#I've somewhat gotten over it by now but STILL

[ideas-on-paper]

[MAJOR MASS EFFECT 3 SPOILERS]

I'm still salty about this.

#mass effect #mass effect 3 #mordin solus #thane krios #mass effect legion #nyreen kandros #spoilers #oh hey look who decided to pick up me3 again after over four months #me3 aka “oh so you like this character? well they're either absent or dead” #I've somewhat gotten over it by now but STILL #the salt is real guys

[makoodles]

ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, virgin!reader, oral sex, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, some mild second-hand embarrassment perhaps, sex toys, edging, failed masturbation attempts, ghost takes your virginity and also maybe ruins you for literally anybody else ever again

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The ceiling over your head is drab grey and water-stained, the old paint peeling away in strips. It’s an ugly sight, but you barely see it; you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

The sheets beneath you are uncomfortably damp with your sweat, but you don’t have the energy to roll over just yet. You feel hot and itchy with frustration, and you scowl up at the ceiling above you as your fingers curl into fists. But even though you feel like laying in your now grubby-bedding for the rest of the evening, you can’t let yourself wallow. There’s going to be a knock on your door any minute, and this is not a position you want to be found in.

With an irritable groan, you haul yourself off the bed and to your feet. Your muscles ache and you feel too warm, but you reach for your clothes anyway. The worn cotton of your shirt feels scratchy against your skin, but maybe that’s just because you’re still over-sensitive and irritable.

You can never quite bear to look at the aftermath of what you’d been doing, so you avert your eyes as you gather up the bright silicone and plastic devices littering your mattress. It’s embarrassing now that the adrenaline has worn off and disappointment is beginning to set in, so you end up gathering them all up more roughly than necessary.

The term ‘toy’ seems incongruous to you. It sounds too childish, too immature. It makes you sound like a stupid kid, as though you aren’t a young adult past twenty fumbling your way through sexual self-exploration. It’s embarrassing, and much more frustrating than you ever would have predicted – despite all of your clumsy, desperate attempts at pleasuring yourself, you’ve never quite managed to reach that peak of pleasure you’ve heard other people talking about.

You grumble quietly to yourself as you try to wipe away the sticky lube that’s still coating your thighs. Your muscles are a little achy from all the tensing you��d been doing trying to come with that stupid vibrator, not even accompanied by the satisfaction you had been hoping for.

It’s not as though you’ve never gotten the opportunity to experiment with others; you’re not unforgivably ugly, you don’t think you have a bad personality, and for the past few years you’ve been surrounded by military men that certainly aren’t known for being picky. And it certainly isn’t like you haven’t received your fair share of offers. 

It just never seemed right. You’re not overly concerned about ‘saving’ your virginity or anything like that; it’s just that putting yourself into such a vulnerable position is scary. You’re aware of the irony, of course, that you’d trust many of these people with saving your ass from catching a bullet in the field, but allowing someone to see you so intimately feels like a step too far.

You’re still sweaty and flustered and naked when a knock sounds from your door, and you freeze. The doorknob turns, but doesn’t open; in that moment, you’re deliriously grateful that you had turned the lock – it’s something that you’ve forgotten to do on far too many occasions.

“Lass, you in there?” Oh god, it’s Soap. 

Cursing quietly to yourself, you jolt into action. Your pants are crumpled at the bottom of your bed where you had shed them, and you hurriedly gather them up and struggle your way back into them.

“Gimme a minute!” You yell, praying he doesn’t notice the somewhat frantic edge to your voice.

You stagger slightly as you worm your way into your pants, and then lunge to grab the stupid dildo you’d just been trying to use. You feel your skin prickle with humiliation as you try to force the stupidly large silicone cock into your already full underwear drawer, jamming it shut roughly to hide it from sight. You don’t want to even imagine what Soap might have to say if he were to see what you had been doing; you think you might have to go full deserter mode and abscond into the wilderness.

“Did ye forget about drinks?” Soap’s drawl carries through the thickness of the door. He doesn’t sound even slightly put out – if anything, he sounds a little amused.

You pause, close your eyes, sigh. Fuck. You had not, in fact, forgotten about drinks, you just thought you had more time.

“No, I– just a minute!” You yell back, shoving your shoes on and trying to fix your hair.

You had completely lost track of time, and now you don’t even have time to rinse your sweat-damp skin off – you’re going to have to sit through drinks with the squad all grimy, like a physical reminder of what you had been up to for the last two hours.

When you finally unlock the door and wrench it open, Soap is standing on the other side tapping a staccato rhythm on his thighs with his open palms. He’s dressed casually in just blue jeans and a black muscle shirt, and he gives you a look of semi-disbelief.

“What the hell were you—”

“Gym.” You interrupt, landing on the only explanation you can think of for your sweaty skin and messy hair.

Soap blinks, but apparently decides it’s not worth the effort to continue that line of conversation. He just shrugs, then turns and starts making his way down the hall, slowing his pace for you to catch up.

You exhale; Soap can be like a bloodhound when he suspects there’s gossip to be had, and you’re relieved to have dodged a round of his relentless questioning. You suppose he can be surprisingly tactful sometimes, and he knows you well enough not to press you. Or, perhaps it’s because you come across as such a non-sexual being that  it doesn’t even occur to him that there may be another explanation.

There’s an unofficial tradition that when the squad is on base, everyone gathers in the sparsely decorated recreation room for drinks and card games on Thursday evenings. It usually makes for an enjoyable night; Gaz and Soap can always be trusted to supply whatever bottles of alcohol they’ve managed to get their grubby little hands on, and it’s always amusing to watch Captain Price get increasingly more irate as Soap pretends not to understand the rules of whatever card game they’re playing. The whole illicitness of having contraband on base only makes the whole thing more exciting; the CO’s on base often turn a blind eye to the activity, so long as it’s kept under control.

But tonight, you’re distracted.

The others had offered a bit of good-natured ribbing when you and Soap had turned up late, but before long you’re all settled in a loose circle on the poorly-stuffed couches in the corner of the room. Gaz has already unstoppered a bottle of bourbon, and is attempting to convince a visibly unimpressed Price to play a game of Kings with them. You curl up on one of the worn-out couches opposite them, watching with a small if slightly stiff smile.

The atmosphere is relaxed and pleasant, almost enough to make you forget about the irritating buzz of unfulfilled arousal under your skin. You shift, trying to keep your movements small, subtle, to avoid the notice of your team. Your denim jeans are nowhere near as comfortable as usual, and you wonder briefly if you should have simply worn your cargo pants just to avoid the harsh friction of the denim.

You sit there feeling… unmoored. You fidget, drink your smooth bourbon in sips in an attempt to avoid wincing, and try not to look as obviously out of place as you feel. It’s been like this, recently. Joining the task force has been an accomplishment for you, a source of immense pride – you’re the youngest member (just narrowly beating Gaz for the title) and a woman to boot, and though the squad has never treated you any differently it’s hard to kick the belief that you have something to prove. 

You engage in conversations the best you can, but you’re distracted and you know it must be obvious. Your preoccupation gets you a couple of furrowed brows and glances, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement to give you some space.

You don’t even realise the extent of your distraction until a big body settles down on the loveseat next to you, and you jolt. True to his name, Ghost had appeared near silently, escaping your notice until he lowers himself down to sit next to you.

And damn, you forget how big he is sometimes. It’s an average sized loveseat, but the lieutenant takes up over half of it. He’s obviously being mindful not to consciously crush you, but he’s not being overly cautious when it comes to avoiding touching you. He’s dressed unusually casually, and his thick, muscled thigh is wrapped in blue denim as it presses carelessly against yours. 

“You alright?” He asks, his voice low and smooth as he nudges your knee with one of his big knuckles.

You haven’t been a member of the task force for long, but you would know Simon Riley by his hands alone, by the earthy salt-spice in your nose as he leans a little closer to peer at your face. You tilt your head up, unable to stop the small reflexive smile that breaks over your face at the sight of him.

“Yeah.” You breathe, hurriedly straightening up where you’re sitting. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

His sudden proximity isn’t doing your current state any favours, and you take a quick sip of your drink in an effort to collect yourself. It’s taking a herculean effort not to stare at the way his biceps are bulging against the straining material of his black cotton t-shirt.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ghost asks as he stretches out his legs with a tired groan. The sound is gruff and gravelly, and you feel blood rush uncomfortably to your cheeks. 

“Nothing.” You say quickly.

He doesn’t believe you, that much is obvious, but Ghost never pushes and he rarely speaks more than he has to. He just gives you a glance, brief and knowing and far more penetrating than it should be, before turning his head back so he can watch the boys playing their card game. He’s holding a crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquid, but he hasn’t yet pulled his mask up to drink from it.

Your eyes drop to the thick, pale scars that mar the backs of his hands. You trace the path of the scar tissue, eyes lingering around the thick knuckles and broad palms, the way that he holds the glass so casually confidently. He’s got nice hands, probably made all the more attractive by the fact that you hardly ever get to see them. Seeing Ghost without his usual long sleeves and gloves makes you feel like a Victorian pervert snatching stolen glances at a passing lady’s ankles.

A quiet snicker causes your eyes to dart back to his face, and you’re mortified to find that he’s caught you staring.

“What’s got you in such a mood?” He asks. Even through the mask you can tell that he’s smirking, though it doesn’t feel as though he’s making fun of you.

“Just one of those days, I guess.” You say without meeting his eyes.

It’s an evasion at best, but Ghost nods ponderously as though he’s giving this great thought. His stare is penetrating, those big brown eyes watching you as though he can see right through you. Maybe he can. You try not to get too caught up staring at his pale eyelashes, darkened by smears of eyeblack.

“Did something happen?” He asks. The question is casual enough, asked as he lazily swirls his whiskey around in his glass, but his gaze is sharp and assessing.

“No.” You sigh, finally looking properly at him.

It’s a little frustrating, but the squad has been like this with you from the start – protective. Your whole military career has consisted of you veritably clawing your way up through the ranks, and you’ve been surrounded by coarse, gruff men that have underestimated you all your life. 141 is different – they don’t baby you, but the way they treat you is unmistakably softer than how they typically treat each other. The concern can be touching, if a little tiring sometimes.

And maybe it’s because he’s your lieutenant, but Ghost’s attention has always been just this side of overwhelming. It feels like you’re pinned beneath his dark eyes, his gaze somehow sharpened as he watches you from beneath his more casual balaclava, the skull pattern printed on his jaw adding another layer of intimidation. But his shoulders are relaxed as he sits next to you on the small couch, settling the weight of his attention over you like a blanket.

You’ve always respected him, admired him. How could you not? He’s practically a living legend, his reputation larger than life, and he’s scary as fuck. But he’s also softer than you had expected, gentle when he needs to be. He still rides you hard in training, pushing you to your limits and taking no quarter, but you can’t begrudge that. Not when you know he’s working to keep you alive. Perhaps that’s how the attraction had first bloomed; once it started, it was hard to stifle.

Ghost hooks one finger into his balaclava and pulls it up just high enough to expose his mouth, and he presses his glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink. You struggle not to stare like a moron, but he makes it so difficult. His lips are full and pink, and there’s a rugged scar bisecting his top lip. His stubble is dark blond and short, and it doesn’t hide the various scars and marks that decorate his strong jawline. 

You almost jolt when he pulls the mask back down, hurriedly averting your eyes and forcing yourself to look out across the room. It’s not just the 141 that’s decided to take up in the rec room this evening; there are soldiers from other units littered all around the room, laughing and joking, playing lazy games of pool on the table in the corner and smoking. The smoke alarm has been jimmied off the ceiling and the window is open, and even Price is turning a temporary blind eye to the blatant disregard for regulations in favour of puffing on one of his cigars. 

Ghost shifts on the worn-out fabric of the couch, and lays an arm over the back of the headrest behind you. It’s a casual, thoughtless movement, but it ends up pushing his body slightly closer to you in a way that makes you feel as though you’re about to catch fire.

You cross your legs, but the seam of your jeans presses into your pussy in a way that sends a frisson of heat up your spine. You hurriedly uncross your legs, and attempt to school your expression into casual neutrality as you force yourself to tune back into the conversation.

“–ach, c’mon, Captain,” Soap is saying in a wheedling tone that he probably thinks is endearing. “One round of strip poker won’t kill ya–”

“No.” Price says in a voice like thunder, brooking no argument as thick cigar smoke pours from his nose. It gives the impression of an enraged bull.

Soap either is ignorant to the warning, or is choosing to wilfully ignore it. Judging by the sly gleam in his eyes, you can guess which. He turns to you then, and waggles his eyebrows.

“C’mon, lassie, you’ll play, won’t ya?” He asks with a grin that promises trouble. “I guarantee you’ll be a sight better than any o’ these louts.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gaz pipes up, already grinning. “I was looking forward to seeing the Captain in his jocks–”

Price promptly knocks his drink back, before pushing himself up to his feet with a grim groan. “Right. That’s enough of you lot for one night.”

Gaz and Soap break into peals of laughter, settling back into their seats as they watch their captain march away.

“Offer’s still open, love,” Soap says, still snickering when he looks over to you. “Wanna play?”

Ghost shifts, his wide thigh knocking into yours as his arm stretches behind your shoulders. He lets out a short exhale through his nose, but when you glance up at him you find him as stoic and hard to read as always.

You just roll your eyes. It’s not the first time that they’ve tried to rope you into strip poker, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. You can always trust Soap to start stripping his clothes off when he’s three drinks in, whether he’s playing a game or not, so it’s not surprising that he tries to involve other people in his bad decision making.

And it’s not a big deal, really. There’s been countless missions and operations that have ended up with all of you staying in uncomfortably close quarters with each other. You’ve seen them naked countless times, and the same with them for you. It’s never meant anything, and you know that Soap’s teasing is exactly that – you don’t think they’ve ever once looked at you through any sexual lens at all.

But even still, the joke flusters you more than it should.

“Think I’ll be joining Cap in going to bed, actually.” You say, clearing your throat and setting your glass down on the low table in front of the couch.

The playful booing from Soap doesn’t do much to change your mind, and you stick out your tongue at him and Gaz as you push yourself up from the couch. You try to ignore the loss of heat at your side when you move away from Ghost, though you can’t help but glance back at the lieutenant. He’s not looking at you, his gaze directed into his glass. You try not to feel disappointed about that.

You say your goodnights, and retreat from the rec room.

By the time you make it back to your dorm however, you’re already playing the conversation back over in your head and wondering if you had made the wrong decision.

Perhaps you should have just played the damn game. Despite your inexperience with all things sexual, you’re not actually all that shy about your body. On missions, you and the squad are often forced into tight quarters, and they've all seen you in various stages of undress before. It's hard to be self-conscious around a group of people that have seen you at your worst, whether that’s soaked in blood, unshowered, sleep-deprived, or injured.

But you were so keyed up from your earlier failed attempts at masturbation that the thought of being so physically exposed in front of your squad is mortifying. It feels as though your unresolved arousal is still simmering through your veins, turning your thoughts slow and soupy and stupid. 

It’s not so surprising. Your preferred method of dealing with stress is coming back to your private bunk and messing around with your vibrator until you’ve forgotten all of your problems. The problem is, you’ve never quite been able to reach that climax you’ve heard so many talk about.

It’s not for lack of trying, and it’s not as though you haven’t come close to that toe-curling finish you crave so much. But it’s like there’s some sort of block, something that always holds you back before you can go plummeting over that edge. Something that makes the buzzing pleasure dissipate before your eyes like smoke, leaving you worked up and so frustrated. It’s probably inevitable that all those ruined finishes have built up like sludge in your veins, leaving you slow and distracted and irritable.

You eye your underwear drawer thoughtfully as you perch on your bed, before reaching inside and drawing out the same dildo you had been using earlier. You wonder if it would be too much to try again tonight – the muscles in your calves still feel a little bit over-worked from training all day, and you have a feeling that straining in an attempt to reach an orgasm you’ll likely never attain will only make it worse.

But the thought of Ghost in that stupid tight cotton shirt stays firmly stuck in your mind, and that really makes the decision for you. Before you can think too much about it, you’re sliding your jeans off and climbing atop your mattress. The sheets are dirty anyway, after all. May as well have some fun before you change them.

You slide your panties off next, then kick them to the side. It’s difficult not to feel a little pathetic, but you push those feelings aside. So what if you have an embarrassing little crush on a superior officer? It’s not like that’s unusual within the military, and you’re quite certain that dealing with all that unresolved attraction like this is the most sensible thing you can do.

You fish out the bottle of lube you had been using earlier, and drizzle it liberally along the dildo’s length before setting it aside on the blanket. While you’ve used your dildo plenty of times, you still struggle to grow accustomed to the stretch of it. It’s a good dildo – a vibrating one in the rabbit style, designed to stimulate your g-spot and clit at the same time. It was damn expensive too, but it’s one luxury you’re willing to indulge in.

You close your eyes, slide it between your legs, and hit the power button. A low bzzz emanates from between your thighs; you jerk at the immediate barrage of pleasure, your abs tightening and your legs twitching apart, creating more room between them.

Your body is quick to react, sweat prickling under your armpits and your heart thudding quickly in your chest. You can feel electric pleasure coursing through you as you press it against your clit, your toes curling into your sheets.

You bring the vibrator lower, your clit throbbing a little at its sudden absence before you press it inside, sighing. It slips inside much too easily – you’re almost embarrassed by the easy slide. You’re so wet, both from your failed attempt at masturbation earlier and from sitting beside Simon fucking Riley all evening. It’s a deeper, subtler pleasure now, and you clench around it with a quiet moan. 

You cycle through the vibrator’s different settings, making it buzz at odd intervals or lower intensities in your usual attempt to build up an orgasm. You wish, with sudden and mortifying clarity, that it could be replaced with a person. More specifically, a person with big hands and firm muscles that still have some soft give to them, and a toe-curlingly gravelly voice.

You squirm, shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrator inside you. Without meaning to, you imagine Ghost. It’s hard not to, considering your close proximity to him all evening. Your cheeks heat as you imagine Ghost actually being here, watching you all still and silent with that penetrating dark-eyed stare of his. 

You huff out a breath, arching off your bed. This is always the best part. You have to ensure that you relish the build up, before it all fizzles out from between your fingers. You whimper, soft and quiet, clenching around the stiff silicone as it buzzes away inside of you.

Right as you press the soft little vibrating bunny ears to your clit, there’s a knock on the door. Then, horrifically, like a scene from your fucking nightmares, your door opens.

“Kid, you–”

Ghost is already half-way through the door when he lays eyes on you, and then he goes completely still in your doorway.

“Fuck.” You hiss, scrambling to knock the stupid thing off. 

You fumble for it, panicking. The end is slippery and you can barely manage to grip it. When you finally do, it’s difficult to pull out, your body still attempting to hold it inside. It’s another agonising few seconds to turn it off, the vibrator unfortunately featuring one of those awfully thought-out designs that makes you have to cycle through every single one of the settings rather than hit an off-switch.

And then, finally, silence.

Ghost is living up to his name right now; he’s as stock still and silent as a dead man, stiff as a board as he stares unblinkingly at you. You’re not even sure that he’s breathing, but you can see the whites of his eyes as he gapes at you, frozen.

You stare back at him blankly, hoping that your bed comes to life and swallows you whole just to put an end to your mortification.

At last, Ghost blinks, then finishes his sentence. “You left your phone.”

He lifts his arm. In his large, thick fist, is your stupid goddamn phone. You must have left it on the couch when you had gotten up to leave. You might have wondered at the lieutenant voluntarily bringing it to your dorm for you, but you’re hit with a wave of humiliation so strong that it wipes your brain completely blank.

“Ah.” You say, and your voice cracks. “Thanks.”

There’s a moment of mortifying silence, and then Ghost steps into your room. Your heart jolts right up into the base of your throat as he closes your door behind him. The click of the door is as loud as a gunshot in the silence that’s settled over the room.

Ghost still hasn’t blinked. He’s watching you with eyes that look almost black in the dim light of your room, intense as a predator. 

“I–” You attempt to speak, and your throat clicks dryly. “I didn’t–”

Far too late, you realise that your legs are still splayed open. You snap them shut, inhaling a choked breath through your nose.

“I thought I locked the door.” You finish lamely. 

Ghost apparently decides to simply disregard that, which you’re honestly a little grateful for. Instead he steps towards you – the enormous bulk of him feels as though he’s completely filling every bit of space in the room, sucking out all the damn oxygen.

“...‘S this why you were so distracted this evening, hm?” He says as he approaches the bed. “You were in a mood ‘cause you wanted to get back to playing with yourself?”

It’s not a question, exactly. At least, it’s not phrased like one. Ghost’s tone is knowing, with an undertone of gruff amusement. You’re certain that you’re not imagining the rough, breathless quality to his voice either, though the thought sends nerves fizzing through your bloodstream.

“No.” You deny uselessy; it’s plainly obvious what you were doing, after all. “No, I just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish. His eyes are still glued to you, even though your thighs are now pressed together. Before you can stop him, he reaches down and takes a hold of your hot pink vibrator where you had been trying to hide it beneath your thigh.

“Cute little thing.” He comments, tilting his head to look at the dildo hanging between his thick fingers.

Mortification burns through you. A panicked sort of screech escapes you and you yank it back out of Ghost’s stupid big hand, shoving it under the blankets. 

Perhaps if it had been anyone else, your humiliation wouldn’t be burning quite so intensely. But this is Ghost – your lieutenant, the gruff man that you’ve looked up to ever since you joined the task force. He’s not a man famed for his patience, nor for his eloquence, which is making this situation all the more unbearable.

“Lt,” You wheeze, scrambling to sit up and cover your pussy with your hands as you squeeze your legs closed. “I swear I didn’t– I’m sorry–”

But Ghost doesn’t seem interested in your apologies. He’s still watching you as though he can see right through the damn blanket, as though he’s measuring you up and trying to come to a decision about something. In that moment, you hate your reaction to him – no matter how humiliating this situation is, you want him to approve of you, even now.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He grunts, and then he sits down on your bed.

You gape at him. It feels as though your brain has stalled; you’re pretty sure you’re not reacting correctly right now. You probably should have screamed when the lieutenant walked right into your room without knocking. That surely would have sent him straight back out again. And even now, you should probably be ordering him out, telling him to leave. 

But you don’t.

“I was.. um.. finished anyway.” You manage to croak out. You sound so pathetic that you nearly make yourself cringe.

Ghost doesn’t answer immediately. He just watches you, his eyes as dark as ever beneath the mask. For a moment, you think he’s not going to answer at all.

But then he says, “Didn’t look like you finished to me.”

Blood rushes to your face so quickly that it makes you light-headed as you catch his meaning. Oh, what the fuck. This is just adding salt to the wound now.

“I wasn’t trying to–” You start, then cut yourself off. “That’s not why I was– I was just trying to relax.”

In the ensuing silence, you realise how silly you sound. At the very least, Ghost doesn’t laugh; he just tilts his head to the side, consideringly.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– sir–”

“Let me see, sergeant.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Ghost’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You have room to refuse. You could tell him to get out of your dorm right now, and he’d do it. Knowing the lieutenant, he’d never bring it up again, either.

You drop your knees apart, spreading your thighs in an unpracticed, self-conscious sort of motion. 

Under the lieutenant’s sharp gaze, your skin prickles and your nerves strain. Even sitting down on your bed, he’s a veritable behemoth of broad shoulders and thick corded muscle. His hulking form towers over you even now, and you feel so damn small as you lay there propped up against your pillows in nothing but a t-shirt.

Ghost has seen you naked before, obviously. You can’t afford to be prudish in the military, where you never know when you’ll next have true privacy, and you’ve changed out and showered with the squad countless times. It’s never meant anything, and the men in 141 have never made you feel anything less than comfortable with them.

This, however, is different. This isn’t just a case of catching a quick glimpse of your nude form as you shower in the group shower rooms when you’re out on missions – your whole damn pussy is out on display for him, still glistening wet and sticky from your ministrations and the lube you’d used.

Ghost’s inhale is as loud as a thunderclap. You’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in another person’s presence. You feel a little ridiculous laying like this as he watches you, but another part of you feels so humiliatingly desperate for some kind of approval from your lieutenant. 

At first, that approval is nowhere to be found. Ghost is notoriously difficult to read, and you’re beginning to sweat as you lay there waiting for a response – any response.

At last, he makes a noise. It’s part grunt, part hum, and part groan.

“You’re still wet, sergeant.”

Are you imagining it, or is his voice an octave deeper than usual? 

Your eyes trace his face, trying to imagine what he looks like beneath the mask. You can see the suggestion of his nose, the square curve of his jaw. His darkened eyes are watching you so carefully that you feel as though you’re physically being pinned in place.

You swallow. “It’s just– I–”

“You didn’t get to finish.” Ghost interrupts, with the air of completing your sentence for you. 

You try to speak, but nothing more than a strangled sort of murmur escapes. You swallow hastily, then try again.

“I wasn’t going to. Sir.” You tack on the title at the end as an afterthought, but this whole situation is so far beyond professional that you probably needn’t have bothered. “Finish, I mean. I… I never do.”

You’ve admitted it before you can really think about it, and then you regret it wildly. You can’t help but wonder if you’ve overstepped a boundary, but then again the boundaries are currently so blurred that they’re virtually impossible to discern.

“You never finish.” Ghost repeats it. Slowly, staring right at your face, as though he’s confirming what you’ve just said. 

It sounds so much worse in his deep, gravelly voice.

Embarrassment blooms, thick and sickly in your stomach. Your legs start to twitch closed, too embarrassed to be having this conversation with your cunt bared like this, but then Ghost’s big paw of a hand reaches out to settle over your knee, keeping you open and exposed. It’s so rare to see his hands ungloved, and the bare skin of his callous-roughened hand feels almost scorching hot against your inner knee.

“I don’t– I’ve tried,” You say, and you can’t help but feel as though you’re just digging yourself further into a hole, here. “But I don’t– I’m not able to. I mean, I’ve come close, I’m just not able to… you know.”

You trail off lamely, feeling like the biggest fucking loser ever. Why are you telling him this? Why the fuck haven’t you reacted properly, and kicked him the hell out of your room?

Deep down, a shameful little part of you already knows the answer to that. You’re feeling awfully, sickeningly hopeful. Having Lieutenant Riley in your dorm, sitting on your bed and staring so hungrily at the wet, swollen parts between your legs feels like something out of your wildest wet dreams.

His eyes flick towards your pink silicone rabbit dildo, half-hidden under your blanket, and he grunts consideringly before reaching out and taking it into his hands again. It’s standard-size, but it looks small in his big hands.

“You ain’t doin’ it right, then.” He says, so bluntly that you just blink at him. “Show me how you use it.”

For a brief, wild moment, you wonder if you’re experiencing visual and auditory hallucinations right now. Surely you can’t really be experiencing this right now – and yet the lieutenant is still watching you, and you’ve never disobeyed a direct order before. 

He hands you the vibrator, then waits expectantly.

And… well. All you ever try to do is impress him. 

You shuffle your legs open a little wider, ignoring the flustered heat that scalds your cheeks. You’ve never been all exposed like this in front of another person, and the weight of Ghost’s eyes on you is reminiscent of being under a spotlight.

You swear his eyes darken even further when you press the stiff silicone rabbit dildo to your cunt, if it’s even possible for that gaze to get darker beneath the thick balaclava and eyeblack smeared over the narrow strip of skin that’s visible.

The dildo sinks in so easily that it’s almost embarrassing, and your breath catches both from the stretch and the way Ghost leans in a little closer to see. Far from turning you off, you feel your body throb in response to his proximity, and your cunt flutters pathetically around the plastic toy. You shift, attempting to get a little more comfortable, but you can’t dispel the nerves fizzing in your blood as you attempt to push the dildo a little deeper under Ghost’s sharp gaze.

His big, hulking body is so perfectly still as he watches you that it’s making you a little nervous. The only reaction that you get from him is a small, considering hum, but even then you can’t figure out what it means. Your movements are a little clumsy, so hyper-conscious that he’s watching every single thing you do that you end up fumbling a little. He’s looking at you in the same way he assesses threats, his intense dark eyes examining every movement and reaction you make. It makes you feel small and jittery, especially when you realise that he’s judging you by what you’re doing.

“You gonna turn it on?” He asks, and oh god his voice has definitely dropped lower and huskier. You know you’re not imagining it. 

You can’t even bring yourself to respond with words. You just make a strangled sort of sound of agreement, then clumsily hit the on button. The toy buzzes to life once more, and your toes curl absent-mindedly into the sheets as the soft silicone bunny ears pulse against your clit.

It feels nice, but you can’t manage to concentrate on the feeling. Hyper-aware of Ghost’s attention, you let out a quiet moan as you shift the vibrator inside you. It’s a little exaggerated, but you can’t help it – you feel like you should be putting on some kind of a show. 

You glance back at Ghost’s face, trying to guess what he’s thinking; even through the mask, you can tell that he’s frowning. You feel your stomach clench anxiously. Have you done something wrong?

“This how you usually do it?” He asks.

You swallow thickly, feeling a bit stupid. “Um.. yeah.”

Ghost grunts. He doesn’t sound impressed.

“No wonder you can’t come.” He says wryly.

You go still, eyes widening. In the silence, the bzzzzt! of your stupid vibrator is louder than ever. A sudden wave of shame washes over you, and you start to close your legs again in an effort to block the sight of the toy stuffed into your pussy.

“Oh,” You snap sourly, your embarrassment making you irritable. “So you’re the pussy expert now?”

That startles a loud bark of a laugh out of the lieutenant, a sound so rare that you find yourself desperately trying to commit it to memory.

“Think I might know a bit more than you, sweetheart.” He says. He’s relaxed now, his wide shoulders rolling back. He’s always so effortlessly confident, always so assured in himself and his abilities in a way that makes you feel like a silly little girl. 

Judging by the way the corners of his eyes are just slightly wrinkled beneath the mask, Ghost is smirking at you. He finds this funny.

“What about when you’re with other people, hm?” He asks, and his eyes drop back down to try and get a look at you again. When he realises that your legs are clamped tight together, he reaches out to guide your thighs apart again. “No one’s ever impressed you?”

His hands are big and rough and hot, and your willpower crumbles like wet paper as you allow him to open your legs all over again. The vibrator is still buzzing sadly inside you, mostly forgotten about; the stimulation is nice, but it’s never been enough for you.

You huff a weak laugh. You should have known that this would come up, and now you find yourself floundering a little.

“No one’s ever tried.” The confession comes out like a whisper, like a secret.

You can see the moment Ghost understands; realisation settles heavy over him like a physical weight, and the whites of his eyes flash as they widen just slightly. For a moment, he says nothing at all. He doesn’t move – it doesn’t even look like he breathes. 

“No?” He says, except it doesn’t really sound like a question. It sounds rough, and you can feel the almost convulsive motion of his fingers tightening around your knee. 

You shake your head wordlessly, beyond embarrassed now.

Ghost’s wispy blond eyelashes flutter softly as his eyes dart down to your pussy, still humiliatingly stuffed with your stupid little vibrator. He takes a moment to stare, then looks back up to your face. He’s so frustratingly confident about everything he does, not an ounce of shame in his posture even as you wilt beneath him.

“Never messed around with anybody?”

“No.” You say, and it comes out on a wheeze. He holds your gaze without faltering, and you realise that he’s expecting you to elaborate. “No, I– it just never happened. I was never… um, I was just always too busy, I guess.”

“Too fussy, more like.” He mutters, quiet enough that it seems like it’s a comment meant just for himself. You don’t know how to take that, so you chew your lip and stay quiet.

His eyes drop down to the vibrating dildo again, and you recognise something that looks like a flash of hunger. It feels like there’s pressure building up beneath your skin, tight and hot, and your thighs fall open a little further. You feel raw and so, so exposed, but you don’t even care when Ghost is looking at you like that.

“Let me try.” He says, the words falling out sharp and harsh as though he they’ve burst out of his mouth before he can stop them. It’s not like Ghost to speak without thinking it through, perfectly calculated, and your breath catches a little at the offer.

How could you ever say no to that? You don’t really think that he’s going to succeed in making you come – at this point you’re pretty sure your body is a little bit broken and you’re just not capable of orgasming at all, and that’s whatever – but the chance to get fucked by Ghost? To lose the lingering vestiges of your viriginity to your ridiculously hot, mysterious, massive lieutenant? It’s like something out of a dream.

“Okay.” You choke out, nodding stupidly. “Yeah.”

You want to be touched. You don’t think you’ve ever actually felt the yearning for physical contact this strongly in your life; you’re practically holding your breath as you wait for Ghost to make a move.

Finally, he reaches out. His first move is to pull the stupid little dildo out of you, still vibrating, and you feel yourself clench convulsively around nothing as he leaves you empty and wanting. He spares it a brief, evaluating glance, and you feel yourself burn as you realise he’s examining how you’ve soaked the toy.

He tosses it to the side, barely even taking the time to switch it off first, then turns his attention back to you. He’s got that same kind of laser-focus he usually only gets out on the field, and you take a moment to feel incredibly grateful that you’re never going to be on the receiving end of that terrifying scrutiny on the battlefield.

It feels like your skin is too tight for your body, every nerve and synapse strained and primed as you wait for him to touch you. But he’s slow about it, as though he just wants to torture you a little bit. 

When he finally reaches out to lay his hands on you, he doesn’t touch where you want him to.

His callous-roughened hands land on your hips, and pull you down the bed towards him. In the same move, he half-climbs up on the mattress, his huge form practically dwarfing you. Your head and shoulders are still cushioned by your pillows, but your legs are splayed open around Ghost where he kneels on your bed.

You glance down, unable to help yourself, unable to resist trying to catch a look at the outline of his erection pressing against his trousers, and oh. Fuck. He’s big. You knew he’d be big, of course, he’s big all over, but Jesus Christ, maybe you’re a little out of your own depth here–

His thick fingers tangle in the hem of your t-shirt, stretching the fabric out. “Take this off.”

You scramble to do as he says, grabbing at your top and pulling it up clumsily. You realise a moment too late that you’re not wearing a bra, but you suppose at this point it hardly matters. You drop your shirt to the side, and try not to feel too horrifically self-conscious beneath the burning hot gaze of the lieutenant.

Though you can’t see Ghost’s face, you can hear the soft exhale he blows out through his nose, just faintly muffled by the fabric of his mask. His eyes are trained on your chest, darting between each of your tits as though he can’t decide which one to settle on. After a long moment, he reaches forward and cups your left tit with one of his enormous hands, thumbing absently at one of your nipples.

It’s silly; Ghost has touched you before. Lots of times. A nudge of the elbow accompanied by a conspiratorial eye roll, a clap to the shoulder, rough hands pulling you to your feet after training or applying white-hot painful pressure to injuries. But this – you’ve never been touched like this before, not by Ghost, not by anyone.

The shaky breath you let out as his big, rough thumb rolls over your firm nipple comes out as a strangled sort of moan that honestly startles you a little. The noise catches his attention, and he snorts.

“Can’t be that sensitive.” He mutters, but then he reaches to thumb at your other nipple as though trying to be sure.

It’s because you’ve never been touched like this by another person before, you tell yourself. Truthfully, you’ve never even touched yourself like this before. You’ve never bothered to play with your own tits; you’ve always just gone straight to breaking out your vibrators. Now, with every brush of Ghost’s scarred fingers over the tight bud of your nipples, you think you must have been crazy to skip over this part of yourself. But then again, there’s no way that your own hands on yourself would elicit the same sharp jolt that shoots from your breasts down your spine.

“Sir–” You breathe, struggling not to squirm where you’re laying. You wonder, somewhat deliriously, if it might be rude to demand your lieutenant stuff his thick fingers into your pussy. You can already tell that they’re going to feel so much better than your own.

Ghost glances up at you, his eyes unreadable as he watches you bite at your lip. God, his little wispy eyelashes are so blond—

“What?” He says, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Say it.”

“Want to try your fingers.” You breathe before you can second-guess yourself. 

The laugh that rumbles out of Ghost’s chest is low and smoky. It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, so big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. You’ve witnessed those hands crack bones and snap necks and break down doors, and yet you can’t help but wonder desperately what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.

He adjusts himself on the bed; he’s a big man, hulking and huge as he kneels on your mattress, his weight causing it to dip. His palms wrap around your ankles with ease, and he hauls you into place with a grim efficiency that goes straight to your pussy.

“Big brute.” You say, a little breathlessly.

He ignores you, using his arms to hold your legs open and wide for him. And all you can do is just lie there as he stares, because goddamn it’s like he’s been carved from steel and you can’t break out of his grip. Not that you want to break out of his grip anyway, but you’d really appreciate it if he actually got moving instead of just staring.

“Fuck,” He grunts after a moment, with the air of talking to himself. “Been hiding this all this time, huh?”

“Jesus.” You breathe in response, subconsciously letting your legs drop open even more.

He makes a low noise of appreciation, and finally reaches out to touch you properly. One thick thumb swipes through the seam of your cunt, and you feel the way he’s smearing the clear sticky wetness that’s been leaking steadily out of you. With his now slick thumb, he drags up towards your clit and circles it with agonisingly light pressure.

You let out an embarrassing choked whine, your toes curling at the sensation. Somewhat ironically, Ghost is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your attempts, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow.

“D’you always get this wet?”

You can’t even tell if he’s asking you mockingly or if he’s being genuinely curious; it feels like every inch of your focus has narrowed down to the feel of his big thumb rolling those tight little circles around your clit, his touch scorching against you.

It’s not exactly surprising that Ghost is good with his hands. You’ve seen the way he handles weaponry, locking and loading and aiming to fire with the kind of swiftness that comes from muscle memory, working with unwavering speed and precision. He’s the same in hand-to-hand combat, moving with aggressive fluidity that overwhelms his opponents. You’ve caught hits from him before in training, and you know from experience that a punch from those big hands feels like getting hit by a cinder block.

But even knowing how deft and skilled his hands are, it knocks the breath out of you when he slides his middle and ring fingers inside of you, still rubbing steadily at the swollen bump of your clit. 

When you exhale, it accidentally comes out as a moan. Your cheeks burn, but there’s really no space in your brain right now for embarrassment to sink in. Two of Ghost’s fingers are the equivalent of at least three and a half of yours, and you feel yourself break out into an overwhelmed sweat when they twist and rub against the sensitive squishy spot in the front wall of your cunt.

You’re so damn worked up, your arousal coiled like a knot in your lower belly from your failed attempts to get yourself off all day. Your back curves, humping yourself near mindlessly back up into his hand as he plays you like a goddamn instrument.

You barely even have time to consider how unfair it is that Ghost is so good at playing with you like this when he doesn’t even have a pussy himself, because then he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop–” You start to protest breathlessly, your chest still heaving, but the quick glance the lieutenant sends you has you falling silent.

Ghost glances down at his fingers. They’re all glossy from fingering you, and he takes a moment to eye up the way they glisten in the dim light of your bunk. You might have felt self-conscious about it, if you couldn’t see the unmistakable gleam of hungry interest in Ghost’s dark brown eyes.

He wipes his hand on the crease of your hip, but you don’t even get the chance to protest before he reaches up to hook his fingers into his mask. You go still, holding your breath in surprise as he pulls the material up until it bunches up around the bridge of his nose.

And that’s– well. You’ve seen his jaw before, and his mouth (Jesus, you had seen it earlier that evening, when he had been sipping on his smooth whiskey of choice), but the sight of his strong jawline and blond stubble and corded scars on his pale skin always manages to knock the breath out of you. And this time, he’s rolled his mask up even further than before, revealing a nose that’s clearly been broken at least once before.

You probably shouldn’t stare so blatantly, especially knowing that Ghost always takes such pains to keep his face covered. You’re not even sure if the other guys on the team have seen his uncovered face, except for Price, and you know that they’ve developed a habit of averting their eyes when he pulls his mask up for whatever reason. It’s a habit that you never quite managed to develop yourself; you’re never able to stop yourself from gaping at him like a moron, drinking in all of the minutest details. He’s never said a thing about your penchant for staring, so you can only hope that he’s chosen to ignore it.

You’re so busy staring that it takes you by surprise when he grips your jaw with one massive hand and pulls you into a rough kiss.

The sound you make is small and startled, but it’s swallowed by Ghost’s demanding mouth. His lips are dry and a little chapped, but they feel scorching hot against yours. You reach up to grab at his arms – mostly just to ground yourself – but you find yourself almost immediately distracted by the firm bulge of his biceps beneath your hands.

Listen, you’ve kissed people before, plenty times. You’re in your early twenties, and just because you’re inexperienced sexually it doesn’t mean that you’re inexperienced full stop. But this, right now, kissing with Ghost, makes you feel as though you’ve been doing nothing but fumbling your way through all of those encounters, like you’ve been kissing wrong all this time.

It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body until you find your fingers grasping desperately at the short cotton sleeves of Ghost’s t-shirt where it’s stretched over his thickly muscled arm.

Ghost doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. It’s like a full-body experience with him; he puts his hands, his whole damn body into the kiss. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backwards into the pillows beneath you. At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Ghost’s hands running over you, stroking you sides and squeezing at your breasts and groping at the soft flesh of your hips and ass. 

 “Hah,” You gasp out when Ghost’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you feel yourself grow embarrassingly wetter, just from a little kissing.

“You good?” Ghost grunts into your throat as he nips at the base of your jaw.

“Uh huh.” You manage to get out, still clutching at his meaty arms like they’re a lifeline. “So good.”

His breath is hot on your throat when he rumbles out a deep chuckle, and then his tongue flicks out against your earlobe. It makes you forget how to breathe for a second, and you’re distracted when Ghost’s hand changes course, easing beneath your legs so he can press his fingers against your clit again.

Then he pauses, and his fingers slide lower, lazily hooking back and inside you. You tremble, horny and humiliated as you realise that your arousal is glistening all over your damn thighs, impossible to miss.

“Fuck,” Ghost mutters. “All this for me, sweetheart?”

“Hnng,” You whimper like an idiot as his fingers return to your clit, now slick and slippery. “I’m just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to explain. Instead, he pulls his fingers out of you again and kisses you hard. The soft breathy noises you make are muffled into his mouth, and you wrap your legs around his waist automatically. He’s built like a damn mountain, your thighs stretched wide to accommodate the bulk of him as he settles against the core of you.

He likes that – he presses in close, and you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing up against you through the roughness of his jeans. You’re so sensitive that the coarseness of the fabric is almost unbearable, but you’re able to ignore it because you’re so distracted by the sensation of his erection because holy fucking shit that can’t really be how big he is.

You gasp, the sound high and breathy, and you try to grind against Ghost, but it’s impossible because he’s so fucking heavy and he’s pinning you down on the mattress beneath him. Instead, all you can do is squeeze your legs and pull Ghost in even tighter, increasing the pressure between the two of you.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” Ghost whispers, and it sounds like a promise. He drags his lips up your throat, then talks against the corner of your mouth. “You won’t be able to touch yourself again without wishing it was me.”

The wave of desire that rocks through you almost pulls you under, and you swear you might have actually gotten so horny that you blacked out for a second, because from one second to the next Ghost has somehow managed to muscle his way back down between your thighs so that he’s eye-level with your cunt.

“What are you–” You start to say, but then he loops his forearms under your knees to tug your legs wider, and you realise just how close his face is to your pussy. You swear you’re actually pulsing with arousal, and you wonder a little wildly if he can see that.

“Oh, fuck, yes — please,” You blurt out, before Ghost has even gotten his mouth on you. He chuckles, low and amused. His grin looks predatory, but in this moment you really don’t mind being the prey — not if it means you’ll be devoured by that mouth.

Then Ghost’s mouth is against you, wet and burning hot. You cry out, barely noticing as Ghost throws one of your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open.

It’s just the right side of overwhelming. Ghost’s mouth feels like it’s going to swallow you whole – his tongue is huge and flat and firm as he licks over your clit, making your thighs quake on either side of his head. It’s entirely unlike any of the fumbling masturbatory attempts you’ve ever made – you always enjoy messing around with your various little sex toys, but you’re swiftly beginning to realise that it could never compare to real human contact. Or at least, contact with Ghost.

His hands move from your waist to your asscheeks, his big palms squeezing the plump flesh there before using his grip to pull your body closer so that he can bury his whole face between your legs. The rougher material of his mask presses harshly into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but you hardly even notice it.

Your pussy has never been this wet before; it feels like you’ve sprung a goddamn leak. You might have felt embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the way Ghost groans against you, his wide tongue laving flat and rough against the seam of your cunt as he practically gulps down all the sticky arousal you have to give him.

“Oh god– fuck! Sir…” You sigh, spreading your knees farther apart so that Ghost can wedge his head further between your thighs.

Your ears burn as your room is filled with sounds of him tonguing at your cunt, the lewd wet squish of him working you over until you’re keening, your hips twitching clumsily until his hands tighten where he’s gripping the plump flesh of your ass to keep you still. Then all you can do is twitch as he licks over your clit in repetitive lapping motions, working in circles and then dipping down to shove his searingly hot tongue inside you. You can feel his teeth press against your labia even as he sucks at your clit, and the sensation sends hot bolts of pleasure rocketing down your spine.

Though you don’t mean to, you’re pretty sure that you make his job harder. You can’t stop wriggling, tossing your head back against your pillows and squirming on Ghost’s tongue in a wild overstimulated dance, like a fish caught in a net.

Finally, Ghost seems to have enough of your unco-ordinated flailing attempts to grind against his face. He reaches around your thigh with one arm to reach your clit so he can keep it stimulated as he gulps at the sticky sweetness of your cunt like a man possessed – the action also works to keep your hips pinned down and still. You stop your frantic moving, but your spasms and sounds increase tenfold.

You can hardly believe it, but you feel something coming. A sweet, torturous build up starts in your belly, and you sweat and gasp as he licks and suckles at you relentlessly. You’ve never found yourself in this state so quickly before, with your legs trembling and your breathing heavy and shaky. 

“Oh.. oh…” You breathe, beginning to arch your back.

You know this feeling – this is where that sweet climax builds and builds, only to dissipate at the last agonisingly close moment. But this time, with Ghost’s big head between your thighs as his mouth moves against you, sucking, tasting, eating up everything you have to offer, the breath-taking pleasure doesn’t show any sign of slipping out of reach. It feels like for once you might actually reach that peak.

But then, right as you’re certain that you’re about to tip over that long-awaited coveted release, the bastard pulls away.

“No!” You practically shriek, attempting to sit up. “No, I was so close–!”

“Lie back.” Ghost orders, his voice like the crack of a whip. 

You drop back obediently before you can even register that you’re moving, so conditioned to react instantly to that tone of voice coming from Ghost’s deep rumbling baritone. Your eyes are wide and betrayed as you stare at him, admittedly a little baleful.

God, but it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s staring up at you from between your legs like that. His eyes are dark and hungry beneath the mask, and since it’s all pushed up and rumpled around his nose you get a toe-curlingly good look at his lower face. His chin is wet and smeared with your slick, and his lips are plump and pink and swollen from all the kissing and suckling he’s done to you. In a moment of near-delirium, you think that you understand now why he covers his face – his mouth is pretty in a way that shocks you, in a way that needs to be hidden for decency’s sake.

“You’re gettin’ greedy,” He grunts, turning his head and sinking his teeth into the crease of your thigh just to make you yelp. “Wait for it, love. It’ll be worth the wait.”

You don’t think you have much of a choice, so all you can do is lay back and hold on for the ride. He presses his mouth to you again, and you whimper softly as he tongues at your clit. 

“No one’s ever eaten you out like this?” He asks, the words muffled into the damp curve of your thigh. It’s stupid, because you know he knows the answer to that is a resounding no, but it seems like he just wants to hear you say it out loud.

“No.” You say, your breaths sawing their way out of your chest.

“Hnn.” He makes some kind of grunting sound against you, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. “That’s why you’ve been so tense, huh? So fuckin’ desperate for someone to touch you?”

“That’s not– ‘m not tense,” You manage to get out, your breasts heaving as your thighs tense up where they’re thrown over his shoulders. “Maybe.. Maybe you’re too relaxed.”

Ghost huffs a hot little laugh at your hip because you both know that couldn’t be further from the truth. You doubt anyone has ever accused Ghost of being too relaxed before, but you don’t have time to feel stupid for it – not when Ghost is devoting the full force of his attention on you, deep breaths huffing against the wet skin of your pussy and making you shudder.

“That’s it,” He croons, his voice uncharacteristically soft and lilting. The rumble of it ripples through your limbs like lapping waves, his battle-roughened palm stroking and smoothing down your ass and thigh as he hauls you closer. “Relax, sweetheart. Fuck, such a pretty pussy. Fuckin’ criminal of you to keep this hidden away all to yourself.” And then, quieter, “Fuckin’ Christ, you’re wet.”

You’re not even sure that he’s talking to you. It seems more as though he’s talking to himself, and it just happens to be you he’s talking about. Your cheeks burn as the feeling of vulnerability sets in, but you keep your legs spread wide as he kisses your clit with his swollen pink lips. You want so badly to be good, for him to be pleased with you, that you push past your embarrassment as best you can.

There’s a budding anxiety in your belly that Ghost is wasting his time here. As much as you crave his touch and the build up, you worry that he’s going to get frustrated with you and your inability to actually orgasm.

But Ghost doesn’t seem to be in a rush. He seems perfectly fucking happy between your legs, and even with his mask all clumsily rucked up around his nose he presses his face into your pussy with his eyes heavy-lidded and hazy. Even when you shift a little in an effort to get him to go a little harder or faster, he just pins you still and continues at his own leisurely pace.

When he reintroduces his fingers, pressing inside and stretching you out with a light sting, you hiss and try to lift your hips again. His rough calloused knuckles brush against the inside of your soft inner thighs, making them quiver as he goes three fingers deep.

“Shhh, atta girl.” He mumbles into you, his words coming out wetly muffled since he doesn’t even both pulling his face back. “Fuckin’– shit, so good.”

The praise shoots liquid and molten through you, and you have to bite back a pathetic keen as you pulse around his fingers. You’re sure he must feel it, because he lets out an answering rumble and laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks.

“Oh god–”

“Shhh.” Ghost scoots forward so your knee can hoist over his shoulder. Then he angles his chin to kiss the skin on the inside curve of your knee as he pumps into you with slow, slippery fingers and ungodly squelching noises that only sparks you hotter. You can’t even tell if it’s sweat or tears dotting your face anymore.

Though Ghost’s eyes are heavy-lidded and a little fogged over, he hasn’t looked away from you once. The focused intensity of his gaze spears you through, because you’ve never been looked at like that. No one has ever seen you like this, no one has ever put effort into you like this, no one has ever been so determined to please you before. You don’t know how you’re ever going to recover from this; you have a terrifyingly distinct impression that he’s going to live up to his promise to ruin you for anyone else.

It feels as though your blood is boiling beneath your skin, and you nearly sob when Ghost pulls back. You’ve never been so close, and you want to scream when he takes his gorgeous fucking mouth away from your clit.

“Fuck.” You wet your lips, realising you were panting like a dog and your mouth is bone dry. “Fuck, Ghost, just—”

“Quiet, lovie.” His reply is hoarse and firm, his throat working hard to swallow as he peered down between you, his clever thumb delving slick circles over the taut bump of your clit, his other three fingers fucking with easy rhythm and purpose. It’s maddening, it’s infuriating, it makes you feel as though you’re about to break apart.

His fingers are pulled out, and then you feel firm pressure pressing into you yet again. Your head lolls as you attempt to sit up, your eyelids fluttering as you realise that he’s pressing your stupid dildo into you again.

“Oh, you bastard–” You start to complain, but Ghost doesn’t give you the opportunity to speak properly.

The dildo slides into you so easily, your sticky slick mixing with his spit making the slide almost effortless. You sigh, a build-up of pressure making your whole body feel as though you’ve been stretched out and pulled tight. 

Now that you’ve been pushed to the edge, you linger by it. Ghost keeps you on that edge for what feels like hours, until your breaths are burning in your chest and the ligaments in your calves are screaming from all the straining you’ve been doing. Every roll of Ghost’s thumb over your clit sends sparks racing through your nerves, and your breathing is harsh and uneven as Ghost starts fucking you with the stupid vibrating dildo. The rhythm he sets is firm and unrelenting, pushing the silicone toy in and out and visibly relishing the wet squish of your cunt as it takes it deep.

Ghost huffs against the wet skin of your inner thigh, making you shudder. It seems like he’s enjoying this as much as you are, judging by the subtle roll of his hips against your mattress as he absorbs himself in fucking you with the dildo. 

He experiments with the angle, adjusting the dildo until you cry out, jerking against the bedding, and whining “There!”. You needn’t bother telling him, though; Ghost has a sharp eye, and he’s so goddamn attentive. He’s already repeating the stroke, pushing the dildo in and bumping it against the same sensitive spot he had hit before.

It feels good, but it’s not enough. Now that you’ve felt the firm hot pressure of his fingers spreading you wide and the wet hunger of his mouth devouring you, you don’t think anything else will do.

He shifts, you catch the rolls of his hips against your mattress again, and you feel as though you’ve caught fire. You think of the glimpse you had caught of his hard cock, pressing against his jeans and making the fabric stretch taut, and you find yourself speaking without thinking.

Ghost pushes the dildo in once more, and you reach down to grab at his wrist as you ask breathlessly, “Can I try yours?”

He pauses; goes so still that it’s honestly uncanny, his eyes practically boring holes into you as he stares at your face. You grow flustered, your own eyes widening in response to your own words. Just because he’s deigning to touch you with his fingers and his mouth, doesn’t mean he’s actually planning to fuck you. Jesus, he’s your fucking superior officer. What were you thinking?

“I’m sorry,” You squeak. “That wasn’t appropriate. Fuck, forget I said that–”

Even beneath the mask, you can see the bob of Ghost’s Adam's apple as he swallows thickly.

“You sure?” He interrupts your rambling before you can get started. “I don’t... ‘m not good with virgins.”

There’s… there’s so much you could say in response to that. Namely, he certainly doesn’t seem like he’s bad with virgins, as evidenced by the throb of arousal still pulsing through your soaked cunt. He’s just had you sobbing at the mercy of his fingers and mouth, and all he has to say when you ask for more is that he’s not good with virgins?

Instead, what you say is a rather lame, “I’m not technically a virgin.”

Which is true. Sort of. Based on a technicality – you had bullied your damn vibrator through your stupid hymen years ago, and you’ve always thought the idea of virginity was a stupid one, anyway. 

“Plastic cocks don’t count, darlin’.”

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed as humiliation burns through you. Jesus, okay. That’s just mortifying. 

“Oh, you think your cock is special, then?” You scoff, attempting nonchalance.

Ghost shifts, letting your legs drop from his shoulders, and kneels up on the mattress so that he’s looming over you. Fuck, every time you get a visceral reminder of how big he is, you feel a little faint. It’s like having a veritable wall of muscle caging you into your bed. Your thighs are spread wide to accommodate the size of him, and you find yourself absolutely captivated by the sight of him with his muscles straining against that stupid tight t-shirt, still panting lightly from his greedy gorging on your cunt.

He reaches out and drags a hand slowly from your cunt up over your belly, between your breasts, up over your sternum, to rest over your collarbones. It’s gentle – he doesn’t put an iota of pressure against your throat – but all you can fucking see is the swell of his bicep and the dark ink of his tattoo and the prominent veins running down the chiselled muscle of his forearm.

Good fucking lord.

“You’ll find out.” He says.

And oh. Okay then. Yeah, you sure fucking will.

He reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, and you can’t help but strain to try and watch. He pushes them down carelessly around his thighs, but doesn’t make any move to strip them off any further. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that you’re laying on the bed completely nude and exposed, while Ghost has only pushed his jeans down far enough to pull his cock out, but you don’t have any time to feel self-conscious about it.

His cock curves up against his belly, red and twitching. He’s fucking rock hard, and bigger than you had been expecting, bigger than any of your stupid little toys. Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen comically. Fuck. No wonder he’s confident. He’s not lacking in any way.

“D’you’ve a johnny?” He asks, one big paw of a hand taking his cock and stroking lazily at it until a bead of pearly precum oozes from the angry red head.

You’re distracted for a moment, staring at the way he fists his cock, before you blink back to yourself. “What?”

“A condom.” He enunciates slowly, as though speaking to someone he thinks is a bit thick.

“I know what you meant,” You snap, embarrassed. “But– no. Why would I? I’ve never…”

You can see the way his eyes crease and realise that he’s frowning beneath the mask, and you’re hit with a sudden bolt of panic – is he going to change his mind now? You can see the hesitation in the lines of his shoulders, but you think if he changes his mind about fucking you, you might just die.

“It doesn’t matter,” You blurt, “You don’t need one. I’m on the pill. I’m clean.”

Ghost cocks his head, but remains still. It’s almost unnerving, and you feel your toes curl into the bedsheets as you wait for an answer. He looks fucking predatory, hulking over you like a fucking behemoth as he watches you assessingly. You try your best to look confident, but you have a feeling that you just look desperately hungry.

He reaches up and hooks his fingers into the fabric of his mask and pulls it back down to cover his still slick-shiny mouth and jaw, and you’re gripped with sudden overwhelming panic and dismay that he’s changed his mind, that he’s about to leave you here wet and empty and wanting. In that moment, you throw your dignity into the wind.

“Please,” You beg pathetically, wriggling a little bit against your sweat-damp bedding in an effort to grind yourself against him. “Please, please, it’s fine, I swear, you don’t need one–”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost grinds out, his voice rough and a little hoarse. “How can a virgin be such a fuckin’ slut?”

Some part of you wonders if you should be offended by that, but instead a frisson of heat runs down your spine. You know you’re not a slut – you’ve never searched for any sexual attention, and you’ve never even experienced someone else’s touch – but goddamn you want to be a slut for your lieutenant right now.

Despite his harsh words, when Ghost hooks your legs over his hips and aligns himself with you, he’s gentle. He’s acting like you’re something fragile; he’s so big that your legs are spread wide around his waist, his shoulders so broad that he’s blocking out the dim light from your lamp, and yet his touch is light against you as though he’s afraid to break you.

He’s still gripping his cock hard, and he slides the tip of it against your slick heat. You have a brief moment of alarm; even through the haze of arousal, you can recognise that this is going to be a tight fit. You breathe deeply, then begin to wiggle your hips in an effort to take him inside you.

He hisses, then one of his big hands grabs at your hip. “Fuck, stay still.”

“Put it in.” You beg, your voice coming out thick and stupid-sounding. “Fuck, please, c’mon, c’mon–”

“Kid,” Ghost bites out through clenched teeth, his voice low and gritty. “Need you to shut the fuck up for me.”

You manage to bite down on your lip, but you can’t stop yourself from pouting mopily at him with wide, wet eyes. You don’t understand why he’s making you wait – can’t he see how mean he’s being? You’re so fucking wet, so empty as you clench down on nothing, and your clit is so desperate for any kind of stimulation that it’s throbbing needily. The head of his cock catches at your opening, dipping in for a second before resuming its maddening slide up and down.

Ghost is still watching you closely, his brown eyes flickering from where the head of his cock drags through your sodden folds up to your pleading pouting expression. You can only imagine what kind of a sight you make, because his chest growls with a choked sort of groan.

“I know,” He murmurs, almost mockingly soft with you. “I know, you want it. Gotta give it to you slowly.”

You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to give it to you slowly, that he can go as fast and hard as he wants to, but some sense of self-preservation shuts you up. Instead, you nod clumsily as he rubs his cock over the slick folds of your cunt, lubing himself up with your own arousal. The feeling of his cock dragging over you, iron hard and velvety soft, so close to where you want it, is enough to have your head spinning dizzily.

You want to beg again, but you’re still trying to follow his order to be silent. You shift restlessly, biting back a whimper when he taps his cock thoughtfully against your clit.

Finally, he decides to put you out of your misery. 

The thick crown of his cock pushes against the tight ring of muscle at the entrance of your cunt, and the gasp you let out is positively punched out of you. He goes slow, just like he promised, but you can still hardly believe it. He goes in and in and in, and yet he’s somehow not even halfway inside. 

“Fuck,” You wheeze, punctuated by a strange little yowl. “Oh god, wait–”

You feel stuffed just from the first few inches, drunk already on the quiet little grunts he’s making. The stretch and the sting and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him and you can’t even decide if it’s good or if it’s too much. Your eyes are hot and wet as overwhelmed tears begin to overflow, and you find yourself arching in a weak attempt to flex away from him and the devastating stretch.

God, he’s massive. You knew he would be, of course, but his size seems so much more significant when you’re being impaled on the end of his cock. Fuck, you can feel your vision go blurry as your eyes fill with overwhelmed tears. You’re mortified when a sob is ripped from your chest, harsh and thick.

“Shh, shh.” Ghost coos, his deep voice syrupy thick as he leans over you, the enormous bulk of him caging you into the mattress until your whole world consists only of him. “Just a little bit more.”

“Fuck,” You choke out, trying to arch away again but failing because he’s so big that there’s nowhere to go. “It’s not gonna fit!”

“Shh, lovie,” He rumbles, ducking his face down so that the rough cotton of his mask is pressed against the sweaty skin of your neck. “Relax’n let me in.”

“I– ‘m trying–” You whine, clutching at his biceps. “Jesus–”

You blink your eyes open, vision blurry from the tears clumping your lashes together, only to be met with the sight of Ghost’s deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath the black mask. He’s looming above you, his gaze made all the more intense by the fact that it’s the only part of his face you can really see.

“All that messin’ around with those plastic cocks, but you’re still this tight for me,” He says, his voice so deep that you feel it reverberate into your bones. “Deep breath.”

The breath you inhale at his instruction is rough and ragged, and he snorts a low breathless laugh in response.

When he finally drives his cock all the way in with one smooth stroke, all the breath is driven from your lungs. It feels as though his cock has been pressed all the way up into your chest, and the noise you make when you squirm on it is utterly pathetic. 

Ghost’s hands are like steel clamps when they close around the plump flesh of your thighs, holding them up and pressing them back until they’re pressed against your belly. He looms over you, still almost entirely clothed as sweat beads over his thickly muscled neck. It’s like getting pinned down by a mountain, and you whimper as you’re speared open and prone by the weight of Ghost pressing down upon you.

He hasn’t even started to move yet, but you still feel overfull and raw.

“Too big,” You mumble, struggling to catch your breath. You choke on a sob and feel your eyes burn with unshed tears as your back arches. “Ghost–!”

“Shh.” He grunts. “Call me Simon when I fuck you.”

That… that does something to you. Molten heat rockets up your spine and pools in your belly, and you swear your pussy floods. It’s stupid, how being granted permission to call your lieutenant by his first name is somehow so much hotter than anything else he’s done so far.

“Simon,” You try it out. It comes out a little shaky, your voice little more than a weak whisper, but you swear you can see his eyes sharpen. 

Apparently having come to the decision that you’ve adjusted enough, Ghost pulls his hips back only to drive back in. 

“Oh!” You yelp, hips jumping, but there’s nowhere to go. 

All you can do is lie there as he slides out, out, out, slow and careful and long, and then his hips snap forward and he impales you, pressing all the way into him. He does it again, and again, and you try to bite down on your tongue, try to not sound so pathetically wrecked, but you can’t. It’s like Ghost is puncturing your lungs and every time he fucks into you, you let out the most pathetic little mewling ah ah ah sounds.

You’re not quite prepared for how different this feels; it’s nothing like your stupid plastic dildo. Ghost’s cock is bigger, but it’s also hotter and with more give than you expected, and you’ve never been able to fuck yourself like this. Your plastic toys could never compare to the sensation of being pinned by your giant of a lieutenant as he ruts into you.

Ghost reaches up and roughly pushes his mask up so his mouth is exposed again before he leans in deeper, almost folding you cleanly in half, stretching in to claim your mouth in a kiss that’s not quite a kiss, but rather a fierce mash of lips and tongue as his rhythm picks up, riding you down into the mattress until you realised the screaming noise isn’t coming from either one of you, but the cheap standard issue bed frame.

All you can do is gasp with each deep, raw fuck. There are tears tracking lazily down your cheeks, having overflowed from your burning eyes, and you honestly think your lungs might collapse. You’re bent like a fucking pretzel, in a way that’s making the muscles in your thighs scream, as Ghost pounds into you. 

He’s fucking relentless, but also shockingly aware of you beneath him. He doesn’t put too much pressure on you when he holds you, he never goes hard enough to hurt, and he knows just the right amount of weight to pin you down without being too much.

Your pussy is sloppy around him, wet squishing noises getting louder and louder as he finds more rhythm against your tight walls. Your whole world of awareness has been narrowed down to Ghost and Ghost only; his fingers digging into your thighs, your name in his mouth, his sweltering body pressing against yours. 

He’s holding back, you can tell by the way his voice is caught in his throat. He’s keeping all his dangerous muscles at bay as he pulls out and presses in again. Rough, fast, but not enough to break you, just enough to make you scream until you bury your face to the side and try to cover your mouth with your arm.

“Yeah, you needed this,” Ghost grunts, his uncovered mouth nipping at the hinge of your jaw. “This’s why you were so fuckin’ distracted earlier, hm? You thinkin’ about how much you needed to cream around a real cock?”

“Uh huh, yeah,” You slur out, not even sure what you’re agreeing with. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth, every nerve in your body raw and sparking. You must sound so pathetic, but Ghost seems to like it.

“Ain’t gonna be distracted anymore, are ya?” He rumbles, laving his tongue over your jaw in a way that feels filthy. “Just needed your little pussy filled, that’s all.”

You cry out for him because you can’t help it, delight bubbling in your throat every time he plunges into you. He keeps his pace for a bit, all rushed and blazing, transfixed on watching you suck him in, leaving slick trails along his shaft. But gradually he gets bolder, more desperate, big hands squeezing from your thighs to your hips.

You get lost in the feeling of him in your belly, searing and harsh, fat tip rolling against the spongy spot inside of you until you feel like you might snap. You feel him in your ears, your head pounding with every snap of his hips. You swear you even feel him in your toes, lightning zaps of pleasure down your nerves.

Then he leans back, lifting his weight off of you so you can breathe properly. He leaves his hand on your collarbones like a placeholder, his palm spread over the base of your throat like a reminder, a way to keep your attention on him. 

“Fuck,” He grits out, “That’s it, doll.”

You’re vaguely aware of the fact that Ghost’s gaze has shifted, no longer focused on your face but now instead fixed firmly between your legs as he watches the thick shaft of his cock sink into you. He obviously likes how you feel inside; you can hear him cursing and grunting quietly as his free hand grips your hip for leverage. 

With his mask rumpled up around his nose, you’re gifted with an incredible view of the way his teeth are sunk into his lower lip. Each time he sinks his cock into you again, he makes a raspy little groan, eyes fluttering briefly shut. It’s so painfully endearing that your heart quivers in your chest.

Your legs burn from being spread around his thick waist — any attempt for you to lock them around his back is useless, your legs slipping everytime his ass flexes with his thrusts. Every hasty drive of his hips has the ridge of his cock sliding against the spongy spread of your walls, making you feel more stuffed every time he ruts into you. With every sudden movement you feel the entirety of his fat cock; the veins are throbbing, skin heated and silken within you. Part of you marvels how you’re even able to fit him inside you.

“Never seen you look like this,” he grunts. “All fucked-out and perfect.”

Ghost leans in again, grips your legs so he can rearrange them over his shoulders, and you think you might die. The angle is different and somehow, impossibly, Ghost is fucking into you even deeper. You think you might actually be crying. There’s no question as to whether you’re drooling.

Your hands move to his arms, nails sinking into the hard muscles of his triceps as you cling on for dear life. He doesn’t even seem to notice the sting of your nails scratching him; or perhaps it only urges him on, because his movements take on an edge of desperation.

“Gorgeous girl,” He grits out, jaw clenched. “Squeezin’ so tight. Fuck. Gonna make you cream.”

 You had forgotten about his promise to make you come, too lost in the hazy pleasure of his cock. But now it seems as though he’s been seized by the compulsion to fuck you to the edge; he reaches a hand down so that his thumb can join the fray, and it startles you into moaning breathlessly aloud. 

His thumb is merciless against your clit. You’re vulnerable to his touch, clit spread and on display from the stretch of his thick cock inside of you, and he takes full advantage. His fingers are thick and blistering hot as he rubs at you, and you choke as your toes curl.

“Simon–” You manage to eke out before you lose the weak thread of your thoughts, scattering into nothing as he stimulates the stiff bead of your clit. 

He grunts to show that he’s heard you, but he doesn’t seem any more capable of words than you are as he rocks into the cradle of your hips. You’re practically blinded by your wet eyes, blinking frantically to try and clear your vision as you reach out clumsily to throw your arms around Ghost’s blisteringly hot neck.

It feels as though your skin is stretched too tight over your body, hot and prickly and too much. You’re trembling, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as agonising pressure builds in your lower belly. 

“Fuck, love.” Ghost says, his voice little more than a snarl. “You gonna come?”

No, You think hazily. No, you never come. But even as you think it, part of you recognises that it’s never felt like this before. Your stomach tightens, toes curling, your lungs burning, your eyes rolling. You hardly even know what’s happening.

You recognise that something is building, but it almost seems secondary to the way that Ghost is rutting into you like a man possessed, hitting that spongey spot in the back of your pussy that you’ve never managed to reach yourself and making your legs spasm every time even as his thick thumb rubs frantic circles around the bump of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck–” You wheeze, bucking your hips against him.

It doesn’t grow and dissipate in the way you’re used to. Rather, it creeps up on you almost without you noticing, until you’re whimpering and clinging to Ghost like he’s a lifeline. Your bottom lip trembles as you sob weakly, practically on the brink of diving into an oncoming tidal wave of desire. Then that coil in your stomach snaps like a rubber band, sudden and sharp as a slap to the face. 

Your back arches, your vision whites out, and you cum so hard that the world stops, your ears ring, your body goes limp. Your cunts sucks tight around him, pulsing, feeling every inch of him. It feels so sweet, that white-hot buzzing pleasure rushing over you and wiping your brain completely clean. 

You’re a little delirious from being stuffed with such a fat cock; every thrust just prolongs your pleasure, like his penetration keeps you from squeezing your very first orgasm out right away. It’s mindless ecstasy, your nails burrowing into the skin of his biceps as you desperately clutch at him for some kind of leverage. Ghost doesn’t falter, his hips continuing to work into you, wringing your orgasm out until you feel as though your brain is melting.

You sob – an actual, genuine, wet-sounding sob as your chest heaves for air and your eyes burn with overwhelmed, rapturous tears. Your head is spinning even as your climax subsides, leaving you limp-limbed and weak as Ghost continues rocking into you.

“Look so lovely when you come, sweetheart,” Ghost grunts into your ear, his bulky chest weighing you down as you clutch feebly at his shoulders. “God, that’s a sight. All for me, yeah?”

His praise only makes it worse, makes your eyes sting until there’s tears down your cheeks and stars behind your eyelids. He sounds so smug, but you can’t deny that he has reason to be. He’s the first man to ever touch you, first man to ever fuck you, the first person to ever tip you over the edge and wring an orgasm out of you. Fuck, you think your brain might have been reduced to mush permanently; you wonder wildly if you’ll ever be the same after this.

Despite the sting of Ghost’s punishing thrusts into your already oversensitive cunt, your body sings for him. The rhythm of his hips is getting gradually sloppier, as though he doesn’t care as much for precision now that he’s succeeded in making you come. Soft, guttural little grunts fall from his mouth, and his arms wrap around your waist to reposition you so that he can fuck quick and shallow. It’s almost tender, as though he’s aware of your growing sensitivity as you mewl under him.

There’s a profound, instinctual pleasure in seeing Ghost lose himself in your embrace. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded and his mask is still all rucked up, revealing the way his mouth is lolled softly open as he pants. You find yourself wishing feverishly that he had taken off his clothes too, because you think you would give anything to watch the roiling muscles of his chest and shoulders as he ruts into you.

Then just when you think you’re beginning to recover from the shattering, mind-numbing oversensitivity, Ghost comes inside of you.

He stops rutting to ride out his orgasm, his cock throbbing, pulsing, spurting inside you until you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt. And he comes a lot. 

You’re stuffed so tightly with his cock that his cum has nowhere to go, and ends up leaking thickly from where your cunt grips around him, messy and hot and spilling over your thighs and his. The sound he makes is breathless, all open-mouth and head lolled back as he groans, blissed out as he finds release in your cunt. 

The minutes afterwards are a blur. 

You close your eyes for what feels like only a second, but the next time you blink your eyes open you find yourself feeling miserably, uncomfortably empty and sticky as all that oozy cum leaks out of you. You somehow missed Ghost pulling out of you, and your thoughts are muzzy and embarrassingly slow.

For a moment, you think you’re alone. You’re becoming more aware of yourself, and you realise that you’re shivering weakly alone in your sweat-damp sheets. Where did Ghost go? Part of you, still a little hazy, wonders if he had left you alone as soon as he had come, and you feel your lower lip tremble at the thought. 

God, you feel pathetic. You shift feebly on the sheets, and suck in a sharp breath when you feel the ache inside you, proof that you’re going to feel the shadow of Ghost’s cock for days. You feel drunk off the afterglow, yet you’re swiftly becoming more and more aware of yourself and all the aches and pains that are coming to the fore now.

It feels like you’re too big for your body, and you’re clumsy when you try to sit up. Pushing yourself up makes a whole new set of aches light up, and you let out a quiet keening grumble.

You’re so caught up with trying to ground yourself that you jolt in surprise when big, paw-like hands land on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. “Shh, hey, lay down.” Ghost says, the rough edges of his accent softened. To your bewilderment, he has a damp cloth in his hand; he went to the bathroom, you realise hazily.

Maybe it’s just because you feel raw after your experience with him, pulsing like an open nerve, but you sniffle and blink and then suddenly there are tears dripping down your face.

“Thought you left.” You mumble, trying not to sound like a needy little idiot.

Ghost glances up at you, unblinkingly. His mask is fixed firmly back in place, and he looks annoyingly put-together; it’s an embarrassingly stark contrast to the way you’re still nude and shivery and teary-eyed.

“No.” He says simply.

The damp cloth is warm when it makes contact with your skin, and you relax as he drags it along your sweaty back and over your legs. He’s a little rough about it, but you don’t think it’s on purpose. Gentleness doesn’t come naturally to Simon Riley, and yet you can feel that he’s trying and that makes a warm glow settle in your stomach, replacing the cold anxiety that had settled in when you thought that he had left you alone.

When the cloth reaches the tender skin of your pussy, you hiss and try to pull away. It all feels too sensitive, and you feel your face crumple up as he wipes away the mess of slick and cum between your thighs. He gentles his touch as much as he can, but you still mewl at the electric zaps of oversensitivity that jolt up your spine.

When Ghost pauses and pulls the cloth away from you, you blink your eyes awake. Your vision is still all wet and blurry from tears, but you can still see the shape of Ghost as he stares down at you. You can imagine you look nothing short of ruined right now, even after having been cleaned up, and Ghost’s stare is burning.

You wonder if he’s about to leave now – you can recognise this whole thing had gotten out of hand, and you just about manage to stifle the panic at the creeping realisation that you’ve just fucked your superior officer. Ghost must have realised at this point that the two of you had just ripped through all those fraternisation rules, though it’s always been difficult to tell what he’s thinking. But you trust him – you have to, in your line of work. You have to trust that he’ll handle things.

Ghost tosses aside the cloth, and his big overbearing body climbs back into bed beside you. It’s a standard-issue bunk, and yet it feels comically tiny when Ghost has been added to the mix. He’s surprisingly agile, even despite his big size, and you barely have time to realise that he’s joining you in bed before he’s wrapped a thick arm around your middle, hauling you closer.

You’d love to act chill and cool about the fact that he’s now essentially cuddling you, but you miss the mark by a long mile. You take a breath, and allow yourself to relax into his big burly chest. He’s still fully clothed, and the rough texture of his jeans against your tender bare skin makes you shiver lightly from oversensitivity.

Your hips are sore from being stretched so wide, your joints weak and watery, and you’re perfectly content to close your eyes and forcibly ignore all your concerns about fraternisation or how you’re going to face Ghost in training. It’s a problem for another time.

“You still alive?” Ghost grunts, and his palm coasts down over your back to settle at your ass, his fingers squeezing absent-mindedly into the soft flesh there.

He sounds amused, which makes you grumble in irritation. He takes up so much space, his big body filling up all the free space on the bed and making you feel so fucking small as he holds you so that your back is pressed against his stomach.

“I dunno,” You mumble, words a little garbled. “Think… think you might have fucked me stupid, Lt.”

Lying like this, with his front pressed against your back, you can feel his laugh rumble into you. He’s touchy too in a way that surprises you; his hands are constantly moving, swiping over your sides and groping at any part of you that’s squishy-soft.

“Think I might have,” He agrees, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even if you can’t see it. “But I think you needed it, sweetheart. You were practically cryin’ out for it all day.”

You feel your face heat at the insinuation that he had noticed the arousal you thought you had hidden so well. But you still feel so fuzzy inside, and you can’t manage to drum up any genuine reaction.

Ghost’s roaming hand slips down between your legs, and you hold your breath as he reaches your swollen, tender pussy. His fingers are so big, but he’s aware of his strength and keeps his touch light, cupping rather than groping, his calloused palm catching on your puffy clit.

“Told you a real cock would be better,” He rumbles, and you feel the soft material of his mask rubbing against the back of your sweaty neck. “You’ve got a fussy little cunt – ‘s only gonna be satisfied by the real thing.”

You’d love to jab back at him, but the feeling of him rough palm against your oversensitive clit has your thoughts fizzing out into nothingness. All you can do is let out a quiet little whimper, and rock your hips into his touch. To your utter bewilderment, you feel your arousal, which you had previously considered entirely sated, pulse back to life.

As if Ghost can feel your cunt throb beneath his hand, he snickers. “Yeah. Fussy and greedy.”

He leans down, and you feel his lips brush against the back of your neck through the cotton of his balaclava. You quiver, and part your legs without conscious thought to give his thick fingers more room to work. Despite your exhaustion, and your soreness, and your sensitivity, you find yourself wanting. You wonder, with an edge of hysteria, if your body has somehow managed to rewire itself to only accept pleasure from your commanding officer’s hand.

“Ghost– Simon–” You breathe, your hips jumping as you grind into his palm.

“Yeah,” He says again, as though he knows exactly what you need and want. “One little orgasm wasn’t enough, was it?”

“No.” You choke out, throwing your head back so that it’s resting against Ghost’s broad chest. “No, ‘t wasn’t.”

You can hardly believe that your body is winding up for more, but Ghost’s touch is searing hot against your tender skin, and you can already taste the pleasure he’s going to bring you. This time, without the edge of urgency, you think you might even enjoy it more.

“Gimme five minutes,” He drawls, his voice low and muffled in your ear. “And I’ll give you your second.”

#ahem... hello 🥺👉👈 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod mw2 smut #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fic #simon riley smut

[megthemewlingquim]

love's perfect ache

Summary: Your husband wants nothing more than to love you breathless.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Warnings: smut! Matt is a soft dom (that alone deserves a warning); fingering, multiple orgasms (one somewhat forced but it is not non-con); dirty talk

A/N: Holy shit. So. A lot of things have happened since I last posted. Some of these things include but are not limited to

a) I have been seeing someone romantically for a year and four months

b) I'm graduating with my Bachelor's Degree in Education in May.

c) I've been Student Teaching full time in order to graduate, so I haven't been able to write.

However, these last three days have given me a spark of madness. I first started this draft a little less than a year ago, and only now have I finished it.

This fic is based off of... personal experience. ;) I hope you like it.

The clatter of plates and silverware jumps through the apartment. The smell of shrimp scampi still lingers in the air, though the windows have been opened and the leftovers have been put in the fridge.

Matt leans his arm over the back of the couch as he sits down, relaxing into his seat. A small part of him wants to go back to you, the remarkable woman behind him who had insisted on doing the dishes and taking care of the leftovers yourself. “Go sit and be handsome,” you’d said, kissing his shoulder. “I can manage it.”

Oh, you.

You never like asking for help, or accepting it when it is given. Not that you think you’re above it, but because you don’t want to trouble anyone else with anything.

He doesn’t love that, but he loves you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, toying with the ring on his finger.

“Yeah?” you ask from behind the counter.

“Mm, nothing,” he mutters. “Was just thinking ‘bout you.”

The hum of amusement you give him is a common little sound. One of quiet acknowledgement. It’s almost like you’re numb to what he’s telling you.

Selfless, as always.

The sound reminds him of more intimate times between you two. Sighs, moans, squeaks, breathless laughs and barely audible whines. All from you. And then, he thinks of what you say to him sometimes, when he offers to do certain things.

“It’s alright, baby, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t need to finish. It’s okay. I’m too tired.”

“Honey, I’m good. I promise. You don’t have to do anything.”

Matt snaps back to the current moment. His heart hurts.

In the two years that you’ve been married, you’ve had a bit of trouble; not only with accepting help or kind words or generous gifts of affection, but with accepting pleasure too, pleasure that Matt so willingly wants to give to you. He knows about that, how you find it difficult to fathom the love he has for you and the ways he wants to express it.

Yes, you’ve discussed your kinks and your turn-offs with him. You’ve been intimate, and you’ve enjoyed it immensely. But you’ve never quite gotten to where he wants you, to where you should be.

You deserve pleasure, and you don’t see it.

Matt’s jaw clenches.

“Honey?” he asks. “You good?”

“Yup!” you chirp. “Just putting the last pan away."

“Ok.”

Thirty seconds pass. He hears you, in that time, put the last pan into the lazy-susan cabinet and wipe down the counter one last time. Then, you step away from the kitchen and sit next to him on the couch with a sleepy little mumble.

“Everything okay?” Matt asks softly, leaning in to nuzzle into your neck. He leaves a feather-light kiss there.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Everything’s… good.”

“I have an idea,” he mumbles into your skin, his hand trailing up your thigh. “And I need to know what you think about it.”

“What are you thinking?” you ask, a hint of a smile in your voice.

“Well, I was thinking… that we could… have some fun.” Matt grins.

You breathe outward, silently, your breath heavy and shuddered, as his lips trail to the back of your neck and he bites into the flesh.

“I’d like that,” you say.

“I wasn’t finished. We have some fun… but I spend the night just… letting you feel everything. I want to make you come, sweetheart. A lot, if I’m honest.”

He can hear the sharp inhale — quiet but noticeable — and how your heartbeat picks up almost instantly. His grin widens. “I want to spoil you tonight. All I want you to do is lay on the bed and be your beautiful self. I’ll do the rest.”

“I — um — ” you stammer, “you don’t have to do that — ”

“Uh uh.” Matt shakes his head. “None of that now. I want to do this. You don’t see how much you deserve this, honey. What is it that you’re afraid of?”

“ ‘m not afraid… just…”

“Just?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re too damn humble for your own good, you know?”

You shrug.

“Baby, look at me,” Matt says softly. When he knows you have done so, he says, “If you really don’t want to, we don’t have to. But I’ve noticed it. I just wanna give my girl what she deserves. Will you let me do that? Even just for tonight?”

It takes a good ten seconds for you to give him the slightest sound of approval. A tiny little “uh huh,” close to a whisper, but he can hear it.

“That’s my girl,” he says, grinning.

Matt carries you to bed bridal-style, shutting the door behind him with the back of his foot, and sits you on the edge of the bed.

He starts by just kissing you; your lips, your cheeks. Softly, gently, with both hands coming up to your jawline and your neck, thumbs swiping your cheeks and temples.

His affection is always, always welcomed. You have never felt safer than when you are in his arms — those same arms that are often covered in bruises and scratches and blood, those same arms that drop snitches from buildings and punch the daylights out of bad guys. You have never felt safer.

His hands fall down to your chest, your waist, lightly applying pressure or squeezing gently. You're in the warm embrace of someone who could break you, and the fact that he chooses to treat you with such delicate care makes your heart swell and your chest ache with such love — and this turns you on even more.

Matt treasures you. Cherishes you.

He sighs into the kisses he gives. “You have no idea how much you turn me on,” he says, his voice low. “You know that?” He moves his head up and kisses your forehead; his lips linger there for a while. “And you don’t even realize it… you don’t realize that I get off by making you feel good.”

What Matt has just said to you doesn’t register fully until he’s already laid you down onto the bed, gently pushing you down with his right hand. He straddles you, taking his shirt off and throwing it on the floor. “You beautiful, wonderful, lovely girl.” He leans down, kissing your clothed chest and your stomach before shuffling your pants off of you.

He gets in between your legs, sitting on the bed sideways but still facing you. You’re wearing black boyshorts, the comfiest pair you own. Matt’s favorite. He likes imagining how the black would look on you, and how the cloth would hug your hips.

His hand gently strokes the crotch of your underwear, the pressure sending sparks up your privates. It’s so much different, you think, to have someone else’s hand there rather than your own.

“You smell so good,” he mutters, in that tone of voice, and you know that he’s not talking about the vanilla eau de parfum you put on every day. No, he’s talking about a different scent you give off.

You flush, embarrassed, crossing your legs and putting your face in your hands. His hand stays where it was, unmoving, between your legs.

A finger moves, right over your clit, and you twitch.

“None of that,” Matt whispers. “No hiding today. I want to see your pretty face.”

“You can’t see,” you whimper through your hands.

“When has that ever stopped me?” he says, and you know he has that shit-eating grin on his face. “Come on,” he coaxes, “take your hands off your face.”

You don’t move. “Matty…”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, sweetie.” A finger moves on your clit again and you gasp. “You’re so beautiful. Every part of you. Even the parts you’re insecure about…”

When you say nothing, he moves his finger again and you twitch at the shock it gives you. “I’m not gonna do anything else until you take your hands off your face,” he says, and you know he’s serious.

Matt’s finger moves for the third time and that’s when you remove your hands. His little chuckle sends shivers down your back.

“There,” he says, “there’s my pretty girl. See? Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

His hand, quick as a bullet, goes into your underwear and cups your pussy, adding pressure again. A strangled sound comes out of you and you cover your mouth. Matt chuckles again, and coos at you, "Aww, what? What's making you so shy? You know I love hearing you."

The teasing is too much now, but you can't seem to get over your shyness. You whimper into your hand, moving your hips to try and get some more friction. It works, but only for a second. Matt immediately notices what you're doing and he draws his hand away again.

"What do you need, baby?"

"Ffffingers."

Matt nods and shuffles you out of your underwear.

Slowly, he puts a finger in you, keeping his eyes lowered and concentrating on your feel, your sounds. The relieved sigh is all he needs, and he stays where he is, knuckle deep inside you. He doesn't move it yet, and instead, he chooses to feel you clench around his finger to no avail.

"So warm," he says, "so warm and wet."

You flush, embarrassed at that. For no reason at all, you've been self-conscious about that part of you, and how it looks, smells, tastes. You turn your head and try to keep yourself away from the praise he's giving you.

Matt tsks. "None of that now. It's beautiful, honey. You're so beautiful."

"M-Matt," you whimper, "no."

"Yes," he says, and starts to move his finger. In and out, slow and steady. The burn and stretch is a welcome one, but you start to feel something else. Almost like a wall, a barrier to your pleasure. You can't come without that wall being torn down.

"Can — can you get the vibrator, please?"

"It's been a while since you've asked for what you want." Matt grins. "That's a good girl, hm? Of course, I can."

He moves, pulling his finger out of you and getting off the bed. He opens the nightstand drawer next to the bed and pulls out a magenta colored vibrator.

Matt gets back on the bed and puts his finger in you again. The wall comes back once he starts moving his finger again, but this time he puts the vibrator in your clit and presses a button. It buzzes to life, only on the lowest setting, but it's enough.

The wall comes down and all you feel is pleasure. You sigh, relieved. The vibrator is a nice distraction from the stretch.

"There you go," Matt says quietly. "Just feel that, honey. I've got you."

I've got you.

The reassurance that Matt gives you is both comforting and sexy. You like being submissive, and you like being taken care of. More than anything, you like being taken care of by the man who made his vows, before God and the world, to be your husband for the rest of your lives.

You melt into the bed as he continues to make love to you. Subspace is setting in and your mind goes fuzzy. You wouldn't normally describe yourself as a pillow princess, but here, right now... you are. And that's what Matt wants.

He smiles, shushes you gently, and this hurls you down into subspace even more. "Such a good girl," he whispers, "always so good to me. Just let me take care of you."

And with that, you're gone. Completely vulnerable, giving yourself over to Matt. And he finds it so lovely. so beautiful, how much you trust him.

"I think what you need is a little more... maybe right here — "

His fingers do something else, they go lower and deeper. Immediately, you feel like you're being punched in the stomach, but the sensation itself is far from painful. You can't stop yourself this time; you moan, a choked sound, and you bury your head to the side and into your pillows. Dear God, if Matt keeps this up, you're not gonna last much longer.

"There," he says, his voice low but filled with warmth, keeping his fingers moving right there, in and out, "that's what you need, hm? I know, honey, I know."

Matt knows you. He knows you, inside and out, body and soul. He knows your laugh, your smile, your voice, your smells. He knows how you moan, how you shiver, twitch and gasp. He knows what makes you tick. He knows how you come, what you need to get there. There's nothing more comforting — or sexy — than that.

You're unbelievably tense - your entire body is stiff, coming close to that edge. Matt can feel it, simply on his fingers, but he can hear it, too: the way your breath hitches and the way your moans increase, both in frequency and in pitch. He can feel your blood flowing, he can hear your heartbeat increase, feel how warm your skin has become. He notices all of these things, and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing in the world. A small part of him is still regretful that he cannot see, but only because... oh, what he wouldn't give to see your face.

"Matty," you whimper, "M-Matty, I'm cc-close. I'm so close—"

He loves hearing that desperation in your voice. You're starting to move around, turning and panting, almost in an attempt to get away from the pleasure that's sure to overtake you in a few moments. He can sense how tight your eyes are closed, how dry your mouth has become from all the sounds - oh, the beautiful sounds - that you're making, how tightly your fists are clenched, and where your arms are going. You don't seem to know exactly what to do with your hands. A few times, it looks like you debate whether to hide your face again, but you don't do that.

"M-Matty!"

And he knows, then, that you're peaking, that the orgasm has already begun and you're just on the edge of letting go, letting it completely overtake you. You've given yourself completely to him, and you're at his mercy.

And the Devil of Hell's Kitchen does have mercy, believe it or not.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he whispers, with such gentle fondness and delight that you have no choice but to obey.

You're gone, your body in flames and filled with electric sparks. Fireworks.

The sound that comes from you then is the most beautiful sound Matt has ever heard. He's heard it before, and he will never get tired of it. It's a sound of release, of letting go... a cry of pleasure, almost a guttural scream and a shuddered breath all at once. It's an orgasmic wail or sometimes it is even a period of silence where you are just completely lost in the agonizing ecstasy of it all.

You're coming, and you're coming hard... He always knows what to do or say to make that happen. When he married you, he made a vow to himself to always make you feel like the most satisfied woman in the world. It's always a reward when this happens, when he can hear and feel you like this.

It's a long one, he realizes, because you gasp and shiver and twitch and spasm and cry out in surprise as the waves of pleasure keep rushing over you. He laughs, then, a small amused chuckle that leaves you even more breathless than you already are. Matt delights in making you feel this way. If he could go down on his knees and beg God Almighty to let him do this forever, he would.

"Oh, that's it," he coos, "that's my girl."

His praise, combined with the continued moving of his fingers - shouldn't they be getting sore by now? - only makes your orgasm last longer. Once it begins to fade, your body relaxes and you breathe out a sigh of contentment and warmth. Your eyes remain closed - and it's probably a good thing, because the way Matt is looking at you now would be enough to kill you with how loving it is The aftershocks of your orgasm - little jolts of pleasure - start to course through you.

"That was beautiful," he mutters to himself. "I think I want another from you."

You eyes snap open. "Honey," you mumble.

"What?" he asks gently. "I know you can." His hands are moving now, all across your body in an attempt to soothe you. You look down and see the tent in his pants: he's never been so hard in the years that you've known him.

"You need help with that?" you ask with a smile, sitting up. By the direction that your voice is going, he knows what you're talking about.

"No, no, no," he says, using a hand to push you back onto the bed. "Don't change the subject."

"I wasn't."

"Yes," Matt kisses your chest, "you were."

"I can't come again."

"Yes, you can." Matt clicks the vibrator on again and, before you can move away, puts it on your clit.

Your whole body seizes up, your clit goes numb, and all you can feel is good, but too good. Your mind blanks. You shriek out a sound of surprise and pleasure and agony, your body instantly trying to get away. It's too much, you're too sensitive, but he won't let up. He holds you down, shushing you again as you let out little cries and sobs and moans. Your body convulses, twitching in his grasp.

"Shh, shh, baby... I got you. Remember that. You're alright."

"MattMattMatt — I can't!"

"Yes, you can," he says again, firmer this time, but laughs as you try to get away. "Just hang on a little longer, you'll feel good again. Your body is already adapting to it. You're okay."

And of course, it's true. Your body is already getting used to it. Your sobs die down and now, the pleasure is bearable. Extremely good, actually. Your moans are weak, your eyebrows are furrowed, and your eyes are shut again. The convulsions are stopping, and now all you can do is feel it all again.

"That's it, bubba," Matt says, "see? I know you can handle it."

He puts two fingers inside you, slowly, and the burn is less uncomfortable now. A guttural sound leaves you again as you're filled up, and once Matt starts moving again, you tense up immediately. Two fingers and a vibrator are a recipe for an extremely quick orgasm, and you both know it.

"Baby," you whisper.

"What?" he coos. "Is my girl close already?"

"Nnngh," is all you can reply back. "Mm hmm."

"That's what I wanted," Matt says quietly, triumphantly. "You don't have to say anything anymore. Just feel it."

It doesn't take much longer for you to get close to coming again. Especially when Matt begins to drive his fingers into you harder, faster. You can't even speak anymore; all you can do is vocalize; moan, whimper, gasp. And you know that Matt is having the time of his life. One of the first things he ever said to you about things like this was that he'd get off by getting you off, and that has always stuck with you.

Your legs start to quiver.

You peak again, sobbing out a high pitched whine. The feeling is strong now, like an unstoppable force is meeting an immovable object. Your body is tense, unbelievably so, and the pleasure keeps building, but it never crests. It never reaches that point. That's the trouble of having one orgasm after another. It's hard to come. "MMMatt, pplease, please, p —"

"Shh," Matt says again with a grunt, "don't worry. We'll get you there. Relax as much as you can. Remember, I'll take care of you." You try your best to relax your body but it's still a bit difficult. All the while, Matt is practically shoving his fingers into you now, relentlessly, and you start to hear noises down there that send your mind reeling. Your back arches.

"You fuckin' hear that?" Matt's sudden vulgarity is a surprise. He's ravenous. "Oh, you want it, don't you?" He hoists a leg over your own to keep you from moving. "You're so close. Stay here, don't run away from me."

He pauses, but his fingers keep moving. "I'll get some restraints later."

After a few more seconds, it finally hits. You crest, your orgasm starting again, and all you can shriek is a simple, "Oh, oh Jesus — "

"Just come," Matt says quietly. It contrasts heavily with the way he's ramming his fingers into you. "Don't do anything else. Just come. Let go. Let go, let go, let go — "

And, with the encouragement comforting you, what else can you do but do as he says? You're stuck in place and your mind is mush. You come with another wail, this one stronger and more primal than the first, louder too, and you see stars behind your eyelids. Your leg is shaking, and if your other one could move, it would, too. Your clit is warm, almost numb again, and your arms are quivering above his head. The sounds from your privates get more intense, and Matt grunts in exertion. You don't know anything anymore, you can't think or speak. All you can do is feel, and that's exactly what Matt wanted from the start.

You're sure Matt's senses are overloaded. Sound, smell, taste, feel. He can hear how desperate and overtaken you are, he can smell and taste your arousal and sweat in the air, and he can feel your quivers and shakes and your tightness. He's rock hard now, and it probably hurts a little, but he doesn't care. You're all that's on his mind and once again he wishes that he could only see your face in this moment.

"Oh, look at you," Matt praises, slowing his fingers now. You're a mess, a beautiful, satiated mess. There are tears in your eyes and sweat on your brow. Your hair is tangled and unkept, and your knuckles hurt from how hard you've been clenching your fists. It's amazing how this is only from a fingering, but you needed this. You wanted this, as shy as you were to admit it. You pant, weakly, your legs completely unable to move. You're jelly, practically limp, and you twitch and shudder as the last of the aftershocks hit you.

"Can I put it in now?"

You shriek and Matt laughs, falling beside you and immediately wrapping his arms around you. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, baby." He kisses your forehead and cradles your head to him. "Such a good girl," he says, "you did such a good job. I'm so proud of you."

You swallow, and the saliva is a welcome sensation on your dry throat. "I think... I'll call off of work tomorrow," you pant. "Holy hell, Matty."

"Careful," Matt says, "if you do that, I won't be able to stop myself from doing this all over again once you wake up."

"I'm in danger," you say with a breathless laugh. "Just be gentle, okay?"

"Of course," he says, "always. I'm so happy that you allowed me to do that. It's been a while since you've given in that much. You don't know how hot it is to me when you let go like that."

You look down and see the tent in Matt's pants again. "Do you want me to take care of that now?"

"When you're half asleep already? I'm good, honey. That will go away eventually. But it'll be there in the morning, waiting for you. And I may or may not slip out in a few hours and get some restraints from the sex shop later. You may or may not wake up with your arms and legs tied to the bed. Just be warned."

It isn't long before you slip into sleep, completely exhausted but satiated and happy. And while you sleep, you can still feel Matt's lips on your forehead, and you think you can hear a small, "I love you, sweetheart," too.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader smut #daredevil #netflix daredevil #husband! matt murdock #wife!reader #smut #daredevil smut

[barcaatthemoon]

unlucky || alessia russo x reader ||

alessia gets sick and has to miss out on the conti cup final, bringing up some feelings for both of you.

one thing you had learned early on about alessia was that she was not as slick as she thought. you had noticed alessia coming down with whatever was going around the training grounds just a couple days before the game. the conti cup final was a big deal, and alessia wanted so badly to win with arsenal, but you knew that wasn't going to happen.

arsenal's chances were good, but there was no way that alessia was making it to the game. she had been bedridden the day before with a migrane and a fever. alessia played it off like a minor headache, but you could hear the whimpers whenever she thought you weren't paying attention.

that morning, alessia had gotten out of bed and dressed herself up for the game. she had nearly managed to make it out of the apartment without waking you up. the crash in the living room from alessia tripping over herself was more than enough to have you running into the living room. you weren't exactly surprised to find alessia sitting on the floor, but you were definitely disappointed.

"come on, back to bed with you." you reached out to help her up onto her feet. alessia looked utterly miserable as you dragged her back into the bedroom. "what were you thinking less? you're still burning up!"

"i've got a game, and it's an important one," alessia told you. "i can't miss this, it's the final."

"you don't have a choice, and neither do i. if you really want to go, we can watch and support our friends, but you aren't playing," you told her. alessia pouted as she settled back in the bed with you. as much as you wanted her to get better, you were somewhat grateful that she was still too sick to really argue with you.

alessia was fairly quick to fall back sleep, still dressed in her kit. you usually loved watching alessia sleep, but this wasn't the same. alessia tossed and turned in bed, never quite able to get comfortable. your heart ached for her, knowing that the look on her unconscious face wasn't just because of her illness.

winning with arsenal was a big deal to alessia. she wanted to hold that trophy up for the gunners alongside her team. it was all alessia had been talking about since she signed. the season had gone well, even if there had been quite a few wrenches thrown into the plan. each of those times, alessia had been the picture of optimistic, but today she seemed utterly defeated.

"hey, how are you feeling lovely?" you asked alessia as she started to wake up. she sounded a lot less congested, but you weren't going to suggest going to the game for her. if she felt up to it, you were sure that she'd say something to you.

"i feel like everything i've worked towards doesn't matter," alessia grumbled. you sighed as you turned onto your stomach. the look on alessia's face was even worse now that she was awake. you didn't think that you had seen her look so upset since the world cup final. "i don't get it. i work so hard all of the time. why can't i catch a fucking break?"

"lessi, baby," you sighed. you tried to move in to comfort her, but alessia slipped out of bed. "come back to bed, please. talk to me, i don't want you to shut down, please."

"no, i can't right now. just, please, give me a few minutes to myself. i'm going for a walk," alessia said. you watched as she put a hoodie on to cover up her jersey. it was hard to watch alessia just walk out like that, but you knew that you had to give her space. she didn't ask for it often, and you knew better than to try and get close when she resorted to that.

you tried to stay in the bedroom, but you couldn't just sit there and wait for her all afternoon. it was hard, but you managed to get through most of your afternoon with alessia gone. she had sent you a couple of texts promising that she'd be fine, but that didn't stop your worrying. it didn't help that alessia's walk out turned into a pint before she made her way to the stadium to watch the game.

a part of you wanted to go and support your club, but you stayed in the apartment. you felt like alessia's bad luck was all your fault. the only times in the decade that you'd known her that she had gotten like this was after the two of you had begun seeing each other. it was like every single loss in alessia's life was your fault. she had hit a string of bad luck, and you were at the center of it.

sometime during the game, you had pulled out a few bottles of alcohol from the fridge. by the end of the game, you were definitely way past tipsy. you laid your head down, prepared to rest for a moment before you called the girls to congratulate them. instead, you completely passed out, only to wake up to alessia carrying you back into the bedroom in the middle of the night.

"less?" you cracked your eyes open. your head was killing you already, as if the alcohol had worn off just enough to give you a taste of what you'd get in the morning. "what time is it?"

"it's just a bit past 10. sorry that i stayed out so long," alessia apologized. she laid you down in the bed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "the girls missed you in the locker room. katie tried to facetime you, she thought something was wrong."

"something is wrong, and it's all my fault. i'm like your little bad luck charm," you mumbled. you never would have said that sober, and alessia tried not to think about how long you had felt that way. "all the bad things happen because of me, and i'm sorry. you should leave me, find yourself a lucky girl because i'm like a goddamn black cat."

"i don't want a lucky girl. i don't think you're unlucky at all, not one bit," alessia told you. she pressed a kiss to the top of your head as the two of you settled down comfortably. you knew that it'd only be for a moment, but you were happy in her arms. "you didn't get me sick. in fact, you took off from your recovery to help me get better today. any time that i need something, you practically trip over yourself to get it for me."

"excuse me, but we are not all as clumsy as you, ma'am," you joked. alessia shoved your shoulder as you laughed at your own joke. "i'd do anything for you. missing today hurt me too, but i'm glad that you went to watch the game instead of getting drunk like me."

"oh my god, i'm an idiot!" alessia exclaimed. you flinched at the sudden shouting fit, which alessia quietly apologized for as she gave you a quick squeeze.

"i don't think you're an idiot, less." you leaned up to press a kiss to her cheek.

"you're injured. you've been injured for months now, and i miss one game because of a cold and i bitch all about it. i'm so sorry, i didn't even think about your feelings. how could i be so inconsiderate?" alessia looked like she was about to cry as she came to the realization that she had moped around for most of the day with you. you had gotten used to knowing that you'd miss things because of your injury, and alessia was always painfully careful about the things she chose to celebrate.

"don't beat yourself up, it's fine. i knew when i went down that it wasn't going to be on the six weeks side of things. this was big for you, and it was your dream to win with arsenal. you had to sit out on this game, but by this time next year, you won't remember how bad it felt when you're scoring hat tricks left and right," you said. alessia smiled, and you knew that she was thinking about that feeling. "but before you can do any of that, you've got to rest and get better."

"i don't know what i'd do without you sometimes," alessia admitted. she felt a bit foolish about how she had acted earlier, even if you repeatedly let her know that her feelings were valid.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for snapping at a friend?

Posting for an unbiased opinion. I have this friend (both M, both minors, same age) that I've known since we were babies. We've always been pretty close, and we've always been somewhat competitive, but not in a toxic way, really.

One thing we share is that we both LOVE animals. Neither of us had a pet when we were younger, but we've spent a lot of time talking about what we want and trying to convince our parents for pets, but they wanted us to grow and prove responsibility first.

Knowing this, you could see how exciting it was when a few months ago my Grandpa (who is a zoologist) took us both to get our first pets. It seems unrelated, but it's relevant to know that we both now have the experience and bond with them.

Early last week, I lost my rat. Vet says there was nothing I could have done different, it was an injury he couldn't heal from, but it's taken a toll on me. He wasn't even very old, and I've been feeling awful!

My little guy was buried in a little cemetery for pets, and I took him there on my own to bury (it was safe for me to go alone, don't worry!) and just kinda... sit. I needed to process this, I've never dealt with the death of a pet before. He wasn't my first to get, but my first to lose. While I was there, my friend showed up, and I snapped at him. All of his pets are fine, and I didn't even tell him I was going since I wanted some alone time, so it felt like he was there just to brag!

Over the last few weeks our competitiveness has gotten a bit more like a rivalry, I guess, and he's been able to "beat" me in everything! He's doing better at things I even started on first! Before we were about even, so this change had really gotten on my nerves.

Now, I honestly don't think I'm the asshole here, since I'm still dealing with the loss of my rat, but my Gramps says I need to apologize. Whatever. Smell ya later!

#aita #am i the asshole #fandom aita #unreality #pokemon #gary oak

[mimiixen]

𝐋𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲

Synopsis: Insomniac boyfriend with his hypersomniac partner :3

Pairings: Geto Suguru X GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Notes: YES CHAT I KNOW I PROMISED TATTOO ARTIST!GETO BUT I COULD NOT GET THIS OUT OF MY HEAD IT ISNT MY FAULT, BLAME SUGURU. Also sorry for any typos im writing ts at 5 AM :3

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Suguru always had trouble falling. For as long as he could remember his nights had been spent counting stars or sitting at a window, staring at the city lights below until he felt somewhat drowsy. It was worse when he went on back to back missions. That only made it harder for him to get some rest. You,on the other hand, went out like a light any chance you got. No matter what time, where you were, what you were doing. If you had a chance, you'd go to sleep.

Suguru found that so oddly endearing but he was also quite envious of you. Here he was, doing everything in his power to get himself to go to sleep and you were beside him dead asleep. It hadn't even been five minutes since you two had gotten into bed

He let out a puff of annoyance, blowing the strands of hair out of his face as he sat up slightly on his elbow to look down at you. "Whatever shall we do with you, Hm?" He mumbled, his voice a mixture of half grogginess and half fondness. He lifted a hand to poke at your cheeks, trying to get a reaction out of you but all it did was make you change sides, removing your face from view.

That annoyed your sleep deprived boyfriend even more as he returned his head to the pillow, his brows furrowed as he stared at your back now. The room was filled with the sounds of your light breathing. He so badly wanted to drift off to sleep. The best part was even if he did somehow manage to sleep, he'd still be awake hours before you.

His mind was lulled with these thoughts when he heard you shifting your side again, facing him once more and wrapping your arms around his torso. Suguru raised an eyebrow looking down at you with a grin. "Sleep." You mumbled against his chest, halfway to falling asleep again. "I've been trying for quite a while now" He reassured you in a whisper, causing you to lift your face and slightly crack open your eyes. You placed a kiss on his cheek, resting your head in the crook of his neck afterwards. "Sleep" You repeated a bit more firmly this time.

"You do know repeating 'sleep' over and over again won't actually make me sleepy, right?" Suguru asked with a quite laugh to which you only replied with a light bite on his shoulder. He sighed, grinning a bit as he wrapped his own arms around you, resting his chin on your head. A few minutes passed in which you had already fallen asleep again and Suguru felt his eyelids getting heavy. He closed them for a little while, trying to reduce that odd feeling and that was how he spent the next hours getting a proper night's rest after a long while.

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#jjk x you #jjk oneshot #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagine #geto suguru #fanfic #fanfiction #geto x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gege akutami #jujutsu sorcerer #geto fluff #sleepy #jujutsu fluff #jjk fluff

[reiluvr]

Suguru's Morning Routine

hello! this is a new account, just cause i wanted to start somewhere new! requests are open and im still working on everything so...

i'll eventually make a masterlist, once i've posted at least 5 works or so.

this is pretty much 100% fluff even though i'm a hardcore angst girl. just starting off easy. uhhh there's suggestive words but no smut.

just suguru being head over heels for you and toru <3

It's the way Suguru has his alarms set for at least half an hour before the other two ring. He's so used to this routine that he doesn't even really need the alarm, his eyes already open and hands reaching for his phone to turn the alarm off in case it wakes you two up. He turns his body, a smile subconsciously falling onto his face as he observes the mess of your hair. He gently brushes a few strands away from your mouth, fingers tracing your features as he grins.

Once his ten minutes of admiring you are up, his body shifts, neck craning to admire Satoru on your other end. His heart flutters as he watches the constant rise and fall of Satoru's chest, finding solace in watching the "honored one" look so mundane. His smile only widens further as his eyes trail down to observe how your legs entangle with Satoru's, Suguru being the only somewhat normal sleeper. In the quiet of the room, a small giggle escapes him as he thinks back to the beginning of the relationship, how hard it had been to get a good amount of sleep between Satoru's limbs stretching across the entire bed and you're constant mumbling. Now it's only one of his countless favorite things about his two partners.

He alternates between both of you, waiting until the sun has fully risen to quietly get out of bed, humming a soft tune as he turns on the coffee maker, already pulling out countless items from the refrigerator. It was honestly a blessing that Satoru was loaded, because not only did he eat for a family of ten, all three people in the house had very different tastes, leading to grocery weekends being quite hectic. He places three cups on the counter, practically adding only a few drops off coffee to the first one as he drowns it in creamer and sugar cubes. He moves to the second, not even trying to fight the smile as he notices the small paw prints on the side of the mug. He had gotten accustomed to finding cat themed items all around the house once you had moved in. It had been a nightmare listening to Satoru whine constantly about how "those stupid cats mean more than we do, right?" He adds two sugar cubes to the cat themed cup, pouring the coffee and topping it off with whatever nut based milk they had bought that week. By the time he turns to the last cup, Satoru's poptarts have popped out the toaster, so he quickly places them on a plate while he heats up a pan to prepare his own eggs. He quickly pours coffee in his own cup, not bothering with sugar or cream as he takes a few sips, mixing granola into some strawberry yogurt. By the time breakfast is ready, he can already hear Satoru's soft whines from the bedroom, the man already having found something to complain about. He places the poptarts on one end of the desk, placing the granola in the middle, and the eggs on the other end. No one spoke about it, but everyone knew they had an assigned seat.

He takes his coffee with him, leaning against the door frame of their bedroom as he watches. Satoru seems to be clawing at the bedsheets, one hand digging into the bed as the other is wrapped tightly around the bedframe. You stand there, hair a mess and clothes all ruffled, clearly just having gotten up, with one of Satoru's ankle in you hands, desperately trying to pull him out of bed. Suguru rolls his eyes, you'd think after years of living together, they'd be over this dramatic scene every morning. He sighs, placing his cup on the dresser as he shuffles behind you, hands wrapping around your waist as you drop Satoru's leg in surprise.

"For once, could you two just wake up normally?"

He has to suppress his smile as he hears your own frustrated complaints, already talking his ear off first thing in the morning.

"I woke up and he was literally laying on me! So I push him off and he start whining and crying, you know how he is, he's all like "you don't love me" and "I'll just go die, I guess". And then! Suguru, you're not gonna believe this, actually, you will, cause Satoru still acts like he's 16. He pulls me back with him as he's like, "Hey ma". MA? WHY IS HE TRYING TO HAVE SEX FIRST THING IN THE MORNING??-"

Suguru does the only thing that he knows will shut you up, pressing his lips against your own as he silences you, Satoru cackling in the back as you push Suguru away, already on another rant about how you're living with two men who are horny 24/7. Of course, you're just kidding, already back in Suguru's hold a few minutes later, both of you just swaying in place while waiting for Satoru to finish washing his face. (He has a 24 step skin care routine.)

The three of you finally settle into your places, both you and Satoru digging into the prepared breakfast in front of you. Suguru sighs happily, watching as a bit of yogurt sticks to your nose, Satoru pointing it out. He watches as Satoru throws his head back in laughter as you try to wipe it off, only smudging it more. He holds back to urge to tell Satoru not to speak with his mouth full. He watches as you rub your nose red, somehow still missing the smudge. He watches as Satoru finally reaches over, using the edge of his sweater's sleeve, it's Suguru's sweater but he's already accepted he's never getting it back, to gently rub your face, getting rid of the mark. By the time he takes a bite of his own eggs, they're cold. He just smiles and continues eating, a cold breakfast being a small price to pay for enjoying his morning with his favorite people.

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo x you #geto x you #satosugu #stsg #satosugu x reader #stsg x reader #gojo x geto #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[wri0thesley]

famous last words - dottore x reader x dainsleif (9.6k)

you can take care of yourself.

cw: dead dove, do not eat. not sfw, minors dni. non-con, drugging, syringes, mind control. yandere dottore and yandere dainsleif. reader is the traveller and has been travelling with dain. bondage, restraints, misuse of the akasha system, reader is traumatised and taken advantage of by dainsleif after being at dottore's mercy. reader wears a dress and has breasts/a vagina, but is referred to by they/them pronouns. please please heed the warnings.

a/n: please please (i am repeating it!) read the warnings on this one. one of my favourite yandere/dark content tropes is actually 'reader has a horrible experience and then a character who is supposed to take care of them takes advantage of them', and i don't think i've ever written it before, so this was super interesting to write!

this was a commissioned work.

Dainsleif has been on edge since the two of you crossed Sumeru’s borders. 

He doesn’t say it out loud - you have learnt, over the time the two of you have spent travelling together, that Dainsleif is a man of very few words even at the best of times - but you know his small quirks and foibles well enough now that you sense it. It’s in the set of his shoulders and the line of his mouth, the way his eyes are constantly darting about wherever you go.

It’s somewhat in the way he walks closer to you, his height casting a shadow over your own, as if he can protect you merely by being near you. It makes a muscle in your jaw twitch - you are grateful for his care, of course, but surely he knows by now that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself? You have gotten used to the feeling of a sword in your hand over your search for your twin - you have made a name for yourself in every nation you’ve traversed, and only some of the time has Dainsleif been by your side. 

You suppose that the newfound relationship between the two of you is clouding his judgement somewhat too--

Well.

‘Relationship’ might be too strong of a word.

Dainsleif is hesitant with you even now; checks with you, twice and three times, before he so much as touches your shoulder. But you hope you have made it clear he does not need to, with the way you have let your hand entangle with his and the way you have smiled at him when nobody else is looking, the soft confessions to him at camp overnight that he’s one of only two people in this world you would trust whole-heartedly . . .

All of that, perhaps, has made Dain even more protective over you than he was before, despite the truth of the matter being that you are almost equal in swordsmanship and combat ability. And he’s said enough to you, too, that you understand his hesitance. Other people he has loved have been taken from him - a whole nation, in fact. Dain has had to struggle on for years all alone, and walls built over such a long time do not crumble so easily--

But still. You wish he would not fret so when you walk away from him in Sumeru City to investigate an interesting looking fruit and to ask the stallholder some questions about their wares. 

You’re startled out of your reverie - handling the Zaytun peaches that lay in plump piles in round baskets upon this particular stall - by Dain murmuring your name. He has attracted some attention - he is tall and handsome and blond, an air of mystery and exoticism emanating off of him - but he is unaware of the giggles behind other people’s hands, his gaze set firmly on you.

He has always been like that - those piercing blue eyes, even through his mask-like patch - never fail to make you feel as though you are the only person in the world. You have woken up in the night at camp plenty of times, too, and felt safe in the knowledge that Dainsleif is there and his gaze will not falter. 

You toss some Mora to the stallholder and turn to Dainsleif, proffering one of the peaches to him. He takes it like a precious treasure.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him, before you take a bite. His brow is furrowed - you sense something brewing in the wind. A kind of unease that lies hot and heavy in the humid Sumeru air. Dain sighs softly.

“I have some things I must do,” he says to you, his voice soft and low. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but . . .”

“I’ll be fine,” you tell him, smiling. You wonder what it is that he does not want to take you along with, but you do not push - Dainsleif will tell you in his own time, you are sure. You have no desire to push him too far when his hope seems such a fragile thing still. “I’ll meet you tonight, here?”

His shoulders untense, just a touch. 

“Will you stay in the City?” He asks you, and you laugh.

“Dain,” you say, smiling, just a touch of reproach in your voice. “I can take care of myself, you know! Go and do what you need to do. I will be absolutely fine. You know that! When have I not been?”

Dain does not look entirely convinced, but whatever it is that he has a need to do has a hold on him - he looks at you with those serious, piercing eyes and takes your hand. Your cheeks go hot all over as he bends to press a chivalrous kiss upon the back of it. The crowd of admirers that Dain has amassed are all atwitter over this - you cannot blame them. If you’d seen it happen to someone else you’re sure you’d be swooning. Even now, your heart is beating a double time march against your ribcage as you wonder how you got so lucky. 

“You promise me?” He asks. You can sense he is barely holding back the urgency in his voice; anxiety that tugs at the syllables like it is weighing them down. This errand he has to run . . . your curiosity runs rampant at what it might be that it is so clearly important to him.

“I promise I’ll be more than fine,” you say to him, smiling. There is the slightest snick of irritation, in the back of your mind - have you not fought dragons? Have you not befriended Archons? His concern is sweet, but he does not need to fret about you so. You say to him, trying to make sure your voice is as reasonable and convincing as possible; “You don’t have to worry about me.”

As it turns out, this proclamation will come back to haunt you.

They will become what are referred to in some places as ‘famous last words’.

You notice the earpieces that the Sumeru citizens wear as you wander around; when you ask someone about it, they look baffled as to your own lack of them.

“Usually you’re given one when you come into the city,” the young woman explains, as she kindly guides you back towards the entrance of Sumeru City. This explains it; Dainsleif always prefers to take the least populated way into anywhere, and most of the time you are happy to agree with him. Your exploits across Teyvat so far have occasionally resulted in some notoriety that isn’t always conducive to exploring new nations; you’re not surprised that Dainsleif had avoided the grand entrance of Sumeru City proper. Still, you’re beaming as the young woman brazenly walks up to one of the men standing at the entrance greeting newcomers. 

He has dark hair and a moustache, and is wearing the robes that you recognise as marking him out as a member of the Sumeru Akademiya; as the young woman explains that you two are without the devices - she calls them an ‘Akasha’ - you smile at him, as bright and hopeful and friendly as you can manage. 

He nods thoughtfully, and raises a hand to his own Akasha system.

“Just a moment,” he tells you, “I’m scanning the system for any information on you - just to ensure we don’t go around letting in criminals, you see?” 

As he does that, you ask a few more questions of the young woman - what it is that the Akasha system does, and whether your . . . unusual physiology (a far easier way to explain it, you’ve surmised over weeks of practise, than explaining that you are a traveller from beyond the realms of Teyvat) will effect it in any way. She is effluent with her praise - the Akasha, she tells you with a wide smile and genuine pride in her voice, has truly revolutionised what it is like to be a citizen of Sumeru. 

“This is unusual,” the man says, finally taking his hand from the complicated earpiece of the Akasha system. “I’m terribly sorry, but . . .”

“Is everything alright?”

You hadn’t wanted to mention it, of course - but you’d been afraid when he’d said he was scanning for information on you. Though you have mostly made peace with the nations you’ve travelled through, there have been plenty of misunderstandings too - and there are an unfortunate amount of activities that may be considered criminal in your past. Your heart beats just a little too quickly, as you carry on smiling and hope that your nervousness isn’t written too plain on your face.

You’d hate to get yourself into trouble after promising Dainsleif you would be absolutely fine on your own. 

“I’m sure there’s no problem at all,” the man assures you, as he tries to return your smile. “It’s simply that we do have a record of you - oh, please don’t worry, it doesn’t name you as a wanted criminal or some such thing! It merely asks that you be shown to the Akademiya to meet with one of our trusted scholars, if you are to set foot in Sumeru City.” 

This sounds a little more understandable, you think, as you let loose a small sigh of relief. Your reputation precedes you in several places - and this scholar would be far from the first person who has sought your help with matters. It’s strange that they couldn’t manage it alone with all of the resources of Sumeru behind them, but you are not in a position to judge. 

“Is it just me?” You ask. “I usually travel with another man, a different blond--”

He checks, the vine-like contraption of the Akasha pulsing over his ear, but then he shakes his head.

“No,” he says, as he offers you his arm. “The only information we have is on you.” Another smile, clearly meant to reassure. “I really did mean it about not worrying; if you were a danger, I’m certain that this would not all be so civil. Sumeru maintains several forces of Eremite mercenaries to keep the peace, and the Akademiya itself has the Matra . . . If you were about to be in trouble, there would be far more of a guard than simply me.”

You still consider running. You let your eyes flash over the surrounding area to map out all possible escape routes, to see who you might have to fight if you need to - but in the end, you take the proffered arm. No matter how much Dainsleif might want you to lie low and not attract attention, you can’t help thinking that causing a scene like that would be far worse than going along with whatever it is you’re wanted for up in the Akademiya. 

You do not know it at the time, but it turns out to be just another decision that will come back to bite you. 

As the two of you walk, Panah - that is the man’s name, you find out - sends a message up to the Akademiya proper via the system, to let them know that the two of you are coming. He seems almost giddy when he is done, a smile playing beneath the moustache.

“I was permitted to speak to him myself,” he says, and you gather from the excitement in his voice that whatever man it is you’re about to meet occupies a place of high honour within the walls of the Akademiya. You’re impressed by the technology; you can’t help thinking how useful it would be, if you and Dainsleif had such a way to communicate when you were apart.

He’s not going to be happy about all of this - but with any luck, this will be a quick thing for you to deal with and you’ll be able to rake in some glory and reputation in Sumeru so the two of you don’t have to worry so much on your journey. A lost dog, perhaps. A band of Treasure Hoarders who need to be taken out--

If you had one of those Akasha systems, you think, you wouldn’t need to be trailing up all of these steps. You bring this up to Panah, and he laughs, still riding a high from speaking to whoever it was he was permitted to speak to.

“Ah, don’t worry about that! You’re going to be very lucky - he told me he even has an Akasha terminal set aside especially for you, with a couple of brand new features he’s been wanting to test out--”

Later on, you’ll curse yourself for these words not setting alarm bells off in your head. But right then, under the bright Sumeru sun and with the freedom of a day in Sumeru without Dain’s occasionally too protective presence, you just laugh brightly and daydream about the knowledge your very own Akasha will place at your fingertips.

There’s a little bit of pomp and ceremony when you make it to the Akademiya proper; the other staff members and workers and students who have been assigned to help you are all excited and chattering as they wave Panah off and begin to lead you into the labyrinthine halls. It’s a beautiful building, to be sure - but it’s deceptively large, and after going through lifts and corridors and being taken through door after door you begin to lose sense of where exactly it is you are. You feel a brief flare of panic inside; you much prefer to be in places where you have an idea of how to escape, should the need arise--

But everyone around you remains excited about the great scholar you’re about to meet, and their smiles and pats and their wistful proclamations about how lucky you are serve to soothe the fear, just a little. 

“Here we are,” says one of them, stopping outside a great wooden door with a complicated series of locks on it; some of them are easy to understand (you know what a padlock looks like, after all), but others seem to be rather more high-tech than you’re used to. Whatever it is behind this door, you think, it must either be very important or very expensive. “Oh! We have your Akasha terminal--”

He reaches into the folds of his robe to produce one of the vine-like contraptions that everyone in Sumeru wears on their ears.

“This one was designed by him specifically,” the man tells you in awe, as he reaches over and affixes it onto your ear. “It has a few brand new functions that he wants help testing out, and he said that your experience would be a huge boon in working out all of the kinks--”

Ah. So that’s what he wanted your help with. You wonder which of your exploits it is that has made this scholar think you’d be a good fit for this kind of testing; you wonder, too, why Dainsleif wasn’t included in this idea. The two of you have done so much together, after all--

You feel a brief electric zap that seems to flash over your vision and down to your spine. A little noise in your ear, a sense of heat that lasts barely a moment - and then, the man is stepping away from you and giving a strange little bow.

“It’s working, I think,” he says, as he reaches into his pocket to turn a key, swipe a card, as his own Akasha pulses to life and some of the locks upon the door respond in kind. “Ah - I’m afraid we’ll be leaving you. His temperament can be a little unpredictable, and I’m sure he’d rather meet you alone--”

“That’s alright,” you say, smiling. You wonder what kind of brand new functions this Akasha system is going to have; perhaps something for combat capabilities? Wilderness scanning, to be able to identify poisonous herbs and dangerous animals? The big wooden door slowly creaks open, as the entourage who have guided you into the bowels of the Akademiya all disperse, leaving you alone.

“Come in,” calls a voice. 

The voice is familiar; somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that you recognise it. A kind of low, smooth drawl of a voice, that shivers with suggestion as it calls out to you. But it is not enough to deter you, now you’ve made it all the way here. 

You step into the room, walking further and further into it to see that it’s a . . . workshop, of some sort. There are a few tables scattered with various tools, deconstructed machinery lolling on the floor and propped against walls. There are a couple of remains of Ruin Guards, but in Sumeru this is hardly a surprising sight--

The door slams closed behind you. You hear the click and the whirr of the locks resetting themselves, trapping you in here, but even then you still do not panic just yet. You are in the Sumeru Akademiya, after all - what horror could possibly befall you at the hands of someone so well-regarded, in such a beacon of wisdom and hope in the nation? 

That’s when you spot the bed in the middle of the room. 

Sterile white sheets, white metal frame, restraints at the head and at the feet. An IV standing proudly beside it; a table to one side that is scattered with, instead of tools and screwdrivers, medical equipment. Needles and scalpels and pill bottles. Your throat goes dry. 

“Ah,” there’s that voice again, and out of the shadows steps a figure. Your brain snaps into action sickeningly quickly; this is indeed a man you recognise. This figure, in his doctor’s coat and long boots, with his hair falling over a masked face-- “You’re just as lovely as I remembered you.” 

You crouch, your body primed, your position ready to jump to attention at any moment. You reach behind you to will your sword into your hand - if you incapacitate Dottore quickly enough, perhaps you can knock him out whilst you search his workshop for tools to help you break the locks--

“Oh, my,” he says. “Such an unwelcome reception, my dear. Still. That won’t be for long.”

“Open the door,” you snarl, through gritted teeth. “Let me out, and I won’t ram my blade through your throat.”

He smiles beneath the mask, the tilt of his lips almost fond. 

“There’s that lovely fire,” he says to you, in a pleased purr. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for you for what seems like forever.”

“I’m warning you--” Your fingers wrap around the hilt of your sword. Your breath comes short; your heart pounds. 

You do not truly know if you could take Dottore in a fight - he is ranked second of the Harbingers, after all, and you do not think such a position would be granted without some combat capability. But you have to hold fast to your hope - and without Dainsleif here, all you have to rely on is your own skills. What might happen if he does overpower you doesn’t bear thinking about--

(You’d noticed, the last time the two of you had met, the way his gaze behind the mask had lingered on the shape of your body. The way he had spoken silky smooth, shivering with intent, when he had addressed you. The way his leather gloved hands had felt, on your shoulders, lingering there as if they wished they could be somewhere else--)

“Ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue, chiding. “Now, darling. That won’t do at all.”

You realise too late that the Doctor himself is not wearing an Akasha system earpiece - but you are. 

And as you feel it pulse into life, as bright colours flash against your vision and you stumble, your sword slipping through your fingers . . .

Everything goes black.

“Now,” Dottore’s voice cuts through the blackness, as everything seems to slowly fall back into place like a jigsaw puzzle being re-assembled. “This might hurt a touch. Just a sharp scratch, my dear--”

You’ve been strapped onto the medical bed, just as you had feared. The straps are wrapped around your ankles and your wrists, binding you spread-eagle upon the thin little mattress. You can still feel the vines of the Akasha system wrapped around your ear, and your throat clogs with the fear of it - if it could knock you out stone cold, what else could it do? Your eyes flutter open, and Dottore pauses--

He’s leaning over you with a syringe in his hand, the liquid within glowing with the same blue glow as the earring he wears. As he sees that you’re awake, his mouth opens into a wide smile with just a hint of too sharp teeth.

“Oh!” He exclaims in delight. “You’re finally awake! My, you’ve missed quite the little drama.”

He carefully places the syringe down upon the metal table as he reaches over you and fiddles with some kind of control on the side of the bed. Slowly, it creaks upwards, propping you up a little so you are bent at the waist.

“That’s better,” Dottore coos. “Now we can all see one another. Look, darling. Your knight in shining armour.” 

Dainsleif. 

How long have you been out cold? How easy was it for Dottore to strap you onto this operating table - how deeply did the Akasha knock you out? 

Long enough for Dain to realise you were missing. Long enough for him to track you down - long enough for he, too, to be overpowered by the second Harbinger and find himself entirely at the Doctor’s mercy.

Your travelling companion sits across from the bed you are restrained upon, ropes tied around his broad chest to keep him lashed to a rusted metal chair. A gag has been crudely shoved into his mouth so all he can do is make a soft little distressed noise at the predicament you have found himself in; more ropes bind his ankles to each leg of the chair, just to ensure that he’s fully unable to so much as wriggle in his bindings. He stares at you, agonised. 

“We’ve been talking about everything I’m going to do to you,” Dottore hums - and something hot and sour crawls into your throat as he leans over, and his leather gloves caress your face like a lover and not like a madman. “Ah, sweet little traveller . . . I’ve barely been able to wait to get my hands on you. A pretty face like that, and that fighting spirit . . . Ah! You stick in a man’s mind.” His smile is just as wide and unhinged as ever as he taps your cheek fondly. “I don’t think your poor knight is going to enjoy it, but . . . well. I’m sure you will.”

You struggle in the bonds, as your strength returns to you. You try and use your not inconsiderable strength to see if you can loosen the leather around your wrists, as fear of the undercurrent of desire in Dottore’s words and anger at Dainsleif finding you like this and worry about Dain himself all war at once within you like a churning whirlpool.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you seethe at Dottore, tugging hard. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but it would be better for everyone if you just let me go now, and we can pretend none of this happened--”

Dottore throws his head back and laughs. 

“Oh,” he practically purrs at you. “You’re so lovely when you’re enraged. But . . . ah. No, I don’t think I shall. Now, my dear. How shall we start? A kiss, perhaps? Your lips have been haunting my dreams recently--”

“I’ll bite your tongue off,” you snarl, and though you cannot see Dottore’s eyes you can tell from the way that his face moves that he has raised his eyebrows. He lets out a low, silky chuckle.

“Ah. So that’s how it’s going to be. Well, if so . . .”

He reaches back over to the metal table, and in his hands now he lifts the syringe once more. He taps the barrel of glowing blue liquid once, twice, that infuriatingly calm and smooth smile returning to his face. 

“This won’t knock you out,” he tells you. “I want you to be aware of everything we do together, darling, so you remember how good it makes you feel . . . how much we belong together. But it shall . . . how should I put this? Take a bit of the edge out of you.” He leans in; finding the crook of your elbow, thumb smoothing softly and almost lovingly over the patch of skin. “I’d hate for all of your fire to go missing, but . . . perhaps we should at least dull your teeth a little, hmm?” 

Dainsleif makes some awful noise; a whimper crossed with a moan, a kind of noise you’ve never heard the stoic Twilight Sword make before, as the needle sinks into your skin with a sharp scratch. Panic flares in your mind white hot at whatever kind of concoction is being injected directly into your veins--

But the panic quickly dulls, as you feel the drug beginning to take effect. 

It adds a muzzy kind of quality to everything. You see Dottore and Dain before you - the Doctor smiling, Dain agonised behind his patch and gag and rope. You know that there is something terribly wrong with this scene, but your mind is too hazy to pull up the specifics. You go to open your mouth and put word to a question, but nothing comes out - your tongue is too heavy, your teeth feeling as though they’re in the wrong place in your mouth.

“Oh, lovely,” says Dottore with relish. “My, you took to that sedative better than even I hoped you would! Sweet dear thing, will you let me kiss you now?”

You know, in that hazy mess of your mind, that you do not want this man to kiss you - but as he leans forward, you cannot remember why. You cannot make your tongue move to say no, and before you know it a pair of lips have firmly pressed to your own, tasting of the smell of antiseptic and peppermint. Dottore kisses you as thoroughly as he does everything else - his mouth working against yours, sharp teeth tugging at your lower lip, his tongue slipping into your mouth and laying claim to the shape of it as if he is an explorer mapping out newly conquered territory.

From somewhere that seems very far away, you hear another angry noise, half groan and half moan. 

Dottore pulls back, his tongue tracing his lips as if he’s savouring the taste of you left on them.

“Even better than I imagined,” he murmurs. “But . . . ah, my dear, don’t you want to kiss me back?”

There’s a pulse by your ear. Your mind short-circuits - and then Dottore is leaning in again for another kiss, and without you sending a single signal to your body you are kissing Dottore back, your mouth working against his, your tongues twining with one another as if possessed by an unknown force. Dottore groans into your mouth, at the same time as one of his gloved hands comes to land on your thigh, bare beneath your skirt. 

You realise dully that it is the Akasha, taking control of your body; doing exactly what Dottore tells you to do.

If you hadn’t been drugged with the sedative that the Doctor had used, perhaps this realisation would make horror rise in you - it clearly does in Dainsleif, who struggles desperately against his bonds. But to you, in your current state . . . it is merely a realisation that washes over you like a cool stream. An inevitability. 

“Ah,” Dottore says, and he smiles something horrific and tender down at you. “We’re going to enjoy ourselves, aren’t we?” 

Those gloved fingers slide higher and higher up your thigh, the touch remaining soft. You think it would be better if he started pawing at you like an animal; if he ripped and tore at your clothes. Something about the softness of how his thumb moves over your inner thigh, the soft untouched skin there - something about the gentle way his thumb brushes over your underwear . . . that feels a hundred times worse than you could ever imagine. 

He sighs in pleasure. All you can do is lay there and take it; your wrists and ankles bound, your entire body prone, your veins numbed with sedatives. Your eyes seek out Dain’s across the room - and he looks at you, so broken that you think you will cry. 

Dottore’s other hand reaches up to the catches down the side of your dress. They are there to make it easier to dress yourself - catches and buttons up your spine are not helpful when you are alone or injured, and since you have found yourself in Teyvat you have been both of those things more often than you’d like to have - but you curse them, now, as Dottore’s other hand gently (oh-so-gently) peels them from your body and you are almost bare before him. Your nipples pebble in the cool air; your cheeks flush hot at how he tilts his head to look down at you. 

If you could see his eyes, what would you see written in them? 

“Oh,” Dottore is quiet when he speaks; appreciation dripping off every syllable. He moves his other hand away from where he’s been constantly petting at your sex through your underwear in order to turn all of his attention to your newly bared chest; you feel the hot flush across your collarbones at the sheer admiration that seems to ghost every movement. “You’re even more lovely than I could have thought.”

His leather-clad palms reach down, taking a handful of the soft curve of your chest; squeezing the half-globes in his hand, sighing happily at how they fit in his grip. His thumb and forefinger find the nub of your nipples, pinching one each until they stiffen and pucker beneath the attention and you squirm, a hot little bolt of lightning going straight from the place Dottore is pinching to the place between your thighs.

“You like that?” He murmurs, not missing the way you shudder beneath the attention. “Ah, sweet thing - has your knight not done this for you? Have you been saving yourself for me?”

Again, you can’t make your tongue form words; all you can do is let out a little whimpering moan of a noise that makes Dottore chuckle. It sounds far too close to affirmation for your liking, but what can you really do, as Dottore continues to pinch and pluck at your nipples and the warm zaps of pleasure and excitement continue to run hot in your veins? 

You can hear the way your breath is starting to come out in little pants; how it shudders in the air, heat coalescing between the bots of you as Dottore’s insistent pinches further cloud your mind. You can’t help the noise that falls from your mouth as he bends his head and applies his tongue just so upon one of the buds; as it swirls around it, suckling the nipple into his mouth, lathing it with attention that makes your back arch involuntarily. 

Dainsleif, still bound across the room, fights against the ropes once again and lets out a muffled noise of anger; words caught in the gag, vitriol spewed at the Doctor as he does whatever he wants to with your body. It is all for nothing, though. 

Dottore’s thumbs are hooking into your underwear. The thin cotton tears at the seams at only the flimsiest tug from the second ranked Harbinger, and then Dottore is looking down at your spread thighs and the folds of your sex on display for him and cooing at you so sweetly that it cloys. 

“Oh, darling,” he says to you. “You’re this wet for me?”

It’s not fair.

Frustrated tears rise to your eyes. In your current state, drugged and confused, under all of Dottore’s touches . . . your body has betrayed you. You know you’re wet; you can feel your own slick, oozing out of you, your folds wet with droplets of arousal. Desire to be touched warring with disgust for the man before you inside of you - frustration that you cannot so much as speak to put voice to your anger. Not even to beg him to stop. 

Hand on your thigh. Two fingers, deftly parting the lips of your labia so cool air hits the sensitive inner folds; the swollen bud of your clit, waiting to be touched, thrumming with excitement. A whine catches in your throat at the sensation of being studied like this; the way that Dottore is looking down at you like a wolf about to thoroughly enjoy his meal. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, again. “So much lovelier in the flesh.” He turns his head without turning his body, catching Dainsleif’s gaze. “Look, Twilight Sword. Ah. Don’t you wish you were in my position now? Aren’t you simply longing to have your wicked way with our sweet little Traveller?” 

Dain struggles desperately, the muscles of his shoulders flexing, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth working at the gag firmly pressed within it. You know that he wants to help you; that Dain would tear Dottore limb for limb for what he is clearly about to do to you, if only he could get himself free. 

But, too, there’s something in his eye that you do not want to admit to.

Shining bright behind the agonised blue is a palpable lust; a desire to be in Dottore’s place. You know that Dain would never hurt you - would never strap you to a table and use you against your will, you’re sure of it - but that look in his eyes makes you shiver. 

“Don’t worry,” Dottore assures him, turning back to you with that wicked smile on his face. “I’ll make sure you get to watch.” 

He eases the way his fingers are keeping you spread apart in order to be able to slowly slide his index finger through the valley of your sex; to wet his glove on all of the slick, to let it gather on his fingertip. He raises that gloved finger to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste you as he tilts his chin back to savour it.

“Ah,” he says, as he tugs his glove off with his teeth. “Forgive me, my dear - I simply must feel you without them.”

His fingertips feel just as cold, as he touches you with them instead of the gloves. Your back arches again, though your own restraints keep you on the bed and stop you from being able to wriggle away from Dottore’s questing fingers even if the sedative hadn’t filled your limbs with honey.

Dottore lets out a soft chuckle at the way your body moves, another chiding click of his tongue. 

“Breathe out,” he advises you, as his finger circles your entrance, as his thumb finds the swollen pearl of your clit and begins to draw slow, firm circles over it. “It will make it easier, sweet thing--”

One of his fingers swiftly presses inside of you, punching the air out of your chest. You hate it, you think - you hate the feel of his slender digits pressing further and further inside of you, the feel of him crooking his knuckle just so that the bone rubs against a spot inside of you that makes you see stars--

It feels good, too. You don’t want it to. You don’t like how the feeling of him inside of you seems to satiate an ache that had started when he had rubbed over the seam of your underwear and kissed you and toyed with your chest. You don’t like that, as a second finger rubs around your entrance in preparation to be put inside of you, your breath catches in excitement at the thought of being stretched further.

“That’s right,” Dottore is murmuring, his own voice a little breathless now as excitement leaks into his tone. “Oh, you’re doing so well, lovely thing. Ah-- you have no idea how good you feel. Like silk . . . Thinking about doing this to you doesn’t at all measure up to the real thing.”

The thought of Dottore having these thoughts about you makes your heart twist. You close your eyes, just so you don’t have to see Dainsleif sitting across from you, watching you with agonised eyes as Dottore’s fingers make you feel a way you didn’t know you could. 

A few more months and perhaps you would have imagined Dain himself doing this to you - something more intimate than the shy, awkward kisses the two of you have so far shared, as Dainsleif silently agonises and worries about his body being tainted and his curse ruining everything that shimmers between the two of you like fragile gossamer. Perhaps then, it would have been slow and careful - Dain waiting for you to give the go-ahead, letting you lead . . .

That choice has been taken from you, now, as two of Dottore’s fingers scissor inside of you to open you up wide and his thumb continues to rub over your clit in firm, sure circles. The way that Dottore touches you would almost be clinical - designed solely to make you feel good, to prepare you for the inevitable stretch of his cock, to make sure that your slickness would provide adequate lubrication for the glide of the same - were it not for the bright mania that fills his grin as he stares down at you, watching your sex swallow his fingers with every wet, slick pump of his wrist. 

That is the look of a man very much enjoying what he’s doing to you. 

“Sweet Traveller,” he murmurs, low and cajoling. “I think you’re going to come for me.”

You have just enough control of your body to toss your head weakly, shaking it from side to side, your hair falling over your face. It does not hide the fact that your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are bright, that your chest is heaving as every rub of his fingers sends brand new sparks of pleasure careening to the middle of your stomach into a hot, tight ball. 

“Oh,” Dottore’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. “That wasn’t me asking, darling. Come for me.”

Another zing; a zap, a pulse, where the Akasha terminal is wrapped about your ear--

And your body twitches and pulses under his command, as the hot tight ball of want inside of you seems to get a signal from the terminal that now is the time to explode. You don’t know how to explain it; the way that your mind seems to contract at the same time as your body, and then you are panting and whining helplessly as shivers rack you underneath Dottore’s twisting wrist, his insistent thumb. 

He lets out a sigh of pleasure as he pulls back, his fingers glimmering wetly with your own orgasm. Again, he lifts them to his mouth; again, you see a sharp flash of teeth as his tongue traces his own digits and he savours the way you taste on his tongue. 

“That’s more than enough,” he says, pleasantly. He looks at Dainsleif, the blond all wide-eyed and desperate and seething with hatred, and gives him another smile that is like the edge of a knife. “Don’t you think so, knight? Ah. Don’t you think it’s time for me to take them fully?”

Dainsleif struggles again, and Dottore laughs like a creaked, rusting hinge on a sharp iron gate.

“I don’t want to hurt them,” he says, syrupy sweet. “Oh, they mean more to me than that. I merely want them to understand how badly I need them . . . and how good I could be for them, too.”

The sedatives in your system do not allow you to fight back; to bare your teeth and growl and tell him you could never imagine how he could possibly be good for you. But though your mind churns with these thoughts, your body is still not quick enough to respond - your veins still weighed down with honey. Too tenderly, Dottore reaches for your face; traces his thumb over your cheekbone.

“We are going to consummate our mutual adoration,” he tells you, and he reaches for his fly. You hear the buttons of his placket undo as if you are somewhere very far away, button sliding through button hole. Dottore sighs happily as he repositions the table and himself, making sure that Dainsleif has an even better view of the way that he slots himself between your thighs. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel Dottore’s cock slap against the bare skin; the wet, slick head of him, as he rubs it over your own soft inner thighs. You burn with humiliation, as the wet pap of him slapping the cockhead against your cunt echoes in Dottore’s workshop, and the Doctor keeps smiling as if he’s enjoying himself terribly.

“How about,” he says, loud enough for Dainsleif to hear it, “before we begin, you tell me what I want to hear, Traveller?”

You blink at him slowly, as he pushes his hips forward, and the head of his cock catches on the ring of your entrance; as your body clenches and puckers, waiting for him to move further forward. You wish he would just get on with it, but at the same time you wish that this wouldn’t happen. If you were fully in control of your body, you’re certain you would be struggling and sobbing and spitting - but you are not.

“Oh,” he murmurs, syrupy sweet. “You don’t know what I mean? Darling, let me say it a little simpler whilst you’re still all addled from me making you come . . . Loud enough for the Twilight Sword to hear, now. Why don’t you tell me you love me?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

It’s not really silent; there’s a buzzing in your ears, there’s a constant hum from the machinery that surrounds you both, there’s the sound of three people breathing within the room, panting and seething and hating . . . but that’s how it feels.

You would never tell this monster you loved him.

But Dottore is still looking at you, his cock still pressing against your entrance, his head still tilted to one side, his mouth still quirked in a smile - and there’s an eager kind of obsession in his gaze, as if he thinks you might actually get the words out--

The pulsing in your ear. The flash across your brain. You can’t breathe; you can’t think, through anything but the sudden desire to tell the Doctor who’s about to ruin you that you love him.

Your tongue is slow. Heavy. Your voice echoes too loud around the room.

“Doctor . . .” Dainsleif lets out a pained whine behind the gag. “I-- I love you--”

“Oh, good-- well done--!”

Dottore pants in wild pleasure at the sound of your voice, the way it sounds desperate and reedy not with hate, but with feeling. He cants his hips forward, still too wild - and your head falls back, a whine escaping your slow-tongued mouth as his entire cock sheaths itself inside of you in excitement.

It’s easier to close your eyes.

You do not want to see Dainsleif, over Dottore’s shoulder - the disappointment and horror and despair that’s written clear across his handsome face. He must have seen the Akasha pulse, he must know that you would never say such a thing of your own volition - but that doesn’t stop the fact that you did say it, and he did hear it. Eyes squeezed shut, the feel of him inside you is all the worse; the way you can sense your body tightening around him, the feel of being stretched wider than you’ve been stretched before.

Dottore’s pants do not let up; there’s a desperation in him that you would never have thought the Doctor possible of - bringing a horrifying kind of truth to all of those things he had said, all of the ways he had stared at you. Perhaps it is more than just lust--

And that makes it all the worse. 

His hips judder against yours in desperation, his white coat rustling as it rubs against your own bare body. One of his hands explores your chest, even as he keeps rutting into you; thumbs pinching at your nipples, palming at your hips and your waist and your chest, as if he cannot truly believe this is happening. 

He is undone, like this; and you cannot quite believe he is letting you see some of those walls fall down. There is no more the strong, smooth Doctor - the one who could raze cities to the ground if he so chose. There is a man; a man who is fucking into you, a man who wants to have as much of your body as he can, a man who seems to want to devour you. 

You cannot believe he made you say that you love him. The Akasha upon your ear feels like a parasite, worming its way into your psyche, taking complete control of you. You think of Dainsleif, forced to watch, and a juddering sob manages to tear itself from your throat. 

Dottore kisses your cheek, the tears catching on his lips, his tongue tracing the saltwater tracks. 

“Don’t fret so, darling,” Dottore murmurs, against the apple of your cheek. “It’s alright . . . Doesn’t it feel good?”

It doesn’t - and it does. You don’t want to admit to the way that his constant thrusting and the grinding of his pelvis against your still-swollen clit are working together to make your insides churn, your body feverishly hot and confused. Your breath comes out in pants that match Dottore’s own. You can’t come for him again, you simply can’t - it doesn’t matter, you try and tell yourself, that there is heat bursting anew in your stomach. That it is not really because of Dottore, but natural biology--

You came earlier, yes, but Dottore told you to; used the Akasha against you. If you came now, without him forcing you to, it does not bear to think about - it doesn’t bear to think about how Dain might react, if he watched you come of your own volition under Dottore’s fucking--

No matter how sternly you try to speak to yourself, one cannot stop biology in its tracks.

Dottore’s pelvis batters against your clit; Dottore’s cock bullies itself mercilessly into you, as if it is trying to make you mould to the shape of him. With each thrust, it rubs against spots inside of you that your own fingers have never been able to reach; ones you had never realised would feel so good. You try and tell yourself, over and over and over, that you will not let yourself come for Dottore.

But your body betrays you.

Your body betrays both yourself and Dain, a man who you had always thought would be the only one to ever do this to you, though you had not let your fantasies yet get further than a hand over your dress, skimming your bare thigh. You come for the second Fatui Harbinger, as he continues to fuck into you with wild abandon - and this time, you do not even have the Akasha to blame it upon. 

Your wrists are still held either side of your head by restraints; all you can do, as the spasms of pleasure resonate out from your sex and into every other part of you, is dig your nails into your palms. All you can do is let out a heavy, slurred whine-moan escape from your parted lips. All you can do is take it - come for the Doctor, the way he always knew you were going to.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his hips double their speed, desperately rutting into you. “I didn’t even have to tell you to, that time - you want me just as badly, don’t you? Oh, sweet thing, don’t worry, I’ll give you everything I have--”

His words are slurred too; he is too far gone within the euphoria of finally being inside of you. His hips rock into you, harder and harder, his cock twitching wildly as he hisses out your name.

He comes inside of you with a wild bite into your bare shoulder, grunting and groaning, more animal than scientist - proof that, beneath it all, he is just a man. He remains there, humming into your skin, his cock softening inside of you. His tongue licks across the bite on your shoulder as if he wants to remember the taste of you.

“Why,” he says, a pleased hum in the back of his throat. His cock twitches. “I think I might even do that again--”

There’s a knock on the door. 

You are still too out of it after what Dottore did to you to register much beyond his frustration that he is being called back to Snezhnaya, now of all times. An awkward assistant, unsure of what they’re supposed to be doing, lingers by Dottore’s side as the Doctor grumbles under his breath and pulls your clothes back on over your bruised body, his come still leaking out from between your thighs.

“I’ll see you again,” Dottore says to you, with a smile, as he brandishes another syringe. “Oh, I won’t be forgetting about how much we shared any time soon, darling. You’ll keep me warm many a cold Snezhnayan night.”

The syringe is brought up to your elbow; the liquid injected directly into the vein once again. You barely have time to wonder what he is injecting you with this time before the heaviness of unconsciousness begins to blur the corners of your vision. 

Dottore strides across the room to Dainsleif, another syringe glowing within his gloved fingers.

Before you slip into oblivion, you watch Dottore roll up Dainsleif’s sleeve, and you hear him say this;

“Now, I’m sending them back with you, Knight - but you won’t soon forget, will you, that they told me that they loved me?”

You slip into the abyss.

You wake back up at the camp you and Dainsleif had established, on the edges of Sumeru, as safe as the two of you could find - as if absolutely nothing has happened. 

Oh, there’s the lingering reminder of Dottore - there’s a soreness to your thighs, there are bites on your shoulders, there’s a muzzy headache from the drugs and the way he had used the Akasha upon you . . . but other than that, there’s nothing. The system itself isn’t even attached to your ear any longer.

Dain, too, has reminders of the ordeal upon him - rope burn on his wrists. A burning look in his eyes when his gaze falls upon you that makes your insides crawl in fear, lest he be disgusted by you now - lest he never want to look at you again. Perhaps, you think wildly, he is going to cast you away - say that the two of you can no longer travel together, accuse you of being damaged goods . . .

It does not end that way.

Dainsleif stares at you across the clearing after waking up, as if he is trying to sort all of his thoughts out. His fingers twitch, his eyes raking over you desperately - and then he has moved, lightning quick, and his arms have wrapped around you and you are being crushed against the weight of his chest.

“I thought . . .” He whispers into your ear, his voice so broken it makes you ache. “Oh, I can’t believe he would . . . I’m so sorry--”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” you whisper to him - relieved to find that your tongue and your throat are once more capable of working. You reach up to touch his face, and Dain groans, torn between leaning into the touch and pulling away as he so often does, so worried that he’s somehow going to taint you.

You’re not sure if you could ever feel more tainted than you do right now.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” his voice cracks. Dainsleif is normally so stoic and solid; you cling to him as you journey through Teyvat, relying on him. Seeing him like this makes you ache.

“You won’t,” you reach for his hand, take it gently and place it over your collarbone, shivering at the touch of his glove on your skin. “See? I’m still here.”

Dain sighs again, his lashes fluttering closed against his sculpted cheekbones. He murmurs your name again, so softly you can barely hear it; and his fingers slide along the imprint of that same collarbone, to your shoulder, until they find the place Dottore had bitten into when he had come.

“I can’t bear seeing his marks on you,” he whispers. “I want to scrub you free of every touch.”

You close your own eyes and let yourself be lulled into Dainsleif’s arms; you let your head rest against his chest, you let yourself be comforted by the familiar scent of him. His fingers don’t stop tracing the bite marks, his touch getting more and more agitated. 

“Dain--” You murmur. You’re suddenly so tired. You know you were just unconscious, but that’s not the same as getting real rest. This morning - or was it this morning? How long were the two of you really with Dottore? How long had it been before Dainsleif had come to find you? Whatever the case, it seems a hundred years ago now. 

You wonder if Dainsleif would mind if you fell asleep on him, right here. 

“Please,” Dain’s lowered his head now. His breath flutters against your ear; delicately tickling your ear. “Let me . . . Let me make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, but it clearly means a lot to Dainsleif, and you do not mind the gentle touch of his hands as they smooth softly over the places Dottore has bitten, the places you have bruised. Dainsleif has lost so many people, after all - you do not blame him for wanting to check on you. You nestle your head under Dain’s chin and he takes a shuddering breath, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Do I still smell like myself?”

“Don’t joke,” his voice breaks. You don’t know how else to cope with it; the thought of Dottore’s hands all over you, the reminder of what the Doctor took from you. Dain’s hand slips under the bodice of your dress.

You go all-over cold, all-over still.

Dainsleif doesn’t even notice. His hand gently travels further down, further down, squeezing the weight of your breast in his hand. Your fingers twitch where they lay against him, cradled as you are in his arms - but Dainsleif is still murmuring to himself now, lost in a frenzy of his own thoughts, and for the first time you feel afraid of him.

“Dain--” You try to say, throat clogged. “Dain, don’t--”

“Please,” he repeats, ragged. “I just . . . I need to touch you. I need to know you’re here. I need to know he didn’t--”

You can’t do this. Your heart jumps into your throat, a sickening thumping beat as Dain’s thumb rubs a circle over your nipple and traitorous body, it responds to him just as it had to Dottore.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you,” Dainsleif whispers, broken into your ear. “Let me . . . I won’t hurt you . . .”

His other hand, pulling you further into his lap. Holding you spoon-fashion against him, like a lover.

You wouldn’t complain, ordinarily. 

But now . . .

All you want is for him to hold you. All you want is for him, you think, to kiss your forehead and reassure you and take care of you. The way his hands keep travelling over your skin - the other is kneading at the flesh of your thigh now, his breath coming in those same great shuddering pants as if he doesn’t have full control over his own body right now. You whimper aloud as his hand brushes further, further--

You’re not wearing underwear. Not after Dottore had torn it at the seams. 

Dainsleif sighs.

“It killed me seeing him touch you,” he whispers into your hair, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head, disgustingly tender. His fingers are petting at your folds, his arms iron-tight like the ropes that had wrapped around him earlier. He doesn’t notice that you’re trembling; he ignores the soft little entreaties you do manage to get out. 

“I can’t,” you say, as Dainsleif tugs at your nipples.

“Dain--” you whimper, his fingers spreading the lips of your sex apart.

“Not yet,” you beg, as he drops a kiss over the bruising bites Dottore left on your shoulders.

“I wish I could cover you with myself,” Dainsleif says, as he continues to use his mouth and his fingers and acts as though he does not hear a word. “But . . . oh, I don’t deserve you . . . Not yet . . . Please, let me make sure you never think of him again--” 

It’s too much. Too much, too soon, your body churning with feelings and your mind churning with thoughts that you can’t yet put in place, because Dainsleif is touching you and not listening to you and you wonder if this makes him just like Dottore, in his way. 

You think about yourself, in Sumeru City, your smile bright, laughing off his concern - and you think about Dainsleif now, his touch so possessive and so desperate that he’s going to cover the bruises Dottore left with bruises of his own.

“I’ll be fine,” you had said. I can take care of myself. 

Dainsleif takes care of you, when you cannot; when you are injured or sick or lost. You have always had him to rely on; your travelling companion through Teyvat, as you desperately tried to make sense of the world that you have found yourself in. 

Here, though . . . 

You think, as the tears roll down your face, you could do without Dainsleif taking care of you like this. 

#writing #dark content for ts #non con for ts #dead dove do not eat #mind control for ts #dub con for ts #genshin impact posting #commissioned work #not sfw text

[strwbrryeyes]

tsuki with a reader who’s touch averse yet also touch starved ? reader can’t handle touch from other people (or they feel physically ill or have a huge panic attack) but they crave touch from only certain people (aka tsuki) :3 in the beginning of their relationship, reader has to initiate contact bcus they used to hate surprises and such, but now most of the time, affection is welcomed with open arms ? (unless reader is feeling particularly anxious that day) :P

𖦹°｡⋆ Sweet touch (tsukishima x reader)

⟡ cw: fluff, referencing panic attacks, lmk if i missed anything

⟡ a/n: i tried my best to write this one but i've never been too touch averse (i was when i was younger but have gotten over it for the most part) so i hope i did your request somewhat justice!

Tsukishima Kei has never been one to be known as a softie, everyone would always say he has no regard for anybody but himself and they were somewhat right because there you were, living proof that Tsukishima’s cold demeanor could be broken. No one really quite understands what you see in him but honestly, they were just glad he was good to you. Tsukishima was always so protective of you, always so sweet no matter where you were or who was around. Tsukishima didn’t care what others said about him, he would put up with the teasing from Hinata, Kageyama, and even Yamaguchi if it meant you were happy and comfortable. While you were the most comfortable you’ve ever been in a relationship, it took a while to get to where you were with each other.

Your relationship with Tsukishima was a strange one in terms of physical affection. On one hand, you craved the warmth and reassurance that only his touch could provide but on the other hand, there were times when the idea of someone touching you sent shivers down your spine, your skin crawling with discomfort but Tsukishima never really minded it because he truly loved you and would honestly burn anyone who would may accidentally bump into you on the street. His love for you was much stronger than his want for physical attention.

When you were just getting used to Tsukishima, there were times where he would ask to hold your hand or kiss you and you would allow him to but as soon as he got close to you, you would quickly push him away as you weren’t ready for him to initiate contact since you were the one to always make the first move. Tsukishima was patient though. He never pushed you more than what you both thought fit and would actually be reluctant to touch you more than usual even if you said it was okay for him to in the moment. Tsukishima was just worried. Yet, here you are. Both of you are in love with each other and there is barely a moment where you push away. The only times where you would stray from his touch were when you were having a really bad day whether it was caused by stress or something someone said. Even then, Tsukishima would always find a way to comfort you even if it meant he couldn’t hug you or kiss you.

Now, two years and a half into the relationship, you find yourself with your head on your stoic yet loving boyfriend’s lap watching some random movie you chose as he plays with your hair, you think about how far you have come. 

The soft glow of the TV illuminates the cozy living room, casting shadows across the walls as the movie plays in the background. You shift slightly, nestling deeper into Tsukishima’s lap, the warmth and comfort of his presence. His fingers still trailing through your hair, sending pleasant tingles down your spine as you let out a contented sigh.

"Comfortable?" Tsukishima asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks down at you.

"Mmm, yeah," you murmur, your eyes fluttering closed as you sink further into his touch. "You're the best pillow I have ever laid my head on.."

"Glad I could be of service." Tsukishima chuckles as he grabs your hand to rub small circles into with his thumb before going back to watching the movie.

Silence quietly falls between the both of you and the only thing you can hear is the movie and the sound of Tsukishima’s breathing which you end up falling into rhythm with.

After a while, you feel Tsukishima shift slightly, and you crack open an eye to see him glancing down at you with a soft smile playing at his lips.

"What?" you ask with a giggle of amusement at the sight of your boyfriend trying to suppress his smile.

Finally, his smile breaks through as he is drowned with affection for you. “Nothing, I’m just enjoying this moment with you.” He says warmly causing a blush to creep onto your face.

Smiling back at him, you reach your hand up to his face and begin to caress his cheek “Me too,” you say in a sweet tone as he leans into your touch “I never would have guessed I would enjoy cuddling with someone who wasn’t my stuffed animal.” You let out a small laugh as he playfully rolls his eyes.

“Well I would hope I’m at least a better cuddler than all of them.” He retorts with a bit of fake jealousy.

“Mmm, let me think…” you say as you bring a finger to your chin to ‘think’ of who is a better cuddler for a few moments “Yeah, I’d say you’re the better cuddler. Only by a bit though.”

“Really now?” He scoffs out actually offended this time “I’ll keep that in mind then the next time you come sleepover at my place.” He says causing you to jump up from his lap so that you’re now sitting up next to him.

“Kei! I was joking don’t think about doing anything drastic!” You blurt out as you take his face into your hands.

“Calm down,” Tsukishima lets out a low chuckle has he guides you back to laying down on his lap. “Now stay there, I was comfortable and you ruined it for a bit.” He closes his eyes as his hand goes back to where he was play with your hair moments before and all you can do is sigh in annoyed love.

“I love you, jerk.” You say as you close your eyes one more time before drifting off to sleep.

“I love you too, dummy.” He says back as he adjusts the both of you were you can both fall asleep without moving too much from your original positioning.

As you both fall asleep, it is easy to see that you are both completely content with each other no matter what obstacles may come your way. As long as you had each other and as long as you supported one another, nothing would ever ruin the love you both have.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima x reader fluff #tsukishima kei x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff

[dindjarindiaries]

You reblogged that starter list and before I even saw your message, this one SCREAMED Din to me:

❛ if i could be a different person, i promise you, i would be.

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You looked up at the expanse of stars overhead and let out a soft breath. The slight sting of the night's chilled air nipped at your nose, but the way it filtered through your lungs felt relieving. This was the open air; it was much more freeing than the ship you had started to feel trapped within.

It was that ship's boarding ramp you were sitting on, and as you took a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw its owner watching you from within the cargo hold with a worried tilt to his silver helmet. Having been caught in the act, his armored chest rose and fell in a breath as he started to walk towards you. Your gaze returned to the sky above as you sensed his approach.

"I thought you were charting another course," you said as Din took his place alongside you. "We can't spend too much time here."

Din shrugged in your periphery. "An extra rotation won't hurt."

Your head snapped towards him as your lips parted in disbelief. "A rotation?"

Din's visor was stuck on the stars, but after a moment of you staring, he returned your disbelieving glance. "What?"

You chuckled and shook your head, returning your attention to the night sky. You closed your eyes as your heart began to beat more rapidly. The question you wanted to ask screamed within your mind, but it came out as a mere whisper. "Why?"

There was a pause before Din responded. "Why what?"

You reopened your eyes and kept them on the stars. Looking at Din would make you lose your resolve. "Why are you bending your rules?"

When Din remained silent for a long moment, you quickly glanced over at him. His visor was fixed on his gloved hands as he picked the orange-colored material on his fingertips. "We can afford the time, for now." When he continued, his modulated voice was even lower than before. "And you're happy here."

You furrowed your brow at him. "I'm happy regardless."

Din gave his helmet a brief tilt. "Sure. But..." he paused, as if musing upon something, "not like you are on planets like this one."

You didn't know what to say to that. The sweet inhale of the crisp air you took was enough to prove his words true. As you continued to stare somewhat dumbfounded at Din, he added more.

"You don't like being on the ship."

You instantly shook your head and willed the words to come, but they wouldn't. Your throat had closed up around your wildly beating heart as the truths you tied to each atrium and ventricle came closer and closer to freeing themselves.

Din took your silence as a much more disappointing reality. Even his modulator couldn't hide his hurt. "You don't like being with me."

"No." You couldn't have gotten the word out faster if you'd tried. "That's not true."

"It's okay. I understand." Din's arm rested upon his propped-up knee as he looked at the stars yet again. You watched his visor reflect them with fond admiration. "My lifestyle isn't meant to keep people around for long." He nodded, as if he was still convincing himself of such a truth. "I've grown used to it."

His words, a genuine and honest reflection of himself, shattered your heart enough to let the shards escape through the barrier your throat had attempted to create. Each beautiful truth began to spill out in a stained glass mosaic of the image you had crafted over the past few months. "Yet I'm still here."

That caught Din's attention. His visor found your gaze as you pieced your art together.

"I've felt trapped, yes, but not by you or your ship." You exhaled and watched your hand as you set it on the metal of the ramp beside you. It was just inches from Din's own. "It's a feeling. One that consumes me, really. And while it's centered on you, it's not because of you that I feel so trapped. That's only because I know the truth. I know your guard has to stay up."

You huffed and shook your head at yourself.

"It sounds ridiculous to say out loud, honestly, but... you deserve to know." The corners of your mouth pulled up in a sad smile. "Even if there's nothing you can do about it."

Din's visor never left you as he sat in the heavy silence that followed. Eventually, his visor lowered, his focus moving to his gloved hand as it closed the distance to your own. Only part of his hand covered yours on the boarding ramp as he spoke in the most beautifully honest tone you had ever heard from him. "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."

You shook your head, your gaze also fixed on your hands as you did so. "If you were any different, you wouldn't be the person I've grown such feelings for."

You were delicate in the way you laced your fingers through his, allowing him to pull away at any point if he so wished. He made no such move, instead letting his armored chest rise and fall in a careful breath as your hands became fully entwined. After a few more quiet moments, he spoke up once again. "I can learn."

You looked back up at his visor and hoped your expression wasn't betraying your strong glimmer of hope. Din offered a determined nod.

"I will learn."

Your smile couldn't be stopped as you looked upon him much more favorably than you ever had the stars. "Yeah?"

Din nodded once more, resting your entwined hands on his armored thigh. "Yeah."

#get you a man who wants to learn how to accept love on your behalf!!!!!!! (and give it ofc) #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #prompts #dindjarindiaries

[slut4teyam]

Hi! If your not currently working on anything I was wondering if u were open to writing neteyam smut. Like neteyam being jealous that reader is getting close w aonung and fucking her??

"Jealous hm?"

(Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan x F!Omaticaya Reader)

minors dni!

Genre: slight angst, mainly smut, some fluff at the end

Warnings: dom!neteyam, jealous neteyam, swearing, dirty talk, teasing, overstimulation, fingering, breast play, dry humping, orgasm control, p in v, size warning (please tell me if theres any i've missed!)

Backstory: The Sully's and y/n's parents, Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk of another Omaticaya clan have been friends for a long time, long before any of their childrens births. When y/n's father learnt that the Sully's were fleeing to the Metkayina clan for uturu, he wanted her daughter to leave with them and explore Pandora. Y/n has currently been living with the Sully's in Awa'atlu for 4 years, befriending the chiefs son and daughter, Aonung and Tsireya, as well as becoming closer with the Sully's. Throughout the years, she has gained a romantic attraction, recently backed up with a more sexual attraction towards the Sully's eldest son, Neteyam. Neteyam feels the same way, therefore most of the time they act very flirty and touchy with each other, while he still tries to keep himself under somewhat control. He, however loses it when he sees Aonung, who seems to be gaining feelings towards y/n become closer to her than he approves of.

Neteyam and Reader are aged up to 19+ years old!! (Other characters except for Tuk too! Tuk is 12 here, don't be weird)

--

"how much longer y/n?"

Aonung's head was laying on your lap as you braided his hair, one by one. He wanted a new hairstyle, where all of his hair was braided and set loose, he'd gotten bored of his usual bun apparently. At least that was his excuse, he knew very well that his only reason for this sudden want of changing hairstyles was so you'd play with his hair.

"i'm almost done, just a couple of strands left. be slightly more patient, it will be over before you know it!" you chuckled as you replied. Eywa, he was like a baby crying non-stop to be fed. You found it somewhat entertaining though, thats the only reason you've been able to stand him, unlike the Sully kids.

He had practically BEGGED you to braid his hair, and was now whining about it. It was true, he had really wanted you to braid his hair, and although your hands tugging on his hair felt nice, he hadn't thought of the patience part of things that was showing to be necessary. He couldn't wait to show off his new hair though, and proudly showcase the fact that you had braided it. Oh, to see the facial expression of the eldest Sully son, Neteyam, who obviously had feelings towards you. He smirked at the thought.

"what's got you smirking like that, ao?" you ask while finishing up the last braid on his hair. Your fingers felt numb at this point, and your back hurt from sitting up straight for so long.

His smirk disappeared as y/n spoke, reminding him of her presence, which led to his dreading truth that y/n obviously had feelings for Neteyam too. Strong ones. He had seen the way you looked at him, the way he made you laugh, and the lustful tension between the two of you that was too obvious to not be noticed. Aonung had feelings for you too, but it got overpowered with the fact that his closeness with you was creating an unspoken rivalry between him and Neteyam. Aonung knew Neteyam was keeping in control, but that he would lose it soon.

"nothing, just imagining the reactions to my new hairstyle." Aonung played it off, his smirk coming back to place.

You let go of his hair as you finished. Aonung stood up and ran out of his Marui, in which you had been braiding his hair in. You chuckled at his excitement, and followed him out. He smiled as he saw his reflection on the water, turning his head around to see his new hairstyle from different angles while leaning over the dock.

"Well, you like it?" you asked smiling, knowing you'd beat him up if his answer was a no. He startled you in a hug before you knew it.

"I can't wait to show this off." he said, still hugging you.

You hugged him back, chuckling as you replied "I take that as a thank you." Your back stretched as Aonung was hugging you, and it felt so good you held yourself from a light moan. Your mind flew to the Sully's eldest son, like it always did when you had a somewhat sexual thought, which made you pull back from the hug quickly. With the thought of Neteyam, you realized that the sun was about to start setting, and that you were late for your friend groups meeting.

"Lets go meet the others, I think we're late anyways!" you said as you lead the way.

slight time skip

You and Aonung walked closely to your friend groups meeting spot, by the shore. They came into view, as Tsireya spotted your presence and called the both of you over. Everyones attention turned to the two of you, clearly not expecting a change in Aonungs hairstyle, as you got closer. You noticed a certain individual glaring at you, obviously not pleased. You felt your stomach fill with butterflies and your legs go weak, just with the glares of the Sully's eldest son. You made eye contact, but you quickly looked away as his eyes were too fierce to look at, even though his glare never stopped burning through your skin. Fuck, it was hot. Tsireya stood up and walked towards her brother to interpret his new hair.

"Why the sudden change?" she chuckled, "it looks amazing but- unexpected."

"Yo, nice hair" stated Lo'ak, as Rotxo nodded in agreement. Kiri slightly chuckled, and Tuk curiously asked "Who braided it? I want them to braid my hair too! It's getting messy with all the water!".

Tsireya went back to her seat while you and Aonung sat down. You smiled at Tuks indirect compliment, as Aonung replied "Y/n actually. We've been together all morning," he stared back at the continuous glaring eyes of Neteyam before saying "her hands have been all over my hair for the past five hours."

Neteyams glare changed- not in a better way. His eyes filled with anger, as he glared at Aonung, this time with more deadly eyes and flared nostrils. Aonung smirked at him while glaring back, which made the tension grow more aggressive. You felt the need to stop it before it turned into something they'll both regret-

"Anyone up for an Ilu race?" Rotxo brought up, grabbing the attention and breaking the obvious glaring contest between the two Na'vi males. EYWA THANK YOU ROTXO.

"Me!" Tuk said, which made everyone else stand up and prepare to call for their Ilu's. You realized before calling your Ilu that you came unprepared, completely forgetting your Ilu gear whilst rushing with Aonung.

"Hey guys, I forgot my Ilu gear back at the pod, start without me! I'll be right back." you said as everyone turned their attention to you for a slight moment, nodded, and you took your leave back to your Marui.

You were taking the longer road through the "forest" of Awa'atlu back to your Marui. You lowkey didn't want to be a part of the Ilu race, as your back and hands still hurt from braiding Aonungs hair all day long. This road reminded you of your home, the forest, and thats why you loved it. It was starting to get a bit dark. 'How fast?' you thought as you took a deep breath before-

You were pinned against a tree, with a tall, Omaticaya male standing in front of you. Neteyam. His right arm was next to your head, and he had a frown on his face, with furious eyes staring into your confused ones. Eywa, he looked so sexy. Pinning you against a tree with his tall, toned body, looking down at you. It made you want him, no. It made you need him. You shut your legs together, hoping to ease the desire that shot down between your thighs. It just made you want him more.

"What are you trying to do? Hm?" Neteyam asked quietly with his deep voice sounding raspy. His tone was demanding, and oh Eywa, it was so hot. He was looking into your eyes with the same feeling as before; furious.

"What do you mean?" you replied, breaking eye contact as you desperately tried to ignore the desire coming from between your thighs.

He turned his head away from you, smiled in an annoying matter, and turned back to you with a stronger glare. "This thing with Aonung. You talk to him, become friends with him, but now you're getting very close to the point where your hands are all over his hair all day? I can't control myself anymore."

Fuck. The possessiveness of his tone, and his self control was so sexy. The fact that he was losing it over you got you soaking wet, but also gave you a tint of confidence as you realized your power over the warrior. A smirk appeared on your face as you placed your hands over his chest, very slowly roaming them towards his abs. You looked back into his eyes.

"Jealous hm?" you asked in a seductive tone. You felt him tense at the parts of his body that you've touched, and you sensed hitching in his breath, even though he kept it under control well. He leaned in closer to your face, inches in between the both of you, while holding your waist with his left hand. It was dark know, which grew the tension in between the two of you more lustful.

"Fuck yeah I'm jealous. How long are we going to continue ignoring this 'thing' between us? Because I'd rather fuck you right here, right now, and loose all of my self discipline if it means you'll never roam your hands through his hair again." he stated in his deep, raspy voice. You needed him so bad.

"Fuck Neteyam just fuck me already" you said in a breathy voice, as you attacked his lips, not being able to stand the heat between your legs anymore. You needed him down there, whether it was his hands, mouth, or dick, you just needed him. His eyes widened and ears shot up from your sudden comment.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed you back, now holding your waist with both of his huge hands. His long fingers. Eywa. He walked closer to you, making his lower body and torso meet with your pinned body. Your arms were still wrapped around his neck as your hands played with his hair. 'Who's hair are her hands all over now hm?' Neteyam thought. He was roaming his hands up and down your torso, unsynchronized with one another. One hand touching just below your breasts as the other one tugged on your loincloth.

He bit your lower lip, which made your mouth open into a slight whine. He took the opportunity and slid his tongue into your mouth, completely dominating it over yours. You were full on making out, and every bit of it was perfect. His huge hands roaming around your torso while you tugged on his hair, as his tongue dominated over yours. You wanted more.

With a swift move, you were turned around, your back now against Neteyam. You were sandwiched between him and the tree, so your head turned to your right. Your hips were currently in perfect alignment with his, as you could feel his growing bulge on your ass. His right hand was on your upper thigh, as his left remained on your waist. Both of you were heavily panting from your discontinued make out session, but you knew this was far from the end. He slightly dry humped you, his bulge growing bigger every move.

"I've thought about you on my dick so many times, thought of being in you every night." he commented with his raspy voice, while his hands still roamed around your torso, getting closer to your inner thighs every move. His face was in the nape of your neck, you could feel his hot breath hit your skin.

"Mhm.. me too" you managed to agree, as you placed your hands over his and finally led them in between your upper thighs "...especially here" you gasped, eyes shutting closed as you touched yourself over your loincloth with Neteyams fingers. Your loincloth was soaked, and you were sure Neteyam felt it. You heard Neteyam whisper fuck as he dry humped you once again, which made your mouth open wider. He led both of his hands to untie your loincloth and you helped him with it. Once your loincloth was off, he led his right hand to your soaking cunt as his left remained on your waist.

"So wet for me," he said as his index finger slid on your clit. "...or are you wet for that skxawng you've had your hands all over today?" it was enough to feel the anger and jealousy in his voice from his breathing, if not from his tone.

You were about to reply when he suddenly stuck a finger up your entrance, making you moan. With every thrust, his speed got gradually faster, leading moan-like-whimpers to leave your mouth.

"Am I making you feel good? Hm?" Neteyam asked, still thrusting his finger in a gradually increasing speed. You nod, but moan as he adds another finger in.

"Use your words baby, are my fingers fucking you good?" he asked, demanding a verbal answer once again. "Yes! Fuck yes!" you intended on screaming out, but it came in a rather breathy voice with your constant panting.

"Good. Because that skxawng you've been with all day can't make you feel good like I do." he spitted out, thrusting his long fingers into you deeper now, reaching your G-spot. You were about to cum, just a few more deep thrust and you'd release all over his fingers.

"Keep going 'teyam, I'm going to cum-ah" you moaned as you felt your climax approaching closer than ever, just a few more thrusts and- he stops. "Neteyam!" you scream, slapping his arm.

"Not yet baby, you need to deserve it." He removes his fingers from your aching lips, turning you towards him once again and pinning your back to the tree. His hands roamed up from your waist to your breasts, removing your somewhat revealing top in a quick move. You were now completely naked in front of him, and he couldn't take his eyes off of your body. He quickly attacked your right breast with his mouth, sucking and licking your nipple with his skilled tongue. Your back arched, leading you to let out a moan because of your back pain, when he touched your left breast with his long fingers, playing with your nipple.

"You're so fucking hot Neteyam" you managed to moan out, with your mouth wide open and eyes shut. You were playing with his hair, slightly tugging it harder every time he squeezed your nipple with his hand. He switched to your left breast, now sucking and licking on it to create equal stimulation. Your thoughts were all over the place, you couldn't think straight. After one last lick, he came back to tower over you, with a string of saliva still attached to your now swollen breasts.

His left hand remained on your waist, as he began to untie his loincloth with his right. "You still wanna cum?" he said as he slipped his loincloth off, revealing his... 14 incher.

You nodded extravagantly while gulping at the sight of Neteyams huge erect cock, already dripping with pre-cum. You clenched your thighs together without taking your eyes off of him. He notices and smirks, reopening up your thighs with his right hand as he pumps his cock a couple of times with his left. "Good girl."

He lifts you up by your hips, your arms wrapping around his neck, and your legs tangling his waist as he places the tip of his cock on your entrance. He leans you towards the tree, sandwiching you once more.

"How much do you want this?" he asks as a form of asking for consent, even though both of you already knew the answer.

"I want it so bad, I need it in me, please 'teyam, fuck me already." you say as he slams his cock into your soaking cunt without another word. His hands are on your hips, holding you still so that he can pound into you relentlessly, and you scream out a moan every thrust in. "Fuck, y/n you feel so good. So tight around my cock, you feel amazing." Neteyam growls out, which makes you scream out his name as he thrusts in deeper.

"Thats right, scream out my name, just like that baby. Let that skxawng hear who's making you feel so good right now." he says with his deep, raspy voice, accompanied by panting and noises of skin slapping. Your eyes roll back along with your head, and you rest it on the trunk of the tree. Neteyams lips meet your now open neck, sucking and licking all over your sweet spots.

"Gonna mark you as mine all over baby, you're mine and I'm gonna make it show." he breathes out as he leaves multiple hickeys on your neck. You tug lightly on his hair with every thrust, which turns him on even more. You bite your lower lip as you feel your previous orgasm resurfacing, now stronger than ever. This time you'd do anything to release.

"N-Neteyam I'm going to cum, please let me cum this time" you manage to speak, your panting getting in your way. He feels his orgasm come close too, and every single tug on his hair, every voice that comes out of your pretty mouth takes him even closer.

"Who do you belong to baby," he asks, leaning into your ear while demanding an answer. His thrusts never stop, but the speed never changes either. You need him to be faster. "Y-you, I belong to you sir" you manage to pant out. His grip on your hips get tighter, as he smirks against your ear on the nickname. Eywa, it turns him on so much. "Who's making you feel so good right now?" he asks, demanding an answer once again. "You are Neteyam! Only you!" you scream, not being able to handle the sensation of not being able to cum anymore. "Can that skxawng ever fuck you like this? Make you feel good like I do?" he asks, now wanting to cum as well. "Fuck, he can't! Only you can make me feel good Neteyam!" you scream out, followed by a loud moan as he speeds up and thrusts even deeper, right onto your spot. Your walls clench around his massive cock. "Fuck princess, so good tightening around me like that, fuck I'm coming." Neteyam hisses as his thrusts become sloppier, "Me too Nete, I'm coming!" you moan out. Neteyam thrusts in faster as your walls release and his cock twitches, the both of you release at the same time.

He cums inside of you, his eyes are closed and his mouth is open, feeling his cock relax with every shoot of his cum in you. Both of you are panting extremely heavily, you smile cheekily before placing kisses all over Neteyams temple. "Are you okay?" he asks, looking at you while still heavily breathing. "Yeah, I'm very good." you reply heavily breathing as well. A smile appears on his mouth as he nods, kisses your cheek, and slowly begins to pull out of you.

Your legs feel sore and weak when he places you down. If he wasn't supporting you from your waist, you were sure you'd have fallen down. "Can you walk?" Neteyam asks, with a genuinely caring look on his face. "I don't think so" you chuckle nervously. He slowly places you to sit on the floor, as he takes both of your loincloths and your top, dressing himself before dressing you up. "Let's go get cleaned up" Neteyam says while picking you up bridal style and walking you through the forest, to a more private area of the shore. He undresses you, slowly and gently cleaning you up while constantly asking "Are you okay?", in which you keep answering with "Yes, I'm fine don't worry." He cleans himself up shortly after.

slight time skip

You were laying down on top of Neteyam, your head on his chest as his arms wrapped around you. You were watching the stars, on the same shore that he had brought the both of you to get cleaned up at. "Neteyam" you decided to say, breaking the ongoing silence. "Yes y/n?" he replied. You took a deep breath before answering, "Its just- I never liked Aonung, and I never will. For the past years, you're the only one I've ever wanted." you managed to speak out, the words flowing smoothly. You felt Neteyams chest rise and fall down as he took a deep breath as well. “I've always loved you, y/n. Seeing you get close to someone who's only been in your life for so little made me so jealous." he spoke softly, with a gentle tone. You smiled at his words as you looked up at him. He plopped on his elbows as you leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back, not in a sexual way, but rather in a more passionate way, a more loving way. You both smiled as you pulled away.

"Oel ngatti kameie, Neteyam" you said softly, looking into his eyes.

"Oel ngatti kameie, y/n" Neteyam returns, with the same soft smile plastered on his lips again. You both return to your old position, falling asleep under the stars.

the next day, at the friend group meeting, beginning of sun set

Tsireya, Lo'ak, and Tuk stood close to the water, as they played with Tsireyas Ilu. Aonung and Rotxo were joking around like usual, laughing. Kiri was laying down, smiling as she sensed the ocean breeze and wave crashing sounds.

"Hi guys!" you spoke, as you and Neteyam came to your friend group meeting spot by the shore, hands intertwined together. You and Neteyam sat down as Neteyam pulled you closer to him by your waist, kissing your hair. Everyone turned their attention to the both of you, as they came to sit in a circle. Aonungs laughing face turned into a serious one, noticing not only your combined hands with Neteyam, but also the hickeys on your neck. Tsireya and Lo'ak looked at each other smirking, before turning their gazes away. Kiri rolled her eyes as Rotxo looked at her with the cheekiest smirk ever. Tuk was just in awe of the new couple. Lo'ak decided to be the first to speak, "Looks like you two had some fun."

Tsireya slapped his arm but he just chuckled and went in to peck a kiss on her lips. You were always in awe of their romance, theirs was love at first sight. You blush at Lo'aks comment, and look down.

"We did," Neteyam confirmed, looking at his brother before switching his smirking gaze to a certain frowning Metkayina male.

"Her hands have been all over me last night."

"Ooooofff, big brother coming in with the hit!" Lo'ak chuckled, making Tsireya cover her upcoming chuckle with her hands. “Gross!" Tuk added, making everyone, including you laugh.

--

omgg first request <33 tysmm

I look forward to more of your story ideas, feel free to request!

Until next time,

-dero

#neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x reader #smut #fluff #angst #aonung #avatar #avatar the way of water #atwow #atwow fanfiction #loak sully #tsireya #kiri #avatar 2 #18+ #spider socorro #rotxo #neteyam avatar #neteyam atwow #neteyam fluff #neteyam angst #metkayina #omaticaya #jake sully #neytiri #spider sully

[bi-bard]

Babysitting - Mike Schmidt Imagine [Five Nights at Freddy's (Movie)]

Title: Babysitting

Pairing: Mike Schmidt X Reader

Word Count: 1,267 words

Warning(s): none

Summary: (Y/n) offers to watch Abby while Mike is taking on his new job. However, maybe they overestimated their ability to juggle babysitting with their growing workload from school.

Author's Note: Here's a fun fact for you: I've been watching Game Theory since middle school. This means that I know far more than I should about this franchise. It was such a distinct point in my life that my mom texted me during opening weekend of the film to ask if I had seen it yet because her and my dad could remember me watching those videos.

This imagine is basically a test run. There's a more plot heavy story (less straight-forward fluff, more depth) that I might write in the future if people enjoy this.

-------------------

I had vivid memories of the time that I swore to my mother that I would never babysit ever again.

The kids that I had watched up to that point were awful. Small demons whose parents had no intention of preventing tantrums and bad behavior. I had been hit, screamed at, had my money stolen, and god knows what else.

So, when I told the people who knew me then that I was going to be babysitting again, they were understandably shocked.

However, they didn't know how different Abby was from those kids that I had known. Abby was kind and intelligent and creative. She had a level of empathy that I think most people couldn't comprehend. To put it very simply, I adored her.

When Mike frantically knocked on my door, begging for help, I was more than willing to help.

I had known Mike for a long time at that point. I knew when he truly needed the help. He had refused to pull me away from school before, no matter how much I had insisted that it would be fine. Him admitting that he needed me to help out was a true sign of need.

He had just started a new job and needed someone to stay overnight with Abby. Just to make sure that she ate, slept, and got up in time for school. I had been in the middle of studying for classes and exams, so I was already staying up through most of the night anyway.

I thought that I was doing well. That I was going to be fine for the rest of the night.

Abby had gone to bed. She hadn't eaten much but that wasn't incredibly new.

I had made myself at home at the dining room table. I was hunched over the dining room table, nothing but the quiet sound of the TV to keep me company as I scribbled notes. My eyes were darting from my notebook to the textbook next to me.

At some point, I found the words beginning to jumble up. I shook my head, suppressing a yawn as I did so.

I felt my eyelids getting heavier. I tried to stop myself from falling asleep, rubbing the heels of my palms into my eyes.

I stretched out my arms, cringing at the sound of popping as I did so. I still had so much work to get through. I couldn't afford to fall asleep now.

I rested my chin on my hand as I continued writing.

After that, my memory goes somewhat blank. I could see vague chunks of my text. I kept trying to get myself to focus more and more, but it wasn't going very well.

The last thing that I remember about that night was a jumble of letters that I was certain used to be real words a few moments ago.

When I woke up, I wasn't at the table. I was in a bed. I sat up abruptly, looking around the room. I was trying to figure out where I was, how I had gotten there, and why the hell I would've been there.

It was a matter of moments later that I realized that I was sitting in Mike's room.

"Shit," I muttered. I assumed that some part of my tired mind had walked in here, looking for comfort. I could only hope that I had enough time to get out of the room without getting caught. And then, I looked at the clock. "Oh, shit, shit, shit!"

I had slept in far more than I would have ever meant to. I ran out of the room, rushing toward Abby's room. I knocked on the door.

"Abby, sweetheart, I overslept," I explained through the door. "You need to get up and get ready, okay?"

I didn't hear anything on the other side. I pushed the door open, looking into the room. The room was empty. I walked inside. She wasn't in bed, wasn't in her fort. She was gone.

"Fuck," I muttered, running my hands over my face.

"(Y/n)-"

I jumped and yelled when I heard a voice behind me. Mike was standing in the doorway, now with his hands held up due to me jumping.

"It's alright," he explained quickly. "I got home early enough to get Abby to school."

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I... I don't know what happened. I was sitting at the table and studying after Abby went to bed. And then, I just... I don't remember even getting up from the table, never mind walking down the hallway and laying down in your bed- oh god, I slept in your bed- I'm sorry, you must be exhausted-"

"I'm fine-"

"I was going to sleep on the couch because I can barely sleep there, so I knew that I would be able to get up early enough to get Abby up. I promise this won't happen again. Any of it! I'll make sure to get Abby up on time, I won't mysteriously sleep-walk to your bed-"

"(Y/n)!" Mike cut me off.

"What," I asked.

"I put you in my bed," he replied.

I paused for a moment. "You... What?"

"I came home and you were asleep at the table. I tried to wake you up, but you were obviously exhausted. I didn't wanna leave you lying there. I managed to wake you up enough that I could walk you down the hall and let you sleep in there. I figured that I'd take the couch. I really didn't mind."

"Oh," I mumbled. I had no memory of it. I must have barely been awake. Like when you get carried into the house from the car when you're a little kid. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he grinned at me.

There were a few moments of silence after that. I felt myself getting more and more nervous as I stood there. My heart was beating faster and I felt my skin warming up.

Had Mike always made me feel so nervous?

"Well, I... I should probably head out," I explained, pointing awkwardly at the door behind him.

He nodded and stepped out of the way. It wasn't until I had just stepped into the hallway that he spoke up again. He quickly blurted out, "You don't have to!"

"What?"

"You... You'll be here tonight anyway and you still have the extra set of clothes that you were supposed to use last night. Your stuff is still out on the table. It would be easier to not waste the gas."

"I need to shower, Mike."

He furrowed his eyebrows for a second. "Believe it or not, I do have a functioning shower. And even a lock on the door."

I scoffed at him. "I'm starting to think that you want me around for your sake more than Abby's."

There was a small pause before he managed to get out a forced chuckle. "Well, y'know..."

My smile faltered a bit as his sentence trailed off. "What?"

"I'm gonna go get some more sleep," he explained, ignoring the previous sentence entirely. I saw his cheeks turning just a bit pink as he went to walk down the hall to his room. "You just make yourself at home. Again, bathroom is there, futuristic enough to have a locking door. Food's in the kitchen. I'll be up in a few hours."

"Okay..."

I watched him as he closed the door behind him.

I found myself chuckling as I turned around and walked to the living room.

We were going to have a very serious conversation about this later.

-------------------

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#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt fanfiction #mike schmidt x reader #five nights at freddy's imagine #five nights at freddy's fanfiction #five nights at freddy's x reader #josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson fanfiction #josh hutcherson x reader

[heavyhitterheaux]

Ghost Part 4

AN: 💕

Synopsis: The two of you have finally gotten on the same page regarding Ace and Jack has shown you that he's all in when it comes to his and Ace's relationship. However, he ends up taking one step forward and a hundred steps backward when your safety is compromised

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 first

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Sitting in your car in front of your apartment building, you let out a loud sob that you had been holding in since the judge had made her decision.You were confident that she would rule in your favor, but the only thing or person on your mind rather was Ace.

He had gotten so used to seeing Jack often that you weren't quite sure how he was going to adjust to only being able to see him every other weekend. And you didn't know the first step in how to explain that to him and more than likely he probably wouldn't even understand. This was the last thing you wanted to ever happen, and you thought for sure that Jack would meet you halfway in order to do what was best for Ace, but once again his pride got in the way.

You had lost track of time and didn't know how long you were sitting in your car crying when you grabbed a tissue from your purse in order to wipe your face and make yourself look a bit more presentable. Blaire wasn't going to bring Ace back until later in the day and you still had some time to kill. It was simply decided that you would get into some comfy clothes and watch Disney plus because you figured that was probably the only thing that could somewhat lift your mood. 

Before you started watching anything, you sent a simple message to the group chat since you knew that they had been waiting to hear from you.

You- I got full custody of Ace 

Blaire- 👀👀👀

Nadia- As you should. What them child support payments looking like?

You- 40,000 a month

Liv- DAMN he actually got lucky. For a celebrity, I’ve heard of people paying a lot more than that.

Blaire- But how are you feeling overall?

You- Sad for Jack believe it or not

Liv- He got what was coming to him smh I don’t feel bad because he brought this on himself

Nadia- I second that 

You-  But now I have to tell Ace and I don’t know how he’s going to take it

Jack was in a daze driving home from the courthouse and the realization was hitting him that he didn't do anything but make things more complicated for himself. He had now driven a bigger wedge in between the two of you and knew deep down that no matter how much he apologized to you that it wouldn't be enough. He wanted to have a relationship with his son, but also wanted to have a healthy relationship with you too and at this point even getting you to talk to him was going to be a challenge.

He had gotten home and didn't realize that Clay had been following him and pulled up behind his car in the driveway. Jack sighed to himself not wanting to hear him say ‘I told you so’ again since he had a feeling that he would never let him live this down. He knows that he fucked up and doesn’t need to hear it over and over again. 

Once he stepped out of the car, Clay was next to him with his hands stuffed in his pockets and simply looked at him.

“Clay, not now. Please not now.” Jack said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I'm just here for support. What just happened was a lot to take in and even though you've been treating me like shit the last few months, you're still my big brother and I still care about how you’re feeling.”

“I know and I'm sorry. I just… There isn't any excuse for the way I've been acting and treating you as if you're not important to me when you know that you are. I just want that close relationship that you have with Ace and I’m jealous of it and not afraid to admit it. You've been in his life since he was four weeks old and I can't say the same thing. Y/N is never going to forgive me now. I wish I would have talked to her when she gave me the chance.”

“That is literally all she has wanted from the very beginning. She never wanted it to get to this point and she actually low key thinks that you hate her.” Clay quietly said as they both walked into Jack’s house.

“What? I could never hate her. I don't hate her. Why would she think that? Never mind, don't answer that. I… get it.”

“And you failed to realize how this would affect Ace because he's the one that's at the center of this whole thing.”

“And now I can't even see him how I want to.”

“You now have to make it up to not only Ace but Y/N too.”

“And I don't have any idea on where to start.”

“You already know what you need to do and no one should have to tell you that. You can start by being the best father you can possibly be to Ace. This isn't rocket science, but you damn sure know how to make things more complicated. Are we sure that you’re even the older one at this point?” Clay asked while smirking and Jack gave him a small smirk in return and shrugged his shoulders. 

Jack's mood had been off for the rest of the time that had passed until it was his weekend with Ace and he wanted to get himself together before you dropped him off. But he just couldn't shake this being his new reality. He knew now that he should have talked to you and simply let you explain, but his thoughts of you moving and taking Ace flooded his mind and that was the only thing that he could think of. But all in all, he just made a bigger mess. 

He had sent you multiple text messages with you responding in ten words or less and it wasn’t because you were being mean or trying to spite him, you genuinely had no idea what to say to him at this point. Until you did, there was no reason for you to give him a longer response. 

It was a little awkward when the person supervising the visit, Britney showed up at his house ten minutes before you were going to drop Ace off and knew that he had to prove to her and to the court that he could take care of Ace and take care of him properly. But most importantly, he wanted to prove it to you. 

Once he saw your car pull up, he went outside to meet the two of you as you were helping Ace out of the back of the car. You were grabbing Ace’s backpack that had all of his toys (and told him that he could only bring three because Jack had an entire playroom in his house specifically for him) and clothes when you heard his voice.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi.” You responded while barely looking at him and took a deep breath before continuing to talk.

“His clothes, shoes, and toys are in here and I'll come and get him Sunday at 5.” Was all you said as you handed him Ace’s backpack and Ace was simply looking between the two of you.

“Um, okay.” 

“Make sure he's ready by then for me to come and get him. Okay, Ace, give me kisses.”

You kneeled down to his height and he immediately embraced you and it seemed as if he was holding onto you as if he didn't want you to leave.

“Mommy, can you stay?” Ace asked as he pulled away from you.

“Ace, you're going to have fun with daddy and I'll see you in two days, promise.”

“And we can call mommy before you go to sleep.” Jack chimed in with an attempt to make it less awkward, but he knew that this was probably going to take a while.

“Will you sing to me when I do?” Ace asked, looking at you hopeful. Just about every single night, after the two of you read a book, you would sing him to sleep.

“Of course. Anything for my baby boy.”

—

“Daddy, you okay?” Ace asked Jack as he looked over at him and saw that he was staring off into space when they were supposed to be baking brownies. Peanut butter and chocolate, which he learned how to make from you which had now become his favorite.

“Oh, I'm fine. Now let's get this batter in the pan so we can watch a movie.”  Jack answered as he ruffled Ace's curly hair that resembled his.

“Can we watch Cars!?”

“Of course we can and when our brownies are done, we have ice cream to go with them.”

“But you still look sad. Are you sad about mommy?” Hearing Ace say that made Jack's breath hitch and he simply sighed before saying anything else. To only be three almost four, Ace was incredibly smart and picked up on a lot of things that went on around him.

“You definitely notice everything, don't you?” He asked as Ace simply smiled and nodded.

“I hurt her and I don't think that she's ever going to forgive me.”

“Just say sorry. That should make it all better. Mommy has a big heart like me.”

“That she does, but I don't think that's going to be enough.”

“Well, I still think you should try.”

“Ace….”

“For me?” Ace asked while looking up at his father with eyes that resembled his.

“Now you know that I have a hard time telling you no. And stop with the puppy dog eyes!”

“So you’ll do it!?”

“I’ll try for you.” 

The next few months came and went with the celebration of Ace turning four, and Jack having to do more and more appearances and fly around the country. When that happened, Ace would just stay with you until the next weekend that he was able to come and get him once he was back in Louisville, since he wasn’t allowed to take him across state lines yet. It was Friday afternoon and you were cleaning up your classroom as Ace was sitting at one of the tables coloring when he suddenly asked you about Jack.

“Mommy…”

“Yes?”

“Can daddy come over for a movie night?” He asked while turning around to look at you. 

“Um, Ace we have to see. Daddy might be busy.” You said while grabbing your purse from underneath the desk and taking out your keys.

“Can we call him?”

“Sure, we can call him once we get outside in the car. Come here so I can help you put your jacket on. We can finish coloring at home.”

Ace was secured in the back of the car when you slid into the driver’s seat and attempted to turn the car on. The only problem was that it wouldn’t. 

“You can’t be serious right now.” You muttered to yourself as you lightly laid your head on the steering wheel. Liv had taken a half day today in order to go to a few doctor’s appointments so you know that you couldn’t call her. Nadia would still be at work, and Blaire didn’t close the bakery until seven.

So, that left one person.

Jack.

You sighed as you dialed his number and he picked up on the second ring.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you okay? Is Ace okay?”

“Hey, we’re fine. But I need a favor. Are you at home?” You mumbled because you didn’t like asking him for help, but at this point you needed it.

“Of course. Yeah, I just got back in. What’s going on?” Jack asked as he was looking for the Chinese take out menu from his favorite spot. 

“I’m at work with Ace and my car decided that it doesn’t want to start.”

“Say less. Drop me the location and I’ll come get both of you.”

“Thank you, I’m sorry to ask, but….”

“No need to apologize. I’m on my way now.”

It took less than twenty minutes and you finally saw Jack’s jeep pull up beside you and this made Ace yell in excitement.

“Looks like you get to see daddy after all, huh?” You said as you peeked at him in the backseat and he excitedly nodded towards you.

Jack hopped out while coming over to you and opening your door.

“Thank you again for doing this.” You said and Jack simply waved you off.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N.”

“I didn’t take you away from anything did I?”

Jack immediately shook his head no as he opened the back door and unstrapped Ace from his car seat and picked him up.

“Hi daddy. I told mommy to call you because I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bubs.” Jack answered before kissing his cheek and putting him in 

His car seat in the back of his jeep. Jack then opened the passenger side door and helped you up, while putting your purse and work bag in the backseat. Once he slid in the driver’s seat, he started making his way back to your apartment.

“Daddy, I’m hungry.”

“What do you want to eat? I was actually going to order Chinese food for dinner. Did you want that?”

“Yes! I want an egg roll!”

Only now you noticed that he was going in the opposite direction.

“Umm? Jack? My apartment is that way.”

“I know.”

“Then where are we going?”

“I want to show you something and I figured that this was a good time in order to do it.”

He glanced over at you and saw the look on your face and couldn’t help but to laugh.

“No kidnapping involved, promise.”

It was another fifteen minutes when you noticed that all of you were literally a few streets over from where Jack’s house was. He then pulled in front of a modern looking house and it looked as if it had just been built and no one had the chance to live in it quite yet. You looked around and saw that there were others similar to it and that it looked like they were building more.

“Jack? What is this? Where are we?” You asked not having the slightest clue on what was going on.

“This is your house.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him in disbelief. You looked out the window at the house before looking back at him and was clearly confused. 

“I…”

“I don’t want you two in that neighborhood anymore because it’s not the safest. This way, Ace can go outside and play all he wants and I don’t have to worry about you two not being in a safe environment. This is a gated community so unless you have the passcode, you can’t get in.”

“Jack….. You bought us a house?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t accept this, how in the world am I going to pay for it?” You asked as a million things started going through your mind.

“No one said you had to pay for anything. You need more space, even if it’s just the two of you.”

“But….”

“Y/N, it’s a gift. No strings attached. It’s fully furnished and everything.”

You sat there for a minute before glancing back at Ace who was too busy playing with one of his toys to notice you.

“Come on, let’s go inside so you can at least look at it.” He said while holding up the keys and smiling at you.

“Is this a ploy to get me to stay in Louisville?” You asked, suddenly getting defensive because of his previous actions.

“No, not in the slightest. If that’s what you eventually want to do, then okay but this house will still be here and still be yours. Just while you’re here I figured that the two of you should be as comfortable as possible. And also that you would have probably said no if I asked the two of you to move in with me so it would be safer knowing that you would probably want your own space. You don’t have to move in immediately, but come on so we can at least look at it.”

“Okay.” You quietly said before taking off your seatbelt and getting out the car as Jack did the same thing while tending to Ace after.

All three of you walked through the house and you were in awe. Ace’s bedroom had a Louisville Cardinal theme since that happened to be his favorite team right along with his dad, while your room had a black and gray theme. Ace had his own playroom filled with toys and even a mini kitchen with a working stove that was perfect for his height.

“Ace, don’t you like this house and want to live here with mommy?” Jack asked as Ace had begun examining the stove and the little apron that was hanging to the side that had his name on it which was similar to the one that you bought for him.

“Yes! I like it.”

All Jack did was look at you, but you still had hesitations in the back of your mind. It was true that you and Jack were growing close again and working on being good co-parents to Ace, but you couldn’t take him possibly doing something to mess all of this up all over again. Before either of you made a decision regarding him, you would call each other and discuss it first. This just seemed all too much for you and you were overwhelmed.

You remained quiet as Jack simply laid the keys in your hand and closed it.

“Whenever you’re ready, there is absolutely no rush. Please understand that. And also understand that I’m trying to do my best to make up for what I’ve done or what I haven’t done rather. I just want to do right by the two of you.” He whispered so that only the two of you could hear and all you did was nod in response before Jack went to scoop Ace up in his arms.

“Bubs, you ready to go to daddy’s house and eat Chinese food?”

“As long as we watch Cars!”

“Uh? Again?”

“This is nothing compared to his Lion King phase.” You muttered as all three of you made your way back downstairs.

“Oh, one last thing. Let’s go this way.” Jack then led you both in the direction of the garage and your jaw dropped once you set foot in it.

“Didn’t realize that your car was going to give out on you today, but… surprise.” was all Jack said as you were now staring at a BMW SUV. When you and Jack had first started talking, you told him that this was the car that you eventually wanted to buy for yourself and had no idea that he actually remembered. 

“Jack….”

He didn’t say anything and instead slipped his hand in his back pocket to get the keys and hand them to you.

“Ace can ride with me while you test out your new car.”

About another month had passed and the temperature was beginning to warm up and you couldn’t wait to be able to take Ace out all summer and was trying to think of where you wanted to go and wanted to do. You also made sure to include Jack in your plans if he wasn’t too busy. You had the night to yourself since Ace was with Jack and you were currently fiddling the house key in your hands that Jack had bought you. He told you that it was no rush and you were deciding to take your sweet time. As far as the lease for your apartment went, Jack said if you wanted to break it, he would pay for it. But at this point in time, you feel that he already did so much for you already and would probably just ride it out until it was time for it to be renewed again. However, just about every day after you were finished teaching, you would take the long way home to pass by it.

It was around midnight when you had gotten a text on your phone from Nadia and it seemed urgent.

Nadia- Go look at Jack’s instagram…. NOW

You- Why? What’s wrong?

Nadia- HE POSTED YOUR FACE, THAT’S WHAT’S WRONG!

Your heart was now doing backflips as you logged into your instagram app to see that he did indeed post you and now thoughts were beginning to run rampant.

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jackharlow: Y/N, thank you for being just an amazing mother to my son who has wanted for nothing ever since he came out of the womb. I'm thankful that we're in a better place with one another and keeping him at the center of it because at the end of the day, he's the most important part of this. I can't change the past and what went down between us, but I can move forward and do what's best for the both of you.

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You wasted no time in texting him wanting to address this and how incredibly dangerous it was.

You- Jackman, I’m coming over because we need to talk

Jack- Is everything okay?

You- No, everything is not. I’m getting dressed now

Jack was waiting at the door for you once your car pulled behind his jeep in the driveway and he could tell that you were fuming. He simply stepped aside to let you squeeze past him as you went to sit down on the couch in the living room. All Jack did was come and sit next to you waiting to hear what you had to say.

“Y/N?”

“Why did you post that?”

“Because I figured you deserved a public apology. I just wanted to show how appreciative I was of you and how important our relationship is.”

“Do you not understand what you just did? First, those pictures that were taken were for your birthday and for your eyes only and I actually forgot that I even took them until now. Second, Jack, I have an Only Fans. Did you not put two and two together?! NOW PEOPLE WILL KNOW WHAT I LOOK LIKE AND MAKE THE CONNECTION! I hardly show my face on there, but I have some videos where I do!”

“I….”

“I could lose my job over this! And that’s exactly what I was afraid of! Even if it was a few years ago, they aren’t going to see it that way.”

“Wait, your Only Fans is still active!?” Jack asked curiously, but all you did was roll your eyes.

“Is that really all you got out of that?! Yes, it’s still active! Any time if I was in a bind or needed money, I would upload videos to get paid for it!”

“Why, when you could’ve asked me?! You need to deactivate it and how was I supposed to know you still had it?! All I was trying to do was something nice for you. I swear that I can never win with you!”

“I’m not deactivating anything because that would literally be how me and Ace would eat some days when you were nowhere to be found.”

“Well, I’m here now! You don’t have to worry about that anymore! Anything you want or need, I’ll get it!”

“Every time I need something, I’m not going to run to you and ask for it. We’re not in a relationship anymore or did you forget?”

“I… well what if I want us to be?!”

This had you taken aback and you simply looked at him in disbelief as you shook your head. 

“Jack…..”

“Please Y/N, just give me another chance. I’ll delete the post and make this right and I’m sorry for doing that without clearing it with you first. I compromised your safety and you know that was never my intention.”

“It is literally only a matter of time before someone finds my account.” You muttered without giving Jack an answer.

“I can delete it.”

“But not before almost a million people liked it. The damage is done so it doesn’t even matter at this point.”

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[catboybiologist]

Boymoding is getting exhausting.

And yay, toxic thought time that's going to be anecdotal and probably come off as somewhat sexist. But I hope it doesn't.

The thing that's really wearing down on me is emotional responses, I think. When cis women cry or show emotion as part of their daily routine, it's still taboo, but often accommodated more than others. I'm going through a lot of emotional swings right now, and there's a very stark difference in how those are treated vs how it's treated in others. And I don't know if that'll ever change, tbh, but hopefully at least someone will acknowledge that it's rough. Even with the good, close friends I have, there very much is a gap in what level of emotion elicits sympathy vs ignoring it or treating it as an overreaction in men vs women. I'm a "man" now, and simply don't get the space for that emotional support as a casual daily thing. It's not uncommon for people in academia to cry or be overwhelmed and anxious, and it's becoming more and more obvious how that's treated in men vs women. It's always a thought I had in the back of my head, but I'm noticing it a lot more now that I'm outwardly a man but have a lot more visibly emotional moments.

Its weird. I have made efforts to be more open about bisexuality, and my day to day vibe has gotten fruitier as a result. A lot of cis women friends have gotten closer to me as a result, but they very clearly treat me with a "gay best friend" kinda vibe. Which is honestly fun, but it provides an interesting baseline for the biases people have in how much emotion men vs women are allowed to show, even among good friends.

On the flip side, another thing I'm becoming more acutely aware of (even though I always knew it was a thing, it just feels more pressing now) is how casually women are ignored, talked over, disregarded, etc etc when compared to men in a academia. I've always known this was a problem, but it's been on my mind a lot more recently.

Top all of that off with the endless physical considerations of compressive bras, managing the way I walk, baggy clothes, mitigating dysphoria vs hiding my transition, not accidentally slipping into my shitty voice training voice while going around daily, making time for injections now, taking sublingual pills midday when I was still on those... Yeah. It adds up.

I've tried making my transition an "open secret" by going to social events and queer events femme, and I know word gets around to labmates and such. I just don't know who exactly knows, and the barrier of actually talking to people about it is huge. I really think, for my own sanity, I need to start telling people what's up even before I socially transition.

I'm particularly moody and stressed bc of my qual tomorrow, but yeah. Consider this a toxic unfocused rant. I'll probably have more to say in a more focused way in a couple days.

Oh also. Please don't be like "ooohhh then why are you still boymoding idiot" cuz that's not helpful. There's a right moment to socially transition and I have a plan.

#trans #academia

[simpforwebtoonmen]

★lookism characters with an s/o with a similar fighting style as Bayonetta

feat. Daniel Park, Eli Jang, and Euntae Lee (Vasco)

notes/warnings: reader is a woman, fighting, flirting, fluff, kind of ooc characters (for Daniel's at least), not based on specific event in lookism besides for Eli's. not proof read. (lmk if I missed anything!)

i've been playing Bayonetta lately and omg do I love it.

Daniel★

"huh?" he questioned. the only thing distracting him from his aching body and bloody fists was the woman in front of him.

She dodged a punch from her opponent by backflipping elegantly; her arms stretched out and her legs swinging one after another into the air and her back arching perfectly. she landed on her two feet and stood up straight, as if the backflip took no energy from her at all.

God, if she wasn't perfect before (which she was in daniel's eyes), she was definitely beyond amazing at this point.

The way she delivered her kicks to each opponent, the way she would maneuver her body to hit her opponent in a specific spot, and her stance when she finished all 10 men off.

"oh.my.god." Daniel slowly stood up from the ground and wobbled his way over to his girlfriend that just saved him, aka, you.

You quickly ran over to him when you caught sight of his weakened state. putting a hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, you examined him for major injuries that might need treatment at the hospital. as you did that, Daniel only admired, thinking to himself how he got so lucky; landing on a strong and elegant woman.

"Are you okay, Daniel? you seem to be in a daze. did you hit your head?" you questioned him, going on your tip toes to get a better look at his head. In a vague motion, he shook his head, "just thinking about you," he admitted.

You got off your toes and stared at Daniel, wondering if something was really wrong with him. "what?" was all you could manage to say. "you're just so perfect..." he let out a somewhat dreamy sigh as his face dropped into what looked to be a lovesick gaze. maybe there really was something wrong with him. but nevertheless, his words still made you very flustered.

Eli ★

he and warren were trying his their hardest to protect Hostel against the old men from (tiger sum company?). Suddenly overpowered by one of the old men, Warren screams for Eli seeing him getting beat down. and even though, eli could've easily gotten back up he wasn't given the chance to when a shadow flew overhead.

Suddenly the old man flew out of Eli's sight and was instead met with a leg stretched out. the shape of the leg was all to recognizable and his eyes trailed up to the thigh, then to the hips and waist, and (not so subtly) up the curve of their chest, his gaze is finally met with yours.

You grinned as you watched him shamelessly check you out despite the situation, "like what you see, perv?" you teased. just then, he's realized what he'd done, a pink color spreading across his cheeks, "i-it's not like that-" he tried to explain but you suddenly disappeared.

you made your way to the other side of the field as you saw the old man get back up as if unscathed by your kick.

Eli was surprised to see that you could hold your own against such a powerful opponent. And not only were your kicks and punches powerful, but your jumps were impressively high and you were all too quick at times for Eli to keep up.

but suddenly, with an elbow to the chest, you flew back into a part of the playground. You groaned as you sat up, "well are you gonna help me or are you just gonna watch?" you shouted from where you were. And as the old man suddenly flew above you, intending to deliver a powerful blow, you were quick to jump up and dodge his attack.

finally, eli snapped out of his trance. "oh!" He got up from where he sat and made his way to you and the old man. The two of you stood in a powerful stance before the old man, making his 'tsk'.

"tag teaming, are we? we'll that's no fair, now is it?"

Vasco ★

"let me join."

"no."

"please."

"no."

"please! with ice cream and whipped cream, and rainbow sprinkles, and cherry on top!"

"hmm, sounds kinda good ngl....but no."

you slumped on your spot on the floor. You've been dating Vasco for about 6 months now and have only seen him fight just recently. You couldn't help but think just how much more amazing it made him look on your eyes, to fight for such a heroic and selfless cause. you wanted to be a part of that too, but for some reason, he won't let you.

"c'mon dude...at least tell me why I can't join you guys..." you looked back up at Vasco, hoping he'd give you an explanation. he sighs, "because it's dangerous work we do and I don't want you to get hurt," he explained, his gaze softening. He doesn't think he could handle seeing you get hurt, no less because of him.

But that's when you realized that he didn't know.

You stood up quite abruptly and pointed a declaring finger at him. "I wanna duel!" you shouted, squinting your eyes at him to make yourself look more serious, but to him, you just looked cute. that and he was surprised to hear such a declaration from you.

"w-what?"

"you and me. outside. duel."

and here you both were. outside in an open and seemingly empty field.

he felt extremely unsure if he should really do this. He decided that he was just going to pin you down and make you give up. talk about underestimating your opponent, am i right?

slowly, you inched closer to your opponent, make it seem like you were going to attack first. Vasco, got the idea that you were going to attack at any moment and took it upon himself to lounge for you first, to prevent any sort of fight happening between the two of you.

But suddenly, instead of being met with your body, he was met with his face in the dirt. did you just dodge his attack, by backflipping no less? he lifted his head from the dirt and brought his hands back to lift himself from the ground, but a force on his back pushed him back down onto the dirt. He turned his head to look back at who it was, and surprise surprise, it was you with your foot on his back.

"how did-"

"how did i end up back here when I was just in front of you?" you finished his question for him. you grinned before taking your foot off his back, "keep underestimating me and I might just win this fight," you teased.

he lifted himself from the ground, turning to you with a frown on his face. he was confused to say the least. how did you move so fast? and how strong is your leg to keep him pinned down despite his efforts of getting up? he didn't know the answers to those questions, but he knew now to take you seriously.

"alright fine, let's do this," he lifted his fists up along with his knee, his signature stance. for a moment, his position softened, "don't be afraid to tap out, okay? I don't want to hurt you..."

for a moment, you laughed, "haha, don't worry, I will. same goes for you."

and just like that, you two began your fight.

-

"are you done yet?" you yawned as you sat on his back, your feet planted on his calves to keep him from moving. He tried to swing his arms up behind him but he simply couldn't reach you. finally, he sighed, "fine...you win..."

#lookism x reader #lookism #daniel park #euntae lee #lookism daniel x reader #lookism vasco x reader #lookism vasco #lookism eli #eli jang x reader #eli jang x reader #eli jang

[xocoluvr]

On The Phone

| Johnny Cage x afab!reader

Word count: 1k

CW: 18+, phone seggs, smut, dirty talk, masturbation, overstimulation, praise, no use of y/n, Johnny w/ a voice kink, Johnny is somewhat sub, bit of a plot.

a/n: feliz año nuevo !! just letting everyone know, pls feel free to ask for gender-neutral or masculine perspectives. reqs are open to diff m1k characters as well(˵¯͒〰¯͒˵)

reblogging is very much appreciated! ᕙ(‾̀◡‾́)ᕗ

/ᐠ｡ ｡ᐟ\

It's been a couple of weeks since Johnny left you in Malibu to go to Wu Shi Academy, and you were lying on your shared bed, alone. Every day felt longer than the other without Johnny, your mutual agreement of calling each other every other day was the only thing you looked forward to at the end of the day. Your phone lay resting beside you as you felt it buzz. Your thoughts of Johnny were immediately cut off as you rose from your sheets feeling elated seeing his name on the screen, you felt pathetic that even seeing his name displayed at the top of the screen gave you a rush of excitement.

On the other line, Johnny was lying on his uncomfortably stiff cot with sore muscles after an exhausting day of training with the monks. Weeks of being without you was leaving him frustrated, sexually frustrated. He hadn't had any time to himself and was practically thinking about you every second of the day. He was tossing and turning hard as a rock just from the thought of you. He shamefully reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his phone to press on your contact, waiting anxiously to see if you'd pick up to help him relieve himself.

"Hey, baby..."

As soon as you heard the sound of his deep groggy voice it almost made you melt right into the bed sheets. It took you a couple of seconds of silence before responding with a shy "Hi Johnny." Your tone was a bit off, it sounded like you were trying to play off your elation, which you were but that’s not important.

Johnny exhaled a soft chuckle, he felt nervously hot every time he heard your sweet voice. “Hey darling… I know it’s late but I wanted to check on you” You could hear the strain on his voice, the restraint in his tone. He was definitely holding something back.

You held the phone listening to his tiresome voice through the speaker, holding it as if it were Johnny himself, giving it a sultry smile hearing how deeply he cared for you. "I'm doing okay.. would be better if you were here with me." The weariness in your tone grew as you considered how far apart you two were, quietly looking over at the side of the bed he typically slept on, envisioning his presence.

Johnny smiled. Your need for him was comforting for him, knowing how much he suffered from the gap between the two of you as well, knowing how much he needed your closeness. "I know, I’ve missed you so very much… I have been thinking about you so much lately you have no clue." He added with a grin and low chuckle looking down at how turned on he was by just you conversing with him.

He was going crazy still needing to get rid of his hard-on, the sound of your voice was only making it worse. "Nothing would make me happier than to be with you right now. I've been thinking about you... thinking of what we might do if you were here..." He reached down under his itchy covers and began to palm himself to the thought of you and what you were currently doing, thinking about what position he'd put you in when he gets home, what noises you'd make when he finally gets his tongue on your sweet cunt.

He let out a quiet whiny groan feeling how incredibly hard he had gotten since the call started. Setting the phone in his left hand, Johnny continued rubbing himself through his boxers as he felt a small patch of pre-cum starts to stain them. The sound he let out almost instantly gave you chills of arousal, making you immediately wet. "Yeah? What were you thinking?" Biting at your bottom lip, your hand slipped down under your pajama shorts to massage your aching clit. Soft moans sliding off your tongue could only faintly be heard by him as he let out a pleasureful groan at the sight of his leaky cock springing out of his boxers.

Johnny's arousal kept getting higher and higher the longer he thought about all those painful times he was left to his own thoughts, long nights of imagining every tiny detail on your body. "Oh, you know..." He said as he made long and slow strokes listening to your quiet noises. "I was thinking about how much I miss your presence... I miss having you right by me, how you fit so nicely against me. How your lips feel on mine, and that mouth... that god damn mouth." His voice increased in frustration as he let out a guttural groan seeing the pre-cum dribble down his fingers. As your slick dripped down, and covered your thighs, your fingers slipped more easily inside, and your moans became more frantic and louder sending Johnny into an entranced state.

Johnny squeezed at his cock a bit firmer as he envisioned your mouth replacing his hand, oh how he missed how your warmth coated him. "Are you touching yourself, princess?" He questioned while shutting his eyes and imagining what you look like while on the call with him. You couldn't get out any words as your mind was completely occupied by the thought of all of the times you had your mouth on him. Gentle moans were spilling out of your mouth, quiet chants of his name filling the room. All you could do was hum out a weak and whiny "Mhm.." while tears of pleasure were threatening to fall from the corners of your eyes.

inaudible praises to her were falling from his mouth, he felt his cock twitch in his hand every time you moaned for him. You were starting to claw at your sheets in anticipation of your orgasm, and your back was arching off of the bed. Johnny could hear how close you were to your peak and let out a satisfactory sigh feeling he was also nearing his by how his strokes were uneven and getting sloppier. Johnny pried his eyes open to view his hand viciously stroking himself as cum spurted out and leaked down onto his lower stomach while still pumping up and down. You bit your lip stifling your moans as your orgasm hit you hard, cum was spilling onto your fingers as you continued pumping in and out trying to draw out your orgasm. Johnny felt himself twitch in his hand as he milked himself dry feeling much better now that he finally subdued his frustration.

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