happy with you. always.
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heyheyhey
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Contract
MDNI!!! Barrack Bunny! Reader, Phillip Graves x Reader, Shadows x Reader, rough sex, vaginal sex, gangbang (imaginations), PWP, cock-warming, degradation, bang bang on table, plus-sized reader, etc.
Even before you lift your fist to knock on the polished wooden doorâyou already knew the reason why you were summoned by the commander.
âCome on in.â
The corners of your lips are pulled upwards, something you canât deter anyway. Your grip on the doorâs handle makes a click sound, and you step into the simple office of his. And when you close the door, you use the nudge of your back and backwards.Â
Phillip Graves forms a thin smile. His gaze is still directed at the pile of documents on top of his desk; he pretends to disregard the newly discovered existence of a certain someone in his private room.
âAnything you need, Commander?â you ask him cheerfully. Your grin widens as you get closer to him. If being imbecilic is the core rule, two can play the game. Youâll obediently carry out the objective. âI heard you were searching for me.â
Graves lets out a soft scoff. He puts down the papers and utilizes his stretching hands to push him away a little from the desk. The chairâs wheels roll, and it broadens your visual range.
You bite onto your lower lips and swallow down a smileâa futile effort, for your eyes glint when you see him sitting on his chair with a prominent erection. His cock stiffens with every vein carved perfectly on the shaft up to the bulbous tip, leaking with pre-cum already.
âSit.â
âYes, Sir.â
You gracefully bless him with a show. You tug on your pantsâ button, take it off, and shove it down. Your fingers, playing around the hem of your underwear, nudge it until it reaches the knees before your legs stomp it off. You eliminate the distance between the two of you, facing each other, and you are ready to sit on his dick before he shakes his head.
âTurn around, doll.â
You nod faithfully. Your body spins, and now your ass is aligned with his chest. You crawl down slowly. The blue-eyed manâs fingers dip into your hips. The other arm strokes his own length, positioning it near your holeâglazing and pulsating.
You lower your body carefully. Your vulva caresses the tip of his cock, rubs it gently before it enters you, and fits like a key to its hole.
However, patience is never his strong suit. He wraps his arms around your plush stomach, pulling you down in one swift motion, and the plump of your ass hits his pelvis. His cock, hard and girthy, scrapes the velvety walls of yours. Your spongy inside is fluttering around his dick, and your yelp is forced out from the base of your throat. Your backâs arched as his erection stretches apart your tight, spongy muscles.
He groans and chuckles with contentment. His hug on your body is firm, and his chest is pressing against your back. You elicit another pained moanâa genuine manifestation of the pleasure and throbbing burn in your cunt. You feel so full and get teared in half at the same time.
âAlready this wet?â His whisper, which is not louder than a breath, grazes the crook of your neck. It jolts you with a shiver that runs from your spine towards your pussy. His fingers creep on your shaking thighs that are spreading out on top of his own. His thumb rests on your hard clit, red and tiny, yet stands so bravely in the air, as if inviting any naked eyes to abuse it. He presses down on it, circling it. âThis baseâs favorite whore, hm-mnn?â
âGraves ...,â you mewl his name. So spoiled, so sweetlyâyou anchor your temple to the curve between his neck and shoulder.
âMhmm.â The man netles his hands on your chest, covered by a simple t-shirt without a braâyour nipples poke through it. He pinches on those leisurely. âI have a proposition, by the way.â
You suck in a deep breath and exhale itâsteady and slow.
âA proposition?â
Graves swings his legs forward to push the chair, once again glued to the edge of the desk. The simple course of action pushes his engorged tip more towards the base of your womb, which slides even deeper. You groan at the feeling.
âItâs no longer a secret that you fuck with everyone on the base,â he starts. He reaches for stapled papers from the left rear of the table and drags them to the center. His right hand settles for a pen, knocking the pointy side onto the wooden material. âI thought it was time to appreciate you.â
âHuh.â You blink a few times. Try your hardest to focus on the written words in front of you.
âThis,â Graves says, throwing his index finger at the first lines on the first paper. âIt is a contract. Iâve discussed this with the shadows, and they are very much in agreement. The ballâs in your hand. Of courseâyouâll be compensated for your service, so read it well and carefully.â
You frown and wish to dispute that this is not the right time to sign any work contract. However, your eyes fall on the lined-up words, and your lips shut silently.
LETTER OF AGREEMENT
Name, date of birth, division, specialization âŚ, you murmur inside your heart, taking in every letter.
The written agreement that is listed below involves 2 (TWO) PARTIES:
Phillip Graves, as the FIRST PARTY (along with his SHADOWS) initiates a cooperative sexual contract with the SECOND PARTY, [Full Name].
[Full Name] as the SECOND PARTY will be facilitated, compensated, and gratified for the service they provide. The settlement includes:
Increase in fixed salary,
Healthcare,
Et cetera.
Your jaw drops wide. Â
âYou serious?â
âOf course I do. Read it until the end.â
You wince softly when he shifts his hips. Your cunny is getting sloppier, slickerâin each second. Yet Graves doesnât intend to move at allânot yet, anyway. Â
With this letter and after careful consideration for the interests of both sides, the details of the contract and its regulations are attached on the next page.
You flip the paper swiftly. Letters form words, and words form paragraphs, neatly printed on the white paper. âYouâre surely joking, Commander.â
His chest rumbles with a chuckle. Thin, short lines frame the sides of his squinted eyes. His arms slip underneath your shirt, making direct contact with your soft tits. He squeezes them down, feeling the curves and the fat that forms your massive breast, and you choke down an involuntary whimper.
âNoânot at all. Your cunny has been a home for too many cocks at the base. Recognizing the kind gesture is the least I can do.â
You really feel the urge to massage your temple as your eardrums catch his filthy language.
âRead more,â he encourages you. His lips curl into a crooked smile. âI can do this all night. Read it carefully and ask me if there is anything you donât understand.â
You proceed with your reading.
1. During sexual intercourse, the FIRST PARTY has the responsibility to pay attention to the consent, the well-being, and the limitations of the SECOND PARTY.
2. Referring to the first point, consent and concerns include:
The usage of external contraception devices,
Prior discussion of the rules, fetishes, and kinks that will be applied during the activity,
Comply and exercise the agreed-upon safe words,
Et cetera. (Regulation points will be added and enforced if necessary.)
3. The SECOND PARTY has the rights and obligations to report and grant sanctions with the approval of the FIRST PARTY [Phillip Graves] if any of the bulletâs points were to be violated.
So serious, you think. However, your smile blooms and fills your round cheeks. Of course, considering all things, what you have been doing with everyone is a combination of fun and carelessness. You donât have any problem with that, nor do you pay too much heed to this whole escapade. However, when you are offered clear rules and objectives with your well-being in mind, of course itâll feel safer. Fuck hard, play hardâbut safely done.
4. Considering the nature of the sexual activity that is conducted, the FIRST PARTY is obligated to provide the necessary needs and health care for the SECOND PARTY. The utility includes:
Routine STD tests and checks-ups for both PARTIES [Phillip Graves, Shadows] [Full Name],
Provide medical assistance and aid such as hormonal contraception, vaccination (AIDS, HPV, cervix, etc.),
Et cetera.
âOh,â you mumble under your breath. âIâve been vaccinated for the cervix a couple years ago.â
âMh-hmn.â Graves tweaks your nipples, inducing a small jolt in your sitting. âThatâs good. Letâs just do the rest you havenât done.â He himself stifles his groan as your walls tighten. His restraint is nearly thrown out of the window for his cock, swollen and full, stuffed inside that tiny, cramped hole of yours.
You once again elicit a whiny moan. Being teased by his member almost feels tortuous nowâlike a cruel punishment that indicates his wish to ruin you whole. How the fuck does his hardness stay this long?
âHave you reached the fifth point?â Graves presses his forehead against your back. âI wrote that after another discussion with the Shadows. Anything you dislikeâtell me.â
How much discussion were they having?
As soon as your eyes get back to scanning the writing, absorbing every detail, your heartbeat jumps an interval. Its thump acts like itâll jump out of your ribs before it settles into its initial state. Still fast, but stabilized, and in every pulse, your cunt follows it as if it pumps the blood itself.
5. Sexual intercourse can be done between the [Shadows] as the representative of the FIRST PARTY without the need to acquire [Phillip Graveâs] permission.
6. Sexual intercourse can be done in pairs or more. Allowed penetration access depends on the SECOND PARTY.
In general, penetration is done by inserting a penis into a vagina.
In cases of anal penetration, if allowed by the SECOND PARTY, lubrication is mandatory.
In cases of oral penetration, safe words and/or gestures to ensure the SECOND PARTYâS safety need to be discussed prior.
In cases of double penetration or more, activity is to be STOPPED if the SECOND PARTY taps her chest twice.
And there is itâyour imagination works instantly. A visual is served into your head. A hypothetical situation where you were lied down on a desk or a bed or any surface plausibleâand your body is being waltzed around like a rag doll. Either that or all of them simultaneously ravish you. There is a thought where your back would arch perfectly and your perky chest protrudes towards the air, just for them to be fondled roughly. To be slapped and abused until the pair of soft flesh are red and the nipples are erect. There would be a shadow under you, supporting your weight as his swollen tip nudged your anal rim before he pushed deeper into you, scratching the inside of it. Your legs would be spread so widely, like a pair of wings, as another shadow rammed into you, knocking on your deepest part, suffocating you with his cock that was determined to tear your womb. Rough and harsh, pelvises met each other. And as both of your holes were stuffed full and you got bullied relentlessly, youâd lift your neck, receiving another dick in your mouth. Youâd feel how his length is throbbing, wet by your spit, in-and-out at an erratic pace, trying to spurt out his seed in your warm, tight throat. Youâd gag in every thrust, and your glossy lips formed an outline around his member. A shiver runs through your nerves in every way possible.
Gravesâ grunt is guttural; it is stuck on his throat before it evaporates into a hoarse whimper into your ears. âYou grippinâ me like a fuckinâ vice, baby.â Both of his hands grasp onto the sides of your curves, pressing into the flesh and fat there. He loves his woman full and thick. âWhatâs wrong, hmn? Picturinâ somethinâ fun?â
Your mewl is intertwined with his. âGraves, for Godâs sake.â
âRead more.â His order is loud and clearâitâs absolute. He softly pinches down onto your lower belly, to the part of the stomach that hangs low, perfectly made by God Himself to guard your fertile womb. âI want you to sign this fuckinâ document and let me cum in you.â
Speaking of itâyou think you finally reached that point in the paper.
7. Orgasm and ejaculation can be done in any bodyâs parts as long as the SECOND PARTY permits it. However, secretion in risky or harm-prone areas is strictly prohibited. These rules include ejaculating the eyes, nose, pharynx, and larynx; forcing swallowing; et cetera.
âWhat if Iânghh, get pregnant?â you say, teasing him. You wiggle your ass and drive down more into his pelvis.
Graves rolls his eyesâa reaction to both his slight annoyance at your antics and the heavenly sensation that keeps pawing on his cock. Your sloppy folds rub onto the base of his shaft, and they havenât stopped dripping since the first time you sat on his dick. In one fast movement, he gives you a harsh spank on your hips, and you joltâeyelids fluttering. A burn traverses from the impact region to your cunt, and before you know it, Graves is already stroking on the pain he just inflicted.
âFine, then, get fuckinâ pregnant,â he bites back. His head starts to spin from all this stimulation, and arousal has reached its peak. âThis baseâs bastard child, itâll be. Thatâs what you want anyway, right? Swollen belly, tits filled with milk. I donât see any problem with that, whore.â
You inhale and try to compose yourself. Again, a feeble effort. But then you laugh airily, gently, and unburdening. âAlright, then. Where do I sign?â
âRead the last point.â
8. The SECOND PARTYâs health and well-being are priority. The SECOND PARTY has the right to revise, adjust, and modify the rules and the contract according to her needs. A contract can be cancelled and revoked at any time if the SECOND PARTY wishes for it.
5 March 2024,
(SIGNED).
FIRST PARTY
[Phillip Graves â Shadows]Â Â
--------------------
SECOND PARTY
[Full Name]
You inhale deeply once again and let it out gently. This is downright insane; it's deranged. Who the fuck would construct such a work contract? And even before you ask for a pen, he already gives it to you. You snatch it, press the button, and with a slight trembling hand, you etch your sign.
One second after that paper is legalized, Graves shoves away the papers with one arm. He stands to his feet, moves your body, and pushes your front against the hard surface of his desk. Your chest is squeezed flat onto the table, and your arse is up in the air, like a pure sacrifice offering on the altar. Your legs hang by the edge of the table, and your toes curl in response to his cock drills deep inside you.
âAh, ahâfuck, Graves!â Your stuttering cry is dirty and lewd as his sensitive cock plunges into you. He grasps onto your hips as the leverage for him to move and ram you. His pace is harsh, fast, and deep. Every time he pulls out, his eyes glint with the sight of your juices that glisten his length, and when he buries himself to the hilt, he makes sure he hits the right place.
Your spongy, slimy walls are locking him in; envelop it tautly. Gravesâ thrusts are almighty, and his balls swing to slap your skin.
You are not in a condition to form any words except elicit a train of whimpering, incomprehensible moans and a series of ah-ah-ah, accompanied by the wet slap sound. Between those, Graves doesnât overlook your jiggling ass. He hits them; his palm falls onto your reddened cheeks with force, wringing out your desperate wail.
âGravâangh!â
âFeel good?â The blue-eyed man ducks down his head, gluing his lips to your neck, sucking on your skin. His hips rock fiercely, impaling you, as you dive upward and grind around. His harsh blows donât stop, and the mixture of his tender kisses and brutal swats is throwing all your senses off. You feel everything at the same time.
You sob. Twinge and bliss dance around in your whole nerves and muscles, forming a taut knot in your sex. Your inner walls start to flutter. Youâre cumming.
âGraves more, more, pleaseââ Both of your arms are stretching forward, grabbing on the tableâs rear. Strengthen your holding as Graves keeps railing you. Youâre on the precipice of an alarmingly intense orgasm, and you canât even back away from it.
His thrust grows hasty, imbued with desperation, eager to snap off the remaining self-restraint he has. His gummy tip smoothly brushes all over your creaming walls. On one last shove, he invokes your orgasm. Your hole clamps down on him, quivering terribly tight; it makes the man cum inside you and gets milked as easily as a faucet flows its water.
Graves groans, trembling in his hips. His head lolls back as his warm cum washes your cunny.
You are raided by the same tension. Your vision blurs for quite a number of seconds. The legs stiffen and vibrate. You whimper as you feel the mixture of his liquid and yours trickling down your thighs. He keeps riding out your climax, and your heartbeat hasnât ceased from its rapid rhythm.
No, not yetâas the door is knocked softly.
He chuckles and kisses the side of your hanging jaw. Then, to your lips, sucks on it gently. A string of saliva is bridged between the tongues before it falls and drips to your chin. You feel flushedâyou know you are; your face must be as red as blood, and sweat must engulf every inch of your skin.
He smiles. A sight he wouldnât get bored of.
âCommander? This is Shadows.â
You almost forgot the knock on that door.
âShould we let âem in, sweetheart?â He asks you. His whisper is delivered more like persuasion than an order. He pulls out his softened cock.
You swallow and nod. Muscles are tensing with the expectation of what is to come.
âCome in,â Graves says, raising his voice.
And as the doorâs opened, five shadows are walking in. So politely, so neatly, like elementary school kids on the outside of their classroom. You still lie down on the desk with your legs open wide. Your cunt, gaping and shutting softly, melts the white, milky cum of his. Messy and dirtyâbut thatâs the whole point, right?
Graves smiles, pressing on the back of your neck. âHave fun.â
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Sore
MDNI!!! Headcanon/drabble, Ghouls/Ghoulettes x f! Reader, romance, fluff, explicit, PWP, penetration, nipple play, dry-humping, boobs job, etc.
Picture Credit
You tell them your breast is sore. Perhaps a massage or two might help.
Cumulus
ââLus, my bweebs hurt.â
She laughs softly. âAw, my poor baby ... is your period coming?â
You nod and whine.
With her plump body, she wraps you with her arms. Warmth floods all over and she canât help but notices the rising cheeks of yours against her arm. âLet me massage them, yeah?â
And it doesnât take long until she slips her hands under your shirt, squeezing and massaging your breast, tenderly at first.
âThat feels better?â
"Mh-hmn ...,â you murmur and sigh contently. âFeels so good, âLus.â
Itâs a little bit too late when you realize Cumulus has been slowly changing her tactic from massaging toâpleasuring. Her fingers latched on your tits, giving it a circular motion, and each stroke firmer than before.
Not her fault that you keep grinding your ass on her and let out strangled noises every time her fingers pinch on your nipples, tugging on them, until you canât hold your moans and heavy breath.
"âLus please ....â
âPlease whatâbaby?â Her hands firm on your tits. âYou gotta say it clearly.â
âTouch me moreânghh.â
âI am touching you. My hands are full. Andâno cheating baby, donât touch yourself.â
You try your best not to slid your fingers to your already wet cunt and rub your clit. All you can do is pressing your thigh together, feeling the obvious sticky sensation in your underwear.
And she gets a little mean too. She grasps on your tits, playing with it and give them occasional slaps. You arenât sure you can cum just by this, butâCumulus is persistent.
And itâs proven to be successful when she is unrelenting in kneading the lumps of fat, rolling her thumbs on the nipples. And when you cum, you cum hard.
Cumulus smiles triumphantly. âMaybe I need to massage other area ... donât you think so, love?â
Phantom
âPhantom, my breast kinda ache.â
Poor ghoul still hasnât quite grasp how a humanâs body works. He quickly gets up from his phone, eyebrows knitted and worriedness seeping through his heart. âAre you okay? Do you need a doctor?â
Your lips curl up into a gentle smile. âNo, itâs just ... itâs the usual. Women experience this when they are getting their period.â
Phantom nods hesitantly.
âAnyway, you wanna help massaging them?â
Well, anything for you, right? So you lie down the bed and take off the shirt, and when he looks at your tits, a little bit swollen than it usually is, he gulps.
âWill it hurt? Will I hurt you?â
âNo, baby. Just touch it softly.â
His thumb reaches out first, brushing your nipple. And itâs so sensitive you jerk at the first contact. It doesnât deter him to do more though.
He sits beside you, two hands now on your soft flesh, squeezing on them.
You exhale in pure bliss and it switches something on him. Heâs hard rock and he canât hide it.
So when you offer him, âYou wanna ... uhm, get off using my tits?â of course he says yes in a heartbeat.
So he changes his position, now on top of you. Two hands still cupping your breast, full and swollen, and he put his hardened cock between it.
He is pressing on your chest as he moves his hips, forward and backward. At some point, her movement becomes erratic, nd he slurs out incoherently, âFeels good, mnghh, loveââ
And when he orgasms, his cum spurts on your chest, messy and sticky.
You laughs lovingly. âSo good for me, baby.â
But, he hasnât finished, though. Phantom once again anchored his fingers on your tits, and he opens his mouth, ready to suck on your nipple.
âStill hasnât finished massaging it. Wanna clean it up first, okay? Please?â
Dewdrop
"Dew, my tits are sore.â
âThe fuck am I supposed to do with it?â
You roll your eyes and whining, shove your face into the pillow. âNever mind.â
Dewdrop sighs and puts down his book. âYour period is coming, right? Youâre always in a bitchy mood every time.â
And when you donât answer, he slowly pulls your shoulder, makes you look at him. His voice softens as he says, âI wonât understand if you donât tell me, doll. What do you want me to do?â
âWell, mhh ... massage them?â
â.... That should be easy.â
And one thing about Dewdropâhe always takes his job seriously. And finishes it; ties every loose ends.
So donât be surprised if he does more than a massage. He grabs on your plump flesh like there is no tomorrow. He bites, he sucks, and he rolls his tongue all over your nipples until it gets even more red and swollen.
His teeth are rolling on that bundle of nerves.
Does it relief the sore? Well, yeah, maybe, maybe not, one thing for sureâit feels damn good.
And while his lips are working on the areola, his fingers are sliding into your slick cunt, pumping into it.
And you arch your back, wailing when the fire ghoul ends up gliding his cock in your drenched pussy, ramming into you, while his two hands keep squeezing on your tits every time they are bouncing because of his harsh thrust.
âDew, too much, anghhââ
His laugh is raspy and breathy near your ear. âNo worries. Iâll put a warm compress on your tits after this.â
Actually, after this, itâll be your whole body that needs a warm towel, butâwhatever. You love it anyway.
Bonus!
Copia
âPapa ... my breast is aching.â
Copia looks up from his paper. The colour red creeping into his face, up to his ears. âUhm, ah ... are you okay, tesoro mio?â
âYeah.â You act coy, swaying your hips a little, and sit on the side of his table. You push your chest out, both of your hands are cupping your tits from outside your shirt. âItâs the usual. I think my period is coming soon.â
Copia clears his throat, eyes are fixated on your bulging nipples under the shirt. âWhat should I do to help you, dear?â
The corners of your lips are pulled upwards. âCan you maybe massage it, Papa? Maybe it'll relief the aching."
You need to guide him in the beginning. His hands are callouses and carefully placed on top of your shirt. He starts from the below of your tits and pushes his fingers to the centres and realizes he ends up pinching your nipples.
You moans involuntarily, shudders fill your body.
âAre youâwas I too rough?â
âNo, Papaâin fact, you can be rougher. It wonât hurt me, I promise.â
So, he does as he told. He keeps the same motions repetitively. From the below, to the centre, and slowly but surelyâheâs getting brave to pinch on the nipples and pressing it with his thumbs. The frictions between his fingers and your shirt make you more sensitive tenfold.
At some point, his patience gets eroded completely, and he slides his hands under your shirt, directly massaging your tits.
âAh, ah, Papaââ
âTi scongiuro,â he begs. âWanna make you feel good, my treasure.â
You nod obediently as he gestures to spread your legs and rubbing his crotch against yours. Hands still persist on your breast, kneading and playing with it.
Youâre not sure if itâs your wet juices or is it his pre-cum that stains his pants. One thing for sure, the more he toys with your tits, the more you feel your high approaching.
And when you cum, he orgasms as well under his pants. You need a few seconds until you realize the soreness on your breast is coming back. And still, you need more of it.
âCopia ... one more time, please?â
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Games
MINOR DNI! Dad! Price's best friend AU, Simon x Reader x Kyle, threesome, blowjobs, vaginal sex, squirting, rough, phone call in the middle of sex thingy, dirty talk, PWP, overstimulation, age gaps (I didn't specify, but make it legal, okay?) multiple reader orgasm, etc.
âOh,â his voice is raspyâand far too relaxed, despite the visual that is being presented in front of him. He cocks his head and he physically have to contain his amusement when he says, âGuess you beat me to it, Garrick.â
Kyleâs laugh is light. His hands are still traversing on your curves, before both of his palms settle down on top of your breast, cupping it firmly from behind. You gasp softly, head rolls back against his shoulder. His fingers are absent-mindedly twirling on your bundlesâyet, it is capable of making you squirm.
âEarly birds get the worms. Glad youâve taken notice of the invitation.â
âHard to miss that one,â Simon remarks and slowly closes the door behind him. His gaze is unswerving, pointed at your and Kyleâs bare figures; both are sitting on the top of the bed. Doing a scrutiny is instinctual for himâand he catches the taut nipples of yours and how you adhere your thighs into each other; as if youâre afraid someone might peek in between them. âThe little slut basically undressing us with her eyes in front of her fuckinâ dad.â
âHa!â you scoff. The genuine delight, coated by a faux mockery, is being delivered graciously. âOhâI didnât do that.â
âYou didnât?â Kyle lowers his tone, nose nuzzles at your jaw. His lips are placed on your neck and a small kiss is given. Leisurely at first. âThen whatâs with those gestures under the dining table before?â
You still maintain the playful attitude, tilting your head a little for him to nib at your neck. âWhat gesture?â
Simon rolls his eyes. He crawls onto the bed and the soft mattress slightly sinks due to his body weight. His body, big and carved by muscle, towering you as if heâs able to swallow you whole.
Wellâin a way or another, youâre gonna be.
âWhat gesture, indeed?â he states back. Question is seeped with thick sarcasm. He stretches out his arms, fingers latched onto your knees, and spreads it out; and it elicits a small grunt from you. Arousal is clear and indisputable, as his eyes locked into your wet cunt, already dripping because of the subtle foreplay Kyle has been giving you. âWouldnât you want to explain it yourself.â
You bite down your lower lip. Kyleâs teeth are comfortably trapping your earlobeânot too rough itâll hurt, but definitely not a tender one.
âThis gesture?â Simon doesnât wait for your answer. His fingers travel down, to your inner thigh, before the thumb rests on your engorged clit. You flinch involuntarily, tingle and heat crawling up from the base of your sex to the every end of your nerves. Youâre sensitiveâand the two pairs of arms increase that sensation tenfold. âYour hands accidentally brushing our cocks under that table?â
Kyleâs laughter is ringing mellifluouslyâonce again. Simon has always been crude and raw with his words.
And perhapsâyouâre getting a bit distracted by how that low chuckle beats into your eardrums, sending shivers to the centre of your heat.
âMaybe itâs your cock that accidentally came in contact with my hands?â you grin, both sides of lips tugging upward, and itâd be a lie if you told them that you didnât find bliss in this whole ⌠antics. Your antics.
âWonder whatâd Price says if he sees his daughter fuck around,â Kyle blurts out. His hands never stopâexploring, claiming, through the fingers that are pressing on you, feeling every slope. âFlirting with his old friends, offering herself on a pedestalâyouâre quite the rebel one.â
You smile. âIâm just having fun and being a responsible adultâis all.â
âBeing responsible?â Simon presses your clit. His thumb circling the bundle of nerves, reddened. Your breath hitches and even the smallest reaction isnât escaping his eyes. âIs fucking your dadâs old subordinatesâplural, mind youâcount as being responsible?â
âWell, since you guys are taking the opportunity to stayâah, fuck!â You wince when three of his fingers slide into your pussy without even a tad warning. Kyle holds your body down while Simon pushes into you, deep and slow. Squelching noise is heard, in tandem with every pump, and the stretching feeling is maddening. Simon pokes at the spongy walls, imitates a digging movement, and by Godâyou feel your cunt clenching on him. Youâre enveloped with embarrassment when you realize you whimper and moan just by his fingers, but the way he plays with them, and bully your sex relentlessly, you justify your own response towards the stimuli.
âAhâno,â you yelp out, verbalizing high-pitched words, and arching your back. There is a recognizable build up on your lower stomach, and it burns you, making you unconsciously stiffen your legs muscles. It doesnât help that now Kyleâs middle finger and ring finger are circling your clit, massaging it with enough gentle force to render you wordless. Your breath heavily and you sense a tight knot down there, threatening to bust at any time; awarded you with a blowing orgasm. âKyleââ
âOh, not me, love,â Kyle coos. He canât help but let out a groan, seeing your whole body trembling, tits fumbling in every littlest shake. With his other hand, he cups your left breast, clutches on it. âBeg to Riley. He might make you cum if you ask him nicely.â
Simonâs lips form a crooked smile. You can see a line of scar trailing diagonally from his left cheek and ending up on his lower lip.
âPleâase,â you articulate as best as you can. More in literal than metaphorical sense, your breath is being taken away, and the fingers that have been abusing both your spongy wall and stiff bundle of nerves are being fiercer than ever before. Itâs just the starting game and your cunt already flooded by your own slick. You whine, muster the most adorable plead you can give, âPlease, Simonâmake me cum, pleasepleaseplease âŚ.â
âOh, I will,â he growls. He feels you are clamping down on his fingers like a vice and he doesnât miss the flutter of your inner muscle. Itâs incredulously warm inside and his head is almost empty except for the thought of replacing his fingers with his fat dick; wrapped by your pussy. âWe will make you cum and scream repetitively that your daddy will know his daughter is a whore.â
âYouâre deranged, Riley.â Kyleâs words indicate nothing but a pure lust and projection of his own thoughtsâbecause it does sound heavenly; to break you and fuck you dumb, letting Price know his only kid is being passed around like a slut, enjoying the touch of a pair of older men.
âYou gotta blame me for everything.â Simonâs orbs dart at your lolled head. Then, to your tightly-shut eyelids and the knitted eyebrows. The muscle on your neck is tensing, emphasizing the v-line from both sides of your jaw to your clavicle. Sweats create beads on your temple and the rosy cheeks, agape mouthâare enough signs for him. âCum for me. Heyâlet it go.â
âBe a good girl and cum for Simon, mkay?â Kyle kisses the side of your head. Fingers are steady and the rhythm of his strumming is not changing while heâs making sure you reach your peak.
âIâfuck ... !â
When you come, as if every single cell is explodingâit arrives strong and like a big wave washes the shore. You quiver and you practically hear your own heartbeat, running around and echoing in your ears. Your limbs are strained and when the euphoria is descending from its peak, your body sag, leaving you with a twinkle on your eyes.
Kyle snickers. The dark-skinned man caresses your forehead, wiping the rivulet of sweat. âSatisfied, yet?â
You put on a smile. A shake of your head is the answer you give him.
âOf course not,â Simon enunciates. He groans as the biting zip of his pants is suffocating him. The outline of his erection is visible and you can see how big he is.
You blink a few times, helplessly attracted to the view in front of you; the bulge that is in the same level as your eyes are.
Simon scoffs. âDonât drool.â
And you return the simple jest with a blop of your tongue. âIâm sure youâd rather have me drooling.â
âGod, this fuckinâ kid.â He unfastens the zip of his trouser, then brushes his own cock, still coated with underwear, before he pulls down the boxer to his knee, and his hardened cock is now unrestrained, curving up alluringly. You observe it from the bulbous, reddened tip, to the prominent nerves that covered it, to the hilt and the trail of his pubic hairâblonde and all.
âYeahâsheâs drooling alright.â Kyle puts his arm on one side of your face. Bringing you into a kiss, with his teeth nibble on your lips, and his tongue slips in furtively.
You hum, the clicking sounds are timid, but it undoubtedly reignites the fire.
âHad enough rest, doll?â Kyle whispers after he backs away from the kiss. âWanna fuck your throat. Sounds good?â
You giggle. âYeah. Sounds good.â
Simon is palming the throbbing dick. Pre-cum emerges from the tip, half-transparent. âIâm taking her first, Garrick?â
âYeah,â Kyle answers the light-haired man. Then, he shifts the inflection of his sentence towards you, âBend over, on your kneesâcan you do that for me?â
You nod and obediently do as youâre told. Knees and elbows on the mattress, orbs are looking up at Kyle, filled with anticipation and impatience grows in every second passed.
âDonât worry. Weâll switch.â Kyle raises his eyes, looking at Simon. âOr we might even do her simultaneously. âS that what you want?â He ruffles your hair, thumb grazes on your eyebrow, down to your eyelids, and to the bridge of your nose, before it anchored on your lower lip, encouraging it to fall apart.
Simon from your back is landing a harsh, sharp blow to your arse, and you canât help but wail and bend your body even more.
âCanât do anything without an answer,â he says. The hoarse voice is softened to coax you into giving a verbal confirmation that the three of you have actually known, ââS that what you want? To be filled with both of our cocks?â
âYes. Fuckâplease. Want you both to fill me up,â you open your lips and Kyle uses the chance to dig his thumb deeper into your mouth, pressing into the surface of your tongue.
Honesty is a virtue. And for a while nowâthey have been the objects of your longing. Whether itâs one of affection or an undeniable thirstâto be honest, it feels a little bit overwhelmingly good right now.
Kyleâs dick is pulsating already. He prods the tip of his shaft on your lips and the sound of your heartbeat ricochets once more. Your jaw lax even more, welcoming the hardened flesh, a particular tang invades your taste buds. Kyle pushes his hips, lazily, takes in the feeling of your palate slowly gripping his cock.
He groans, head is thrown back a little, and Kyleâs arms carefully holding your head, slithers his fingers between the strands of your hair.
âMhhââ The gag reflex is working and tears are building on your glossy eyes.
Simon kneads your ass and he mumbles near your ear, persuading and guiding you, âGood girl. Breath through your noseâthere we go. Can you take more of him?â
The consistency of Kyleâs breath is starting to dissipate, and both you and Simon can hear the way that man is trying to focus on the pleasure of his lower body.
You mutter an intangible word. An affirmation that you can, in fact, take more.
âKyle, push more. Slowly.â
âFuckâ,â he exhales heavily, sinks deeper into your throat. And when he finally settles in you, up to the hilt, he gulps down. God. The sight alone could make him burst out. The way youâre struggling taking him whole, eyes gleaming because of the tearsâtruth be told, this is not the first time he has such a fantasy. Sure is the first time he executes it.
âGood man.â Simon kisses your nape. His pecks tracing your spine, and he goes down until his lips end up at your tailbone. He taps his cock, nudging your pulsating arse hole. âSpread your thighs a little more.â
You oblige. The expanding access allows him to rub his dick between your flaps, smearing himself with the natural lubrication of yours. His callous thumbs unfold the labia and you can feel even more of your wetness. You leak out a short, needy whineâa manifestation of the coil that breaches your stomach.
Simon glides himself easily into your cunt and his hips slap your arseâand your moaning is high-pitched, composed from your throat, squeezing Kyleâs more strongly than you intended to.
âFuckinâ hellâSimon,â Kyle sighs.
âWhat?â Simon would be lying if the dirty squelch when he put it in didnât rile him up. However, itâs always fun to show a little façade, a nonchalant response, even thoughâhe swears his sanity is crumbling down and his brain is addled because of the flesh that entraps him. The muscle of your sex is perfectly oval; it outlines the shape of the grith of his cock. âFuckâsheâs tight. Grippinâ me so hard down there.â
Kyle lets out a broken, wheezing laugh. âYou ready for us to move?â
âMh-hmnn.â You inhale. Your nose touches the slightly curly pubic hair of his.
And from that onâitâs just a series of pull and thrust. Kyle ruts into you, balls swat on your jaw, and when he pulls back, itâs Simonâs turn to sink your swollen cunt, ramming deep into the entrance of your cervix. Grunts and groans are heard from both men, ripped from their chests, synchronizing with the quenching, lewd sound from your fluids. You try to follow the orchestrated movements of theirs, but itâs futile since both of them practically hold the wheel, drive into you as they wish.
At some point, the movements turn erratic and uncoordinated. Simon is still as deep as he can reach; withdraw as far back as he can before lunges himself into you, pressing every crook of your velvety walls. When he slides out, heâll lower himself a little, and he snaps back in with an upward roll from his hips and you feel the inevitable climax; magnifies itself in every strike.
Kyle is more vocal than the light-haired man. He abuses your mouth in a tender wayâa contradicted adjective, but you couldnât define it in any other way. His fingers clasp onto your scalp, his cock is entering the deepest part, racing himself to cum in your tight throat.
You wail almost patheticallyâpussy is sloppy with Simonâs thick shaft burying into you and his hands keep wandering all across your body; catches your bouncing tits, rolling your nipples with his palms, appreciates you through his spanking on your arse.
âArgh, fuck, love, I need to cum,â Kyle announces. He grits his teeth; whimper escapes him freely. His pelvis meets your cheek with each pound. Cock surely bruises your palate and itâs gonna leave an obvious mark there. âSi?â
Simon nods. He bites down his own groans, voice grows even more gruff. âYeah. Sheâs about to as well. Donât you? Keep throbbing around meâfuck.â
Let me cum, I want to cum, your mind screams. There is a muffled cry from you, a varied train of mm, mnn, nnghâlike a mewling of a dog, loud and needy, begging even without any syllable. At the same time, it feels too muchâand you keep bucking your hips in a ridiculous attempt to run from the alarming sensation. Â
âFuckâs sake,â Simon grips down your hips, stopping you from wriggling. âPipe down. Your dad is sleeping downstairs. Donât want to wake him up, do we?â
âSimonâ,â Kyle mutters one more warning.
Simon nods. Hands holding on your hips as the intensity of his ruts increases.
âCum for us. Good girlâgorgeous girl.â
And thenâitâs a simple countdown. The tight pressure in your stomach bursts and your head once again spiralling.
Water-like substance is squirted out from your pussy, gushing like it is a small river stream, dripping to Simonâs cock before it trickles onto the bed. Your toe curling because Simon hasnât stopped knocking on your sweet spot, scratching every part of your cunny.
Doesnât take long for Kyle to catch up, cum smears your mouth, and he whimpers. The unbearable glee overtakes himâlike an ecstasy to a healthy mind, Goddamnâthe feeling is addicting.
âDonât swallow,â Simonâs order is loud and clear.
Simon is the last to reach his orgasm. Your wall squeezing him, firm and quiveringâmakes his cock twitching to the point it is almost painful. When he lets himself fall to the edge of release, heâs growling a moan. His plethora of a load forming a dense milky liquid on the ring of your pussy, oozing out shamelessly. Like a white paint drizzling on your thigh and his.  Â
âGood girl,â Simon appreciates you. His heart swells in an indescribable way as he reaches for your arms, elevating you tenderly, before he puts you into a sitting position; your back against his chest. He knows when to be roughâand definitely knows when not to. âDoing so good, arenât youâsweetheart?â
He smiles when he realizes you did comply with his order. So, he brings your lips into a collision with him, and his tongue drives inside, tastes the same tang you do. The remnants of Kyleâs load, and itâs so messy, itâs insanely hotâsome of it slips away from the sides of your mouth.
âFuck,â Kyleâs eyes are a crosshair; secured at the erotic, almost pornographic view that is laid-out in front of him.
Simon pulls away from the gentle clash between two lips. His thumb swipes your lips. âBet your brain is a mush right now, huh?â
You let out a choked sob, still trying to come down from your high. Simon placed a kiss on your temple. Hands cozily set on your body, grounding you down, sending a warmth from his burning fingertips.
âOne more, okay? Kyle needs you.â
And before you could reply, Simon uses her arms to spread wide your thighs, pussy still sticky and puffy; the result of the previous activity. Kyle is positioning himself in front of you and inserting his cock into your pussy; still aching and sore.
You writhe and whine, ââS too muchââ
âSh, heyâI know,â Simonâs tone is mellowed. In an effort to comfort you, heâs hugging your stomach, snaking his arms around you. âJust a little bit more. Yeah?â
âMhhââ
Your head lolls back. Pelvis bucks into Kyle instinctively. The dark-skinned manâs thrust, a bit different from Simonâis deep and swift. Itâs giving the impression of agility, but not hasty. The grith is not as big as the other man, butâit is longer, and his length rubs a different part of you.
âKyle!â
âYes, doll,â he answers back and grunts. The cumulation between Simonâs cum and your own coat his cock nicely. âYour cunt feels so goodângh, fuck, love. Could do this all day.â
You mewl. Throat feels bone-dry, but you donât wish for a stopânot at all. He ruts into you, the sound of slapping is more powerful this time. You didnât realize how fucked up you areâquite literallyâuntil all you hear is your own broken moan, blaring up to the air. Simon does an attempt to quiet you down a little by giving you a sloppy kiss between each thrust.
When the swirling fire creeps up to his lower stomachâKyle knows heâs reaching his edge. His words are gentle and even though at this point he recognizes the signs of your climax, he still asks, âYou close, baby?â
âYes, yes, fuckââ
DRRRT.
Simon and Kyle are moving their heads faster than a fuckin snapping turtle when they hear the vibration from the other side of the bed.
Kyle slows down his hips and you're clenching; holding him still. His phone is lit up, and judging by the interval of the vibrationâsomeone is calling him. He looks at Simon through the corners of his eyes.
âWhyâwhat? Whoâs calling?â you slur out, mind still hazy.
âMy guess?â Simon extends his arm to pick up the phone. He scoffs when the name of the caller is written on the screen. âYeah. Itâs Price.â He throws the phone to Kyle and the man catches it with one hand.
âWhat?â You feel the instant dread washing over you. âIs heâis he know?â
âIf he were, might have come here himself.â Kyle put his index finger in front of his lips. A simple request to mute any sound that might have beenâobscene. He clears his throat, and when he answers, he tries to sound as calm as he can be, âYeah, Price?â
He thought to himselfâhe should at least behave and bear it, at least until he finishes the phone-call. However, there is a hint of dismay in your face. A clear agitation that shows itself because the perfect daughter is afraid that her dad would find out about her acting like a little minxâis stirring something inside him.
Kyle smirks and rolls her hips; makes you flinch and slaps your own mouth. Deterring any kind of sound you might produce.
Simon widens his eyes, but, honestlyâheâs not surprised. Kyle is a ball of unpredictable stuff and heâs not exactly the epitome of tame.
âYeah? Rileyâs with me. We canât sleep, so weâre buying cigarettes right now in the minimarket.â
Simon rolls his eyes. Itâs a shame to ruin the game, soâhe participates in a way he can. Fingers pinching at your nipples, pulling it up against the gravity, before releasing them and letting it drop. And when it happens, you bite down your wail, the muscle of your sex is contractingâclasping on Kyleâs shaft.
âYeahâ,â Kyle masks his grunt into a cough. âYeah. Weâll be back. Is there anything you want?â
Fuckâs sake. Couldnât he just make it quick and cut the call?
âNo? Okay.â Kyle grins widely. âYeah. See you.â
And when that call is finally finishedâKyle wastes no time to fuck into you. He really needs to blow his load. âSimon, Godâmuffle her, please. âM not gonna go slow.â
âYouâre fine with that?â
You nod without thinking. Simon clashing his lips with you once more. His fingers run to your puffy clit, giving it a circular pressing. Your gummy walls flutter and youâre sure that the up-coming orgasm will, for the lack of a better word, break you. In a good way. In a heavenly, sinful way, but stillâitâll drag you down. Youâre overstimulated, every inch of body is sore, and the swollen tissue of your vagina has been working for far too long. The aftermath is not gonna be pretty and youâll feel it for days, aching between your legsâbut, whatever.
This is bliss. Simon pulls back from the kiss. Heâs putting an attentive focus with your bundle of nerves instead. Â
It doesnât take long until Kyleâs forceful thrust and Simonâs methodical massage on your clit finally evoke your third orgasm. The last peak makes your eyes get forayed by a short, a millisecond whiteness, and youâre doomed by the repeated ejaculations, makes you spasm all overâand itâs followed by Kyleâs own high.
âSo good for me.â Kyleâs hand resting on your shoulder blade. He gives you a kiss all across your neck, to the line of your clavicle. âSo good, sweetheart. Youâre doing so well.â He hasnât pulled out. He lets his seeds pool in your pussy.
Simon sighs. He sees you whimper, tears streaming to your cheeks. And despite how harsh he was in the beginning; he brushes his thumb to your face. âYou with us?â
âMmh âŚ,â you mumble incoherently.
Kyleâs laugh is pleasing to the ears. He eases out his cock from you slowly. âWhere did your arrogance go, hm-mnn? You said youâre gonna take us both.â
âThat was before I knew you guys are fuckinâ massive and rowdy.â Â
Kyleâs laugh is rumbling. âYou fucked around, and you found out. A fair consequence.â
You huff. When you remember that your dad was searching for both men, there is a reluctant diminishing gesture. âYou guys should go back downstairs. Sleep in the guestâs room.â
âWe will,â Simon says. âAfter we run the bath and clean you up.â
Andâwithout wanting to sound too happy, you say to them, âYou donât have to do that.â
âOf course, we have to.â Kyle comes down from the bed. âPrice is likely going back to sleep. He wonât realize if we come back 30 minutes later.â
You shake your head weakly as Kyle walks into the bathroom.
âYou know,â Simon speaks out. He can hear his friend turning on the faucet. The sound of water hitting the tub is reverberating softly. âWe can give you our numbers. Next time you decide to act like a slutâgive us a call.â
âAnd youâre telling me Iâm the slut.â
âWell.â Simon lifts you up with his arms, holding you to his chest when Kyle calls from the bathroom. âYouâre the one who asks two older guys to fuck you. My point stands.â
âThen what does it make you?â
Simon scoffs.
âIâll think about it and give you the answer next time.âÂ
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Ghost x Reader, Detectives! AU, drama, mystery, short-fic, crime, murder, detail description about blood and crime scene, angst, hurt/comfort, bad ending, thriller. Dead Dove: Do not Eat.
Photo by Cassi Josh on Unsplash
"Let's look at the bright side. We can try to do a thorough analysis one more time and let's see if we can catch the killer faster than he kills his next victim. Right, Riley?" Your grin is wide, smeared with innocence and unbelievable amount of excitement.
Simon sighs and rolls his eyes. Oh, his life.
FPS
Forensic Pathology Services
THIS IS A CONFIDENTIAL REPORT TO THE CORONER AND SHOULD NOT BE DISCLOSED TO A THIRD PARTY WITHOUT HER PERMISSION.
Final Post Mortem Report
Dr. Kate Laswell â Date of Birth: 11.03.75
At approximately 0100 after midnight, 5th August 2023, at the request of Greater Manchester Police, I attended the crime scene ofâ
His eyes jump and skip the beginning part of the report. He doesnât need to know the unravelling part of the corpse.
When he finds the information he was searching for, he continues reading, absorbing every single word in it.
SCENE EXAMINATION
The crime scene, for the lack of a better word, was anarchic. It was undoubtedly a torture room.
The body belongs to a woman in her [redacted]. She was tied up in a chair, nails were pulled out from her fingers, and were lined up on top of a desk near the door. Both of her shoulders were dislocated and her right popliteal bone was broken. Judging by the state of the body, she has been dead for at least 2 hours before 0100.Â
Her partner, who is also a police officer, managed to catch one of the perpetrators, but received a strike on his head as well.
Bloodstaining, contamination on clothing, and contamination on exposed body surfaces.
A white shirt, jeans, and short-heeled shoes. Clothes were intact, except for the damage theyâve taken.
There was bloodstaining on both sides of the sleeves.
There was some bloodstaining on top of her jeans in the right knee area.
Dirt and bloodstain over the ankles and shoes region. Possible cause: running in the mud before finally captured and killed.
Heavy bloodstaining over the neck, cheek, jaw, lips, arms, and hands. It was suspected that the victim received multiple physical abuse to her face and arms using dull weapons such as a hammer.
Lighter bloodstaining over her chest.
Small bloodspots are found on the inner side of her stomach and backâ
When someone calls his name, his eyelids flutter. He closes up the paper, then sneers. Whatever. Job has been done. He gets up and answers the calling of his title.
.
.
.
"A 45-year-old woman, known as Larisa Barkov, ex-wife of Roman Barkov. Cause of death, loss of blood; hypovolemic shock. Precise cuttin' in jugular veins, artery, and behind the knee; popliteal veins." Kyle huffs. He traces the outline of the corpse with his eyes, then moves his orbs towards the photos that have been taken before by the forensics.
"Ye must be kiddin' me," Johnny chirped in. He looks as frustrated as the others. "Last mudder looks like a perfectionist did it, noo they role-playinâ as a surgeon?â
Price is pressing his nape. "It's indeed all over the place. What do you think, Simon?"
Simon blinks. He glances at you before he answers the police inspector, calm and unwavering, "Well, the method is different each time. It's hard to believe that these are the work of the same person. But then again, the consistency of the murder timing, the body placement, and the fact that every victim we find used to know each other ...."
You shrug, looking at the body. Poor, poor womanâher pupils are blown; she died in a state of great shock. Probably couldn't believe that this is the way she dies. Her blood was gushing out faster than her brain could comprehend and her heart was pumping empty vessels. As a result; here she is nowâmouth gaping, eyes rolled back, and a pool of blood forming a big circle around her. Her body is bloatedâall swelling and her face looks like itâs a red balloon, ready to burst. One poke on her eyeball and it probably will.
"Too much of a coincidence, don't ya think?" You mutter. Â
"You're right," Kyle stands up from his squat position. He trades gaze with his team. "Might have to re-analyze everythin'. Even our profiler is nearly throwing himself out of the window because of this case. Whoever does this; they are clearly familiar with how an investigation works."
"Ye sayin' he's someone like us?"
"There is a possibility," Price fills in Johnny's direct question. "The way the perpetrator purposely messing with us with different murder methods, rearranges the victimsâ homes and represent themselves as someone different, yet showin' us that they are one and the same through the connection between the victims ... they're toyin' with us. Someone who knows how we move and think."
"I don't like th' soond ay thes ...."
You give them a soft, hopefullyâcomforting smile. "Let's look at the bright side. We can try to do a thorough analysis one more time and let's see if we can catch the killer faster than he kills his next victim. Right, Riley?"
Simon rolls his eyeballs to the corners of his eyes; staring at you before he sighs and says, "Let's just pack it up for tonight. I'll make the report and let's see what we can find out in the mornin'."
Price nods silently. His eyes, blue and dark, dabbed with tiredness, looking at the man with black, skull-painted mask. He sighs.
.
Simonâs gaze is set on every picture and document that are laying on the desk. The take out he ordered; a simple fried noodle from a Chinese restaurant, is ignored and already half-emptied. The brown eyes are scanning through the data with a keen scrutiny of words and numbers and the visuals that are carved into the paper.
These pictures are not usually paired with dinner. But he needed to eat something; his stomach was protesting; emitting various kinds of gurgles. So, he settled for the easiest choice.
You tug the corner of your lips. âShall we start from the beginning?â
Simon doesnât answer.
You decide to start anyway. âFirst victim; Hadir Karim, long lost brother of Commander Farah Karim from Dubai Police Force. In early 2003, Hadir joined the Bratva1 and had been active as a brigadier since then. He was assigned to handle all the organisationâs operations in here, Manchester. He was murdered in his home 2 months ago at precisely 11 P.M. The inside of his home was purposely re-arranged to imitate a torture room; dark, flickering light, scattered and broken furniture, and a single chair where he was tied up and killed with all his nails were ripped off his fingers.â
Simon looks down and shuts his eyes. With his knuckles, heâs pressing the middle point between his eyebrows, trying to crumble down the throbbing in his head that has been bothering him since three months ago.
You shift your attention to the second document. Photos were compiled neatly, a contradiction of what it portrays. Shame. The pretty face of the man in that picture was mauled ruthlessly. âWithin a span of two weeks, the next victim was found. Hassan Zyani; the former right-hand man of General Ghorbrani from Iran's Quds Force. After the death of his general, Hassan Zyani joined the Bratva and quickly enthralled the top executives. He climbed rank as the bookkeeper and was tightly connected in terms of work with his direct man; Karim. What a coincidence, right?â
Simon scoffs. âTime of death was 11 P.M., in his own house that has been trashed around to imitate a burglarâs work.â
âCorrect,â you nod. Your hips move as your legs take some steps. One, twoâuntil you get closer to the man in the skull mask. âThe third victim is Roman Barkov. One of the most trusted men of the Boss. Ranked as the Two-Spies and pleaded loyalty to Vladimir Makarov, Roman Barkov was his Judge, Jury, and Executioner. When there is a mutiny inside the organisation, or when an outsider gets and or sniffs too close to them âŚ,â you float your sentence in the middle of thin air. Giving him a short smile. â⌠itâs Barkovâs job to pursue the outsider, interrogate them, and kill them. But of course, Hadir Karim and Hassan Zyani played a big part in that game."
Simon scowls at you. However, you pay no heed. His glare is an empty threat, an accessory tied up to his hardened demeanour. At leastâyou know thatâs the case for you.Â
âWith the same time of death, he was found in his house, died by the shock of torture and his nails all were stripped from his fingers, then was lined-up. Judging by the crime scene, his house was untouched by the killer, and it shows us just like how Barkov died; he was a perfectionist.â
Simon lets out a soft hmn.
âAnd, the newest victim isââ
ââLarissa Barkov,â Simon cuts you off. The hammering pain in his head has not subsided at all. His brown eyes dart at you, irritation seeps into each syllable, âI know this. Your repetition is redundant.â
âHey, Iâm just helping you!â A grin flashes all across your face. Too cheerful for a detective who works in a police forceâfor an individual who deals with carcasses on a daily basis. âYou might miss an important part.â
âYeah?â Now, his voice is thick with sarcasm. âAnd what the fuck it might be?â
You hum. âFor example ⌠why were all the victims murdered exactly at eleven P.M.? Why does the perpetrator bother rearranging their homes? Was he trying to send a message? If thatâs the case, then what kind of message? To whom, for what purpose? Is it revenge, orâis it entirely something else? Why did he kill the ex-wife of the sovietnik3, Roman Barkov? To let him have the taste of losing someone dearly?â
âDo you ever shut up?â
You smile. âYou love me the most when I open my mouthâwide and nicely.â
Simon widens his eyes. Eyebrows knitted together and to be perfectly honestâhe is not surprised at all. He knows you too well, he has an expectation that the things that are verbalized from your thoughts are either messy, unhinged, or straight up obscene. Sometimes, itâs the concoction of all three.
âIn any case, we know why, donât weâSimon?â
âFor Godâs sakeâ"
Knock-knock.
âSimon? You there? Can I come in?â
Priceâs voice is muffled a little by the door that stands between him and the room that Simon is occupying right now. The detective takes a deep breath, shoots you a glare, before answering, âYes. Iâm here.â
Price takes the statement as a consent for him to approach Simon. The Inspector grabs the doorâs handle, rotates it slightly, and expands an access for him to enter the room. After he goes in, he closes the door with a push using his back.
Price throws a furtive peek towards two boxes of fried noodles. A take-out. One of them is half-eaten, and the other is untouchedâsitting compliantly on top of the desk, with wrapped chopsticks on its side and all.
âI thought we are gonna review this in the morning, hm-mnn?â Price delivers a mild and harmless teasing.
Simon tugs the corner of his lips a little. It isnât obvious under that mask, butâPrice can see the way Simonâs eyes are lifted. âSorry. Canât help it. Just wanna solve this.â
You snortâtrying your best to swallow back your laugh.
âYou need to tone it down a little, Simon.â The tone of Priceâ sentence is undoubtedly tender. It is not an absolute order nor an ultimatumâjust a friendly, sympathetic reminder. âYouâll crash if you keep doing this.â
Simon doesnât respond. Seeing that, you decide to return the remark on his behalf, âWork is his way to avoid overthinking, Sir. Heâll pipe down once heâs satisfied.â
Price sighs.
âWhy are you here, Price?â Simon finally asks. âIâm sure there is something else beside the suggestion to sleep?â
This timeâPrice breathes out a playful sneer. He raises his right armâhis fingers are anchored to the files heâs been holding. âYour medical assessment.â
âWhat does it say?â
Youâre gazing at them. Pupils are focusing on two men exchanging words and you intertwine your own fingers.
âYou might wanna see it yourself. Youâve been ignoring this far too longâenough is enough,â Price tells him firmly. He puts down the document. For a moment, the blue eyes of his are softened, and he squeezes Simonâs shoulder. âIâm sorry, Simon. Iâm not telling you to get it over with, butâbe kind to yourself. You might feel youâre fine, but it doesnât hurt to admit that youâre not.â
Simon feels anger crawling up to his chest, then slowly bleeding to his head. But before it turns into something unretractable, he extinguishes itâcalmly, within a heartbeat. His common sense and the cogs of his mind are working clearly and he knows better than to lash out.
âI know,â he utters. âJust ⌠I donât want to think about it. Working here is far better thanâ,â he stops.
âthan staying at home, with the remnants of her in every part of the house?
Price completes the sentence in his own head, but he doesnât transform it into a tangible voice. Instead, he takes a few seconds. He knows he needs to weigh every word; heâs walking on a thin line, and he has no choice but to tread carefully. âIt wasnât your fault, son. You did her bestâshe did too. And for what itâs worthâI believe she wouldnât want to see you break yourself; for her or even your sake.â
Simon scoffs gently. âJust wanna live up to the expectation, Inspector.â
âMh-hmn.â Price looks at the investigation board. Photos and information are neatly sticked there. Too precise for his liking. âAnd who knows, maybe this is their karma. You reap what you sow, right? Probably better for them to die and stop makinâ a mess in this town, or any other one.â
The brown-eyed man counters the half-hearted joke with the same tone, âProbably. Too bad, Priceâif someone other than me heard you, youâd have been faced with arraignment real quick.â
Priceâs lips curl up into a small smile. âGo home. Or wherever you want to beâbut not here. Take a rest. Enjoy your night. âYa hear me?â
Simon relaxes his body, falls his shoulders from its stiff stance before. He smiles and nods. âCrystal. Goodnight, Price.â
âNight, Simon.â
After Priceâs withdrawal, silence fills the room once more. The ringing in Simonâs ear, howeverâremains intact, possibly gets louder in every passing time, echoing in his head.
Your call jerks him out, âSimon. Do you want to continueâor ⌠perhaps go home and take a rest?â
You slant your head a little. Voice meek and sheepishâalmost innocent, pristine like a growing child who knows nothing but the small world of her backyard. An extreme switch from the arrogant and witty behaviour you present before. An insane, inconsistent change that makes his head spiral; as if throwing him out of his reality.
However, hearing the geniality in his own ears, Simon sighs. The sharpness in his words erode when he says, âNoâI donât want to continue. Besides, look at the time. Weâre almost late.â
You check the clockâhanging obediently at the wall. Ten past twenty. You beam, eyes are sparkling.
Simonâs lips form a simple curve. âLetâs go.â
âOkay!â
.
.
.
His eye is sealed into the crosshair. At the end of that scope, there is a man, pacing back and forth in his place. A skyscraper building, mimics a castle with all its residents inside of it. Wellâit might not be a hyperbole to call him a king.
âAha. Vladimir Makarov himselfâGodfather of Bratva, the Boss, the man in charge. What a title.â You sag your body against the short wall. A simple barrier to enunciate there is a void across the roof youâre sitting on. Head straight up ahead. The visual of a night sky is served at your sight.
Simon let the red mark trailing the manâs every footstep.
Makarov is on the phone with someone. His body gesture is erratic and a clear dread can be seen through the way heâs screaming. His nerves are bulging on his neck, sternocleidomastoid muscles are lengthened from the base of his jaw to his claviculaâevery time he shrieks to whoever pitiful receiver at the end of that phone call.
His first and foremost man; a security guard of hisâImran Zakhaev, is standing near him.
âYouâre not gonna do the usual, Simon?â
âWhat usual?â His voice is deep and raspy and the question is rhetorical.
âYou know,â you alter your body, now facing the same direction he is. âTrash around the house, rearrange it, orâsomething?â
âNo need,â he declares, not so powerful that the world can hear it, but making sure you are able to. âThis is just to finish the job.â
You grin. âTo banish evil down to its roots, hmn?â
Simon stops the chatter. His eye is fixating on the target. And blessâor curse?âthe skill of his that has been honed since the first time he entered this industry; when he pulls the trigger, a silver bullet glides from the barrel, steadfast towards its destination, before accurately piercing the skull of that poor man, rendered him useless in a matter of a second, and his body falls to the floor like a opossums pretend to be dead.
The difference isâhe is dead.
Simon launched one more bullet. This time, it ends Imran Zakhaevâs life.
The grin in your lips grows. âFinally satisfied?â
âHumn.â Heâs tidying up his rifle, putting it back to its case.
âShould we go back, then?â You stand and stretch your arms up in the air. Your smile persists as usual, sweet and naĂŻve. âMaybe we could buy a gelato on the way home? I really want a salted caramelâoh, and maybe we could try the stracciatella!â
Simon huffs. He zips up the case. Heâs still sitting there, taking his breath. Dear whoever God is listeningâhis head is hurting, and sound wonât crumble no matter how many pills he has gulped down.
âSimon?â You blink, sitting near him. Your hands reach his. He can feel the warmth and it makes his stomach hurl. It makes his chest tightens and he knows itâs a really short countdown until his heart is stoppedâeither by the headache, or by his own hand.
âLetâs go home?â you offer.
âNo.â He shakes his head. âIâm sorry,â he apologized. âCanât do it anymore. Iâm reallyâtired.â
âYes,â you affirm. âThatâs why, we go home, take a rest, sleep, andâwake up as usual tomorrow! Okay? You promised Johnny to bring him a sandwich from your favourite place, right?â
You are greeted by silence. Simon sighs and he reaches behind his backâand when you realize it, his fingers already clamped on a small gun.
âNononono, Simon, arenât weâdoing just well?â You force a smile. A nervous, desperate, laughter is rumbling from the base of your larynx. âItâs finished! Itâs finished, right? Please?â
âStopâfuck.â His chest is up and down, slowly, following the heaviness of his breathing pace. Your voice lingering inside his eardrums, making its way through his head, and the sweetness in it is almost sickening. âStop talking.â
Your eyes broaden when he lays the muzzle in his temple.
âSiââ
.
.
.
.
.
Patient Medical Record
Patient Information: Simon Riley
Date of Birth: 18 April 1989
Address: [redacted]
Height â Weight: 6â2 â 224 lbs
In Case of Emergency: [redacted. The involved party has passed away]
Diagnosis: Non-penetrating TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury)
By Dr. Phillip Graves
As requested by Greater Manchester Police, a thorough medical examination was conducted on Mr. RILEY, Simon, after a case on 5th August 2023. Patient received a hard blow on his frontal lobe. Physically speaking, the blunt trauma on the skull is not severe. However, a neurological and psychological exam are encouraged to provide more information regarding the patientâs motor and sensory skills, test hearing and speech, coordination and balance, changes in mood or behaviour, and mental status. It is not uncommon for patients with TBI experiencing auditory and sensory hallucination.
Warning: Individual with a history of TBI never experience suicidal thoughts, however, there is a high possibility that a PTSD or a recent lost of an important person could increasing the risk for suicidal thoughts and behaviours. Mr. Simon Riley is encouraged to seek medical help.
.
A/N:
Bratva: Russian Mafia
The hierarchy is basically like this:
1. Boss/Godfather/Pakhan
2. Two Spies/Sovietnik
3. Bookkeeper
4. Brigadier
LMAO this is such a cliche story, I like it. Iâll come back next time with a much lighter story because my brain hurts lololol.
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in him we trust
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Photo by The Cleveland Museum of Art on Unsplash
Hello guys! I'm gonna put my whole work in here, whether it's art or stories and everything else I create. I made this account to thrive with my new pen-name, I hope we can connect with each other.
Along with this post, I also want to tell you that I am opening commissions, both for writing and drawing. I'll make a detailed FAQ, but if you're interested, let's talk about it! <3
The Ghost Band
Fire (Dewdrop x Reader, NSFW)
Call of Duty
Night (Dewdrop x Rain)
Sore (Nameless Ghoul/Ghoulette x Reafee, NSFW)
Drippin' (Ghost x Soap, NSFW)
Path (Ghost x Reader, NSFW)
Lead (Ghost x Reader, DDDNE)
Games (Ghost x Reader x Gaz, AU, NSFW)
Attack on Titan
Ghost from the past (Artwork)
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Drippin'
MDNI! Ghost x Soap, romance, drama, smut, vaginal sex, trans male character, boy pussy, healthy relationship, creampie, mask kink, cunnilingus, etc.
Original idea by JAYK (@18ksae) on Twitter! Beautiful, beautiful brain of yours, I love you. Enjoy, all of you!
[âUh ⌠we probably need to talk to Price, huh?â
âOh.â Ghost yawned, resting his eyes for a little bit. âHe knows.â
âHeâwhat? Wait. Does this meanâwait, does he know we are fucking right now?â]
Johnny âSoapâ MacTavish didnât remember what ignited the fire. As soon as he realized, it was already fucking burning, casted out his sanity and capability of thinking straight. Or maybe, he already knew the reason, but he simply turned away his face.
Because, for the love of any God that might have been existedâthe feeling washed over him like a tsunami, drown him in this clichĂŠ, corny thing called love. He looks at Simon âGhostâ Riley and all he could think about is how the Lieutenant becomes the reason every time his heartbeats increasing so hard as if itâs ready to jump out of his ribs.
Ghost confronted him one day, asking about his obvious weird behaviours, âJohnny, you okay?â
Soap just smiled that day, nodding. The unspoken issues were a pandora boxâbetter left untouched or just throw it away once and for all, let it sink somewhere in the middle of the ocean.
Becauseâloving your superior and makes him the object of your desire, whispering his name when the dark engulfs the world, and each day more often than not; your fingers wrapped around your cock, thinking about him ⌠are not a wise choice at all.
Soap gave Ghost the reassurance he wanted, ââm fine, L.t. Did my job well, didnât I?â
âWell, you did,â Ghost responded. âBut your eyes have been wondering like it doesnât fuckinâ know where its own socket eyes.â
Soap laughed lightly. He loves the way Ghost voiced his concern through a pinch of a humourâjust like always.
Thatâs because I didnât know where to look, Soap thought to himself. All I want to do is lookinâ at you.
âIâm fine, really!â Soap gave the brown-eyed man a pat in the shoulder. âDonât worry, L.t.â
The conversation ended just like that.
But, Soap knew, Ghost knewârather sooner than later, they might need to address this.
Although, Soap doesnât allow himself to be questionedâhe does things perfectly, flawlessly, in every way, not leaving room for any defect. He does his job extremely wellâa demolition expert, they say. Sweeping an area, reaches every corner, a lethal shot for every enemy.
And thatâs where the problem started. The more precise he is with his work, the less reason for Ghost to talk to him. To hold him off a little bit longer when debrief. To give advices and suggestions and any other of that bullshits that he actually, admittedly (albeit hesitantly), likes to give.
So, on a random night, under a clear dark sky, filled with the scattered pieces of shiny starsâGhost confronted the sky-coloured eyed man. He grabbed Soapâs wrist, dragging him across the hallâhell if people were staring. They knew better than fucking spreading rumors or trash talk about a man whose callsign is Ghost.
âFuck, Ghostâwhatâs wrong with you?â Soap asked, raising his voice a little. The confusion, the uneasy, were loud and clear, eating away his collectedness in mere seconds.
Ghost slammed the door behind him, locked it. He took a deep breath, then let it go, before finally his gruff, low voice, dominated the quiet room, âOkay, fuckinâ spit it out, Soap.â
âSpit what out?!â Soap was desperately trying to calm himself and within a short moment, he delivered his answer with dripping exasperation, âGhost, you dragginâ me here straight after the debrief. People see us, Price sees us. Heâs gonna demand for a fuckinâ explanation and I donât even owe him one.â
âJustâ,â Ghost let out a ragged breath. âJohnny, I swearâI realize youâre avoiding me. I know you are. My only question is; why? At least give me some arguments, some pointersâso the next time you run away at the sight of me, Iâd understand.â
Soap stammered. His fist was formed, he pressed his own forehead with it. Heâs a fucking idiot, isnât he?
âItâs not your fault. Itâsâfuck, I have no intention of running away at the sight of you.â
Itâs the other way around. Itâs the fuckingâopposite of it.
âYeah, of course,â Ghost retorted. âBecause you avertinâ your eyes every time you see me is a nice fuckinâ gesture, right?â
âFuck, Simon,â Soap called. âIâI canât, I donât know how to explain it to you!â
âLiterally, just say the words.â
âItâs not that easy!â
âIâm not asking to make it easier!â This time, the man with the skull mask snapped back. His voice cracked, a manifestation of how every little emotion enveloped his very being. All the anger, the silent affection, the worriednessâeverything. âIâm asking to understand. Iâm asking because I want to know, because itâs fuckinâ you. I donât even understand why that thick head of yours is so hesitating.â
Soap didnât realize his mouth was agape. His lips dry and his tongue was sour. However, the undeniable fast heartbeats were slowly crawling in.
âI like you, Simon.â
Ghost blinked. âI like you too?â
âJesus fuckinââI love you.â Soapâs footsteps were bringing him closer to Ghost. In every step, his resolution, his sense of responsibility, his calmnessâwere crumbling, left him with nothing but one absolute, pure feeling he has been experiencing. âI love you the way a man to his woman. Iâfuck, I fell for you so hard my eyes follow you everywhere. Notice your every move, the way you absorbed in your work, using that authority, leadership quality of yoursâI love it all. I fuckinâ fantasize about you, masturbate at the thought of you, my head is in a fuckinâ gutter and Iâm not proud of it but I canât help it because I love you! Thatâs the kind of like I am talking about.â
Ghost looked at him quietly, calmly, like a tranquil surface of a water in a glass. âJohnny.â The name ringing tenderly on the end of his tongue. âWhen I said I like you, thatâs what I fuckinâ mean.â
This time, itâs Soapâs turn to blinked like a damn frog on top of a waterlilies.
Ghost sighed. He tilting his head a little. âShouldâve been talking about this long time ago.â
Soap, the ladâs poor brainâwas still processing things. When he finally wrapped his head around it, fully acquiring the information and let it soaked in his mind, he let out a low, breathy, âOh.â
âMh-hmnn âŚ,â Ghost hummed. He extended his hand, his thumb caressed Soapâs jaw, before lifting it slowly. Blue and brown orbs reflected each other. âIâve been wanting to talk to you about it. But your fuckinâ attitude pisses me off, so emotion got the best of me. âM sorry.â
âFuck, no! Iâm sorry. God, Jesus ChristâIâm a fuckinâ daft, arenât I?â
âWell, not denying that.â
Soap chuckled. âFuck off.â
Ghost smiled. No one would be able to see it behind the mask he was wearingâbut he knew Soap could.
âWhat do we do now, Sergeant?â
âOh, no, donât fuckinâ call me that âŚ,â Soap groaned.
âOkay, love.â
âSimon, you are fuckinâ insufferable!â
Another light-hearted laugh. Ghost waited for a few seconds. There was an ambivalence in his mind. A scale with two choices, indirectly mocking his decision-making ability. However, his heart was swellingâin a good way. His chest felt light and as if every dilemma had been extinguished, now he selfishly wanting more; craving for more.
Even though his logic knew betterâhis heart yearning for him.
âJohnny.â Ghost looked at the man in his eyes. âIf youâif Iâm still the object of your desires âŚ.â
He purposely stopping his sentence in the air. Soap widened his eyes. If that wasnât an invitation, if that wasnât a genuine pleadâthen he doesnât truly know what does a plead means.
âFuck, yes, Simon,â Soap answered.
Ghost scoffed at the eagerness. He knewâboth of them were hanging on a fucking spider thread; ready to fall anytime, to a deep, dark, gorge of impulses. Of arousal and passion to claim each other, mutual feeling of possessiveness.
âCâmere.â Ghost pulled away his mask a littleâlifting it up to his nose, exposing his mouth.
He cupped the sergeantâs jaw, bringing it closer, pulling him into a kiss. He was tilting his head, searching for a better angle, making sure both lips fit perfectly into each other, melting together.
Soap groaned, struggling to be softer as he intended to do. He put his palm on Ghostâs nape, pressing it. His tongue licking every spot inside the Lieutenantâs mouth. The kiss was wet, a little bit roughâa clicking, wet sounds, echoing around the walls.
He thought to himselfâhow he just realized how starving he was for this man. How every inch of him longing to be with him, to touch him, to melt him under his touch.
âSimon, fuck,â Soap whimpered. He could feel the arousal threatening him, blood rushes to his cock, making his pants tighter in every second that passed. âI want to taste you. Let me taste you.â
âMh-hmnn.â Ghost nodded. His whole body trembled at the thought of that. His lower stomach already full of tingling sensation, spreading out to the tips of his fingers. âLie down on the bed.â
Soap did as he told. His instinct to comply was working faster than any other sense. He lied down on his back, as he watched Ghost taking off his remaining gear. The strap, the unnecessary pouch, the belt, until eventually he unzipped his pants, shoving them down to his ankles together with his boxer and all, left him bare.
Soap almost choked on air when his eyes drafting below, to the hips area, a little lower, seeing a trail of pubic hair was created from the navel until the top of Ghostâs cunt.
âFuckingâSimon, fuck, you fucker, bastard. You never told me about this.â
âRight, not really a lunch topic. Enthusiastic?â
âYes, fuckinââyes. Justâfuckinâ come here. Please.â
Ghost carved a smirk on his lips. Fully satisfied by the reactions of his sergeantâand part of him was so turned on. He got on the top of Soap, widening his thighs, rested his knees on each side of Soapâs shoulders.
Soap gulped, latched his palms on Ghostâs arses. His head spinning in a way it needs an immediate endorphin, oxytocin releaseâor whatever that chemistry shit.
âFuck, okayâcan I ⌠can I touch it?â
âWhatever you want, Johnny.â
Fuck. Ghost knew to well of to stir him up, leave him a mess. Johnny groaned, using his thumbs to softly rub the vulva. Already wetâdrenched in glistening, clear liquid. The clit was erect, sheepishly showing itself between the outer lips of the entrance.
âSo fuckinâ soaked âŚ.â
He pushed a finger up to his cunt, elicit a stifled moan from Ghost.
âSimon âŚ,â Soap whined. He didnât even bother to hide the excitement, the built-up pressure on his sex.
His fingers probing the inside of that clenching muscles, and in every stretching move he made, Ghost twitched. The Lieutenantâs breath getting more huskier, lower.
âSit on me,â Soap said. He pulled out his fingers. Still, his eyes directed at the puffy sex, unable to look away. âI need you. Please.â
âFuckinââgreedy man.â Ghost obeyed the request. Soap was asking nicely after all. He lowered his hips, pressing half of his height on that face. His core was heated up when he felt Soapâs breath caressed his sex. He silently watched how his own cunt met Soapâs lips. The way Soapâs drew out his tongue, slipped between the labia, taste the slope of his entrance.
And wave of pleasure hit Ghostâlike a storm that is brewing so suddenly, like a typhoon whirling for a while and now ready to make a foray on everything it touches.
âFuck!â Ghost arched his back, his inner wall was pulsating, hard, intense. Clenching on air as Soap lapping on his quim like a dog with his fresh meat, enthralled by the smell, gnawing on the soft, silky textures. Soap was grabbing Ghostâs thighs, deterred him from closing those.
âAhhâJohnny!â Ghost groaned. He whined, he was fucking whimperingâand Johnny never heard that before. Every sound that filled his ear drums making his dick harder it was almost painful. The pants suffocated it and Godâhe could do this all night, assault on the needy, swollen clit, biting softly, sucking on his sex.
Ghostâs knees were too weak to hold his body. His core was throbbing when Soap flicked his nub with the tongue, enforcing something urgent, something burning inside him. The tongue swiped across his pussy, from the back near anal, up until the sensitive nub, as Ghost instinctively rolling his hips, created more frictions and stimulation.
âFuckâyou smell so fuckinâ good, Simon,â Soap growled out. He gave Ghost a little bite this and there, still eating him out like there was no tomorrowânipped it with a gruff voice. Â
âYouânrghhâlike my scent, Johnny?â
Johnny confirmed it through a hum. The vibrations on his throat travelled to the tip of his tongue, still swirling around.
And like a light bulb went off in his head, Ghost raised himself from his sitting. It caused Soap to knitted his eyebrows in agitation. Like a kid whose candy was being snatched suddenly, leaving him empty with just a little to none remaining sweetness in his sense of taste.
Ghost took off his mask fully, presented his face.
Soap blinked. He has seen Ghostâs face before, but, on Godâhe could never comprehend how a man could be so beautiful. Despite all the scars, or the crooked nose. His eyes were glued to Ghostâs brown orbs, covered in obvious affection.
âYou like my smell?â He repeated.
Soap answered fast, âYes.â
âGood.â
In one move, Ghost made Soap wear his mask, enveloped him with the piece of the black clothing.
Soap jerked. His olfactory was overflowed with a familiar, natural odour of Ghost. He took a deep breath, let out a shaky, wavering voice, âFuck.â
âYou like that?â Ghost wasnât really waiting for an answer. Because then he shifted his position a little, now caressing the prominent outline on Soapâs pants, evoked a groaning from the Scot. His fingers caressed the bulge, before unzipped Soapâs pants, withdraw his erect cock.
âSimon!â
The owner of that name didnât respond to the whiny beg. All he did was gripped slowly the thick, long shaft, put his thumb on the reddened, swollen tip. The carved veins on that dick were bulging, and the head already leaking with milky-like substance. He gave Soap an excruciating slow stroke from the hilt to the top.
Soap groaned. His legs jerked once more; his stomach was tightened painfully.
âDo you think you can cum like this, Johnny? Eating me out with that mask on your fuckinâ face?â
Soap whined. âFuck,â he replied, low. âYes. Come here.â
Ghost went back to his initial position. The difference is, this time, when he dropped his hips, he could feel the combination of rough skull texture and soft balaclava on his weeping cunt. Starting slow once more, he rolled his hips, grinding himself there.
Soap thought giving the man cunnilingus was already a paradise of itself. However, this ⌠his entire smelling capacity filled with Ghostâs, along with every each of fluttering stroke on top of his faceâit felt more than any nirvana, or euphoria he has tasted before.
This is pure bliss. He could feel his cock shivering, ready to be ambushed by his own orgasm.
Ghost starting to feel the rushing flare on his lower stomach. He grumbled, swallowing down a spit. His all senses were tightened and his thighs are quivering. The heat creeping deeper, louder, faster, it made him couldnât contain his wails.
He knew that Soap felt the same as well. By the way his dick is keep trembling, so needyâwaiting to be squeezed, but Ghost bet one touch and itâll explode in pleasure, spurting away his thick cum.
âFuck, SimonâI need to âŚÂ argh, âm close, âm close.â
âFuckinâ cum for me,â Simon barked. âI donât even need to touch you, Johnny. You come off just from my fuckinâ smell and sniffinâ on my cunt?â
âYesâyes, yes, please, fuckfuckfuck!â
Simon pressing his weight more, suffocated the man under him a little. He knew Soap likes it a little bit hurtâa challenge to push his own self, to break over the limit. To be made a moaning, crazy mess.
âYou fuckinâ whore âŚ.â Simon arching his back. His quim was pulsating so hard, need a release of his own.
He maintained his rhythm, bucking his hips unrelenting, even if there is a thin clothâa restriction between his sopping pussy and Soapâs lips.
His fingers were sneakily drawing a pressured circle on his own clit. He was close as well. âCum, make a fuckinâ mess.â
Soap cursed. Godâs names were chanted from his filthy, almost drooling lips. He felt so good, fuckâheâs so high, he needed to get this. He needed to, more, more, a little bit more, send him to the edge, andâ
âAhâah! Fuck!â He spasming uncontrollably when both of them reached his climax. He squirted a milky, high-concentrated liquid, and the beads dripping on his own stomach. On the contrary, Ghost releasing a waterier substance, soaking Soapâs face with it.
The concoction of smellsâsex, his, Ghostâsâfilled his nostrils.
âGood man.â Simon freed him from the balaclava. When that mask finally hiding nothing from his visual, Ghost scoffed softly.
Soap was still trying to calm down his ragged breath. He was droolingâalright, looked so pussy drunk. Deep shade of red covered his whole face, ear to ear, even to his nape.
Ghost standing up a little, let Soap sitting up, cupped his face, bringing their lips together for a slow, soft, kiss. Mouths clashing each other gently, noses pressing against cheeks.
âI wannaâ,â Soap took a sharp breath. Pulled himself from the kiss, as his lungs were screaming for air. âFuck, I wanna get inside you. Wanna fill you up, Simon. I wannaââ
âYes, Christ.â Simon gave him a kiss on his temple. âI never intended to say no.â His kisses were soft, pressing on Soapâs skin, sweet and light. He kissed him on his nape, tracing his jugular, to his jaw, to his upper lip, to his nose, and the fluttering closed eyes.
Soap sighed, relaxing his body. Taking a short break from the previous powerful activity. And perhapsâGhost was right; of course, he always is. Because Soap loved him too much, his heart warmed instantly like it was flowers in the middle of spring under the glaring sun.
And when Ghost teasing him with a soft flick on the tip of his cock, Soap whined. It hardened up already. The blonde-haired man couldnât hold his curved smile. His fingers reached the base of Soapâs length, fondling the balls like a fucking water balloon they were.
âMhhâfuck, Si âŚ.â
âYou want fuck me?â
âYes. Godânrgh, yes.â
âOkay.â Ghost retracted his hand. He lied on his back, spread away his thighs, wideâletting Soap having a privilege to see all of him. He deliberately uplifted his hips, using his fingers to pried open his drizzling pussy. âCome in, then.â
Youâll be the death of me. Soapâs inner voice was yelping. Howeverâhe thought, maybe thatâs not a bad way to die. Strangled in a heavenly sensation, between the grip of someone you love, let his existence creeping further deep down to your soul.
âGo on,â Ghost cooed. âSuddenly gettinâ cold feet?â
Soap holding his own erect, caressing the girth. He growled, aligning himself with the slicked hole in front of him. He gave it quick taps before he thrusting into himâfast, deep, sinking fully, and both men grunting loudly.
Soap could feel the warmth that blanketed his cock, so velvety, squeezing so strongly, yet delicately.
This was not his first-time having sex. The first time it felt out of this worldâthough. Soap panted, set his fingers on each side of Ghostâs hips; searching for something to hold on.
âFuck, fuckâSimon, you feel so good ⌠so fuckinâ beautiful.â
Ghost groaned. The sizeâthe fucking size of it was tearing him up, splitting him, striking so deep that it was probably nudging his cervix. He let himself to adjust for the enormous dick. It hurtsâin a good way, in a way that he wouldnât have it beside this one.
âYou alright?â Soap asked. A hint of worriedness seeping through his soothing tone. His cock was twitchingâitching to move, to scrape the spongy walls that were surrounding him. But he wouldnât move an inch if there wasnât a clear affirmation.
ââM fine,â Ghost bite back. His patience was erodingâif there was any in the first place. âMove, Johnny.â
âOkay, fuck.â Soap starting off slow, gliding in and out deep. The tip of his cock reached and slamming into the right spot every time, it made Ghost wail in a messy tempo.
âAh, ahâfuckinââmh!â Took a sharp, short breath, holding it for a moment, before let it go together with the moan. Ghostâs growls came from the chest and every cut-off whines encouraged Soap to go faster. âJohnny, fuckâmore.â
âMore?â Soap thrusting harshly, slapping on Ghostâs hips. Balls swung and hit his crack. Every grinding evoked a wet, dirty, lewd voices that reverberating across the room. âFuckinââyou are clenching so much, Si. Takinâ me so fuckin well ⌠fuck, my handsome, prettiest L.t.â
âFuckinâ hellâGod, shut up.â He didnât hate it. Ghost simply wasnât accustomed to these kinds of appreciation, in the bedroom nevertheless. He didnât know what to do, because when those mellifluous praises showered him, he could feel himself tighten, squirming, clenching on the inside. He could feel himself leaking more than he has ever before. Â
Soapâs thrusts are rocked a little bit more roughly now. His voice was cracking, gruff and covered in lust. ââM notââm not gonna last, Si. Nrghh, fuckâare you close?â
âYes.â The overstimulated cunt clearly started taking an effect on him. He knew the up-coming climax will rip him more merciless than it did beforeâbut he would be fucking love that. âYes, fuck, Johnny!â
âOkay, cum for me, yeah? Cum with meâlet me fill you up.â Soap chasing their highs ruthlessly, rubbing Ghostâs sensitive, perked nub. He pinched the poor bundle of nerves, making Ghost convulsed by the additional stimulant. His knees are trembling, the muscles all tensed up.
âFuckâyou fucker, Johnny! FUCK!â
Johnny laughed. His laughs were rich and shattered up in the air. Ohâhow ecstatic his feeling was, how blessed he was. He was fucking into him harshly, but oh how every lunge filled with beautiful sentiment. âA fuckinââgood man, Si. Fuck, fuck, I love you, I love you so much.â
âI loveângh!â A broken sob, a whiny groan. More of those guttural whimpers when Soap massaging his clit.Â
Ghostâs toes were curled up, back arched. Something accumulating once again inside his stomach, unfurled the hidden thrill, the peak of humansâ primate needs.
Soapâs movement were starting to stutter. He looked down and he could see how clearly Ghost was swallowing him whole. How that reddened cunt formed an oval-like outline between his shaft, enfolded his fleshâa very attractive and pornographic view.
With one last thrust, their orgasms were crashing hard.
Ghost felt the nerve on his neck was tensed up, in tandem with whiteness that splattering on his field of view.
Soap was cumming inside him, smearing Ghostâs inner walls with his cum. His mouth was wide open, taking as much air as he needs, lost in his own high. Ghostâs cunt was also working effectively, efficiently, milking out every drop of his sperm.
Soap pulled out, observing his handiwork. He smiled seeing the gaping hole, streaming with his cum, dripping to the butthole. The sky-coloured eyed man hummed, then using his thumb to pushed back the semen.
Ghost flinched softly. He lost his energy to fight back or protestânot that he would.
âYou happy, Johnny?â
Johnny grinning widely. As if he hadn't been just ramming into Ghost brutally, abusing his puffy genitals.
âYes, yes I am. Câmon, Siâletâs clean up.â
âMh-hmnn.â
Soap took a deep breath, and gave Ghost a quick peck on his lips. âUh ⌠we probably need to talk to Price, huh?â
âOh.â Ghost yawned, resting his eyes for a little bit. âHe knows.â
âHeâwhat?â
âI talked to him about ⌠my feeling before. He said he doesnât mind as long as it doesnât affect our jobs.â
âOh.â Soapâs jaw fell. âWait. Does this meanâwait, does he know we are fucking right now?â
Ghost lifted up his eyelids. A small smile formed on his lipsâa transparent showing-case of his emotion. âI wonder âŚ.â
âFuck, Simon?â
Ghost got up from the bed, walking toward the bathroom. He snorted once again when Johnny called for him in a sheer panic and embarrassment.
âSteaminâ JesusâSimon!!â
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Path
MDNI! Ghost x Reader, smut, angst, romance, drama, canon, bittwersweet, creampie, breeding, etc.
Our paths are different, and thatâs okay.
[âLet me have you for the last time."]
âYou knowâIâll miss this.â
Ghost blinked slowly. He heard thatâclearly, as the world around him was silent. A tranquil night is never taken for grantedâhe knows better than to do that. Filled his whole life with excruciating loud sound and agonizing work make him appreciate calm atmosphere like this one.
The man with the skull mask took a deep breath before answering you, âMiss what?â
He knew it was a stupid questionâyou knew. Yet, your laugh was scattered lightly to the air and you leaned one side of your shoulder against his.
âThe whole team. The crazy routine, the high adrenaline before every mission, and âŚ,â you purposely hanging your words. Your eyes flickered to his before the rest of the words unfurled at the tip of your tongue, â⌠us.â
âI donât know,â Ghost gave a snarl, a harsh tone he regretted a little the moment it was delivered. âEver considering not leaving?â
The small curve on your lips stayed there. âYou know Iââ
ââyou canât,â Ghost interjected. His sigh was low, heavy. His head looking down, even though all the stars were shinning brightly, sprinkled on the dark colour of the night sky. The grass under him were fluffy, yet he felt perturbed in his sitting. âI know. Sorry.â
You lifted your fingers, softly, carefully, placed it on top of his arms. Gave it a tender rub, a light squeeze. âSimon, weâve chose our own paths. I will never hate you for itâso, please donât hate me.â
âI donât,â the answer was quick. But the following sentence was injected with forlorn, disguised as a persistent argument. âI knew people bound to drift awayâsooner or later.â
You wait, because you knew some words were still waiting to be said.
â⌠I just didnât expect that of all people; you will be the least likely to stay.â
Something pierced through your heart. It bled, and the wound still gaping open. The grief that hit ever since the first time both of you talked about this. Surely, as the saying goesâtime will heal all wounds. However, for now, the dripping sadness still lingering like a moon to its earth; desperately covering your chest with it.
âI want to get married, Simon,â your tone didnât lose its compassion. It was kind, it wasâironically, hurtfully affectionate, it sent another sting to the manâs chest. âI want to have kids, be a regular mom, be there for my children, watching them growing up ⌠Iâve always known Iâm not going to stay in the military my whole life. Andâeven if this feels repetitive, even if youâre tired hearing this, Iâll keep saying it to you; what we had was not a lie. It never was. Itâs just âŚâ
âŚ. Your dream contradicts mine. And neither of us want to let go of what we have now, Simon finishing the sentence in his head.
He brought his hands on top of yours. His thumb made a small circle on the back of your hand. âI know,â he whispered. His voice was gruff, yetâthe genuine sentiment was undoubtedly there. âNo oneâs fault, yeah?â
You smiled. âNo oneâs.â
âFulfil my selfish request?â Simon asked.
You raised your eyebrows. âYouâve always been a selfish, Lieutenant.â
He rolled his eyes; instantly made you laugh. A cheerful, carefree giggleâsomething that Simon always have loved.
âAnything for you,â you said. âWhat is it, hm-mnn?â
âLet me have you for the last time,â he put his nose at your nape. Drown himself in your scent, albeit the mask hindered his bare nose. âBe mine for tonight. Okay? One last time.â
You let out a heavy breath. The pain drilled to your soul once again, made its stop there. However, another emotion that gushed all over you, overwhelmed you with the bittersweet warmth, made you answer him, âYes.â
And you and him made love like there was no other day. Actuallyâthat phrase wasnât so metaphorical as it was intended to be.
The way he embraced you was delicate. He always has been treating you like a fragile being you are, like a small fairy heâs holding on the top of his palms. Because even though you were ruthless when itâs necessary, even though you were the top sniper from your regiment; sending enemies to death faster than they can take a second breathâfor him, you will be always his soft, tender, fragile woman.
And it will be a lie if you say you donât enjoy the gentle manner.
Because just like this nightâyou were wailing daintily in pleasure every time his fingers traced along your skin. Your breath hitched and fire lit inside your body, burning to the tips of your fingertips. And ohâhow he loved the way your head lolled back, your back arched, and your full, plump breast pressed against his own.
How you were so responsive, so sensitiveâresponded nicely to every stimulation he administered to your nerves. And he adored the way both of his hands rested on your bottom, gripping it strongly, bringing your body to bounce on his.
And with every move, the slow, the relaxed push-and-pullâhe could see the way you gasp. The falter, shaky moan, were emitted from the back of your throat, vibrating in his ear, before it eventually diffused with the air, hidden inside the forest that engulfed both of you.
And he made a mental note to himselfâthat heâll always remember this night. Not only about how your velvety wall gripping him firmly, not only about your whines that was carved into his mindâbut also about how your whole existence swallowed him whole, made his heart fluttered and hurt at the same time.
When both of you almost reach the peak, when the edge felt like it was closer than it had ever beforeâyou sobbed. Almost pathetically, you clinging to him, your arms wrapped around his shoulder.
I love you, you said. No stronger than a birdâs chirp, but unyielding.
Simon rocked his hips one more timeâdeep, and he felt the spongy texture that surrounded him spasming.
He didnât give you any replay. However, after the ripping orgasm, after a warm liquid flood in you, he gave you a soft kiss on your temple.
And that was enough.
.
.
.
.
.
It's not until many years later he sees you again. He gets three weeks off after the last deploymentâand his brown eyes notices you walking across the street. However, you are not aloneâa man is walking beside you, holding a small boy.
And he watches and you laugh freely, lovingly.
Simon smiles.
For almost ten yearsâfinally, he can confirm that you were right.
Paths are different, and thatâs okay. He takes a deep breath, and let it go. When he raises his head, sun is shining brightlyâalmost blinding. Itâs a nice blue sky.
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Fire
Minor DNI! Dewdrop x Ghoulette! Reader, toxic, manipulative, panic attack, fight sex, vaginal sex, breeding, cruelty, porn with plot, blood and injury, Dewdrop is being an a-hole, burnplay, etc.
Fire is destructive.
When it meets each other, it either grows stronger, engulfing the world around them, orâit quells and extinguishes its own existence; fights to dominate and die until there is nothing left. Yet, both you and himâfind comfort in fire.
[âShame. Had you begged, Iâd have let you go."]
Fire is destructive.
When it meets each other, it either grows stronger, engulfing the world around them, orâit quells and extinguishes its own existence; fights to dominate and die until there is nothing left.
Sometimes it works both ways.
Sometimes it clashes, gnawing at the oppositeâs core, in attempt to burn it down. The other times, it stands alone. In forlorn, its flame flickers, turns to millions of embers, before shattered completely and dissolve with the sky.
Sometimesâitâs just like that. A daily occurrence, an unfazed phenomenon.
Your snarl dragged out from the base of your throat. Your eyesâjust like his, glint in intimidation. Too prideful to back downâa vanity determination to take down the other side; even when you know full well there is no worthy conclusion to be taken in the end.
âFuck off,â Dewdrop hisses. âStop bitchinâ for one day.â
You scoff. Hand still wiping on your guitarâusing unnecessary amount of pressure through the piece of cloth. âYou messed up. Be for fuckinâ real.â
Cirrus and Cumulus are trading looks. Then, Auroraâs violet orbs turn to Swiss. The Multi-Ghoul shrugsâa sign to let whatever happens unfurls by itself. Only interfere when itâs needed.
Dewdrop doesnât lose his venom. Despite the calm tone, his gruff voice echoed, piercing the right place, âOf course itâs me. Itâs hard to see where the mistake comes from when you are one.â Â
You freezeâfingers stop moving. The piece of damp cloth, imbued with cleaning liquid, stays on top of the guitar.
âDew,â Rain is warning him, softly.
âMia caro, thatâs not nice.â Copia then swifts his glance to you. âYou too, dear. Itâs just a slight miscoordination. No need to engage in distasteful argument.â
âWhat, why?â Dewdrop pulls one corner of his lips. His voice injected with faux innocence. âShe should always remember who she is. A failure, unwanted being, accidentally summoned from the pitââ
âOkay, spitfire.â Swiss reaches for him, wrap his arm around his shoulder. Heâs trying to direct the red-eyed ghoulâs attention by ruffling his platinum hair. Tenderly, playfully. Refuse to be pulled into the heated atmosphere. âLetâs pack up. We need to go back to the hotel anyway.â
Howeverâa fire is unyielding. It will not stop until it strikes to every side possible. âYou cryinâ?â
You blink. You can feel your visual blurred and there is a pang prickling in your chest, quickly spreading to the end of your fingertips. However, you just take a deep breath, put your guitar back to its case, and walk awayâlet yourself be the first one who arrives at the bus.
Cardinal Copia pinches the bridge of his nose.
.
.
.
.
.
âYou are not a mistake,â Cumulus says gently. She let your head slumps to her chest comfortably. She uses both hands to give you a back rub in vertical motion, while your biceps rest on the sides of her body. âYou know that, right?â
âMh-hmnn.â An incoherent mumble. You need some moment before uttering the words that have been lingering in your head; even before the Fire said it himself, âHeâs not wrong, though. Itâs not supposed to be meâyouâre not supposed to have two fire wielders in one pack.â
She sighs, kissing the top of your head. You find an unbelievable amount of warmth through the simple gesture. âSweetheartâthere is no rules in things like these. You bond well with the othersâit means you belong here.â
With the others, except âŚ, you let the words hang at the end of your tongue. Prisoned by your own voice box.
âCumulus,â you call for her.
The Air Ghoul bats her eyelashes, waiting for your answer.
âI love youâyou are the best.â
She laughs. âBet you use those lines with everyone, you flirt.â
A grin flashes across your face. âI do.â
.
.
.
You remember the ordeal as if it was yesterday. It was as clear as the water in small stream, so transparent you can see the bottom of it.
You didnât remember what kind of being you areâor if it was matter in the first place. But, you do recall the way something rips apart your soul, your physical bodyâunravelled it through space and time, until you landed on the symbol, infused with devilry.
You remember how you felt your whole body burn and ache. Horns bowed heavy at the sides of your temples. Long, acute nails scratching on the concrete below you. You recognized the smell of your own blood, from the scars all over your bodyâbecause a summoning never delivers something unscathed.
You relive the anger back thenâthe hatred and all the conniption you carried with every inch of your nerves because you knew you shouldnât be there.
A mistaken calling, an unwanted prodigy.
And you remember the harsh, rough flame that covered you, rendered you useless, made you writhe and wailed and cried patheticallyâbegging, pleading, to be freed from it.
And thenâ
--you wake up. Your breath hitch and the oxygen stings your lungs. You stand up from your position, trying to calm the remarkably fast heartbeat, trying to comprehend your surroundings.
But itâs a vain effort. Your head is spiraling like youâve been hit by a powerful swingâit affects your eyes and now everything seems splitting. You curse under your breath. Sweats make rivulets on your back and forehead.
I need to grounding, you think to yourself. In theory, itâs easyâtry to focus on your senses and pay attention on the smallest things. Something realâsomething to make you certain that you are here instead of anywhere else your mind tries to convince you.
Once againâitâs no use. All your fingertips could feel is a hard, freezing pavement below you. And instead of the aroma of your own roomâit smells like blood, fire, and a hint of morning dew.
Fuck. I need to breathe.
You inhale sharply. No matter how many times you try to feed your lungsâit feels never enough. The air is not going there; it sits in your throat and thatâs it.
Call the others?
NoâI canât bother them.
You open your drawerâsnatching an object, made of metallic with wooden handle. A simple folding knife; a gift from Swissâto celebrate your arrival, he said. Â
You place one of your hands on the table. Palm heads up. The other hand gripping the knifeâfingers anchoring on the wooden handle. You donât count to three when you raise your arm up to the air, before shoving it back down in rapid speed, piercing your palm, right through the other side.
You hear a wail much more faster than your ability to recognize that itâs yours.
The pain hits you abruptlyâsending shivers to your nape, crawling to the end of your toes. And, Satanas, itâs fuckingâhurt, but then all your senses are wondrously working.
Pain is an effective everything, Dewdrop verbalized that once. And now itâs ringing in your ear. Heâs not wrong.
Your eyes have stopped its whirling. You can see your own feet and the bleeding hand. You can smell the result of your body perspirationâand the faint morning dew. You can hear the sound of your thumping heart, andâoneâs footsteps in the hall, before it amplifies in every stride, stops at the front of your door.
Wait.
Morning dew andâ
âOpen your fuckinâ door.â
You sigh. You try to gather yourself. But you canât hide the hoarse on your voice, makes it lose all its arrogance when you say, âFuck off, Dewdrop.â
He calls out your name. Not a nickname that is intended to sneer or scorn at you. Your nameâone that you chose for yourself, to represent the whole you.
Dewdrop enunciates every word, âOpen the door.â
You felt your head heavy. As if the gravity suddenly increases tenfold, pulling your head down.
ââS not locked.â
When the door is swung open, you could see his unvexed expression. Youâre not sure whether thatâs a façade or not, butâyou do realize he takes a short glimpse at your palm. He closes the door behind him and gets closer to you.
You could see your own reflection on the red orbs. Without averting his gaze from yours, he stretches his arm slightly, grabs the knife, and pulls it out in one motion.
âMngh!â You bite down your lips. Okay, Luciferâthat hurts, hurt.
He puts the knife on the table. Kneels down, he takes your hand from the table. âThe fuck is going on,â he starts. Not even a question. âEveryone can smell your blood miles away.â
And hears your wail, but he doesnât turn that into an audible voice.
You see him inspecting at your cut. With little energy left, you answer him, âPanic attack. I needed groundingânothing helped me. Resorted to drastic measure.â
âAnd you canât just call?â
âWhoâyou? Right.â
âUse your fuckinâ head,â he spats. You shut your mouth. âNext time; you call.â
You detect a small spark of fire from his fingers.
Memories flash once more in your head;Â the summoning, him restrained you on the ground, the fireâyou pull away, blood dripping everywhere.
âNo!â You let out a choked word. Heat creeps to your eyes, forming a puddle of water. âNo fire âŚ.â
Dewdrop looks at you. He doesnât need to do a scrutiny to answer the sedentary questions on the back of his head. He waits a few seconds before trying to reach you again. âNo fire. I bring Rainâs medical kit.â
You still hesitate.
Dew scoffs. âGive me your handâI donât have all night.â
You let him grasp on your palm. Andâyou just realized he does bring a medical kit. Didnât aware of it before.
He works on your hand. His movement is not of a compassionate one, but also far from rough. You can feel the stings when he tugs the bandage. Small bullet of tears falls from your fluttered eyelashes. You harshly wipe it away from your cheek.
From your point of viewâyou could see his horns. Perfectly placed on his temple, framing his head. The horns are simple, straightforward without any curve. Itâs white with dark red gradation at the base. The colour shines under the light.
âDone.â Dewdrop closes the box. âTry not to stab yourself again.â
âWhy do you even come here, Dew?â
âBabysitting shift. Apparently, itâs my turn.â
You growl. Eyes glint dimly, scowl at him.
He smiles. Challenging. An attempt to ignite another fire. âWhat? Wanna cry?â
âGet the fuck out.â
He shrugs.
Then, after you close your door, you look at your hand. The bandage is neat and perfectly protects the injured hand.
You donât get him.
.
.
.
It doesnât mean anything has gone better. As the matter of factâitâs been going downhill, keep rolling, and hasnât reach the bottom, however deep the end line will be.
However, itâs undeniably going there.
Speaking truthfully, you have a basic idea why he loathes you so. Probably has something to do with the way you share his specialty. Or the way you push yourself to the edge in everything you do; all or nothing. The same determination you put on stage while chanting the words of Satan.
The way you bleed and bruised because you practice more than you should be, pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion.
Howeverâyou still think thatâs a bad reason to hate his own kin.
Actually, you should be the one who nurtures the grudge. Keep it safe deep inside your coreâlet it unleash when the time is right. He burned you that dayâthat was not an accidental mistake, despite how your summoning was.
You are still a defect. Not were; not back then. Now. Until the end.
You can practically hear him, albeit no exact words are spoken. Itâs crystal clear what he is thinking, even when heâs peacefully enjoying his dinner. Let his sharps teeth rip apart the sitting grilled meat on the perfect-polished plate. Itâs not cooked all the wayâyou can taste raw blood on your tongue.
The first time dinner were served in this abbeyâyou asked naively, âWhat meat is this?â
Phantomâs soft smile and Aurora rubbed your back were enough of an answer. You never brought up about it anymore.
âWhatâs wrong? Are you not feeling well?â Cirrus chirps. She moves her eyes between your plate and your eyes.
You put a smile. âNo, just ... Iâm full.â
Cirrus blinks at your half-eaten foods.
Mountain, tries to be as subtle as he can get, sniffs the air. He then says, âJust leave it be. Iâll finish it.â
âWell, thatâs not fair, is it?â Swiss takes the last bite of his portion. His grin is wide, deliberately showing his teeth.
Cumulus laughs. âBoys.â
âHolding yourself back from getting a second fill, Dew?â Rain asks, he nudges the Fire Ghoul besides him.
Dewdrop carves a simple smile. âI donât eat dogâs leftovers.â
You stands up. Smile doesnât reach your eyes. âIâm going back to my room first.â
You realizes some pairs of eyes that are directed to your back. You tries to ignore it; along with the sentence that spitted out from his mouth.
.
You did feel fullâhowever, for some reasons, your stomach grumbles once more in the middle of the night. You swipe your palm on one corner of your lips. A splatter of blood. Your eyes are luminousâmuch more so in the dark. Looking at the dead rabbitâor at least whatâs left of it. The intestines are scattered on the dirt, the eyeballs protruding from its eye sockets.
Not bad, but ... eurgh.
You hear a rustle and footsteps. You turn around, in reflex you flick your wrist, and flame bursts on there.
âDrop it,â Dewdrop spits.
You growl. âIâd rather burn you instead.â
Heâs unperturbed by the threat. Glances at the carcass. âThat rabbit has rabies.â
âIâll bite you then, letâs see if itâs true.â
âCalm down.â He cocks his head to the abbey. âRory was searching for you. Worried by your lack of appetite.â
âRight.â You shakes your hand. The fire vanished in a mere second. âTell her Iâm fine. There is nothing to be worried about.â
âYeah.â Dewdrop pokes at the poor animal with the tip of his shoes. âOkay. Suit yourself.â
You frown at him. âThatâs it?â
Dewdrop waits for the following words that might follow.
You stammerâbaffled by your own question. But you refuse to back down; to retract the illogical query, âNo mockery, no taunt, the throwing insultsââ
âYou want me to?â
âthen why the fuck have you been hostile all this time?
Something snaps on your headâquickly eroding your patience, sends lump to your larynx, and all you want to do is spit out.
But insteadâyou reach where he stands. In one swift movement, you clutch at his shirt, pull it down until his neck is accessible to your lips.
You expand your jawâflexing the fangs, before it digs to his neck.
Dewdrop hisses.
You taste a distinct metallic liquidâa long stripe of your tongue dances across the freshly made scars. You allow your lips to latch on him a little longer. Drinking softly, satisfied the thirst.
Weird. You just ate, butâthe hunger rises even more. There is sweet, cold sensation on your throat, flowing abundantly.
Dewdrop presses his forehead on your shoulder. âFuckinâbitch.â The words almost lose all its meaning. He puts his hand on your back, tracing the spine, before his fingers stays on your waist.
You unconsciously whimper. Goosebumps all over, soft electricity tickles every cell of you.
Guess sheâs still hungry after all.
Dewdrop waits for a perfect 10 seconds and he realizes that you have no intention to stop. Blood literally drained from his bodyâand he starts to feel light-headed. His vision swaying, as if itâs rocked like a new-born baby.
He struggles, holding your shoulder. âFuck, stop it.â
You hums. His request falls on deaf ears.
Dewdrop grits his teeth before deciding to flex his fingers, nails short but sharp, claws at your back. Not deepâyet, enough to invoke your screams.
You gets away from him. Pupil wide, looking at him and the streams of blood on his nape, dripping to his shirt.
Your first grunt is sent to give a warning. The second one is a promise.
Dewdrop stands sturdy on his feet. You leaps at him, claws and fire blend into one. You pushes him to the ground, using full force of your body, sit on his stomach and plant your nails on his chest, dragging it forward.
You grins. You shouldnât feel as excited as you do now, butâyou do.
Dewdrop groans, he hits your side with his kneeânot his best attempt, not using his entire power, yet capable of launching you away from him.
He coughs. Spews blood. He already lose some of it because you latched at him like a stupid leech. He sees you writhing on the ground. Suspecting your ribs must have been broken.
He uses the chance to strike back, caging you with his body, teeth slashes your neck.
You cries, fights back, grabs at his arms.
He bites harder, using one of his hands to caged your wrist, put it on top of your head.
You wail, relight the fire on your palm.
Dew hisses, pulling away his hands, lose his momentum. Despite him owning the element, a foray from the same kind still hurts the sameâyour fire burns him in a way he canât burn himself with his own fire.
And you jumps once more at him. Scratching, burning, killing, claimingâat least thatâs the idea.
The fight lasts for only another 5 minutesâbefore Swiss found his teammates ripping each othersâ guts out and processing to separate them. The others are showing up almost at the same time with him. Half of them seize Dewdropâhis hands still digging out from the arms that contain him; seeking your flesh, nails bathed by your blood. His grin is as wide as yours.
The ghoulettes grip at your waistâfor both of your arms covered with fire. You keep trying to magnify the flameâbut Rain pours a colossal amount of clean water on you. It's prickling on your wounds and you kicks uncoordinatedly in retaliation and expressing the pain.
When Copia hears the news, both you and Dewdrop already fell into the state of forced slumber. Phantom used his devilryâa forte of hisâto make you and Dewdrop lose consciousness, stopped the fight instantly.
Copia, in the state of frustration no one ever seen beforeâsays calmly, âWe need to send one of them back. Or both.â
Mountain knits his eyebrows. âItâs just a fight.â He doesnât sound sure of his own statement. It sounds like heâs trying to assure himselfârather than the leader.
âOne of these times, they are gonna kill each other,â the man speaks in authority and absolute law. He looks at the sag bodies of his ghoul and ghoulette. Wrapped in bandages, black and blue everywhere. The obvious burn spots are tormenting to look at. âAnd thatâs not a pretty sight Iâd want to seeâfor the rest of you to see.â
âSending them back to hell will relive the previous memory.â Cumulusâ tone is soft. ââS not going to be a pretty sight for both of them either.â
Copia sighs.
âThen make sure they stop doing this.â
.
.
.
It was a disaster. It truly was. You werenât sure how you lose it. Perhaps it was the last trigger that you needed to break loose all hell. Perhaps after all this timeâall you wish to do is fight back.
You take a deep breath, then let it go gently. You raise your hand to reach the cupboard. Grab a cup glass, wanting to fill it with water.
But then you notice the healed scar on your wrist. An inarguable prove that someone once raked your skin.
You look at it then blink. After the incidentâCopia strictly advised you and Dewdrop to create some distances. Practice is withheld until further notice. You clearly heard the underlying threat from Copia, albeit unspoken, âOne more of this tomfoolery, Iâm sending you back.â
So here you areâavoiding him as much as you can. The same way heâs excusing himself every time he notices your presence. Both of you have enough sanity to not fuck up for the second time.
Even so, the relationship between you and the pack havenât changed, so does him and the others. Cirrus, Cumulus, and Aurora still hang out with you a lotâand you cherish every second of it. Mountain and Rain, using their alchemy, tend to your wounds. Swiss is still as the same as the usual.
Youâre sure thatâs the case with him as well. So, it really resurfaces the question once more ...
... why does he despise me?
No. Itâs maybe ....
You look at your wrist. The recollection of that night flashes in front of your eyes. The calm, shining moon, under a starry sky. And in a matter of a second, as if something ties up your chest, pressing it downâyou feel your breath hitched. Â
You put the glass on the table before drop it down and possibly break it.
Oh, no.
You recognize all too well of whatâs coming. The sound of your own heartbeat is loud, pounding your ear drums.
âHeyâare you okay?â
You bring your head upâeyes land on Mountainâs figure, just a few steps away from where you are. You suspect heâs going to have a breakfast, as you were intending to do.
You swallow a chunk on your throat, âYes, Iâm fiââ
âne? Really?
Mountain calls for your name. He gets closer, places his palm on your jaw.
âSorry,â you say weakly. âCan you squeeze meâreally hard?â
âYes,â he answers, fast, doubtless. He puts both of his arms under yours, adhered his body against you. He gives you a firm hug, pats your back. His tail, spade-pointed, even delicately wrap around you.
It is so strong, yetâyou donât feel suffocated. Itâs warm and more than you can hope for. It makes you smells the particular earthy fragranceâas if youâre lying on a field of flower in the middle of the spring. Your hammering heart slows gradually, back to its original resting rhythm. You sob quietly, hugging him back when the addled brain finally clear.
You sigh.
He was right.
You should have called somebodyâno matter who.
.
You meet him again after a while. You find him sitting on a window tracery. A big oneâlocated in the highest part of the building. From here, you could see the view of the whole hill. The green and dark forest, skirted thisâcastle. And on more far away, you could see the faint, glimmering light of the city.
Dewdrop, without turning his head, asking, âWhat?â
âRain is looking for you,â you say, face directed at him. Leaning one of your shoulder to the frame of the window. Built out of stone, all the slopes were precisely carved into pointed trefoil, with flowery-like strokes all along the edges. âWanna take a look at your knee. Heâs at the chapel.â
He scoffs. âAnd out of all people, he asked you to fetch me?â
âNo.â You still look at his eyesâreddish with a tint of blue. The colour of flame. âI volunteered.â
Nowâthere it is, he looks at you. Confusion painted on his scowl.
âTomorrow is our first rehearsal since ... the incident.â You smile. âWanted to talk to you first. Make sure we donât fuck it up again, hm-mn?â
He delivers a humourless chuckle. âRight.â
And, amongst the silence that fills the air, you break it gently, âWhy do you loathe me, Dew?â
Without missing a beat, he speaks, âYouâre a mistake.â
âNoâIâve heard that one,â you persist. You stand on your tip-toes, raise your head to meet his eyesâbecause heâs sitting in a higher position from you. You extend your hand, tugging on the hem of his shirt. âWhy, exactly, do you that relentlesslyâscorn on me?â
Nowâyou are not sure what kind of face you make at him. Or what gear just clicked on his mind, turning, rolling aroundâlinked on the correct places. However, he seems determined to answer truthfully, as he grabs the back of your neck. Strong enough that you feel his nails.
âYou are insufferable.â His fingers rubbing your nape. âYou fuss, you howlâtesting my patience. Ever since you rose from that pit.â
You wait.
âTo the point I want to burn you whole.â He smiles. âTo scars youârake my claws on you. To see you bleed and writheâto see you fuckinâ break, ruined and wrecked.â
âThen fuckinâ break me,â you growls. An invitation, disguised as a provocation. You whine. âRuin me, Dew. What are you waiting for?â
He snarls. Eyes lustfulâone claw is teasing your skin, prickling it. He clutches on your sides, lifts you upâmakes you sit on his lap. Groins grinding at each other and you bucking your hipsâfrictions send quiver to your legs.
âShame.â He catches your jaw with one hand. Forcing you to look at him. âHad you begged, Iâd have let you go.â
Had I begged; youâd have enjoyed it more. You want to say that. But you donât bother. No, when his hands roaming on your bodyâtake off your shirt, fling it somewhere. Youâll find that later. His fingers outline your curves and find themselves on your breast. He pinches the nipples, hardâunforgiving.
You tremble and he orders you to stay still with the scratches he makes below your tits, between the lines of your ribs. He twists the tip of your tits. Smears your chest with your own blood.
As a way to distract yourself from the painâyou nib on his neck. Teeth are sinking and Dewdrop groansâa mix of pleasure and a throbbing pain.
You can feel heat and wetness pooling at the centre of your sex. His hands are unrelenting working their way on your soft plump of flesh. Kneads it, harshly, like a cat forcing its paws.
And seeâitâs been going on fine, until the scent of metallic liquid distorts your mind once again. Your breath in and out in a broken tempoâbut not in a good way. You inhale, hold it as if water strangles your lungs, and you exhale as if you are choking on something.
Dewdrop notices it, holding your jaw, cupping it with his palms. He hissesâthen seals his eyes into yours. âNone of that. You focus hereâonly here.â
You nod franticallyâtrying to follow his lead.
He brings your forehead to meet with his. Horns clunking, nuzzling against each other.
âDeep breath.â
Trembling, you close your eyes. Try to grasp the air, let it walk through your diaphragm, slowly, but surely. Andâhere it is, the smell of a morning dew. Droplets on the leaf when dawn emerges from the dark.
Dewdrop uses his fingers to tap on your backâlike playing a piano. Careful on each tuts, but demolishes any gesture of hesitation. You feel the warm taps behind youârecognize the heat, the unusual high temperature that separates him and the others.
When you lift your eyelidsâred orbs, black sclera, are there to welcome you.
Dewdropâs eyes are crosshairs, locked into you. âYou with me?â
A nod.
âWords.â
ââM here,â you say. Slightly pull your head back. âIâm here,â you repeat, murmuring so soundlessly. You take another breath before tilting your head, calculating the right angle.
Dewdrop let you work with your own pace. His hands still tapping and you kiss him. Itâs slow at firstâtesting the water, getting known of the uncharted territory. Doesnât take long until you find the guts to do moreâto bite on his lips, to increase the magnitude, knock around his teeth using your tongue. The clicking of each lips, the hungry, and needy sucking are growingâravaging in a way no one ever has before.
Dewdrop stifles his moan. Can feel you drooling and he involuntarily scoffs against your mouth.
He makes sure youâre not relapsing first before his fingers travel south. Circling around your navel, before stopping on the zipper of your pants. He takes off the button, zips down, middle finger and ring finger swipe the outside of your underwear.
You gasp, stomach muscle tightens. He strokes the damp cloth, made of soft cotton. Patience was never really his strong suitâhe said that beforeâhe slides down your underwear from your hips. A trail of half-transparent slick makes a thin bridge before it severed by the created distance. He slips his two fingers up to your entrance, creating an incline insideâa contour, moulded by him rightfully.Â
You shudder, nails digging on his shoulder. Clenching from the new sensationâalmost shut close your thighs together. But his other arm clasping on itâprevents you to do so.
His fingers move inside, stretching the overly, unbelievablyâspongy walls. Your hip keep shifting and he feels stiff in his pants itâs almost hurt. As if something is biting down on him. But mostly it hurts because he knows that the urge that has been seeping through him since who knows whenâis now attacking back as a horde, nullifying the sane part of him (a small part he has).
âAhââ
You bite your lower lips.
âNo. If you hold it; Iâll stop.â
You moan. The fingers poking at the right place. Scratching your inner muscle that keep contracting-relaxing. âTheâ,â you hold a wail, ââchapel is right below us.â
âNot my concern.â
âDewâ!â
He presses at the clit using his thumb and you slightly jump. You purr and elicit high-pitched, un-verbal cry as the touch on your bundle of nerves doesnât stop. You gripping on his fingers, wave of pleasure ready to wash over you and just a little bit moreâjust a little bit more, youâll cry in relief, let go of the tension.
Butâhe stops in a precise time. Like a cruel joke, he grins, and all the pride, the resolution, or anything that was left of youâwas burned completely.
You look at him, all teary, stimulations sending you over the edge. Heart is torn-up by shame and the desire to wanting more; to savour what heaven feels like.
Or hellâif itâs any matter.
âYou want me to break you?â Dewdrop slides off his own pants. Fingers circling on his own erection, thumb idles on the tipâpurple-ish colour. So beautiful, so unworldly. Itâs hard, blood filling his sex so fully, leaving no space between veins, nerves bulging almost painfully.
He position himself, glides his cock between your labiaâslippery, soft. Wetness helps him, but nothing compares to your evoked whimpers; drumming in his ear, intensified the arousal that keep building inside him, ready to burst anytime. Ticking bomb of indulging deed you both are participating right now.
He groans. âIâll break you, love.â
You moan. His hand on your bottom and a harsh slap is given ruthlessly. You wail, forehead droop on his collarboneâkeening into his touch, despite all the abuse heâs been putting you through. Your ass must be red and probably bleeding, for you can feel he keep whipping on your skin.
And when he finally thrust insideâhe does it rough, hips slamming, squelching, each sound lewder than before. You roll back your eyes, back arching. He grips on your hips, moving it in tandem with his pace, and with every push-and-pull, with every shoveâhe feels so good he almost whining, for his shaft gets drown in the molten, spasming flesh.
There are trains of grunts and moans and you canât help the sad, pathetic, dog-like plead, âPleasepleasepleaseââ
Dewdrop slams his hip, knocking at the base of your cervix, plant himself to the hilt. You cry, incapable of forming words. Nothing really matters except the gushing feeling on your lower stomach; the absolute relish of the most primal, worldlyâlonging.
Dewdrop spread your half-dried blood to your clit. Heâs trailing a repetitive motion there. You can feel your legs twitching, toes-curling, and your ragged breath becomes more and more disarray. The threatening climax is there and by Satanâyou wish to embrace it like a good girl of Lucifer you are.
Itâs doesnât feel like itâll be enough. Out of your own volition, you keep bouncing down, chasing the immeasurable peak, and your claws deep on his shoulders, near his neck. Incoherent words, breaking moansâyou sob as he rutting inside.
And when he releases inside you, at the same time when you orgasmâsomething zaps you hard, rattling on your brain, reverberating through your body and your vision turns to white, glimmering, shattering pieces. The back of your eyes are running around, cells swirling and all that. Your scream is erotic, hurdling on every corner of the room. You can hear Dewdropâs choked up groans as he fills you inside, as his cock still scraping your walls, deterring his cum from coming out.
You cry, limbs vibrate, butâall of your energy has been wringed, and nothing you can do except squeeze out the remaining tears, the manifestation of the overwhelming euphoria.
Dewdrop exhales heavily, chest moves up and downâslowly, following his breath. He grabs the side of your head, kisses your temple. His hand brushes the sweats on your cheek before he bites on your chest.
You whineâa useless protest.
Dewdrop smiles.
.
.
.
.
.
âFinally found a way to cope with your own emotion, dear?â
Dewdrop blinks. He offers a smile and caress his nape. A new bandage encircles his neck softly enough to make sure he doesnât lose the ability to breath. Rainâs handiwork is neat, clean, and flawless as usual.
âI always knew how to cope with my emotion, Papa.â
Copia sighs. Heâs scanning the ghoul in front of him and he gets reminded by one particular ghouletteâwith almost the same pattern of new scars. âYes, but she didnât know how. You let her standing on a too thin of a line, Dew.â
Shoving her around like a cat playing with its food. Copia almost verbalize that. But he doesnât have toâhe knows Dewdrop knows the implication behind his words.
Dewdropâs crooked grin expands, just a slightly. âWellâbut itâs all true. She is a mistake. The incantation was supposed to bring a being with moreâpeaceful, element. She raised hell on earth the moment she arrived.â
âYes, but it was your request to keep herâinstead of sending her back right away.â
The Fire Ghoul hold his hands behind his back. Like a merciless, wicked childâknows nothing except taking what they want. Inflicting pain is their first and foremost nature, laughing on the misery of others.
âAnd yetâthe final call was in your hand and you chose for her to stay.â
Copia rolls his eyes. He swears to the King of Hell he adores one and every single of his ghoul, but sometimesâthey are his everlasting headaches.
âOne rule, Tesoro.â
âAnything, Papa.â
âI donât want to see another blood-bath,â he states. âYour fellow mates are far more delicate than you areâand her.â
âI wonât,â promises Dewdrop. He waves his hand as Copia turns to the other way, walking across the hall. He lets out a snort and walking to the opposite way. On the corner of the hall, he notices the unmistakable footsteps.
He looks at you and says, âRain and Mountain have checked you?â
You give him a nod. âYeah. Met Papa after that. He asked me where did I get the wounds.â
He scoffs. âWhat did you tell him?â
âHunting,â you speak nonchalantly. âFought with the bear.â
âRight. Smart.â
You hear the sarcasm and decide to ignore it. âWellâanyway, Iâm going back.â
âTomorrow before practice,â Dewdrop calls for your name. âMy room?â
You laugh half-heartedly. âWhat, like a bitch in heat?â
Oh, so nowâshe bites back.
"Aren't you one?"
âNo,â you answer. âCanât have the guitars smeared in blood. Use your head.â
Dewdrop doesnât return the taunting as youâre walking away from him. He just smiles, going to his own resting place.
Fire is destructive.
When it united, it grows so powerful it swallows up the world around them. More often than not, it fights each other, meeting in the middle, before eradicates its own life.
But, just for a fleeting moment, a second when two fires meet each otherâthere is a foxtrot between them, every flame, every ember, intertwined like loversâ fingers, twirling and drowning together, like a pair of bettas with their flowing and colourful tails, brush against one and another.
And both of him and youâfind comfort in fire. Â
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Night
Dewdrop x Rain, fluff, romance, friendship, etc.
Itâs not really a rocket science to figure out Dewdropâs emotions, really.
["I can't sleep."]
Well. Mountain, Phantom, and Swiss are not really surprised.
Itâs not really a rocket science to figure out Dewdropâs emotions. Most of the times, anything he feels or thinks are easily seen through his expression. Crystal clearâeven the siblings of sin have no difficulty guessing his train of thoughts.
Funnily enoughâhe doesnât recognize that aspect of his. He doesnât think he show that much of a reaction when heâs faced with something. And a lot of times he doesnât even realize why he feels the way he does.
Thatâs why, Phantom, Swiss, and Mountain are not surprised when Dewdrop barges into their room, all frowned and seems in a bad mood.
The three ghouls are throwing looks at each other.
âI canât sleep,â Dewdrop kindly provides the explanation before anyone could ask. He closes the door behind him.
Obviously, Phantom thinks to himself. But he tries his best to not show his smile. Heâs sitting on the swivel chair, leans his chest against the backrest cushion. While heâs continuing his game, fingers swiping all across his phoneâs screen, he humours Dewdrop by asking a question with faux innocence, âI think it has to do with the caffeine you consumed.â
Dewdrop rolls his red orbs, gets closer to Mountain whoâs sitting on the bed and lying down on the Earth Ghoulâs thighs. Instantly, the gentle giant brings his fingers to brush over the platinum strands out of Dewdropâs face.
âIâve always been fine drinking it,â Dewdrop says defensively. âBesides, it doesnât do much to our metabolism.â
âRight,â Swiss chirped. Heâs tuning his acoustic guitar. âMaybe you ate something wrong?â
Dewdrop shakes his head in frustration. âAs I saidâI donât think itâs something I ingested.â
Mountain smiles softly. His green eyes are glinting dimly. âMaybe we should call Rain?â
âWhat? Why? Heâs busy,â Dewdrop sighs and closes his eyes. âHeâs still in the practice room with Papa and the others.â
Phantom chuckles. âOkay, then. Want to try some method to make you fall asleep?â
ââŚ. Huh. Do things like that work?â
âWell, we donât know until we try.â Swiss puts his guitar back into the case. âSo, what are our options?"
âOh, right.â Phantom switches the game application to a social media platform. âOkay, soâaccording to this videoâthere are several ways to fall asleep easily. Guaranteed, it says.â
Dewdrop feels like this is a trickery or some sort, butâhe sighs and asks, âOkay, what is it?â
âDrink warm milk.â
Dewdrops gives his middle finger to the youngest ghoul. ââM not a toddler.â
âHey! Milk contains tryptophan which is an amino acid that can help make you feel sleepy."
Mountain laughs when he sees Dewdrops knits his eyebrows. âOkay, letâs try the other alternatives.â
Phantom let his thumb scrolling on the screen. âListen to ASMR and try to empty your mind.â
Okay, that one is worth the try. Swiss turns off the light and Phantom plays a raining ASMR. Dewdrop, still rests his head on Mountain, can hear the faint, gentle, lullaby-like sound of raining. Itâs as if there is a real rain outside the building and its spatters are being muffled by the walls. It sounds calming.
Dewdrops wants to relax the working mind of hisâhe really does. But it keeps wandering around, like a kid jumping on one place to another. First, heâs imagining his own, comforting room. Inside his head, Rain is showing up, lying on his own bed. He remembers the way he scooted over on Rain and the ghoul once complainedâsaying something like, âYou go to your own bed, Dew!â
But of course, Dewdrop never one of following orders. He knows Rain will surrender and let him annoy him, squeezes the blue-eyed ghoul with all his might. At the end, Rain will scoff but never shoo him away.
Wait, this is not helping him at all.
Dewdrop fusses, âI still canât sleep.â
Swiss boos. âAnd here we are trying to be as quiet as a rock.â
The Fire Ghoul hisses.
âOkay, how about breathing exercise?â Phantom suggests another trick. âSlowly inhale and counting to 4, hold your breath for 7 seconds, and exhale through your mouth for 8 seconds.â
âWhy do I need to breath manually?â
Mountain grins and ruffles Dewdropâs hair.
Swiss rolls his eyes. âDo you want to sleep or not?â
Dewdrop does as he told. He takes a deep breath for a solid 4 seconds, then hold it, let the air sits on his lungs, before he finally breathes out. He repeats this, hoping heâd fall asleep. But, seriouslyâwhy is it so damn hard? He never had this problem before.
Well, itâs not like heâs always have a perfect slumber every day. There are some times where he tosses around for a while. But it was never this severe. Itâs like no matter what heâs doing, the whole universe and every cell of his body are collaborating; alerting his nerves, as if telling him that he canât fall asleep yet.
What did he do when he canât sleep before, anyway? Went to Rain? Thenâwhat?
Dewdrop opens his eyes once more. âSwiss, can you hug me?â
Swiss squints and then nods. âSure.â
He crawls up to the bed, snatches a pillow, and put it on Mountainâs thighs. The drummer simple question is ignored, âCan we not do this on my legs?"
Phantom chuckles. The big man is going to have a muscle cramp.
Swiss sighs tenderly before wrapping his arms around Dewdrops. He gives him a light, but firm squeeze.
Dewdrop frowns. Amongst the others, Swissâ figure is the most similar with Rainâs. Swiss has this comforting fragrance, like a mixture of mild soap and ocean.  But somehowâthis doesnât feel right. It feels weird. Itâs like pushing a piece of a puzzle in a wrong spot. It works somehow, the whole picture is finished, butâthere will be a small, micro gap, and it just feels ⌠incomplete.
âOkay, off you go,â Dewdrop says in irritationâa tone he directs mostly towards himself. âI want to go back to my own room.â
Swiss nods and letting Dewdrop go.Â
Dewdrop lifts his head, gets up, and ready to leave the room. But before he does that, he turns his head first to the others, and says genuinely, âThanks anyway.â
Some replies are echoing throughout the room and Dewdrops goes out from there.
.
The moment he opens that door, Dewdrop is greeted by Rainâs blue, sky-coloured eyes. The Water Ghoul just taken a bathâDewdrop can see the towel still anchored to his head.
Rain smiles, sitting on the side of his bed. âOh, welcome back. Swiss said you were hanging out in their room?â
Dewdrop doesnât answer. Instead, he shuts the door, and walking towards Rain. His strides are fast, but not rushing. Then, Dewdrop plunks himself to Rain, makes Rain swaying and fall backwards; head bumps to the pillow.
âHm-mn?â Rainâs fingers are slipped between the filaments of Dewdropâs hair. âWhatâs wrong?â
Dewdropâs body is relaxing, letting all his limbs sags and rests. He could feel gravitation is pulling him softly, drags him to the world of dreams, as if itâs doing a rock-a-bye to him. Dewdrop smells a petrichorâand itâs lulling him away.
âSleepy,â Dewdrop answers, half-asleep. His eyelids feel ridiculously heavy.
âWhy didnât you sleep first?â Rain looks at his phone. Exactly midnight. âPapa, Cirrus, and I were discussing new choreography.â
The question is not answered. When Rain takes off his attention from the phoneâhe snickers seeing Dewdrop is already falling asleep. Rhythmic breath, un-knitted eyebrows. Dewdrops sure looks peaceful when heâs not awake or throwing fits.
Despite Dewdrop puts all his weight on Rain, Rain tries to get up a little; bring his lips and kiss The Fire Ghoulâs forehead. Then, Rain picks up the towel on top of his head and flings it to wherever it may land.
âGoodnight, Dew.â
.
.
.
Is he asleep?
Yeah? The minute he flops down on the bed.
What, why? He couldn't sleep??
Nah, nothing.
You get rest.
Swiss looks up at his phone and scoffs. Then, he places the electronic on the top of his nightstand. He turns over his body and hugs Phantomâwhoâs already snoring faintly.
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