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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month

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Happy 2k babe! I have a request for fluffy Spencer smut based on the song "touch tank" by Quinnie! (the song gives me like golden retriever vibes so maybe you could put something about reader playing with his hair in there? I don't know I'm having later seasons fluffy hair Spencer brainrot and I never make requests, obviously feel free to ignore or change things if this is too specific! <3)

hi angel babe!!! i love this song!! and i too am always having later seasons fluffy haired spencer brainrot!! i wrote this super quick, please let me know if its any good, ILY!!! xo

warnings/tags: fem!reader, softdom!spence, sub reader, fingering, oral f receiving, sorta kinda overstimulation, implicit consent, praise n stuff, not proofread, written at 9 pm on a tuesday night, so fluffy

18+ (smut)

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Spencer is clearly almost asleep on the couch next to you. That’s one of many things you find endlessly fascinating and charming about him—his ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time within minutes.

So you probably shouldn’t speak. But the stakes are low; it’s barely 7:30 in the evening.

“Spence?” You whisper. His eyes don’t open, but his thumb goes back to making little passes where it’s settled over your hip.

“Hm?”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

He smiles, slight but beautiful—yet his eyes remain stubbornly closed.

“Why not?”

“’Cause I want you to be awake.”

“Then you can’t keep playing with my hair like that.”

You pout as if he can see you.

“But I like playing with your hair.”

Spencer hums, and you can tell you’re losing him again as you continue carding your hand through stupidly soft locks.

“One or the other. You can’t have both.”

“I love you both, though,” you complain. “I don’t know who to pick.”

The grin has been steadily fading from his relaxed face but it flickers back to life for a moment.

“I’m getting a haircut tomorrow. That should make it easier for you.”

“What?”

It’s the genuine horror in your voice that finally gets him to open his eyes. A little line appears between his brows as he regards you with bleary eyes.

“What what?”

“You didn’t consult me!”

The momentarily tensed muscles in his face relax and he rolls his eyes affectionately before craning his neck to kiss your forehead.

“I’m not in the habit of requesting your approval before I make choices like that.”

“Spencer, please don’t cut your hair,” you beg, genuinely distraught. “You can’t. It’s so so pretty.”

“It’s too long, baby. I don’t want to grow it out again.”

“You don’t have to grow it out! Just don’t get it any shorter! It’s perfect how it is,” you insist. Spencer narrows his eyes as you plead with him. But you stand firm in your position. His hair is sort of shaggy, sure—too long to be considered cropped and too short to be considered long. It’s like a beautiful curly halo and it’s perfect playing-with length. “I’m serious. I’m asking you to not cut it short, please. This is what I want for my birthday.”

“Your birthday’s not even—”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top? I love your hair so much and I love you more but I just really don’t want you to cut it, please—”

He’s laughing when he silences you with a soft kiss, and you melt, sighing against him as his hand slides up and down the back of your thigh. When he knows you’ve been sufficiently soothed, he pulls away, still smiling.

“Oh my god, baby—are you about to cry?”

“Stop!” you whine, burying your face into a throw pillow and screwing your eyes shut. Your nose crinkles up with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and though he’s no longer outright laughing, traces of humor still color his lowered voice as he kisses all over the side of your face. “I had no idea you felt that way. I didn’t realize I’d be causing you so much emotional distress if I cut my hair.”

You sniffle away any unfortunate emotional reactions and turn your head back to him. He’s ducked down slightly, still peppering kisses over your jaw and neck, and you lace your fingers through the contentious hair.

“Obviously I’m not the boss of you. If it makes you uncomfortable I want you to cut it. But I really like it how it is.”

He hums against your throat and the vibrations send a chill down your spine. You arch against him unconsciously.

“You are definitely the boss of me. I don’t know anyone else who I like receiving orders from so much.”

“Hotch,” you whisper, and you can feel Spencer’s teeth against your neck as he smiles and presses another loving kiss to the sensitive spot above your collarbone.

“Not the kind of orders I was talking about. And I don’t particularly care what Hotch thinks of my hair, honey.” He kisses tenderly until he earns a tiny whimper from you—which sates him enough to raise his head until you’re eye-level again. His hand, however, has other plans—it creeps south, slipping under the waistband of your pajama pants. “What if we compromise? I just get it trimmed so it doesn’t keep getting in my eyes when I have a loaded gun in my hands, yeah?” You nod dutifully, looping your arms around his neck as his fingers dip beneath your underwear. When you don’t reply verbally, he prompts meaningfully, “okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, voice small as you look into his searching eyes.

For a few moments, when he finally pushes his fingers against your clit and begins rubbing with slow, gentle strokes, his eyes are everywhere on your face—then they focus back on your eyes, watching with that habitually intense interest permeated with a sense of devotion—like he wants to see exactly what pleasure looks like reflected in your irises. Like he could see through them to your brain and watch your dopamine transmitters working overtime. A soft moan escapes through parted lips, which seems to spur Spencer on. He drags more arousal over your aching bud and openly chuckles at your airy sigh of pleasure, unable to resist from giving you a short kiss.

“Feels good?”

“Mhm,” you breathe.

“Mhm,” he agrees, kissing you again just as quickly before pulling back to study your face once more. “Pretty girl.”

“You’re pretty,” you insist, with what little brain power is available to you as you rake one hand through his hair. He smiles, eyes pinging between your own and your mouth like he can’t decide where to look.

“I’m pretty?” he asks, speaking over another quiet, yet unabashed moan. You nod, hips bucking slightly off the couch cushion as he speed up the motion of his hand. The grin widens and his soft amber eyes soften further. “You’re so sweet.”

You give him a moan he can’t ignore and he takes it as a signal to slip two fingers into you, sighing in what sounds like relief just as your breath catches. The way he seems to feel your pleasure will never get less erotic. Once he’d explained it—something to do with mirror neurons—but whatever the reason, watching the way his arousal rises with yours is exhilarating.

A squeaking sound is expelled from your lungs and your whole body tenses, propelling you maybe an inch upward involuntarily.

His lips part the same as yours—but only allowing another dry laugh to pass between them.

“Relax. I’ll come to you.”

You hum as he leans down and kisses you back into the pillow—a proper kiss, this time, lips parted and the tip of his tongue grazing yours—all the while, still pumping his fingers much deeper than your own could ever manage. Each moan and gasp he allows you to release freely, only barely parting from your lips every few seconds to let you breathe and make your noises. When his fingers begin pumping faster, and you can hear it, you whine, knees clamping shut as the small of your back jumps away from the couch.

“Fuck,” you pant against his lips.

“Need you to keep your legs open, baby,” Spencer reminds you gently, giving you a peck and a moment to relax as his hand stills.

“I don’t think I can,” you admit shyly, still wriggling. “Um, can you—can you use your mouth, please?”

Your boyfriend chuckles again and your cheeks get warmer. Momentarily you allow yourself to be grateful that his face is pressed too close to your own for him to be really be looking at you.

“You still have to keep your legs apart for that.”

“I know. It’s easier when—when you’re not inside.”

The smile in Spencer’s voice when he replies gives you butterflies as if he’s not knuckle deep in you already.

“I bet you think that’s true.”

“It is!” you whine.

“You’ve never had your thighs wrapped around your head so tightly your ears pop, have you?”

“That did not happen.”

“Only once,” Spencer reassures you. “And I happen to like your thighs. So no harm done. Go lie down on the bed.”

You let out a small chirp as he withdraws his fingers from you and your waistband snaps back into place against your skin.

“Where are you going?” you ask suspiciously, once you’re on semi-steady feet and watching him rise from the couch too. At once he kisses your forehead and grabs your ass—the contrast is dizzying.

“To wash my hands,” he says, popping the fingers that were just in you into his mouth like a preliminary clean up. “Go,” he urges, jutting his chin in the direction of the bedroom door. You hang from him just a second longer, biting back a smile, before tearing yourself away and only half-skipping to the bedroom.

Only a moment or two after you flop joyfully down on the mattress, he appears in the doorway again, immediately noticing the way you’re practically vibrating with excitement and unable to hide your grin as he approaches. It seems the smile is contagious—he’s sporting one of his own as he climbs over you.

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs toothily, kissing you once and then speaking again, “I love you so much.”

It’s exactly the kind of thing that makes you feel all soft and shy and giddy and speechless—even as he gives you one more parting kiss and then is sitting up to slide your pants off.

Maybe even especially then.

The sweetness dissipates only a little, still hanging thick in the air as you kick your bottoms off, and he leans back down, pushing your shirt over your chest and pressing kisses to your ribs and down your tummy. He doesn’t waste much time, only taking one brief detour to suck a mark and sink his teeth into your inner thigh until your breath catches loud enough to appease him. Then it’s all easy—his cool fingertips trailing up and down the backs of your thighs as he kisses all over and around your core. Intimacy with Spencer is definitely a spectrum, and while you can always feel the depth of his love for you in every touch, right now it’s so tangible, so potent you can feel it in your teeth.

You coo when one of the kisses finally sticks, lacing your fingers through the hair you love so much and pushing it out of the way as he laps gently at you. He looks as beautiful as always in the golden hour light as it filters through the window, but you’ve always thought he’s just that extra bit prettier when he’s eating you out.

Visually you’re entranced—it’s only when he begins easing you into the deep end with the flicking of his tongue that your brow knits and you gasp.

“Spencer,” you whisper, and it melds into a louder gasp. “Baby.”

He hums into you, reaching around your thigh to grab one of your wrists. You allow him to drag your hand from his hair and intertwine your fingers, his hand on top of yours, pressing them against your stomach where he sweeps his thumb back and forth over your knuckles.

The display of tenderness only makes you ache deeper in your belly, singing in airy, open-mouthed praise for him with a moan you know he would describe as pretty. Spencer says things like that often. He always talks about you like you’re an art form. When it comes to talking about touching you, he’s especially poetic.

When he begins to suckle, your moans get a little more explicit.

But he likes those ones just fine, too.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, though it’s a little choked, as you writhe just slightly against him. “That’s so good—oh my god.”

The hand that’s not holding yours rapidly changes position—pressing your thigh to the side with his elbow while he slips his fingers inside you once more.

At that, you really do choke, your body attempting to sit bolt upright but set off balance by the way your hips buck. You moan, loud, lilting, head still lifted to watch as he begins fucking you with his fingers. Your fingers brush through his hair several times before you’re anchoring your hand in it and falling back.

“Wh—please, baby, I can’t—”

But you can, and you both know it. You always do this; your body sends you signs that you’re over-indulging and fights to escape the stimuli and Spencer has learned to recognize your false flags for what they are. His hand speeds up along with his tongue and you cry out again, fighting to keep your legs open and your hips on the bed as every nerve in your body seems to light up neon.

“Oh—Spencer I’m gonna come,” you warn, all high pitched and synthesized into one word. He simply hums a long mhm in acknowledgment, and decides at that moment to brush his fingers over that spot inside of you which proves to be exactly the right button to trigger your detonation.

You can’t help the way you twist then as your orgasm washes you out—jaw dropped as your final keen starts loud, sputters into silence, and melts into an exhausted whine as your hips wind down. Spencer (wisely) adjusts his position, letting go of your hand only so he can sit up as your thighs clamp shut hard. But he’s still pumping his fingers as you writhe, his own mouth hanging open and groaning as you mewl. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, ready to beg him to stop—but as usual, he knows your body better than you do. An orgasm that you had thought was on its way out gets a second life and you can’t even breathe as you feel it so deep within you, pinpointed to one spot of focus, that you have to curl in on yourself, keeling onto your side because it’s simply too intense.

Either your vision goes black or your eyes are simply closed—regardless, time ceases for an unquantifiable moment, and you come to with Spencer rubbing your back and murmuring your name.

“What did I do to you?” he laughs, not unkindly.

Your back arches as mild aftershocks trickle through your system.

“I don’t know,” you slur. “Dark magic.”

He allows himself to be pulled on top of you once more, and you tangle your hands in his hair again.

“But you’re okay?” he murmurs, using his dry hand to play with your hair and brush over your cheek.

“Mhm,” you nod, eyes fluttering shut once more. Then you laugh, sudden and unexpected to both of you. “I think. That was intense. I felt that one in my soul.”

You smile as he exhales a laugh against your skin.

“Okay,” Spencer sighs after you catch your breath, bumping his nose against yours before sitting up—this time, not allowing you to pull him back down. “I need to take a shower. You should come with me.”

“Five more minutes,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows.

“But this is your last chance to wash my hair before it’s a whole inch shorter tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you laugh, but it turns deadly serious very quickly. “Spencer, I am not letting you cut a whole inch off your hair. I need that inch.”

“For what?” He snorts.

You smile big, glad he didn’t see your joke coming for once.

“Handles! Duh!”

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nymphany · 11 months

Text

COD X PUPPY HYBRID! READER

Masterlist

MINORS DNI

WARNING:CONTAINS SEMI DARK THEMES DO NOT READ IF YOURE NOT INTRESTED

Fic contains: taboo / dark content please read this warning if you are triggered by any of this material

Reader info:

Referred with: she/her/girl/you

British! Pan! Short! Afab! Feminine! Reader

Coming soon: cat, bunny, mouse, deer, bear, cow, lamb and bird version

♡ callsign: cadaver!

♡ oh where to start with this little ball of energy!!!

♡ shes so dumb </3 but she's good at her job so that's all that matters

♡ it was a surprise to 141 to be presented with the least intimidating hybrid as their newest addition to the team

♡ this bubbly little thing who was practically shaking in excitement, her tail wagging so hard it looked like it was about to fly off

♡ naturally the men were disappointed that they're newest member wasnt some unbeatable tank but instead a tiny thing who was fueled by praise and treats

♡ speaking of praises and treats gaz cant help but spoil you!! Price tells him not to

"she wont listen if you give her so many treats"

"shes a good girl she always listens"

• hes right you do always listen, you're very obedient maybe too obedient

♡ despite his denial of your treats, your favourite man is obviously price <3 something about puppies and grumpy old men is a match made in heaven !!

♡ you like his ear scratches the best especially when you're in his office with your head on his lap

♡ he says he only likes you for your work but everyone knows that's a lie especially when he pays extra attention to you during lunch. Hes just making sure you eat all your food so you're big and strong

♡ you know how some dads pet their dogs my giving their back a good smack and rub? that's what hed do to you <3

♡ he has a wide selection of beef jerky in his office but you only eat it when someone feeds it to you <3 they're not allowed to hand it to you or place it infront of you they must feed it to you directly!! Makes you happy (you try your best not to nip at their fingers when they feed you but you just get so happy you cant help it)

♡ ghost can never be sarcastic around you your dumb brain cant handle it :( "go count every grain of rice in the kitchens if you're so bothered 'bout the numbers" and you do!!! he feels horrible because he knows you suck at counting :(( it must of took you ages to even get to 50

♡ its okay because it gives soap and gaz an excuse to pamper you!! You dont exactly understand why you're being pampered (must be because you're such a good girl for counting all that rice) but you accept it. It does make ghost feel so much worse for making you do things he didnt mean </3

"You're such a good puppy! You're so good at listening and you're so pretty!"

"Gaz that's enough I already said sorry"

"Aw come on Lt you made the poor thing count every grain of rice cant expect us to not rub it in can ya"

♡ ghost does make it up to you eventually, he takes you on walks around the base and points out secrets and tells you their stories

"Oi pup Do you see that dent in the wall?"

"Yes!"

"Johnny came back after a night out and rammed himself into it thinking his shadow was an intruder"

♡ they always have atleast one of your chew toys on them at all times after they noticed you chewing the inside of your mouth, your fingers, their sleeves or just anything you could fit in your mouth

♡ SCENTING!!!!

♡ your team must smell like you all the time, always, forever !!!! Whenever you get them alone youre immediately licking them!! Sometimes you bite but you're working on it <3

♡ if they come back from somewhere you have to smell them, what if they smell like another hybrid hmm?!?! >:((

♡ which is why you hate baths.

♡ they wipe away all your hard work I mean come on it's not easy to get the scent of your four favourite men nor is it easy to scent them!!! They're constantly around other people >:(((((

♡ luckily you arent the smartest so it's easy to trap and lure you in with kisses <3

♡ some one HAS to be in the bath/shower/ room with you

1. you cant be trusted not to eat the soap (smell nice ≠ taste nice)

2. Its scary in there

3. You get distracted and forget to even get in the bath/shower

♡ they treat you so well though !!! your ears and tail are always so soft when you let gaz wash them, he takes such good care of the soft fur and he never ever let's the bubbles stay in your ears and he spends a good long time near your tail but you have no idea why <3

♡ soap likes washing your body! He loves watching you relax as he takes his time to make sure you're clean, he loves letting you lean against him as he washes your back and loves watching the suds run down your body. hes so sweet that he makes sure to pay extra attention to your sensitive areas <3

♡ price is the one tasked to dry you off, you seem to only listen to him anyway (of course you do, your dumb doggy brain has to listen to the leader of your pack)

♡ he pulls you against him using your towel as leverage, he so graciously put it in the dryer to warm up so you're all toasty and warm. You sit in his lap while he rubs your body dry whispering praises about your "bravery" to even go into the bath/shower

♡ Which leaves ghost in charge of your skin care!! This big scary man lathering your body in lotions and creams so you're all soft and smooth. He loves the moans and whimpers when he presses down on your weak spots <3

"Oi mutt stop licking the moisturiser"

"No no nooo :((( Say the thing :((("

"....Simons says stop licking the moisturiser"

♡ you never wear clothes after your bath/shower, they're lucky to get underwear on you, you need to be as open to they're scents as possible!! Maybe you'll wear their clothes but only maybe

♡ our puppy wasn't meant to meet Alejandro and Rudy until the mission was over but she said her nose could be put to good use and laswell couldnt help but agree (puppy definitely didn't bribe her or anything puppy hugs do wonders)

♡ at first alejandro didnt even see the girl behind the mountain sized men, assuming it's only ghost and soap coming along

"This is cadaver, our k9 unit she'll be coming along with us"

"Hello!"

"Ah un perro! you'll be very useful"

♡ it was a tight squeeze in the backseat, two military men left little room but it's okay you enjoy sitting on their laps so it's not much different

"So they call you cadaver?"

"Yes sir!"

"You good at hunting corpses?"

"Uh huh! very good! The best!"

"Good because we're looking for a dead man walking"

":00?? A zombie :((("

♡ overall you got on very well with alejandro and Rudy <3 whenever they passed you they always gave a light scratch to your ear

♡ you dont understand the language but you like the attention and that's all that matters, they're so nice and help you cool off in the sun, you just need to get naked so they can help cool you off just let them help dont even worry about it

♡ you liked graves when you met him he got so hyped up on missions the energy traveled to you

♡ although he definitely tries to make you loyal to him and him only (mmm yummy dark! Graves <3<3) hes always been a fan of hybrids especially the vulnerable ones. Hes best at love bombing you, filling you with treats, pets and roaming hands. Hes a sucker for puppy girls

♡ valeria made you cry when you met her :(( well it was actually rudy but he didnt mean to he felt awful :(((

"Perro estúpido, solo eres una perra reproductora, ¿no? no hay pensamientos en esa linda cabeza tuya"

"Thank you :D"

"Dont thank her shes insulting you"

":(((("

• he gave you so many hugs, treats and kisses after he apologized profusely he forgot how sensitive you are he just didnt want you to thank her for insulting you :((

♡ mommy valeria tho so shes easily forgiven with a few fake compliments.

"You must think twice as hard with that brain of yours"

"Oh no! I dont even think once! :D"

♡ you entertain her, although she does wonder how it would feel to live in your head for a day

"Even the dogs in Las almas know not to bark at me"

"Oh no silly! We're in a shipping container"

"Yes in Las almas"

"Since when"

♡ thinking about how puppy got to keep valeria company while the big strong men go fight, guard dog duties !! Dont ask her how she got naked... and why valerias fingers are pruned... that's not important and you should mind your business

♡ cadaver has a muzzle and harness <3 !!! If you've ever been checked for harness safety you'll understand the feeling of being tugged around and how easy it is to want to jump someones bones

♡ ZOOMIES!!!

♡ always at odd hours too but you cant help it !! you have a lot of energy and you're too dumb to put that energy to good use :(( so it's only natural you jump on everyone and everything <3

♡ nesting with all of their clothes and belongings and they cant stop you or they'll get viciously attacked (you will cry)

♡ sticker collection (scented ones are the best) + mask decorating with ghost !!!!!

♡ konig is a scary big giant man whose just a silly guy at heart but jesus christ he needs to shrink

♡ the first time you met him you actually didnt see him, assuming the sun had exploded and the solid black mass that obscured your vision was the end of the world only to be corrected by an apology from the wall itself

"ah I'm so sorry I didnt see you there"

"Me neither :D"

♡ so big and scary but so warm and protective!! Ghost doesn't like you near konig he doesnt like sharing his toys with kortac

♡ you still hang out with him whenever you get the chance!! <3 friendship bracelets for all!! You did however underestimate how big these mens wrists were and cried when they wouldnt fit

༺*:ﾟ･✧･:*:ﾟ･♡ NSFW ♡･ﾟ:*:･✧･ﾟ:*༻

♡ oral fixation all the way !!

♡ mouth cockwarming!!!! Below prices desk? Yes!! Feeling sleepy and need to suck on something?? Soap is your guy!! Want to learn about the human anatomy? Rudy is there to help

♡ sweaty balls in my mouf

♡ slobbering on them until they scrunch up like raisins, suck the man juice out of them

♡ our puppy has a leash and collar so it's only natural they use it on you, held back by the neck as one of them is pounding into you

♡ puppy likes scent and prefers sex before

and after a work out

♡ listen... piss kink

♡ I just feel like they'd be in a meeting and she tries so so sooo hard to tell someone she needs to pee but they keep telling her to hold it (graves) but she just cant price made sure to keep her hydrated during lunch :(( it's too much and her bladder isnt big enough

♡ whimpers fill the air the sound of dripping water accompanying it their heads turning to face her as sobs bubble out of her mouth along with apologise while she so desperately cover her face to avoid the embarrassment. Her thighs clenched desperately to stop the stream but her attempts were In vain

♡ the first to realise what had happened was soap the fact that he was sitting next to her and had perfect view access to her entire body

"Aw pet don' cry its jus' an accident, happens to the best of us"

♡ :(((( shes so upset but our boys dont mind shes usually so well behaved and she obviously didn't mean to do it on purpose

"Oh puppy you tried so hard to tell us and we completely ignored you didnt we?"

"Uh huh"

"Yeah? And we didnt listen when you said you couldnt hold it did we"

"No i- but I- I did try to hold I really tried hard b-but I couldnt an- and now I've made a mess"

♡ they cant ignore the arousal they get from seeing her soaked and sobbing <3 they know it's wrong, shes upset and embarrassed but they just cant help it

♡ graves is a gross man who looks like fix it felix but dont let that fool you he 100% loves the control he gets from a piss kink especially for our puppy, he likes making you hold it and then mocks you in a high pitched voice but your dumb little brain thinks hes comforting you

♡ I think simon is more one for fucking you until you pee, he usually does it in the shower so he can wash off but he doesnt mind getting dirty, he likes the feeling of your cunt squeezing and gushing around him especially if you try to tell him to stop. Youre gonna pee? Yeah? Do it

♡ gaz is someone who likes to watch you pee he loves the view <3 the fluttering of your cunt draws him in road trip side of road

♡ Johnny, similar to his L.T, is someone who teases you until you pee. Rubbing your clit until its puffy and sore and you cant hold yourself up right let alone your bladder

♡ alejandro and Rudy like watching you wiggle they'll purposefully fill you with liquid and press on your tummy just to watch you squirm, they have bets on who can make you loose it first

♡ price pees in you

♡

♡ theres a reason hes your favourite

♡ you know how I talked about scenting??... I hate to break it to you but she has definitely peed on them/their stuff at some point

♡ you mostly pee on price

♡ "what are you doing"

"Nothin"

"Where are you pants"

"I dont know"

"You're not gonna pee on the floor are you"

"No"

"That's right you're not because that would be bad"

"bad"

"Thats right bad"

"..."

"...."

"Just a little"

"No-"

♡ heats are always a pain for you :(( so horny and so wet desperate for someone to fill you with the pups you need. You drive the team crazy with your whimpers and cries but they know you cant help it, you're just achey :(((

♡ bullet vibrators are your best bet as they obviously cant fuck you 24/7 so that small buzzing of pleasure keeps you satiated until they can get their hands on you, the first time you had your heat you couldnt get the small thing out :(( your fingers were too small and it was so slippery you couldnt grasp it :((( you're so lucky your captain is kind enough to help you <3 dont think about his fingers wiggling inside you hes just trying extra hard to get it out that's why hes pumping them in and out of you

♡ sometimes they have to keep you in a cage because you wont stop begging to be stuffed, they dont want a rookie to think that they're allowed to overstep their place just because your in heat

♡ you hump everything!!!! Nothing is safe they take their shirt off for one second and it's on a pillow being jumped by no other than you!! You absolute fiend!!!

♡ you follow them around everywhere you love being around you favourite men!!!

♡ when 141 go on a mission you're left with Rudy and alejandro who always give in to you whines and begs <3 they treat you so well always stuffing you full when you need it, letting you have as much cum as you please, it makes the 141 so jealous that they have to fuck you as soon as they get back!

♡ graves probably pimps out puppy to his shadows there I said it

♡ konig isnt to slick with his touches either, he may think hes going undetected but that's only by our dumb mutt the other men are fuming with him. He let's you sit in his lap, his bear like hands inbetween your thighs rubbing along your most intimate areas you dont exactly connect what hes doing and hes completely okay with that just grind yourself back on him.

♡ he probably asks horangi to help him out, probably stretching you to prepare for the brute of the man

♡ definitely think gangbangs are a big part of your heat, vibrators, plugs, rope and muzzles are all items your familiar with. I like to think they just come and go when fucking you it's almost like a brothel

♡ they definitely finger fuck you while doing mindless tasks, brushing their teeth? You're bent over the sink pushing yourself back onto them, doing paperwork? Being cockwarmed by your snug lil cunt, lifting weights? You're bouncing on their cock weighing them down

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felikatze · 6 months

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ISAT and Ludonarrative Harmony: Combat is a Storytelling Tool

Or: How Siffrin is stuck in the endgame grind, forever

Please Note: This is primarily aimed at an audience that already played In Stars and Time, because I am bad at explaining things, and it's good to already know what the fuck I'm talking about. I tend to only bring up game elements as I want to talk about them.

Spoilers for.... all of ISAT! Especially Act 5!

(image to show how i feel posting this and as an attention grabber over my wall of text)

To pull a definition of ludonarrative harmony out of a hat, game writer Lauryn Ash defines it as follows:

Ludonarrative harmony is when gameplay and story work together to create a meaningful and immersive experience. From a design implementation perspective, it is the synchronized interactions between in-game actions (mechanics) and in-world context (story).

It is, generally speaking, how well game mechanics work hand in hand with the story. I, personally, think ISAT is an absolute masterclass of it, so I want to take a look at how ISAT specifically uses its battle system to emphasize Siffrin's character arc and create organic story moments. I want you to keep this in mind when I talk here.

So, skills, right? If you've played any turn-based RPG, you know your Fire spells, your "BACKSLASH! AIRSLASH! BACKSLASH!" and the many ways to style those.

Well, what does casting "Fire" say about your character? Not all that much, does it? Perhaps you'll have typical divisions. The smart one is the mage, the big brawny one is your tank, the petite one's the healer. And that's the barebones of ISAT's main party, but it's much more than that.

Every character's style of combat tells you something about them. Odile, the Researcher, is the most well-travelled and knowledgable of the bunch. She's the one with the expertise to keep a cool head and analyze the enemy, yet also able to use all three of the Rock-Paper-Scissors craft types.

To reflect her analytical view of things, all her skill names are just descriptive, the closest to your most bog-standard RPG. "Slow IV" or "Paper III" serve well to describe their purpose. The high number of the skills gives the impression there were three other Slow skills beforehand - fitting, considering the party starts at level 45, about to head into the final dungeon. She's also the oldest, so she's the slowest of the bunch.

Isabea, the Fighter, has all his skills in exclamation points. "YOUR TURN!!!" "SO WEAK!!!" "SMASH!!!" they're straightforward, but excited. He's a purposefully cheerfull guy, so his skills revolve around cheering on his allies. He's absolutely pumped to be here, and you see that from his skill names alone.

Mirabelle, the Housemaiden, is an interesting case. She's by all means the true protagonist of this tale - She's the one "Chosen by the Change God," the only one who survived the King's first attack, the only one immune to his ability to freeze time, the only dual-craft type of the game - just a lot of things. And her skill names reflect that facade she puts on herself - she can do this, she can win! She has to believe it, or else she starts doubting. This is how you get "Jolly Round Rondo" and "Mega Sparkle Heal" or "Adorable Moving Cure." She's styled every bit a sailor scout shojo heroine, and her moveset replicates the naming conventions of "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

Even Bonnie, the Kid, who can't be controlled in combat, has named craft skills. And they very much reflect that Bonnie is, well, a kid. "Wolf Speed Technique" or "Thousand Blows Technique" are very much the phrasings of a child who learned one complicated word and now wants to use it in everything to seem cooler than they are, which is none, because they're twelve.

Siffrin's skills are all puns.

You have an IMMEDIATE feel for personality here. Between "Knife to Meet You!" and "Too Cleaver by Half," you know Siffrin's the type to always crack a joke no matter the situation, slinging witticisms around to put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame. It's just such a clever way to establish character using a game mechanic as old as the entire history of RPGs.

This is only the baseline of the way the combat system feeds into the story, though.

The timeloop, of course, feeds into it. Siffrin is the only character who retains experience upon looping, whereas all other characters are reset to their base level and skills. And it sucks (affectionate).

You're extremely likely to battle more often the earlier in the game you are - after all, you need the experience (for now.) Every party member contributes, and Siffrin isn't all that strong on their own, since they focus on raw scissor type damage with the addition of one speed buff. (Of course it's a speed buff. They're a speedy fucker. Just look at him).

At first, the difference in level between Siffrin and the rest of the group is rather negligible. Just a level or two. Just a bit more speed and attack. And then Siffrin grows further and further apart. Siffrin keeps learning new skills. He gets a healing skill that doubles as an attack boost, taking away from both Mirabelle's and Isabeau's usefullness. He gets Craft skills of every type that even give you two jackpot points instead of one - thus obliterating Odile's niche. Siffrin turns into a one-person army capable of clearing most encounters all on their own.

Siffrin's combat progression is an exact mirror of story progression - as their experience inside the loops grows, they also grow further and further away from their party. The party seems... weaker, slower, clumsier. Always back at their starting point, just as all of their character arcs are reset each loop. Never advancing, always stagnant. And you have Siffrin as the comparison post right next to them.

I also want to point out here a change from Act 2 to Act 3 - Siffrin's battle portrait. He stops smiling.

Battles keep getting easier. This is true both for the reason that Siffrin keeps growing stronger even when all enemies stay the same, but also for the reason that you, the player, learn more about the battle system and the various encounters, until you've learned perfect boss clear strategies just from repetition. Have you ever watched a speedrunner play Pokemon? They've played this game so many times, they could do it blindfolded and sleeping. Your own knowledge and Siffrin's new strength work in tandem to trivialize the game's entire combat system as the game progresses.

(Is it still fun? Playing it over, and over, and over again? Is it?)

You and Siffrin are in sync, your experience making everything trivial.

As time goes on, Siffrin grows to care less and less about performing right for their party and more and more about going fast. A huge moment in his character is marked by the end of Act 3; because of story events I won't delve too deeply into, Siffrin has grown afraid of trying something new. And his options of escape are closing in. They need an answer, and they need it fast. He doesn't have the time or patience to dumb himself down, so you unlock one new skill.

It doesn't occur with level up, or with a quest, or anything at all. At the start of Act 4, it simply appears in Siffrin's Craft skills.

(Just attack.)

No pun. No joke. Just attack. Once you notice, the effect is immediate - here you have it, a clear sign of how jaded Siffrin has become, right at every encounter. And it's a damn good attack, too! The only available attack in the game that deals "massive" damage against all enemies. Because it doesn't add any jackpot points (at least, it's not supposed to), you set up a combo with everybody else, but Siffrin simply tears away at the enemy with wild abandon. Seperated from the rest of the party by the virtue of no longer needing to contribute to team attacks (most of the time. It's still useful if they do, though).

Once again, an aspect of the battle system enhances the degree of separation between Siffrin and the static characters of his play. You're incentivized to separate him, even.

Additionally, there are two more skills to learn. They're the only skills that replace previous skills. You only get them at extremely high levels, the latter of which I didn't even reach on both of my playthroughs.

The first, somewhere in the level 70 range, Rose Printed Glasses, a paper type craft skill, is replaced by Tear You Apart. It's still a pun about paper, but remarkedly more vicious.

The second is even more on the nose. At level 80, In A While, Rockodile!, a rock type craft skill, is replaced by the more powerful Rock Bottom.

I didn't get to level 80. If you do, you pretty much have to do it on purpose. You have to keep going much longer than necessary, as Siffrin is just done. And the last skill he learns is literally called Rock Bottom.

What do I even need to say, really.

Your party doesn't stay static forever, though.

By doing their hangout quests, side quests throughout the loops that result in Siffrin and the character having a heart to heart, all of them unlock what I'd call an "ultimate" skill. You know the type - the character achieved self-fulfillment, hit rank 10 on their confidant, maxed out their skill tree, and received a reward for their trouble.

These skills are massively useful. My favorite is Odile's - it makes one enemy weak to all Craft types for several turns, which basically allows you to invalidate the first and third boss, as well as just clown on the King, especially once Siffrin starts racking up damage.

But the thing is. In Act 3, when you first get them, yeah, they're useful. But... do you need them? After all, they're such a hassle to get. You need to do the whole character quest again, you can't loop forward in the House or you'll lose them. If you want to take these skills to the King, you need to commit. Go the full nine-yards and be nice to your friends and not die and not skip forward or skip back. Which is annoying, right?

Well, I sure did think so during Act 4. After all, a base level party can still defeat the King, just with a few more tricky pieces involved. Siffrin can oneshot almost all basic enemies by the time of Act 4. It's this exact evalutation that you, the player, go through everytime you return to Dormont. Do I want this skill, still? Would it not be faster to go on without it? I'm repeating myself, but that's the thing! That's what Siffrin is thinking, too!

I also want to take a quick moment to note, here - all skills gained from hangouts have art associated with them, which no other skills do. This feature, the nifty art, hammers home these as "special" skills, besides just how they're unlocked.

Siffrin also has one skill with associated art.

Yeah, you guessed it, it's (Just attack.)

At first, helping the characters is tied to a hefty in-game reward, but that reward loses its value, and in return devalues helping Siffrin's friends every loop. It's too tedious for a skill that'll make a boss go by one turn faster. You, the player, grow jaded with the battle system. Grinding experience isn't worth it, everybody's highest levels are already recorded. Fighting bosses isn't worth it, it's much faster to loop forward.

Isn't this what all endgame in video games looks like? You already beat the final boss, and now... what challenge is left? Is there a point to keep playing? Most games will have some post-game content. A superboss to test your skills against, but ISAT doesn't have any of that. You're forever left chasing to the post-game. That's the whole point - to escape the game.

As most games get more difficult as time passes, ISAT only gets easier. The game becomes disinterested in expanding its own mechanics just as I ran out of new things to fight after 100%-ing Kingdom Hearts 3. Every encounter becomes a simple game of "press button to win."

The final boss just takes that one up a notch.

Spoilers for Act 5 ahead boys!

In Act 5, Siffrin utterly loses it. His last possible hope for escape failed him, told him there's nothing she can do, and Siffrin is trapped for eternity. So of course, they go insane and run up the entire House without their party.

This just proves what you already knew - you dont need the party to proceed. Siffrin alone is strong enough. And here, Siffrin has entirely shed the facade of the jokester they used to be. Every single skill now follows the (Just attack.) naming conventions. Your skills are: (Paper.) (Rock.) (Scissors.) (Breathe.)

To the point. Not a moment wasted, because Siffrin can't take a moment longer of any of this. Additionally, his level is set to 99 and his equipment becomes fixed. You can't even pick up items anymore! Not that you needed them at this point anyway, right? Honestly, I never used any items besides the Salty Broth since Act 2, so I stopped picking items up a long time ago. Now you just literally can't.

Something I've not talked about until now - one of the main equipment types in this game are Memories, gained for completing subquests or specific interactions and events. They all by and large have little effects - make Odile's tonics heal more, or have Mirabelle cast a shield at the start of combat. For the hangout events, you also gain an associated memory that boosts the characters' stats by 30. It lets them keep up with Siffrin again! A fresh wind! Finally, your party members feel on par with you again!

...For a time. And just like that, they're irrelevant again, just as helping them gave Siffrin a brief moment of hope that the power of friendship could fix everything.

In Act 5, your memory is set to "Memory of Emptiness." It allows you to loop back in the middle of combat. You literally can't die anymore. Not that Siffrin could've died by this point in the first place, unless you forgot about the King's instant-kill attack. This one memory takes away the false pretense that combat ever had any stakes. Siffrin's level being set to 99 means even the scant exp you get is completely wasted on them. All stakes and benefits from combat have been removed. It has become utterly pointless.

Frustrating, right? It's an artistic frustration, though. It traps you right here in Siffrin's shoes, because he hates that all these blinding Sadnesses are still walking around just as much. It all inspires just a tiny fraction of that deep rolling anger Siffrin experiences here in the player.

And listen, it was cathartic, that one time Siffrin snapped and stabbed the tutorial Sadness, wasn't it? Because who enjoys sitting through the tutorial that often? Siffrin doesn't. I don't, either.

So, since combat is an useless obstacle now meant to inspire frustration, what do you do for a boss? You can't well make it a gameplay challenge now, no. The bosses of Act 5 are an emotional challenge: a painful wait.

First, Siffrin fights the King, alone. This is already nervewracking because of one factor - in every other run, you need Mirabelle's shield skill, or else you're scripted to die. You're actually forced to fight the King multiple times in Act 3, and have to do it at least once in Act 4, though you'll likely do it more. Point is: you know how this fight works.

You know Siffrin's fight is doomed from the outset, but all you can do is keep slinging attacks. Siffrin is enough of a powerhouse to take the King's HP down, what with the healing and buff skills they have now, not to even mention you can just go all in on damage and then loop back.

(And no matter which way you play it, whether you just loop or use strategically, it reflects on Siffrin, too. Has he grown callous enough not even death will stop their mission? Or does he still avoid pain, as much as he can?)

This fight still allows you the artifice of even that much choice, not that it matters. The other shoe drops eventually - Siffrin becomes slower, and slower. Unsettling, considering this game works on an Action Gauge system. You barely get turns anymore. The screen gets darker, and darker. Until Siffrin is frozen in time, just as you knew he had to be, because you know how this encounter works, know it can't be cleared without Mirabelle.

And, then, a void.

Siffrin awakens to nothingness. The only way to tell you've hit a wall is if Siffrin has no walking animation to match your button inputs. You walk, and walk, until you're approached by.... you. The next enemy encounter of the game, and Siffrin's absolute lowest point: Mal Du Pays.

Or, "Homesickness," in english. If you know the game, you know why it's named this, but that's not the point at the moment.

Thing is, where you could damage the King and are damaged in turn, giving you at least a proper combat experience, even if its doomed to fail, Mal Du Pays has no such thing.

You can attack. You can defend. But it is immune to all attacks. And in return, it does nothing. It's common, at least, for undefeatable enemies to be a "survive" challenge, but nope. The entire fight is "press button and wait." Except, remember the previous fight against the King? The entire time, you were waiting for the big instant death attack to drop. That feeling, at least for me, carried forward. I was incredibly on edge just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, as is a pattern, Siffrin is, too. As Siffrin's attacks fail to connect, they start talking to Mal Du Pays.

But he gets no response, as you get no attacks to strategize around. The wait for anything to happen is utterly agonizing. You and Siffrin are both waiting for something to happen. This isn't a fight. It just pretends to be. It's an utter rugpull, because Siffrin was so undefeatable for most of Act 4 and all of Act 5 so far. It's kind of terrifying!

and it does. It finally does something. Ma Du Pays speaks, in the voice of Siffrin's friends, listing out their deepest fears. I think it's honestly fantastic. You're forced to just sit here and listen to Siffrin's deepest doubts, things you know the characters could not say because it references the timeloops they're all utterly unaware of. This is all Siffrin, talking to himself. And all you, all Siffrin, can do, is keep wailing away on the enemy to no effect whatsoever.

So of course this ends with Siffrin giving up. What else can you do?

And then Siffrin's friends show up and unfreeze them and it's all very cool yay. The pure narrative scenes aren't really the main focus but I want to point out here:

A) Mirabelle is in the first party slot here, referencing how she's the de facto protagonist, and Bonnie fills in the fourth slot left empty, which shows all characters uniting to save Siffrin

B) this is the only instance of the other party members having act specific battle icons: they're all smiling brightly, further pushed by the upbeat music

C) the reflecting shield Mirabelle uses to freeze the King uses a variation of her hangout skill cut in, marking it as her true "final" skill and giving the whole fight a more climatic feeling.

It's also a short gameplay sequence with Siffrin utterly uninvolved in the battle. You can't even see them onscreen. But... it feels warm, doesn't it? Everybody coming together. Siffrin doesn't have to fight anymore.

At last, the King is defeated. Siffrin and co. make for the Head Housemaiden, to have her look at Siffrin's sudden illness. Siffrin is utterly exhausted, famished, running a fever. And this isn't unexpected - after all, their skills in Act 5 had no cooldown. For context, instead of featuring any sort of MP system, all skills work on a cooldown basis, where a character can't use it for a certain number of turns. The lowest cooldown is actually Siffrin's Knife to Meet You, which has a cooldown of 1. In universe, this is reasoned as the characters needing a break from spamming craft in order to not exhaust themselves.

Siffrin's skills in Act 5 having no cooldown/being infinitely spammable isn't a sign of their strength - it's a sign that he refuses to let himself rest in order to rush through as fast as possible.

Moving on, Siffrin panics when seeing the Head Housemaiden, because seeing her means one thing: the end. Prior to this in the game, every single time you beat the King, the loop ends when you talk to the Head Housemaiden.

Reality breaks down, the whole shebang. It's here that Siffrin realizes - they don't want the loops to end, because the end of their journey means their family will leave, and he'll be alone again. The happiest time of his life will be over.

Siffrin goes totally ballistic, to say the least.

As it turns out (and was heavily foreshadowed narratively), Siffrin has been using Wish Craft to subconciously cause the timeloop because of their abandonment issues. It's rather predictable if you paid attention to literally anything, but it's extremely notable how heavily Siffrin is paralleled to the King, the antagonist they swore to kill by themself at the start of Act 5. The King wants to freeze Vaugarde in time because it is, in his mind, "perfect," for accepting him after he lost his home - a backstory he shares with Siffrin.

Siffrin has become the exact antagonist he swore to kill, and it's shown by how the next fight utterly flips everything on its head.

Siffrin is the final boss.

In a towering form made of stars, Siffrin looks down at their friends. His face is terrified, because of his internal conflict; he can't hurt his friends, but he can't let them go, either. The combat prompt is simply changed to "END IT!"

This fight is similar to the previous, in that you just need to wait a certain number of turns until its over. However, this time, it's not dreadful suspense. It's... confusion, and hesitance.

You have two options for combat: Attack your friends, or attack yourself.

And... you don't really want to do either, I think. I certainly don't. But what else can you do? It's Siffrin's desires clashing in full force. Attack your friends, and force them to stay? Or attack yourself, and let them go safely without you?

Worth noting, here - when you attack Siffrin's friends, you can't harm them. Isabeau will shield all attacks. And when you attack yourself, Mirabelle will heal you back to full. And the friends don't... do anything, either. How could they? Occasionally, Mirabelle heals you and Isabeau shouts words of motivation, but the main thing is...

(Your friends don't know what to do.)

None of them want to harm Siffrin. Both sides simply stare at each other, resolute in their conviction but unwilling to end it with violence. It's of note that this loop, the last one, is the only loop where the King isn't killed. Just frozen. And now here is Siffrin, clamoring for the same eternity the King was. Of course everything ends in a tearfilled conversation as Siffrin sees their friends won't leave him, even after the journey ends, but I still have to appreciate this moment.

Siffrin is directly put in the position with their friends as his enemies, forced to physically reckon that keeping them in this loop is an act of violence, against both their friends, and against himself.

It's a happy ending. But... what does it mean?

Of course, ISAT is obviously about the fear of change. Siffrin is afraid of the journey ending, and of being alone. However, ISAT is also a game about games. Siffrin is playing the same game, over and over, because it's comforting. It's familiar. It's nice, to know exactly what happens next. These characters might just be predictable lines of dialogue, but... they feel like friends. Have you ever played a game, loved it, put countless hours into it, but you never finished it? Because you just couldn't bear to see it end? For the characters to leave your life, for there to be a void in your heart where the game used to be?

After all, maybe it became part of your routine! You play the game every day, slowly chipping away at it for weeks at a time. For me, I beat ISAT in four days. It utterly consumed me during this time. I had 36 hours of playtime by the end. Yeah, in that week, I did not do much more than play ISAT.

And once i beat it, i beat it, again. I restarted the game to see the few scenes I missed, most specifically the secret boss I won't talk about here. I... couldn't let go of the game yet. I wanted to see every scrap I could. I still do. I'm writing this, in part because I still do. It's scary to let go.

Ever heard the joke term of "Postgame Depression?" It's when you just beat a game, and you're suddenly sad. Maybe because the ending affected you emotionally and you need to process the feelings it invoked, or you search for something that can now fill your time with it gone.

The game ends, for real this time, the last time you talk to the Head Housemaiden. But Siffrin gets... scared. What if everything loops back again? And so, his family offers to hold his hand. They face the end, together.

For all loops, including the ending, you never see what happens after. After they leave the loop for good. Because the loop is the game itself. It's asking you to trust that life goes on for these characters, and it holds your hand as it asks you to let go. There's a reason for Siffrin's theater metaphors. He is the actor, and the director, asking everyone to do it over one more time. He's a character within the game, and its player.

There's a reason I talked about endgame content. This, the way it all repeats, there's nothing new, difficulty and stakes bleed away as you snap the game over your knee - it's my copy of White 2 with two hundred hours in it. It's me playing Fire Emblem Awakening in under 3 hours while skipping every cutscene. Are you playing for the sake of play, for the sake of indulging in your memories, because you're afraid of the hole it'll leave when you stop?

Of note: the narrative never condemns Siffrin for unwittingly causing their own suffering. He's a victim of circumstance. It's seen as endearing, even, that Siffrin loves their friends to the point of rather seeing the world destroyed than them gone. But Siffrin is also told: we'll stay with you for now, but we'll part ways eventually. And one day, you'll have to be okay with it.

Stop draining the things you love of every ounce of enjoyment just because you're afraid of what happens next. I'm not saying to never play your favorite games again. Playing ISAT a second time, I still had a lot of fun! I saw so many new things I didn't before, and I enjoyed myself immensely, reading the same dialogue over and over. But... it makes me look at other games I love and still play, and makes me ask... is this still fun? Do I still need to play this game to enjoy it? Even writing this is an afterimage of my enjoyment, but it's a new way to interact with the game, to analyze it through this lens. Fuck, man, I write fanfiction. Look at me.

All of this, fanart, fanfic, analysis, is a way to prolong that enjoyment without making yourself suffer for it. Without just going through the motions of enjoyment without actually experiencing any. But one day, the thing you love won't be fun to talk and write and draw about. And it's okay. You'll have new things to love. I promise.

In the end.... I'm certain I'll replay ISAT one day. Between great writing, art, puzzles and unresolved mysteries, it's my shoe-in for game of the year.

But I won't replay it for quite some time. I've had enough, for now, so I let my love take other forms.

Siffrin is never condemned, because love is no evil. Be it love for another person, or for a game. And please, if you're overempathetic - it's still a game, at the end of the day. The great thing about games is that you can always boot them up again, no matter how long its been.

A circle within a circle indeed.

To summarize:

The repetitiveness of ISAT's combat, lack of new enemies, and Siffrin's ever increasing strength eventually allows you to snap the combat over your knee, rendering it irrelevant and boring. Though this may seem counterproductive at first, it perfectly mirrors how Siffrin has also grown bored with these repeated encounters and views them only as an obstacle to get past. The reflection of Siffrin's own tiredness with the player's annoyance increases the compassion the player has for Siffrin as a character.

Additionally, the endgame state of the combat system serves as commentary on the state of a favorite game played too often, much like how Siffrin has unwittingly trapped themself in the loop. Despite the game having no more challenge or content left to over, a player might return to their favorite game anyway, solely to try and recreate the early experience of actually having fun with it. This ties into ISAT's metanarrative about the fear of change and refusal to let go of comfort even when the object (here, your favorite video game) offering that comfort has become utterly bereft of any substance to actually engage with. Playing for the sake of playing, with no actual investment to keep going besides your own memories.

Later on, stripping away even the pretense of strategy for a "press button and wait" format of final bosses highlights the lack of options at Siffrin's disposal and truly forces the player into their shoes. Truly, the only way to win is to stop playing.

#feli speaks #in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #lays down on floor. it's done. it's done #i actually narrowed down in scope to just focus on the combat by the way. and this is like. several thousand words

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sayruq · 6 months

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Hamas propaganda is so much more effective than Israeli propaganda despite not having the support of seemingly every western news organisation. It's simple, clear, cohesive, easy to understand, and therefore believable.

For example, Hamas will film themselves handing over healthy looking hostages to the Red Cross and then interact with them right before they leave to show how friendly the captors and captives have gotten. You watch the videos and you understand everything that is being conveyed immediately.

And it worked. Even the people in my life, who aren't watching the conflict as closely as we have, have seen these images and have spoken in varying levels of surprise at how 'nice' and 'hospitable' Hamas was to the hostages. Keep in mind that these videos came out after weeks of billions of people witnessing the brutal and systemic murder of Palestinian people. The contrasting gentleness of the hostage exchange stood out greatly.

Israeli propaganda is chaotic, it conflicts itself, it's complicated. Look at this for example

In order to explain why the hostages were so friendly with their captors, first, it was because the hostages had Stockholm Syndrom. Naturally, social media, their second greatest enemy, was awash with people refuting the existence of such a syndrome. So, it became that the hostages were actually being held at gun point. While, there were guns present during the hostage handovers, no one was pointing them at hostages in the videos that we all have available. No one was being hostile either. Now, we have the sedative explanation which again can be easily refuted by the videos we all have access to because the hostages didnt seem particularly drowsy. So, we have hostages with Stockholm Syndrome, who had guns pointed at them, and who were sedated. That's just too much. How can Stockholm Syndrome coexist with being held at gun point in front of the Red Cross? Why would they need to threaten the hostages if they're sedated? Which explanation can the average zionist go with? Which one can a neutral party accept?

The same goes for the war propaganda. On one hand you have American officials insisting that Israel would never harm Palestinian civilians on purpose but on the other hand, you have soldiers filming themselves shooting recklessly and with wild abandon into thin air with the implication being that they're battling off screen Hamas. You also have Israel insisting that hospitals, schools and refugee camps are secret Hamas bases but all we are seeing is civilians getting murdered in protected areas. When it comes to war reports, they can't decide if they've killed 1,000 or 5,000 Hamas fighters. No wonder even Israeli commentators have given up on the promise of the complete eradication of Hamas.

The Palestinian resistance have also released war propaganda. Simple, well edited videos showing their fighters actually battling Israeli soldiers and tanks, sometimes very up close. The videos are similar despite featuring different confrontations in the battlefield over a period of time. It's easy for anyone to spot an Al Qassam or Al Quds video. It's even easier to accept their daily war reports because we've seen them back up their claims. The numbers they give are consistent with their capabilities as well as various indicators such as Israel being forced to decommission their older tanks for the war in Gaza. Would they be doing that if they weren't losing their top line tanks fast?

Many zionists have spent the past 2 months confused as to why the whole world has seemingly turned against Israel. I'd point the finger at Israel if I were them, both due to its actions in Gaza and its inability to continue fooling the world.

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza

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nerdpoe · 1 year

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Small thing, may or may not continue, sorry if it's wonky lmao.

When Sam had told Danny and Tucker that Gotham Galas were a whole unknown level of boring, they hadn't believed her.

That had been before they'd gone to one with her, after much begging of her parents and many compromises for them all.

She had been so right, it sucked so bad.

So in Danny's defense, he'd needed fresh air and if he could fly while invisible, why not?

To be entirely fair, Danny hadn't meant to find the Batcave. Neither had he meant to find Batman with his cowl off, revealing a very tired Bruce Wayne.

And he really, really hadn't meant to find Bruce Wayne in the middle of a mental breakdown all alone in that big, lonely cave.

Floating forward, and very carefully remaining invisible, Danny looked over the overly-large screen to see what had the man so-ah. It looked like a mission had just ended, and judging by the chatter he could hear Red Robin was missing.

Apparently, the warehouse had blown up, and no one wanted to assume the worst.

Well, one intangible and super-strength minor superhero on the way then. He couldn't see Red Robin's ghost, which meant the other hero was probably just unconscious or hurt.

He'd have to hurry though.

But Danny didn't want to leave Mr. Wayne here, muttering how he never did it right and how it was all his fault. The man clearly needed someone to talk to, and that person could not be Danny.

Danny wasn't good at emotions, nor was Mr. Wayne in a place to meet a new hero if the rumors about Batman's paranoia were to be trusted. It was better to have the man meet a new unknown on his own terms than to randomly show up in his city when he was raw and hurting.

Frowning, Danny thought hard before letting out a breathless sigh and tugging out his phone, sending a text before dialing Jazz, and placing it on top of the keyboard in speaker mode while removing it's invisibility. Mr. Wayne could look up who owned the phone and make his own conclusions; Danny knew who he was, so it was only fair.

And Jazz was the best Emotion Person Danny knew. Whether the man talked to her or not was his choice, but the least Danny could do was throw it out there.

Without looking back, Danny memorized the coordinates and teleported as close as he could get based on landmarks.

He left just as Jazz answered and Mr. Wayne flinched, and arrive just in time to see another small explosion. Probably a propane tank.

The temptation to make a propane and propane accessories joke was strong, but Danny valiantly resisted and sunk through the rubble.

The search was quick and done quicker; Red Robin was definitely still alive and protected by two steel beams that had landed perfectly to form a protective cross over him. Unfortunately, those had probably also been what had knocked him out.

Danny frowned, thinking. He knew he wasn't supposed to move people with head wounds, but then how was he supposed to....well. Surely one of the other heroes digging above and around him would know.

Danny sighed, floating up. He really wasn't looking forward to revealing himself to heroes associated with the League, but saving a life was a bit more important.

"Hey!"

Danny found himself at the end of way more weapons than he would have liked, and almost stumbled over his next words.

"I found him!"

Great news, the weapons were gone. Instead they were just staring at him, barely-there hope sparkling in their eyes. He got that. They didn't want to get it just to find out he was lying or against them.

"But I think he's not safe to move? I don't know for sure, but I think he got hit in the head, and I'm not a doctor."

"Is there a pulse?" Nightwing asked, his voice shaking as he stumbled forward.

"Yeah, he's alive. Just like, really hurt-" Danny didn't get a chance to elaborate before Red Hoods helmet was shoved into his hands, the Red Hood himself getting into Danny's face.

"This has a video feed, take this and this-" and oh hey, something was being shoved into Danny's ear, and Hood's hands were shaking really badly- "-and do what she tells you."

A little bewildered, Danny nodded.

"Um...Hello?" He tried, and a brisk, no-nonsense voice answered.

"I don't know who you are, but show me Red Robin. Now."

Damn, the voice in his ear was demanding. Fair enough, though.

"Yes ma'am," he said, not bothering to go invisible and just going intangible instead, floating down through the wreckage until he found Red Robin again.

What followed was roughly thirty seconds of silence as he dutifully held out the helmet and let earpiece lady look at the fallen hero.

"I need a list of your powers, now."

Danny jumped slightly, almost losing his grip on the helmet.

"Uh, um, I...I can turn invisible, I can fly, I can go intangible, I have super strength, I can scream really loud, and um...regeneration? But only for me. And Ice. And Teleportation, but that one's new and I'm not very good at it so there's like a 50/50 chance of ending up halfway through a wall-"

"Okay. Alright, focus. What's your name?"

"Uh, Phantom."

"Clarify Ice" "I can create it and control it, and it will never melt unless I want it to."

"Staunch the bleeding by freezing the wound on his head. Do not move his head if you can help it."

Danny nodded, forgetting she couldn't see him, and set down the helmet to move forward. It took a bit, but the headwound was in a fairly awkward place. Luckily, he couldn't see skull bone, and he tried not to let the smell of blood get to him as he froze the wound. Human blood always smelled so different from his own.

"I'm. I'm done freezing the headwound, Miss Lady."

"Oracle. Now for the next part I need you to make a neck brace out of what you can that's around you. You said super strength, can you bend steel rebar?"

"Yes, easily."

"Use that, just stay with us so that we can remove it once we get him treated."

Arts and crafts, huh? He could do that, no problem!

Thirty minutes later and Red Robin was as stable as he was going to get under a collapsed building, and Danny managed to maneuver him onto a door he had found to act as a backboard.

"Okay, I'm gonna turn us intangible and go above now, we ready up there?"

"Yes, the team is ready to get him out of costume and into civvies. After that, you're taking him to the nearest hospital."

"Got it."

Danny carefully floated himself and Red Robin up and clear of debris, and even more carefully held himself and Red Robin still as Robin and Spoiler hurried to cut Red Robin out of his hero get-up and haphazardly throw on some jeans and a random torn off shirt sleeve.

"Now go," Spoiler whispered, pointing in the direction of the nearest hospital.

And Danny went.

part twoooooo

#dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #bruce wayne #red hood #jason todd wayne #batfamily #robin #damian wayne #red robin #tim drake #spoiler #stephanie brown #and uh others #danny fenton #jazz fenton #samantha manson #tucker foley

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julietsbody · 4 months

Text

thirsty — coriolanus + reader : the capitol’s star player, golden boy, coriolanus snow had an odd obsession with the water girl, and what other liquids she could provide for him.

tags : MDNI! 18+!! soccer ! tbosas au, bimbo ! reader, squirtingggggggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!, fingering, pussy play, nicknames (dollface, various barbies, princess), filthy filthy stuff fr, might be a SLIGHTTTT piss kink fic, princess / special treatment, overstimulation, public sex (semi but still), voyeurism

a / n : AND BOY I I FANTASIZE ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME IF U WERE MINE ID GIVE THIS PUSSY TO U 9-5 5-9

the heat in panem was enough to dehydrate someone who drinks water daily in seconds, coriolanus waves a clipboard he had taken from casca in front of his face, trying to earn some cool air from it. to nobody’s surprise, the water girl had come bouncing in with your pink kitten heels, short white skirt, and pink tank top that your tits were practically spilling out of.

your hair was pulled back into some slick back ponytail, with of course, a ribbon tied around the base of the ponytail. you always looked so perfect, makeup barely budging against the strong heat as you came waltzing in.

you were a fan favorite of the team’s, so sejanus and festus’ heads immediately snap from the soccer ball they they were dribbling to you now. sejanus’ eyes light up immediately, waving to you, “hey!”

you offer him a barbie - like smile, waving back with your freshly manicured nails, “hihi, sejanus! it’s sooooooo hot.”

sejanus smiles sweetly as he approaches you, “made sure the water was cold today?”

he’s teasing you of a time the heat was this bad and you forgot to add ice to the bucket holding the waters. you cried that day, many times. coriolanus found you having a sobbing fit in the hallway, repeating to yourself that you were so stupid. coriolanus was never good with affection, but he gave you a small hug that day, and assured you it didn’t matter at all.

and when festus called you a dumb bitch for it?

coriolanus made it his priority to fuck festus up on that field that day, and good lord, he did.

festus was ushered off with a broken wrist because of a move coriolanus made, and coriolanus was taken off with a red card and a proud smirk on his face. now festus and coriolanus are never allowed on the same field, no matter what. which was good, because festus was a mediocre player, whilst coriolanus has a record for most man of the match’s won.

you pout at him, “not funny, sej.”

he chuckles, eyes softening at you as he tips his head in your vision, “‘m jus’ messing with you, sweet girl, water is water regardless of temperature, yeah?”

sejanus and coriolanus were both always reassuring you, always so sweet with you despite their cold exteriors, despite the fact that they’re the most sought after players, they never let that ego get to them.

well… sejanus didn’t.

coriolanus did sometimes. speak of the devil, snow moves to bump into sejanus’ shoulder, offering him a toothy grin with his sharp canines. sejanus glares at him, like he was interrupting something special, “how are you in such a good mood when you were just whining over the heat?”

coriolanus ignores sejanus’ obvious attempts to embarrass him to impress you, his blue eyes locking onto you with a whistle, “hey, malibu barbie.”

you playfully roll your eyes at him, “you can’t just call me a different barbie every time you see me.”

“yeah?” his jaw ticks, eyeing you up and down, god, he loved the way your short skirt rides up your thighs, the way your tits bounce through that practically see - through tank top, “why not?”

“i don’t like it,” you pout at him.

sejanus nods along, “yeah, snow, she doesn’t like it.”

coriolanus sighs at him, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you’re such a cuck, dude.”

he smirks at your ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭ expression due to his words, truly not understanding what he means by calling sejanus a cuck— was he stopping him from something?

you blink dumbly at them, and coriolanus only shrugs, turning to stride past a silent festus.

sejanus scoffs, “can’t believe he gets away with shit like that.”

you frown at him, “he’s probably having a rough day— or like… ‘m not sure, you know how he is, sej.”

“yeah, yeah,” sejanus watches as his cleats sink into the grass, “pretty sure he has a huge crush on you, too.”

ㅤ˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

PANEM 6-2 DISTRICT 2

as soon as the match was over, coriolanus came up to you, sweat causing his platinum hair to stick to his forehead as he takes a cold water bottle from your hands, fingers brushing against yours.

he takes a sip from it before leaning in to tower over you, “you saw that bicycle kick?”

you nod at him excitedly, “i did! you’re soo good, coriolanus.”

he rolls his tongue along his teeth, “yeah? you think so?”

you smile sweetly at him with more nods as he walks past to the locker - room, sejanus moving to wrap his arm around coriolanus’ shoulders, to be honest, sejanus should be thanked for coriolanus’ bicycle kick because he’s the reason the ball was even at a level for coriolanus to kick it— but will coriolanus ever admit that?

of course not!

in fact, coriolanus doesn’t even think of all his achievements this match even when everyone is patting him on the back, dumping their water bottles on him and leaving him even more drenched than he was before. but with all this water, he just can’t stop thinking of you.

that expression on your face earlier, plump lips parted in shock, he wonders how well they would wrap around his cock—

@csnow18 : hey you busy

@csnow18 : ?

you pluck out your phone as soon as it buzzes, only to see a message from coriolanus, on instagram. he had your number.. why didn’t he… honestly, you knew better than to question him at this point.

@princess101 : no.. why?

@csnow18 : im really thirsty

@princess101 : just gave u water ‎‎໒꒰ྀི -᷅ ⤙ -᷄ ꒱ྀིა

@csnow18 : festus took it from me

a lie.

@csnow18 : come to the locker room?

@princess101 : rolling my eyes at u rn

@princess101 : u owe me

@princess101 : and stop letting festus take stuff from u!!!!!!!!

this wasn’t the first time he has lied about festus taking his water bottle just to see you, but it was the first he had different intentions for when he saw you.

he already knows you’re coming before you’re even there, mostly because he can hear the click! clack! of your heels, but also because of the whistles of the people passing by you. coriolanus hated how people immediately turned to drooling animals when they saw you, it wasn’t of jealousy but rather possessiveness, because can he really blame them?

his eyes light up when he sees you, pushing his soaked hair back, “tropical splash barbie.”

you pout at him, putting your hands on your hips, “how do you even know so many barbies?”

he shrugs simply, “because i see one every day.”

you sigh, moving to push a water bottle to his chest, “happy?”

“hey,” he leans in closer, fingers wrapping around the bottle, “why’re you actin’ like that?”

“‘m not acting like anything,” you lie, “just don’t get thirsty again.”

as soon as you spin on your heel to walk away, he clicks his tongue disappointedly, “you know… i don’t know if this water is g’na keep me hydrated enough.”

you blink at the floor, what? what… “what?”

you turn back around to meet his eyes, watching his pupils immediately dilate at the way your skirt barely shows your panties whenever you twirl around, “do you just serve water, princess?”

you stare at him dumbly, “i don’t get it—“

“you don’t?” he takes a step closer, “i see the way you look at me, doll, always watching when i make a goal, cheering me on, purposefully bouncing up and down so your panties show and your tits nearly pop out that shirt.”

it was true. all so fucking true. the entire team was so, so attractive, especially coriolanus— you don’t ever wear things for men, but the men of panem’s soccer team? your own dress - code is practically the tightest, most slutty clothes ever!

“i…” you pause, lips shimmering from your lip - gloss, “i do have other juices.”

his tongue rolls along the inside of his teeth, tights curling upwards ever so slightly, “think i might need those, dollface.”

you nod at him, “but— not here.”

he hums, moving to drop the water bottle onto the ground as he leans in closer and closer until his lips are buzzing against your cheek, “yes, here.”

you can’t help but melt into his touch as he peppers kisses along your face, pecking against your lips until his kisses drop down to run along your neck. your nails rake up his arms ever so gently, “people will catch us..”

“mm - mm,” he disagrees, “all showerin’, jus’ let me get hydrated, yeah?”

he’s quick to move to his knees, smiling whenever he catches a glimpse of you looking around to see if anyone’s coming as his fingers trace along your thighs, lips following along after them. you’re so paranoid, god, for such a dumb slut, you really didn’t want to get caught.

he hikes your skirt up to catch a glimpse of your panties, pastel red, to match the team’s colors and oh— oh what’s this? on the right side near your hip, it’s his player number, 18, with a heart surrounding it. he gawks up at you, chuckling at the reason for you always wanting to show off your panties, you had already marked him on them.

you shyly hide your face, trying to ignore him until his finger presses against the wet spot of your panties left by your cunt. you shiver under his touch, “been wet for me all day, hm?”

you nod at him, fingers moving to faintly cover your mouth, “always wanted you, corio..”

he presses a sweet kiss to your inner thigh, before hooking a finger on your delicate panties and tugging them down, “you wrote my number on all your panties?”

you continue nodding, shivering when his fingers lightly graze along your cunt, “mhm.. sej— sej.. is on some, too.”

“that so? maybe i should get him out here to fuck you, too,” he presses his thumb against your clit, watching your hips buck ever so slightly, lashes fluttering.

you shake your head, “n-no.. not now— want.. just you.”

he moves to push your legs apart with his free hand, moving his hand on your clit out of the way so he can finally dive in. his tongue is quick to lick a stripe up your cunt, lips wrapping around your clit and taking it in his mouth to suck on with ease.

your fingers move to his head, nails threading through his wet hair as you bite on the fingers of your free hand, trying so hard to not make any noise but gosh, the feeling of his mouth on you was just too much.

his hand runs up your thigh, holding you stable as his mouth completely devours your cunt, not offering you any remorse as your hips jerk against nothing, teeth sinking past layers of your skin to muffle your whines.

it’s not long before his hand is sliding from your thigh to your cunt as his lips move back up to your clit, ever so slowly sliding two of his fingers inside of your soaked entrance. you took his fingers so well, velvet walls pulsing around flesh and bone, tightening around him like he was a lifeline.

your grip on his hair immediately becomes lethal, babbling nonsense against your finger, “corio— co..corio… ‘ts too much— ‘m gonna..”

that was coriolanus’ cue, his fingers immediately curl into you and he starts moving them back and forth so his fingers are repeatedly penetrating that spongey spot that makes your eyes roll back. you tug at his hair as the sounds of his fingers moving inside of you become wet squelching, a familiar feeling washing over you but with a tinge of something different.

it felt like an orgasm but no— no, it was wetter than an orgasm, because now his hand was completely drenched in your wetness, his lips moved to a part so it could spray into his mouth. it was so, so filthy, the way he gulped it down, and made you squirt again, and again, and again.

you were like a fountain of nectar that he just couldn’t get enough of.

you were so fucked out that you didn’t realize you were cuming again until your body is wracked with another orgasm, gushing all over his fingers and into his mouth once more. you whimper above him, silently begging for mercy as he continues to pump his fingers into your overstimulated pussy, “corio— please.. too much— can’t..”

he licks the remaining juices from his lips as he finally pulls his fingers out, lapping up the cum and other substances dripping off of his skin. he takes a grip of your hips to stabilize you as he stands, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “thank you, dollface, such a good water girl.”

your lips part to speak but you’re interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

your eyes immediately snap to the side, only to find..

“sejanus?”

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queenimmadolla · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat.

Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her.

And a large hole in their wallet.

“It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

“This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

“You got a number we can reach you at?”

You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along.

“Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

God, I hope so.

The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

You’d learned. Eventually.

Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your bag and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed.

Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

─

Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door.

“Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

“Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

“A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

“Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something.

“What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

“Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again. He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group.

Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred—with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through. Henry had to go.

Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

“I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”

“Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more.

A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles.

Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling.

That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh.

It’s intimidating.

They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

“Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

“Yup.”

“See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

“Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

“I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them.

People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

Someday, that would be you.

You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last.

Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

“What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

“Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

“Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

“Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

“Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

Someone who looked like their art.

You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

“Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden?

He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before.

Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

Professionalism, he reminded himself.

“Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

“Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room.

On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

“Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

Sure you haven’t.

“Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

“You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

He had no idea how right he was.

“The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

“And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

“But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

“You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

“Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack.

“Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

“Did your tattoos hurt?”

Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

“A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

“Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

He was getting hard.

Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

“Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

“What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

“That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

“Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

“Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

“I’d be stupid not to.”

You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

“Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

“Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.”

“But I thought you said—”

“Me.”

Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

“So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face.

You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!”

He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

“You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.”

Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

“Wait—this is paid?”

“Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you.

You’d have time to get there.

“Hey, Deidre.”

“Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

“We’ll see you soon?”

“Damn straight.”

Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

“Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile.

You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids.

Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

“Need a hand?”

Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

“Are you offering yours?”

She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

“Mmm, not just my hand.”

All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick.

#tattoo artist!eddie munson x apprentice!reader #tattoo artist!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #he's older than me so im counting it #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #bimbo!reader #eddie munson x bimbo!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Between the Lines

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wrestlingwithlife · 1 year

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Texas Style

Most people quiver at the thought of having to face Ghost, let alone in hand to hand combat, but Ghost is about to have a sparring partner like he’s never had before. With a little Texas flare thrown in, of course.

Task Force 141 x Male!Reader

—————————————————————————————————————

Y/n fished around in his dresser, searching for sturdier tank top than the one he’d had on. The last thing he wanted was to rip another, especially after what had happened last hand to hand combat day. The h/c haired male didn’t even bother to look up when he heard his door swing, already having a strong idea about who it was.

“Howdy, Partner.” Soap laughed as he plopped onto Y/n’s bed. The s/t male only rolled his eyes at Soap’s humor.

“Hello, Soap.”

Y/n gave up on his search for a thicker tank top, shutting the drawer and turning back to face Soap. Y/n had learned his lesson on ignoring the Scott for to long.

A coy smile danced across the mohawked man’s face. “You sound like your not simply ecstatic to see me.” He teased, eyes blazing with mischief as he scanned them over his team mate.

“Hmm, how rude of me.” Y/n spoke flatly, but he couldn’t fight the smallest up turn of his lips. “Let’s go, don’t want Price on us for being late.”

Y/n leads the way out of his room, when they step out Gaz is there, waiting for them. “Would you look at us, we done got a reunion going.” Y/n drawled, shutting his door behind them. The three made their way across the base, turning a few heads as they did.

Now, Y/n was gorgeous. Everyone knew that. Well, everyone except Y/n himself but the poor guy didn’t have a mind for much more than his teammates, so who could really blame him.

But Y/n wasn’t just that pretty guy who went to your high school with you. No, he was the kind of pretty that was untouchable. Like a celebrity, or some guy at the airport that you’ll probably never see again.

The 141 squad understood this, and they reveled in the fact that Y/n was their’s. Well, mostly Soap and Gaz, but who’s really paying attention to that? However, as much as they loved to flaunt Y/n, there were times when even they’d get protective.

So when Soap slung his arm over Y/n’s shoulder and tugged him in closer the h/c haired male didn’t bat an eye. Not even when Gaz’s arm slipped around his waist. This was just his daily life, and he’d grown used to it.

In fact, when the looming figure seemingly appeared out of nowhere behind them he was the only one of the trio not to jump out of his skin. Y/n offered Ghost a smile, nodding in greeting to the silent male.

“So, Cowboy, you nervous?” Soap slung his arm over Y/n’s shoulder again, taking back his place pressed up to the male.

The h/c male blinked, tilting his head in confusion. “Nervous? What for?”

Soap had to bite his cheek to hide how adorable the head tilt looked from his point of view. “Well you and Ghosty are the only ones with undefeated records in hand to hand, means you two will be fighting today.”

Y/n shrugged, reaching for the knob of the training room door. “Ain’t nothing. I wrestled steers twice as big as Simon, and four times as mean.” The male shot Ghost a playful and teasing look, and Ghost was lucky he wore a mask or his pink cheeks would have been on full display.

When the group stepped into the training room heads turned. I mean, of course they did. This was THE 141 Task Force. Who wouldn’t look?

Price looked up from the trainer he was talking to to, a grin on his lips as he motioned the group over.

“Ghost, Cowboy, go get stretched. You’re up in five.”

Ghost’s eyes cut over to Y/n, but the smaller male was already looking at him. His e/c eyes are blazing with something that Simon could only describe as wild adrenaline. Cowboy grins, giving Ghost a wink before going off to stretch, Soap trailing after him like a little lost dog.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Soap’s hands worked into the muscles of Y/n shoulders as the male wrapped his hands. He didn’t plan on throwing many punches, but better safe than sorry.

“Really pampering me ain’t ya? Feel like one of my Pa’s show calves right about now.” Y/n chuckled, looking over his shoulder at Soap once he was done with his hands.

“Now I know how Ghost feels when I talk.” Johnny huffed, moving down to Y/n’s shoulder blades. “Well somebody has to pamper you, you’re about to face the grim reaper after all.”

Now, one could argue that Soap was only massaging the muscles on Y/n shoulders to give himself the opportunity to feel him up a little. However, those people would be hypocrites, because every person in the room was shooting Soap a jealous look.

And Y/n wasn’t complaining, so it was a win-win.

“Cowboy! Ghost! You’re up!”

Y/n pulled away from Soap’s hold, jumping a bit in surprise when he felt a hard slap on his ass. “Give him hell, Cowboy!” Soap cheered.

Y/n just shook his head, making his way to the ring. Ghost stood before him, a looming presence of muscles and angst. Y/n couldn’t help but shudder in excitement.

“Good luck.” The e/c eyed male smirked, taking up a ready stance. Ghost didn’t say anything, he only nodded, watching Y/n with careful eyes.

“Alright, you two know the rules. First one on their back for a three count or I call it.” The trainer spoke. “On my call… begin!”

Ghost was the first to make a move, throwing a right hook at the shorter male. Y/n managed to just barely duck under it, slipping past him with ease.

Cowboy hooks an arm around Ghost’s waist using his momentum to carry him to the skull masked male’s other side, catching him off guard.

Y/n’s arm slips up Ghost’s back, trapping his head and left arm in a tight grip. However, Ghost refused to go down easy. He did his best to break the hold, slinging Y/n around wildly, but his grip remained unbroken.

Gaz watched in amazement as Y/n clung to Ghost, his e/c eyes wild with delight and his face sporting an equally wild grin.

When Y/n’s feet finally hit the ground he saw his opportunity. The male dropped his hips, twisting his body and threw his weight around, flipping Ghost over his shoulder.

Ghost’s back hit the ground with a thundering noise, knocking the breath from his lungs. Cowboy was quick to straddle the man’s waist, pinning his arms above his head.

They sat there for a moment, Ghost breathing heavily and Y/n grinning down at him, before the trainer blew his whistle. The match was over, Cowboy had won, and Ghost had learned something about himself that day.

There were claps and whoops, and when the two stepped off the mat Soap practically tackled the poor country boy to the floor.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second!” He beamed, arm wrapped tightly around Y/n’s slim waist.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Y/n towel dried his hair as he stepped out from the shower, pulling on a loose pair of joggers. He was lounging in his room for the rest of the day, so he saw no need to bother with a shirt.

He opened his bathroom door and stepped out into his room only to see Ghost sat in one of his bean bag chairs reading a book while Soap and Gaz sat at the foot of his bed, engrossed in some true crime show.

“Hello people who do not live here.” Y/n huffed, three sets of eyes darted over to look at him. Ghost had the luxury of having a mask to cover his cheeks, the other two were less fortunate. Luckily for Gaz, Soap was there to take the attention from him.

“My oh my, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Soap whistled flirtatiously, wiggling his eye brows. Y/n rolled his eyes, grabbing a pillow from the top of his bed and smacking the Scott with it.

Y/n plopped down onto his bed leaning against his pillows. Gaz and Soap shifted a bit, resting their heads on the southern males thick thighs, going back to being absorbed into their show.

The bed dipped a bit and Ghost sat down, laying back so his head was resting against Y/n’s chest. He didn’t make eyes contact with the male, eyes still focused on the book in his hand.

Y/n smiled softly, letting his hand rest on top of Ghost’s head. His eyes cut back over to the show that was playing on the screen, and he had to admit, this was pretty nice.

————————————————————————

Hope this was okay! If you guys like the cowboy!reader I’d love to do more. It’s hard to find any love for cowboy readers out there lol

- Author~Chan out ✌️

#cod mwf2 #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod x male reader #cod x cowboy!reader #cowboy!reader #male!reader #codxmale!reader #ghost #simon riley #soap mctavish #task force 141 #cod gaz

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noose-lion · 6 months

Text

Maybe it was just my childhood special interest in martial arts and combat, but the bsd fandom drives me absolutely crazy on how they talk about the characters.

Specifically in combat abilities, fighting 'stats', body builds, ect. ect.

I mostly blame the anime, because it made everyone into twigs, but still. Some of my fellow fans out there are sometimes outright drawing lines over a character in a manga panel and going 'Look at this snatched waist' all the while ignoring basic perspective and forshortening rules. Chuuya is victim to this a fuckton.

For a starting example I'll talk about Kunikida. (Because if I start with Dazai or Chuuya I'll get the "He's petite it's not a crime to call him that" hecklers again).

Because remember folks, no need to get heated about fictional characters that were made up to tell a story.

Kunikida is a martial artist. He has a strong center of gravity, and a great deal of muscle mass. He's shown, (even in the anime mind you), to be competent against opponents who have both the height and mass advantage (that one time he swapped with Dazai mid fight, doing the cool grappling hook switch thing). He's a tall guy and he's drawn in the main manga as very broad shouldered and thick limbed. He's your average combat driven male. Built like a boxer.

He's not really the main talking point I see though. He's usually never called petite or delicate or any of the, quite frankly, ridiculous descriptors for a man of his size and build. It's usually Chuuya and in extension Dazai.

First off, ripping the bandaid off quick and easy. Chuuya isn't petite. (Sure technically petite only means short, but ancient also technically only means old. It's about the connotation.)

Chuuya is also a martial artist. Unlike Kunikida, who relies heavily on grappling technique and using his opponents own momentum and mass against them (a defensive fighter) Chuuya is almost purely offensive (most defense being left to his ability). His center of gravity is less stagnate, more fluid. He's acts quickly, crushing his opponent with efficient and well calculated brute force. Chuuya's body build reflects this. He's got a strong torso and thick limbs, strong shoulders that are lined with cords of muscle that absorb the impact of his attacks. He uses his legs a lot, kicks and jumps, and there is muscle concentration in his thighs and calves as a result. In the main manga, he's drawn with a lean torso, broader shoulders and thicker thighs. He's got a baseball player or a mixed martial artist build. (Broad shoulders and large thighs paired with his choice of suit cut is what creates his 'hourglass figure' so many of yall are obsessed with.)

Second bandaid I'm ripping off. Dazai isn't weak or delicate or whatever, but he is not buff or a tank either. And against men built for combat like Kunikida and Chuuya he's at a fairly large disadvantage.

Most of the athletic ability we've seen Dazai exhibit is evasion based. In the main manga he's drawn broad shouldered and thin, usually cloaked by his coat. Dazai has lean, muscle concentration in his shoulders, upper back and core. He doesn't have the thicker limbs of a boxer or martial artist. He better resembles a swimmer, gymnast, or even rock climber. He's not a stick, as flat as he may be. He's also probably a good deal softer then his martial artist counterparts, not living the stricter healthy life style most martial artist adhere to. Dazai doesn't do well against large heavily muscled opponents, he just doesn't have the needed mass for it. If he doesn't get the upperhand quickly he will loose. Evident in how he struggled so much against that one guy he did the cool grappling hook swap thing with Kunikida.

All this to say, almost every individual in bsd is built for their combat filled life, specialized to fit their fighting styles. It's not a big deal, but I find such thinking and analysis fun.

#inkedmyheart's recent post had me once more thinking on this #bsd #my stuff #screaming into the void #and the void screams back #bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #bsd kunikida #kunikida doppo #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #soukoku #jester thinks #bsd meta #bsd analysis #bsd headcanon #bsd headcanons

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r0ttenhearts · 9 months

Note

Hello I have a request: Scaramouche/Xiao angst that ends with a happy ending that reader ends up w another character (of your choice!)

cherry flavored kiss

scaramouche x reader x xiao

sypnosis: after scaramouches affair , you decide to part ways and find something new for yourself.

warnings: angst, arguments, insults, scara being a dick

“archons, (y/n). why can’t you just listen to me? when have i ever been wrong? whenever you use your own head you get yourself into trouble.”

he followed you around your shared dorm room as you paced around. your mind was a mess. you had caught scaramouche texting another girl things that should have been kept between lovers. photos he sent to you, also being sent to her.

holding his phone in that moment you could have sworn it would have burned you, or you would have broken it. you had a suspicion that he was hiding something. the way he was glued to his phone, the way he wasn’t around as much in your shared space. it all made sense now.

you felt utterly worthless. you had to find out on your third anniversary. your makeup was now smeared, and you felt stupid in your getup. all this before the anniversary dinner. had it ever meant to last if it came out this way?

the worst part was he didn’t seem to care about how you felt about it. not a single apology leaving his lips. only insult after insult about going through his phone.

“you wouldn’t have gotten yourself hurt if you weren’t so damn nosy, (y/n). but now look at you! snotting on yourself.. you look a damn mess.” he grabbed your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

his hair was damp and clung to his forehead as he had been showering while you discovered his secret. his eyes hid no anger as he grit his teeth. “this is your fucking fault. if you hadn’t been so.. you! i would’ve been satisfied. i would have been here. seeing you cry like this makes me feel sick, and not because i love you. but because it’s so pitiful.”

your tearful eyes spilled more tears as you attempted to shake free from his grasp. “you wonder why you have the issues you do scara, when you’re like this! when you treat someone who has loved and devoted themselves to you for years! you’re fucking sick.. you’re a mon-“

before you could finish your sentence a loud slap echoed across the room. the searing hot pain on your cheek was quickly replaced with the sensation of his nails digging into your cheek, grip on your face. “don’t you fucking call me that.”

no words were exchanged as he let go of your sobbing form. with a slam of the front door, it would be the last time you’d see scaramouche for another half year. hastily stuffing your belongings into bags and disappearing that same august night. and just like that, three years of memories were spent wasted.

while scaramouche spent his time in and out of girls dorm rooms, he never found the feeling he was searching for. he had it with you for a brief moment, before another girl caught his eye. but he knew he didn’t want you. he didn’t want the life he had promised you one hot summer day.

with scaramouche becoming known for his scandals around campus, you had devoted yourself to finishing your degree. you managed to pull through your heartbreak and graduate top of your class. you were all smiles that day, surrounded by your friends. the same friends you shared with scaramouche, but he never showed his face around you since that day.

with your college life coming to a close, you had been presented with an opportunity to work at a nearby aquarium, as your degree was based on marine science. you happily accepted as you held many fond memories at the aquarium. but there were some sour ones in the mix, like your first kiss, being with scaramouche, in front of the turtle and fish tank.

you shook your head at the memory, fingers clutching onto the strap of your bag on your shoulder. it was a new start to your life, a life where you were only surrounded by the things you loved.

you didn’t expect to find xiao in the breakroom as you set your bag down in a locker. his eyes seemed to light up the same way yours did as you recognized each other. “xiao? you work here? you didn’t tell us on graduation night.”

xiao softly hummed as he nodded. “i guess it never came up. i work with the penguins, you?” of course it was penguins. no other aquatic animal seemed to suit him more. you bit on your lip to fight a smile at the thought. “i’m with the otters actually.” xiao gave you a small smile, “it’s in the same area. i guess we’ll be seeing each other often, (y/n.)”

you couldn’t hold back your smile at those words. so then began your work relationship. it started with always taking the same breaks, having lunch together, and buying each other snacks from the vending machine. it gradually grew into hand holding before departing to different doors, waiting on each other to enter the aquarium in the parking lot, and late night dinners when you’d have to stay later than usual.

it was a hot day in may when you finally asked him the question that would make or break your current relationship with him. you both sat outside after a long shift, popsicles in hand as you both enjoyed the break. “hey, xiao?” he hummed in response as his popsicle was still in his mouth. “what are we? i mean.. i like you. like, really like you.” you could see his ears redden at your words as he slowly took the popsicle out of his mouth. his teeth marks on the blue ice.

“i.. i really like you too, (y/n).” you smiled gently before leaning in for a kiss hesitantly. you knew xiao was shy, never one for relationships or even being intimate with hugs. but you knew it felt right when his soft lips pressed against yours. you could taste the blueberry from his popsicle, and he could taste the cherry from yours.

you both came out to your friend group about your newly established relationship that same weekend. everyone but scaramouche was there, but they all knew he wouldn’t show. scaramouche would nerve show up if he knew you’d be there.

but word travels fast in teyvat and he saw the post venti had made to celebrate the new relationship. scaramouche scoffed, gritting his teeth as he blew out smoke from his cigarette. you? with xiao? it was unbelievable. it had only been seven months since he.. ended it with you.

that sinking feeling scara always tried to escape from only felt worse as he kept tapping through venti’s story. the video venti had posted of you shyly covering the camera as xiao kissed your cheek, hands around your waist made scara’s blood boil. xiao was scara’s friend! how could he betray him like this? getting with his lover, no— ex lover.

he had to do something. this wasn’t right. you with someone else wasn’t right. scaramouche dropped his cigarette to the ground, smushing it under his foot. the sparks of red dying out as he hastily called kazuha.

the video had been posted three hours ago so it must have been over by now. “hello? scara?” kazuha’s soft voice spoke through his speaker. “yeah. hi kazu, i have a favor to ask you.”

“what is it old friend?”

“could you give me (y/n)’s address?”

kazuha gave scaramouche your address, already knowing he had seen venti’s and posts. kazuha silently hoped this would help bring closure to you both, knowing the way you’d both go quiet at the mention of one another.

it turned out you didn’t live too far from him, only a 10 minute walk. he wondered how he never bumped into you thus far but chalked it up to him being too busy with his girls for the month to have probably even noticed.

he nervously stood in front of your door after ringing the doorbell. he hadn’t faced you since that day and it was untangling feelings he had repressed and pushed down since that day.

“oh.” your voice broke him from his nervous trance as you were swinging the door closed before he reached out. “wait, (y/n). i just want to talk. just give me five minutes and i’ll leave you alone.” you slowly nodded, opening your door so he could slip inside and close it behind him.

he noticed how much more decorated your apartment was compared to your shared dorm room you once had with him. he internally grimaced as he remembered how your face fell when you both went out shopping for furniture for your dorm room, telling you not to clutter the space with junk. the dejected look on your face was still clearly etched into his memory.

as you sat across from him he remembered why he came. it wasn’t to dwell on old memories, but to demand answers. he deserved that at the very least, didn’t he?

“i heard you’re with xiao now.” scaramouche spoke coldly as you nodded. “what of it, scara?”

he huffed as he shifted on your couch, his shoulders tensing. “why? how could you move on so fast? did we mean that little to you?”

you scoffed at his words. so this is what it was about. “seriously scara? how could i? how could YOU? YOU threw us away. YOU cheated on me. YOU ended our relationship.”

you couldn’t hide the anger that was boiling inside of you as you looked at the dark haired boy seated on your couch. you couldn’t believe you had once planned a future with him.

“you know you’re special to me, (y/n). all you had to do was come back, and we would’ve been happy together.”

“oh i was really special to you wasn’t i? special enough for you to cheat on me.” you spat.

“it wasn’t like that, and you know it. we could’ve been happy together right now. this could’ve been our apartment. we.. we could’ve lived out our promise.”

you laughed loudly at his words. the last thing you wanted to be reminded of was the promises you made. the promises you held near and dear to your heart so long ago. the only reason why you held onto him for as long as you did.

“that’s not true scara, and you know it. we wouldn’t have lasted, you weren’t satisfied. and you hated what we had. i have everything and more than i dreamed of when i was with you, now i have that with xiao. i’ve had enough of you and your lies. get the fuck out.” you spoke angrily as he silently walked to your door. you didn’t look at him but felt his eyes on you as he gave you one last glance. another door closed by him, for good.

taglist: @samarill @whorerificstuff @magica-ren @darliingyu @gh0sts0up @sparklylanddetective @reblog-crazily @foxlover1144 @xiaonscaraswife @beriiov @linkookie197 @msdevilis @aqualesha @ayameei @lelemnh @0kauy @shoheartluv @saeism @dearsumire @astrolomona @sakiimeo

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mattslolita · 29 days

Note

subby matt fic PLEASE

kisses 🎀😚

anon 💫 ;)

lock your phone - m. sturniolo

in which ... your boyfriend's been so busy with work that's he's barely paid attention to you — so you show him how much you missed him. boyfriend!matt x black!fem reader

warnings ; soft!dom!reader, sub!matt , oral ( m! & f! receiving ) , face riding , overstim

"𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

your boyfriend matt was always so busy nowadays.

you knew how much being an youtuber could be a very demanding job — the many meetings he had to attend, all the filming, you understand that he alot on his plate at times.

but sometimes you felt neglected, sexually frustrated — you had been left to your own devices most of the time. but the feeling of your own fingers wasn't the same as the way matt's tongue pleased you. or the way his fingers curled inside you. you needed him — you craved him.

matt and his brothers had finished their collab with sam and colby, meaning you shared your final night at the hotel with him. alone, this time.

he hadn't gotten back just yet, but he texted you earlier to tell you that he and his brothers were on their way back to the hotel. luckily, you packed your blue lingerie set that you specifically bought for the occasion, and you were dressed in that under the white robe you tied around your body.

you sprayed a light amount of body spray on you, then you set the bottle down. a sudden click of the door sounded, causing excitement to flood through your veins as you realized matt was finally back.

"baby, i'm back," matt calls out, and you stifle a giggle.

"i'll be out in a second!" you called back to him, giving yourself one final once over before you opened the bathroom door.

you stood in the doorway as you observed the man, who had taken off his outside clothes and sat in only his grey wife beater tank top with his black sweatpants hugging his hips dangerously low, just on the base of his waist. he smiled at you as you observed him, tilting your head at him slightly.

"baby, why're you just standing there?" he asks you, and you bite your lip and put a hand on your hips.

"you've been so busy lately, y'know?" you pouted, "i missed you so much."

he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, nodding in agreement. "i've missed you too, angel. our schedule's just been so cramped lately, i miss spending time with you..."

"i understand," you nodded, suddenly standing upright as you give him a sly smirk. "but we've got tonight to ourselves, right sweet boy?"

his eyes widen slightly at your sultry tone, causing him to nod — you slowly unravel the material that holds your robe together, letting the fabric fall at your feet as you stand in your lingerie, your brown skin glimmering in the low lamp light provided.

matt's eyes roam every inch of your figure, drinking in the sight of you and the heat immediately rushes to his now hard dick as he almost salivates.

"fuck, my favorite color," he mumbles to himself, his hand going down to rub over his sensitive, but clothed cock.

you make your way towards him seductively crawling on the bed, stopping in front of him — he gets a view of your perfectly perked tits, biting his lip and resisting the urge to take the top half off and take one into his mouth.

you crawl into his lap, placing both your legs over his waist as your heat is directly centered with his already hard dick — you waste no time in connecting your lips slowly, your hands intertwining themselves behind his neck as you draw him closer to you.

his hands fly to your waist, gripping tightly as he squeezes the brown flesh needily, wanting you impossibly closer to him. your tongue explores his mouth, letting you do the work as you grind down on him eliciting a groan from him.

the buzz of his phone on the desk beside you breaks the heated moment between the two of you, causing matt to pull away with a sigh, rubbing his hand along the side of his face.

you raised your eyebrow at him, daring him to pick his phone up — he gulped at your stare, his hand going to reach for the cellular device. but before he could pick it up, you beat him to it, grabbing it off the desk and holding it in your hand, a grin overtaking your features as you hold it up and dangle it in his face.

"i'm not sentimental, but," you begin, biting your lip as you trace your free hand along his jawline, peppering kisses along it, "the way you look tonight? i need to savor this, baby."

whimpers draw from matt's lips as you suck on the sweet spot of his neck — another vibration follows from his phone, as he bucks his hips up towards you, but you pull away from his neck and sit there.

"i need you, please," matt mumbles out, and you bite your lip and grin as you slide his phone into his hand.

"then you better lock your phone," you instruct him, grinding down on his erection as both your hands connect around his neck once again, "and look at me when you're alone."

his eyes never leaving yours he powers his phone off, tossing it on the desk as you instantly connect your lips once again. matt's hands quickly fly to your hips again, digging into your soft flesh as he pulls you closer to him.

you leave a trail of kisses on either side of his neck, eliciting small whines from the boy, as you feel his erection poking your clothed cunt. "please baby, i need to feel you."

"don't worry sweet boy, i'm gonna take good care of you," you tell him, grabbing his jaw softly as you force him to look up at you, "you gonna be good for me?"

"yes," he whines, his hips bucking upward again, but you quickly slapped his hips, ceasing his movements.

with a smirk you get off of his lap and slowly inch downward until your face is leveled with his clothed cock, and you bite your lip at the small wet patch on grey sweatpants. "look at you matt, all worked up and i haven't even touched you. you're such a needy boy, you know that?"

he does nothing but whimper as you slide his sweatpants down and throw them to side, his boxers leaving next — your mouth salivates at his length, taking in the leaking tip and the thick vein that runs along the side of it.

"such a pretty cock," you tell him, your hand wrapping around his shaft as you spit on it, beginning to stroke him, "you like the way i touch you, pretty boy?"

a moan leaves his lips as you continue to stroke him, running you thumb over his slit teasingly — however, you didn't take kindly to his lack of response, causing your movements to cease. "words, matthew. you like how i touch you?"

"y-yes baby, so much," matt whines again, his eyes pleading as he looks at you, "please, i need your mouth..."

"you need my what?" you ask him, continuing to stroke him once again, teasingly drawing your mouth closer to where he craved you the most.

"your mouth, please..."

matt's soft whines caused your panties to dampen as you finally lowered your head level with his cock, licking a stripe along the side of him, whilst keeping eye contact with him — he watches in awe as you do so, soft moans leaving his lips when you completely wrap your lips around his shaft, beginning to bob your head up and down in a rhythmetic pattern.

"fuck, oh my gosh," matt moans, his head thrown back as you continue deep throating his cock, "feels so good, baby."

you take him out of your mouth to teasingly lick around the head of his tip, staring up at him. it quickly turns into a glare as you realize his eyes are screwed shut, his head thrown against the headboard.

"look at me when i suck you off, or i'll fucking stop," you demand him, your hand no longer on his throbbing dick.

his eyes immediately snap towards you and you grin at this, wasting no time in placing your lips back onto his cock, sucking him off once again — you maintain eye contact with him as your head bobs up and down on his cock, pumping the rest of what couldn't fit in your mouth.

"m'close," matt moans, causing you to speed up your movements.

"cum for me, sweet boy."

that's all the confirmation he needed before his body convulsed as he shot his load into your mouth, along with a string of moans and curses of your name — you swallowed his load and licked the remainder off of his cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

a smirk adorns your lips as you strip yourself of your panties, matt watching in confusion — he then watches as you level yourself with his cock, lining yourself up but he shakes his head in protest.

"m'too sensitive, baby, i can't..." he whines out, causing you to pout with faux sympathy.

"thought you were gonna be a good boy for me?" you tsk, leaning over him as you grab both of his hands, holding them above his head, "c'mon baby, i know you can give me another one."

you fully sink down onto him, letting out a moan as you do so — you let go of his hands momentarily, stripping yourself of the top half of your lingerie. matt watches in awe, biting his lip as you grip both of his arms and pin them down by his sides, slowly beginning to rock your hips back and forth on his dick.

"fuck baby, you fill me so well," you moan, your hips moving at a faster pace, him letting out whimpers as his brunette hair sticks to his forehead. "your cock was made for me."

"you feel s-so good, y/n," matt whines out, bucking hips up to meet your pace.

you continue to rock your hips back and forth, your mouth slightly open as you look down at matt's fucked out expression — his lips were parted slightly as he looked up at you, his eyes blown wide, and you noticed his eyes on something in particular — his eyes stayed glued on the way your tits bounced above him, causing you to bite your lip.

"go on baby, i see you looking," you say, unpinning his arms from his sides, and his hands immediately fly to grope your tits in his hand.

his mouth attaches to your left nipple, sucking and nipping on it as you throw your head back, bouncing up and down on his cock. your orgasm is approaching quickly, causing your bounces to become sloppier.

"you've been such a good boy for me, baby," you moan out, "what do you want your reward to be?"

"can...can you sit on my face?" matt asks you, his hands gripping your waist still as you continue to bounce.

you nod and begin to slide yourself off of him, your pussy squelching with how wet it already was — you slowly hover over matt's face, sinking yourself slowly until you feel his nose graze your clit.

like a starved man, he quickly laps at your cunt, licking up all your juices as you grip the headboard. "fuck, right there matt!"

his tongue goes to work creating figure eights, diving into that sweet spot as he savors the taste of you. uncontrollable moans leave your lips as you feel him groan which sends vibrations through your cunt.

"making me feel so good, baby," you moan as you grind onto his face, throwing your head, "i'm gonna cum!"

matt continued lapping at your pussy, as your orgasm approached fast — your juices squirted all over matt's face, and he licked every drop as if it'd be the last time he had a meal.

he helped you ride out your orgasm, before you fell beside him, both of you panting and out of breath. you looked down at your boyfriend, seeing your juices glistening on his chin. he looked up at you and smiled, to which you moved the sweaty baby hairs that stuck to his forehead.

"let me get you a towel, okay?" he said, and he nodded, puckering his lips out for a quick kiss.

you kissed him quickly, getting up and returning with a small, wet towel, wiping his face off, then planting another sweet kiss to his lips.

to your surprise, matt deepened the kiss and flipped you over so that he was on top, and you laid underneath him, a shocked expression on your face.

"you thought we were done for the night, angel? i hope you got your phone on dnd."

lil 💌

hii @thesturniolos im soz this took so long bae bae, but shes here !! ts is also for my lover @middlepartmatt titled after ur fav billie song ❤ I hope you freaks enjoyed this ! i loved writing it <3

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @guccifrog @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @v33angel @ilovechrissturniolo1 @e1ias3 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturn777 @stasiesturn @prettypinkprincess15 @breeloveschris @summerssover @mayhem-72 @riasturns @chrissturniolossidehoe @moonk1ss3d @v33angel @h3arts4harry @stargirll567 @bitchydragonparadise @heartsforchrisandmatt @pepsienthusiasts @tillies33ssss @thenickgirl @sturnprime @summerssover @k4di333 @pinksturniolo @middlepartmatt @jnkvivi @hoesformatt @hysteria-things @cottoncandyswisherz

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bloodynereid · 16 days

Text

Ace.

pairing: mostly tashi duncan x fem! reader, but also patrick x art x reader x tashi

tw: kissing, suggestive themes, tennis, swearing, there really isn't that many warnings tbh, NONE of the characters are underage here btw!

description: patrick and art are vying for tashi's attention, but they encounter an obstacle in tashi's girlfriend... or maybe will they all become something more to each other?

a/n: this was basically me ignoring all my priorities to write this. I based most of this off my beginner tennis knowledge from when I played in middle school. fun fact: I actually used to come back every day after school and watch matches so I was really obsessed quite a few years ago. i was never all that good though, i had a tendency to play messily lol. anyways hope you enjoy and pls lmk your thoughts <33

2006

You took a bite of the churro in your hand as you settled into the sticky seat. The sun was unrelenting as it beat down on the bare skin of your shoulders. The sugar melted in your mouth as you lent down to retrieve the bottle from your tennis bag. Taking a harsh swallow of the water you squinted down at the court.

The stands were quickly filling up with people and chatter buzzed around your ears as you heard snippets of random conversations. God you couldn’t wait until the tennis match started so it would all be quiet.

Finishing off the churro, you adjusted your sunglasses and zoned out of the world around you.

6 Months Earlier…

A loud cough next to you made your spine seize up. Slowly turning around you met the judgmental eyes of one Anna Muller. You smiled nervously and carefully stood up from your crouching position.

“Uh hi. Sorry, I was just trying to find a tennis ball. I think it rolled under your car.”

“Right.” You nodded and then crouched back down. Thankfully spotting the fuzzy ball behind one of the tires. Quickly snatching it you stood back up and smiled nervously.

“All done.”

“Wonderful.”

“Have a nice day!” You said quickly, cringing as Anna fixed you with a confused and mildly annoyed expression before getting into the car.

“What a bitch.” You murmured under your breath as you started heading over to your own car, only to bump into someone else. “Shit!”

“I really hope you weren’t making that bitch comment about me.” A familiar voice echoed in your ears as you steadied yourself. Tashi Duncan.

“No, no. Of course not. It’s just…” You turned your head towards Anna’s car as it started backing out. Tashi must have caught a glimpse of Anna because she snorted and nodded.

“Anna Mueller is the biggest bitch of all so that comment was warranted. Tashi Duncan.” You offered your own name back and smiled at the girl in front of you.

“I think I’m playing you tomorrow.” Tashi said with a knowing glint in her eye as she winked. “You ready to play some good fucking tennis?”

The voices of two boys broke you out of your reverie as the blonde settled in next to you, quickly followed by a brunette.

You slightly recognized their faces but then something clicked when they started talking about Tashi. Oh. Fire and Ice. The infamous duo who basically wiped the floor during the doubles tournament.

They were pretty, and they clearly seemed to be attracted to your girlfriend as the brunette talked on and on about how out of their league she was.

Smirking slightly you unscrewed the cap of your bottle and took another swig before adjusting the strap of your tank top.

The announcer was heard over the loudspeaker and you leaned your elbows down onto your knees to catch a closer look at… Anna Mueller. Oh you couldn’t wait to see Tashi destroy her.

You slid your tennis racket into your bag and took a bite out of the protein bar in your hand. The sweat was accumulating on your brow but your body was singing with endorphins. You loved playing tennis, that push and pull of good volley. And even if you didn’t win; a good game of tennis was a good game of fucking tennis.

“Hey!” You turned around to look at Tashi as she called out to you. The mid afternoon sun bathed her in an almost heavenly glow and she was smiling… at you.

“Hey. Good game of tennis?”

“Just like you promised.” Tashi said with a smile before leaning over to steal your protein bar.

“I know you have a match tomorrow and your parents are probably expecting you back but how do you feel about grabbing dinner?” You asked tentatively, watching as she chewed the remains of the blueberry and granola snack. A small smile appeared on her face as she finished chewing.

“You asking me out on a date?”

“Well you do have a pretty great backhand.”

“And that’s your only condition for asking a person out on a date?”

“Anna Mueller was unavailable so yes.”

“Winner of the Junior Australian Open. Tashi Duncan.”

You smiled widely as you watched Tashi walk out in her white tennis dress. She waved up into the crowd and quickly scanned it before meeting your eyes. Tashi winked and you blew her a quick kiss before she went to drop her tennis gear down.

Turning your head slightly you spied the two boys next to you as they watched Tashi, they seemed absolutely enraptured in her. Oh they were going to be so much fun.

You periodically took sips of your water bottle as Tashi warmed up and the match started. The sun was starting to beat down even harder but your focus was on her.

Tashi was in her element. She let out groans as she hit the ball effortlessly. That was one thing she was always able to lord over you. Tashi had the ability to make tennis seem like a dance, while you played hard and fast.

Then came that shout. The shout that seemed to reverberate through your whole body. You sharply inhaled and dug the tip of your shoe into the ground. Blinking a few times as you stretched your back.

Tashi met your eyes for a quick second and you let that intense stare permeate you as you swiped your fingers over your lips.

And of course Tashi fucking destroyed Anna.

The feeling of Tashi’s lips on yours was almost too much. You threaded your hands through her slightly sweaty hair and felt as she pushed you against one of the lockers.

“Hmm. Tashi, this is a public locker room.” You said breathily as she started placing kisses on your neck.

“Baby, I just won the final. I think I deserve a reward.”

“Didn’t you get a fancy cup and-” Your meek protest was interrupted as Tashi placed her lips on yours again and slowly started inching your shirt up. That was until a loud bang was heard from beyond the room making you both jump apart.

“Shit.” Tashi swore as she started laughing. You quickly joined in and dropped your head back against the cold metal.

“Tashi… I’m heading back home after this so I wanted to ask something.” You closed your eyes hard and tried to gather up every inch of resolve that was left in you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanted to ask if you wanted to make this thing official.” You whispered the last part as you blindly motioned the space between the two of you, carefully peeking out from your closed eyelids.

A moment passed.

Then the feeling of lips on yours made you let out a surprised squeak. You opened your eyes fully as Tashi’s hands came to rest on your cheeks. The callouses that matched yours delicately brushed your skin.

“Yes, you idiot. Of course I want to be your girlfriend.”

You circled your arms around Tashi’s shoulders and carefully placed a kiss on her neck. You were swaying together to the music and you felt as Tashi’s hand grabbed your waist in a warning gesture. You rolled your eyes slightly before peeking over her shoulder.

“They’re staring you know?”

“The guys from the match?”

“Yeah. What do you think?”

“What do I think? What do you think?”

“You did win. And they’re hot.”

“Oh should I feel abandoned?”

“Tashi. You are the single-most beautiful and hottest person I know.”

“Aww.”

“Shut up.” You said as you pulled back, basking in the presence of her smile as her hands wandered up to grasp your arms. She started running her fingers over the length of them and you felt a shiver wreck through your body. You raised your arms together with hers and laced your fingers together.

Pulling your eyes away from hers you took another peek at the two boys who were now watching the two of you with jaws dropped. You placed your hands on Tashi’s waist and dropped your gaze down to her neck again. Smirking, you placed a kiss on one of her bare shoulders before looking up at them again.

You winked and watched as twin blushes appeared on their faces.

You went to grab another Orangina for you and Tashi. Watching as the two boys descended like vultures. Smirking slightly you languidly walked over to the trio and dropped down on the other side of Tashi. The Orangina was cool in your hand as you passed it to Tashi, slinging your arm around her in the process.

“Well it seems like you two were finally brave enough to actually talk to her.” You said suddenly, watching as the two dumbfounded boys stuttered out excuses before the brunette smirked sharply.

“I’m sorry- uh. I’m Art and this is Patrick.”

“Fire and Ice. You won the doubles today didn’t you?” You mentioned casually as Tashi passed you the drink.

“Yeah we did. And you are?” Patrick asked as Art suddenly elbowed him in the side and hissed out an admonishing: “Dude.”

Tashi quickly provided your name as you took a sip of the Orangina and smirked at the two boys.

“Wait, you were in the semifinals? Weren’t you?”

“That I was. Anna Mueller caught me on an off day. Gladly Tashi took care of her for me.”

“Always, baby.”

“Hey, I need to steal you away. Oh hey you, how are you doing?”

“All good, Mr. Duncan. Everything okay?” You asked with a smile as Tashi unwound herself from your arms and headed towards her dad.

“Yeah, busy, busy, busy. Good job out there, Anna is one tough player.”

“Thanks Mr. Duncan.” He smiled warmly at you before heading off towards Tashi and the photographers.

“So… I’m a little bit upset that you didn’t recognize me.” You said with a teasing smile as the boys looked a little dazed after Tashi disappeared.

“Oh uh-”

“Don’t worry I’m just fucking with you. Got to go talk to some people so I guess I’ll see you guys around.” You rose up from your seat on the couch and lightly skimmed your fingers against Patrick’s shirt before walking off in the opposite direction of Tashi.

You spied Tashi talking to Patrick and Art as you finished shaking the hand of another old white guy from some corporation. Quickly extricating yourself from that scenario you watched as they took the little path down towards the water. Smiling at yourself, you grabbed one of the last remaining sandwiches and headed towards the trio.

“You know… I don’t want my only skill in life to be knowing how to hit a ball with a racket.”

“Starting the party without me, I see.” You said as you toed off your black heels and walked around the deck chairs, coming to sit down on the rock. Tashi’s previously arrogant expression softened as she smiled at you.

“Hi baby. Patrick and I were just discussing the merits of going to school vs going pro.”

“Ah, well I’m on Tashi with this one. I’m getting a degree first.”

“Oh God no, Art I’ve lost another to good education.” Art rolled his eyes as he smiled at you.

“Are you going to Stanford as well?” You hummed back in reply as you leaned your head on Tashi’s shoulder. The sound of the sea lulled you into a dreamlike state as you watched Tashi, absolutely enraptured in how she was able to perfectly capture the feeling of playing tennis.

In a way that match you first played together was what started your relationship and every match you have played since then has only strengthened it.

“What about you two, huh? Are the rumors…”

“True? I’d have to know those rumors before I say anything about that. Right, we have to go. Come on, baby.” You blinked slightly and looked up at Tashi as she helped you up. You let out a loud yawn, smiling lazily at the two boys who looked at the two of you quizzically.

“We’ll see you soon.” You said as you felt Tashi put an arm around your shoulders and placed a gentle kiss on your cheekbone.

“We definitely will.”

You looked up at Tashi, feeling the weight of the day washing over you in waves. She looked like an absolute goddess under the light of the moon and you couldn’t believe she was yours. And maybe you would be willing to share the majesty that was Tashi with the two boys who watched as you left.

They were pretty hot after all.

might write something more for challengers?? it just depends if have the time lol

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