No, Soap please, I will be good, please you can't do this", Ghost begs in a panic, he fucked up, this was not the goal. "No, only good boys deserve to come and you weren't a good boy, Simon." Ghost didnt think Soap would put his foot down like this. Punishing him for being a brat sure he dont think Soap will let him get away with this forever. And it's also unfairly hot. Ghost feels how his boxers are start getting wet, sticking to his dick. Soap moves his hands to open his belt the sound gets Ghost out of his stupor. He replaces his Soaps hands with his own opening the fly and pulling out Soaps dick. A hand is returning to his hair holding his head in place. "You have some limits?", Soap ask, making sure to not take thinks to far. "No holding down and I dont swallow", Ghost answers breathless, squirmings bit to find s better position to kneel in. Soap titls his chin up before palcing a kiss on his lips. "So me fucking your throat is okey?", Soap ask for clarification. "Yes", Ghost moans, somehow is body found some more blood to get in his dick. "Tap me 3 times if its to much." "3 taps when its to much", Ghost repeats.

"Good boy and now go to work." The grip on his hair is is losening. And Ghost starts small, Soap is deffently one of the bigger dicks he had. He carefully licks up from the shaft to the tip, before he licks directly over the slit, making Soap moan. Liking up all the pre cum, Soap starts to leak. He carefull put his lips around the tip making sure his theet are not in the way, before he slowly start bobing his head. Taking more and more of Soap in his mouth everytime he goes down. After he carefully gets used to Soaps length and grith he starts taking him as deep as he can. Hes gagging a bit before hes able to relax his throat enough. He's enjoying it losing himself in the rythem he set up. The only think that is irritating him his own neglected cock. He needs to get Soap so blissed out by this, so he can get around his punishment. When hes confident enough that he can take what ever Soap will give him, he pulls off compleatly. He looks up to Soap, having his mouth wide open and his thoung sticking out, wating for Soap to fuck his face to his likeing. Soap makes a displeased sound at Ghost pulling away opening his eyes and forgets to breath for a moment. Ghost looks up at him, with hooded eyes, his lips are shiny from the amount of spit on them. He looks fucking perfect. Soap needs a bit to catch on why Ghost stoped.

"Ready?", he ask for the go ahead and Ghost just gives him a thumps up. He starts trys to recreate the slow speed from before, making sure Ghost really can take before he picks up the pace. "Fuck, look at you, drooling for my cock", Soap praises, seeing drool run down Ghost chin also noticing that tears are appearing in Ghost eyes. Ghost is moaning at the praise gripping at Soaps thighs for balance. Soap hits the back of Ghost throat a bit to hard making Ghost gag a bit to much for his likeing. "Sorry", he apologies, before swiping the tears from Ghost cheeks. Ghost pulls away to reasure: "I can take more Soap, thought you want to stuff my mouth?" Soap is bitting his lower lip. "I love gagging on a fat cock, I will tap you 3 times if it's to much", Ghost reassures Soap before going down again. Taking as much of Soap in as possible and then some more. It is a tight fit, he feels his throat getting stretched out. Ghost moans the vibration making Soap thighten his grip on Ghost hair to painfull because Ghost is tapping on his arm. Soap loses his grip and Ghost hand returns to Soaps leg. Ghost speeds up his head movement and there is only one problem Ghost has. He wants to come and Soap told him no. He wished Soap would start taking control again so he can think a bit more about how to sneakly get around Soaps no.

Soap trys really hard to make this last as long as possible. But Ghost warms thight throat is making is hard for him. He feels the vibration of every moan that Ghost making, his tongue liking over his shaft everytime Ghost is pulling off. He has is eyes closed because he's sure the moment he sees Ghost knealing in front of him and how his dick disappearing in Ghost mouth over and over again, he will come down Ghost throat and Ghost clearly said he don't swallow. He opens his eyes the second Ghost hands are leaving his legs, one now around the base of his dick, but where is the other one? Ghost hopes with this change off his hands he is able to use the hand not on Soaps dick to get on his own arching dick. His boxers are soaked with pre cum. "Both hands stay on me Simon", Soap growls, clearly catching on what Ghost is trying. Simon licks a few time over Soaps slit still trying to get a hand on his own arching dick. "Simon", Soaps warns again and Ghost is stopping all his movement. He looks at Soap with teary eyes, a steady river of tears is running down his face. Soap is using his feet to kick Ghost legs apart, looking pleased. The silhouette of Ghost hard dick clearly visible a small wet spot is slowly growing. "Looks painful Simon", Soap says before pressing the tip of his shoe against it. "ARGH!! Soap, please, I'm sorry", Ghost begs, trying to not humb Soaps shoe like the desperate slut he is. "Oh, I'm sure you're sorry now, but is to late." "No Soap please, I will never do it again, please I want to come, please." "No, this is a lesson, would be pointless for me to give in now", Soap stats calmly. A big amount of tears are running down Ghost cheeks. "Please", Ghost begs pefetig, tears clouding his vision. "No, as I said only good boys get to come and you were a really bad boy. First letting your toys lay around for me to find and now trying to get what you want in a sneaky way", Soap explains while wishing some of the tears away. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry", Ghost sobs knowing he will not get what he wants. "I know, Simon", Soap wispers. "Think you can be a good boy from now on?" "I will try." Soap smiles knowing that Ghost will never stop beeing a massive brat to him, he don't even want Ghost to stop. "That's all I ask for, so now be a good boy and suck my dick." "Yes, Sir." "You okey with me coming on your face?", Soap ask making Ghost moan pornstar worthy. "Like this don't you? You are really a dirty desprade think aren't you?" "Yes, please Soap", Ghost moans nearly comming untouched. Soap sees with a sick satisfaction that the wet spot on Ghost pants is growing. Also realising that Ghost will very likely come untouched not to be disobedient but because he's on a hairpin trigger. And Soap will not punish Ghost for it, it's honestly a gigantic turn on for him.

Ghost return the hand he wanted to use to get himself off back on Soaps leg, the other says on Soaps dick. He carefully just takes a third of it in so that Soap can pull him faster of. He has his eyes closet not wanting to get cum into them, because he knows Soap must be close. One slow lick direcktly over Soaps tip and hes brutally pulled back. When Soap finally hits his orgasam after holding back he does 2 thinks pulling Ghost back and pushing his foot against Ghost dick. Ghost was never one for getting cum all over his face, but hes nearly cuming in his pants when the hot liquid is hitting his face. When Soap presses his foot against his hard dick its over, he moans and coms, blissing out the only think preventing him from pressing his face against one of Soaps legs is the hand in his hair. Soap removes his foot satisfied when he sees the stain on Ghost pants and fuck his face cocerd in cum and tears? He thinks he will remeber this forever. The first think that Ghost notices when is orgasam passes by is, that his pants are sticky. He failed, he did the one think he was not suposed to do. "Look at you, so fucking pretty coverd in my cum", Soap praises and Ghost has not the feeling he deserves the praise he failed. "Im sorry", says before lowering his head in shame. "Honestly making you come with bearly even touching you? It's fucking hot Simon, you came just from having a dick in your mouth", Soap tells him while he watches how cum is dropping down from Ghost face on his shirt. "But you said", Ghost starts making a disgusted sound when cum is running in his mouth. "I know what I said Simon, but you wouldhave come in your pantsanywayso i helped you over the edge." "Fucking Cunt", Ghost muters while cum is start to run down his throat. "Simon, get cleaned up we still have a few hours of car ride before us", Soap says while removing some cum out of Ghost hair.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #captain mactavish #bottom ghost #top soap #riley the dog

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