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sweetbans29 · 2 days

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Spoken For - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin may be a little too discreet when it comes to your relationship - Based on THIS request

Warnings: hidden relationship, slight angst

Word Count: 3.7k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: GAH this is such a cute idea - I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think in the comments.

You met Caitlin in middle school. Both of you played club basketball and were always at the same tournaments. Your teams faced off pretty often and you got to know how she played. It made it even more interesting when your coach had you guard her frequently - learning how she was almost unstoppable. The two of you talked here and there, mostly about basketball whenever you did see each other and were in a space where conversation was required.

It wasn't until eighth grade that things sort of took a turn. It was at a tournament that both of your teams had to travel to. When you got there, your team went to watch Caitlin's play - seeing how they were doing before you had to take them on yourselves.

While you were watching them - you noticed Caitlin looking over at you semi-frequently. At first, you thought nothing of it, but as she kept doing it you started to give her little nods. When the game ended and they were dismissed for a rest break, you saw her walk up in your direction.

"Hey CC," you say as you greet her.

She comes up and gives you a half hug - something that wasn’t super common for the two of you.

“You ready to go down?” She says with a little smirk and gets up in your space.

“In your dreams,” you say with a laugh and give her shoulder a little push. “I think the question is, can you put up with losing to me again?” You say as you stare her down - not willing to be the first to step down from a verbal smackdown.

The last time your two teams went up against each other it was absolute carnage. There were times when both of your coaches had to pull you from the game to not get ejected by the refs. Each of your coaches knows how competitive each of you is - knowing losing is not an option. But to you and Caitlin, it was genuinely all fun. It was rare to have someone be as competitive as the two of you and when you face off - it is one of the most captivating games to watch.

“The only reason your team won last time was because Coach pulled me in the last quarter so he wouldn't lose me for the rest of the tournament. You won't be as lucky this time," she says and you just shake your head with a little laugh. Both of your teams are now moving on to their next destinations. She begins to walk past you but doesn't leave without saying, "Plus, my dreams about you are much different." You question if you heard her right, you look up at her and start to feel the blush creep into your cheeks. She gives you a wink as she follows her team, leaving you there flustered.

The rest of that tournament is filled with stolen glances and a little too-aggressive plays. Nothing to get either of you tossed from the game but enough to keep the two of your bodies close enough to keep the electricity running through your veins. Playing against her this time was different. She never went easy on you but there was a different energy that both of you were aware of. It didn't help that you couldn't get what she said out of your head. Was she just messing around and making a joke or was there more behind what she said?

In your final game against her team, you noticed there was a bigger shift in your relationship with Caitlin. During the second quarter, you got fouled pretty bad by a girl on her team and you fell, getting the wind knocked out of you. It took you a second before you were able to get up - you waved off your coach and really anyone who was trying to help you up. You just needed a second to refill your lungs. Once you were back, Cait pushed her way through your team and was the one who insisted on helping you up once you were ready. She grabbed your hand to help you up and then patted you on the shoulder, making sure you were alright. You give her a nod and the game continues. Throughout the rest of the game, Caitlin would keep brushing your hand. At first, you didn't think much of it as it happens often when you are playing defense. But kept happening. And then it changed. After you have been on her defense and she just put up a three. The crowd cheered and you both headed back, you running to offense and her to defense when you feel it. Your hands touch briefly and when they do, her pinky hooks with yours - only for a second, but long enough to know that it happened.

The two of you started talking outside of seeing each other at tournaments. It began with texting about basketball or sending each other the occasional snap of each of you dying after practice, saying something along the lines of the other going down. Before you knew it, you two were texting or talking every day and some days even all day.

You found out that the two of you had a lot in common outside of basketball. Granted, a lot of the time you talked, it was about basketball.

It was a few weeks before summer that the two of you found out you would be going to the same high school, meaning you would be playing on the same team for the first time in either of your basketball careers. It was exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time.

During your high school years, you grow close to Caitlin. The two of you become best friends on the first day of freshman year. It wasn't surprising to you since you spent the better half of the last 6 months talking nonstop. When practices started, the two of you became inseparable. From then on, you did everything together.

It was the summer before sophomore year that you two decided being friends wasn't enough. It happened on a random Tuesday night when you brought up that one tournament that was the starting point of your friendship. Caitlin came clean and told you she had been crushing on you hard since the tournament where you both almost got ejected in the same game. It was a total surprise to you but you would be lying to say you weren't feeling the same way. Except for you, it was the tournament where your hands kept touching.

The two of you established your relationship before heading into sophomore year. You decided it would be best to keep your relationship just between the two of you, not wanting it to interfere with the two of you being on the same team.

It was junior year when both of you were signed to play D1 basketball. Caitlin at the University of Iowa and you at UConn. It was both an exciting time and a sad one. Your schools weren't close at all but you both knew you didn't want to separate when you left - you were it for one another.

It was the winter break of your senior year when the two of you went to the courthouse. Both of your parents were there, along with Caitlin's brothers. It was at Thanksgiving that you told both of your parents you wanted to get married. They tried talking the two of you out of it but neither of you budged. Neither you nor Caitlin had any doubts that this wasn't what you wanted. The two of you knew you wanted to to spend the rest of your lives together - even if that meant being a part for a few years to live out both of your dreams. Even at the courthouse, your parents were still hesitant but they let the two of you get married.

The summer after senior year of high school held some of the best days and hardest days you have ever had. Caitlin and you were finally able to take a mini honeymoon to the East Coast, spending your days on the beach. Shortly after, you were both called off to your respective schools - going back to being competitors on the court instead of teammates. The goodbye was one of the hardest things you have ever had to endure, Caitlin as well.

Before you left, you both decided to keep your marriage just between the two of you. Neither of you wanted/needed the backlash of it going into this next chapter and you both knew the other was there regardless of the distance between you.

Starting college was a pretty easy transition for both of you - the hardest part was being away from one another. You talked daily, usually calling at night or early in the morning. And every break you had was spent at home with one another. Every school break, long weekend, and break in practice had you two visiting one another.

It wasn't until a certain practice that Caitlin started to question if keeping you to herself was going to be possible for much longer.

"Hey Caitlin, I have this friend who has had an eye out for you since the season started." One of her teammates mentions while they are stretching before a practice.

Caitlin laughs and says, "Okay...and?"

"I want to set you guys up on a date. Are you free this Friday?" She asks. The other girls around them encourage Cait to get out there. She has been the only person on the team who hasn't taken any interest in relationships.

"I am not going," Caitlin says. No explanation, no reason. Just a no.

"Why not? It could be really fun! It would benefit you to loosen up a little bit," her teammate says.

Just as Caitlin is about to respond, they are called to start drills.

Practice goes well, and they are feeling good about their upcoming game. The girls make their way to the locker room and are all packing up when the topic is brought up again.

"So...Friday," Cait's teammate brings it back around to get her out of the house on a Friday night.

"What about it?" Cait says with a little laugh.

"Will you go?" She asks. "On the blind date?"

"I am not going on a date on Friday," Caitlin says again. She grabs her back and is ready to head home for the night to call you. She thinks you will find it quite entertaining that her team is trying to get her to go out.

"Well just think about it and we can revisit the topic tomorrow."

Caitlin states again that she is not going but instead of fighting her teammate on it now, she would rather be at home talking to you.

On her walk home, she calls you.

"Hey babe," you say when you answer your phone, wedging it between your shoulder and your ear. Your hands preoccupied with folding laundry.

"Hi," she says and takes a deep sigh. "I miss you."

"I miss you." You respond and take your phone in your hand again. You are sitting on the floor of your apartment with two piles of laundry taunting you. You sit back, leaning against your couch, and bring your knees up to your chest. "I miss you more than you can imagine. What is it another 3 weeks before we get to see each other?"

"Not soon enough," Caitlin says, chest squeezing a little tighter hearing how much you miss her.

The two of you knew this was going to be hard, but it was so much harder than either of you imagined. Going from being with each other every day of the week to every other month, if you're lucky, has taken a toll on your marriage.

"I have sort of a funny story to tell you," Cait continues, nervous all of the sudden.

"And what is that babe?" You ask, hearing a shift in her tone. You think it is the cutest when she gets nervous around you. She never gets nervous around anyone.

"My teammates are trying to set me up on a date this Friday," she says, not knowing how you are going to react. You are a little shocked but also find it kind of comical. Not that Caitlin wasn't dateable, you knew first hand she was. It was the fact that she never showed any sort of interest in anyone but you.

"Sounds like junior year of high school all over again." You say with a little laugh.

Caitlin's memory takes her back to junior year when the team kept bugging her about turning down Sam Anderson's prom proposal.

"I completely forgot about that! The team wouldn't drop it!" Caitlin says, a smile on her face as she laughs about the old memory.

"Well duh they wouldn't drop it, he was the hottest guy in our class," you say with a little laugh of your own.

"Hey!" She says offended that you just called someone other than her hot.

"Babe, you know I am yours," you say full-on laughing now.

"I can't believe you just called Sam Anderson hot. I will never forget that," Cait says.

"Ya, ya, ya. I am more interested in who they are trying to set you up with on Friday," you say. No jealousy, just pure interest.

"I have no idea," Caitlin says with a little puff. "I just wish people would stay out of my love life, it is doing just fine."

This causes a little sink in your heart. You know everything is fine between the two of you. But the adjustment has you both feeling like a piece of you is missing.

"I know babe, but it is a sweet thing. Your team wants to see you happy and part of that is being with someone." You say, knowing there is nothing you could do to make this any better.

"I am happy! I am happily married! I have all that I need and I don't need anyone digging into that." She says frustrated.

"Hey, Caitlin it's okay baby," you say trying to calm her. "You don't have to go - just tell them that you are busy."

"They are just going to keep pushing, it was brought up three times in 2 hours. They aren't just going to drop it." Caitlin fights back.

"Then tell them you are married!" You say. This wasn't part of the plan but hearing how frustrated Cait was, your firs thought was to screw the plan.

"No, that's not part of the plan. It hasn't even been a full year! We are sticking to the plan and that's final!" Caitlin yells. She doesn't know why she is yelling.

"Then go on the date!" You yell back. Frustration now seeing out of you. You feel a tear make its way down your cheek.

Caitlin doesn't know what to say - never in a million years would she imagine hearing you say to go out with someone. Nobody came close to you in her eyes. That is when she realized how much this was all taking a toll on you. Not just in this instance but when it happened in high school. Whenever someone made a comment about how amazing Caitlin is and how she is going to make so many heads turn. All the talk was always about her and never about you.

"Babe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so worked up," she says just above a whisper. Caitlin hates that she let this all get to her, so much so that it was her doing that had you sitting on your floor crying.

You sniffle and bring your hand to your head. You don't know what to say. You didn't mean it when you told her she should go on the date, it came out in frustration and you instantly regretted it.

"I know," you choke out. "Hey Cait, I need to go," you say still sniffling. "I need to finish some things before heading to bed."

"No wait, I don't want you to go in this state," she says in a little bit of a panic. "Just stay on the line with me and we can talk about something else - I don't want us to end today like this." It was a little last-ditch plea.

"I'm tired Cait, we can talk tomorrow. I love you," you say, tears streaming down your face.

Caitlin hates this.

"I love you," she says and hears you hang up.

You don't mean to be this curt with Caitlin. You have been under a lot of stress as of late between schoolwork and basketball and not having her with you kept you on constant edge. Talking to her every day has helped but you missed her presence, having her near. The calm that she brought you is one that you haven't felt since both of you went off to uni.

The next day rolls around and Caitlin's teammate texts her about setting her up. Caitlin ignores it and gets going with her day.

The two of you talk that morning - both apologizing for how the conversation the night before went. You both decide to take a quick weekend trip and meet in the middle for the weekend, knowing you both need time with each other, even it if is less than 48 hours.

Just knowing you are going to be in Caitlin's arms soon is enough to give you a push through the week.

Caitlin on the other hand is itching to see you. She begins to count down the hours until she is back with you.

When she arrives to practice, she jumps right in as if it will make time move faster.

During practice, the team takes a quick water break.

"Hey Caitlin, have you thought about Friday?" Her teammate asks. "I told them about you and they are looking forward to getting to know you."

"I told you I am not going," Caitlin says. Not this again. "Plus I am not going to be here this weekend."

"Okay well then Thursday would work," her teammate says clearly not dropping the topic.

"How many times do I have to tell you I am not going?" Caitlin says in disbelief that her team is pushing this so hard.

Another one of her teammates speaks up, "We just want to see you happy, you seem so tense all the time."

"Trust me, I am fine. I'll be better after this weekend," Caitlin says as she thinks about spending it with you.

"Just a few hours, it won't hurt anyone," they continue to pry.

Caitlin gets fed up with them all trying to force this on her when she has made it clear she is not going. Even if they got her to go on this date, she knew they wouldn't stop until she started seeing someone.

It is at this moment that the plan of you two waiting until after college to reveal your marriage flies out the window.

"I am not going on the date because I am not a cheater!" Caitlin practically yells and sits down. Everyone just looks at her with confusion.

Caitlin, with her face in her hands, brings something out from her shirt. It is the chain of her necklace. Everyone knew she wore a necklace but no one knew what was hanging at the end since it was always tucked away in her shirt. She finds the end and pulls out a ring. It is the ring you exchanged in the courtroom that one beautiful winter afternoon.

She takes out the ring and places it on her ring finger, which causes even more confused looks from all of those around her.

"I am not going on that date because I am married," she says and all the girls go crazy. All of them in unbelief of this plot twist their friend and teammate were holding from them.

They pull her up and start pushing her around in excitement that their friend is not only seeing someone but is MARRIED.

"This is actually insane!" One girl says. Caitlin hears things like 'There is no way', 'How has she kept it a secret for this long', and 'When were you married, we are so young'.

The one thing going through Caitlin's mind is how she is going to explain this to you. Her beloved plan - poof, gone just like that.

All the girls are too excited to get back to practice but somehow manage to get through it.

Before she knows it, Caitlin is on a plane heading to Colomub, OH. The two of you planned it so you would arrive within half an hour of each other. Her being the first to arrive.

When she lands, she checks the arrival board and begins to make her way to where your plan gets in. She walks up just as they open the door.

Your plane starts to de-board and you grab your overnight bag. As you make your way off the plane you look at your phone to see if there is any update from Caitlin. You have no notifications from her, just your coach about everyone's home workouts for the weekend.

As you get off the plane you begin to look around to see which way you need to go when you see your favorite person in the world, standing there, waiting for you.

You immediately run up to her and jump into her arms, dropping your bags in the process.

She squeezes you so tightly, that it is hard to breathe. Not that you care.

"Caitlin," you say as you inhale her scent. Missing her was an understatement.

"Hi baby," she says as she finally puts you down. You grab your bag and take her hand. When you look down at your fingers intertwined.

"Babe, you're wearing your ring!" You say in surprise.

"Well, I may or may not have told the team that I have a wife and have been married since high school..." she says hoping there would have been at least some time for them to just be together before she had to tell you that her plan is no longer the plan. She prepares for you to rip her a new one.

When you don't immediately react, she looks over at you.

You just squeeze her hand and lean into her.

"So much for your precious plan," you say with a little laugh as the two of you walk out of the airport.

AN: Thank you for this fun request! Let me know what you think! And as always, thanks for your love and support 🤍

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark masterlist #caitlin clark concepts

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neoarchipelago · 22 hours

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Haven't properly written in a while... This writer's block is destroying me...

_-_-_-_

Simon Riley getting hurt on his bike.

Like he has a mild crash because of a dumbass doing a U-turn and got smashed.

Bike is ruined, arm is bleeding from rubbing the asphalt. He just gets up, groaning because, shit, that bike is too weeks old. Walks like a boss but the old lady has already called 911 and is crying apologizing. Simon feels suddenly bad for his internal 'dumbass' comment. Paramedics tend to his wound, the old cop scolding him for driving in leather pants but in t-shirt.

"What kind of two half ass protection is this son?"

"What?"

Simon just feels a migraine rushing to him.

He gets a ride home from Soap who he called. Best buddy wouldn't shut up either but he loves his Johnny like his own brother so he lets him ramble.

He walks up to the elevator, saying bye to an over worried Soap who just groans and curses in his own babbling.

The elevator's doors close and silence finally settles. He runs his temple with his left hand through the balaclava, the right one holding his leather gloves and being bandaged.

His right arm stings, but he had much worse. Nothing a bit of bourbon couldn't erase. The pounding of his head needs to shut up too. The doors ding and he groans.

He walks to his apartment's door, fumbling the keys and the sound of a door slowly opening is heard behind him.

He glances back, pretty soft eyes looking in his direction. Ah yes. The neighboor.

"Hello Mr ril-... Oh god... What happened?"

He almost wants to chuckle at the worried expression.

" 'ust a scratch..." He mumbles, the words rumbling with his low tone.

But the footsteps he hears makes him sigh and he turns around looking down at the pretty Princess in front of him.

"Mr Riley! That doesn't look like a scratch... What happened?"

The pleading eyes, the worried expression does it for him, his eyes never leaving yours as he automatically mumbles:

"I crashed the bike."

Your eyes widen in shock again. He feels bad. You look even more worried now. He didn't even know that was possible and it somehow breaks his heart.

"Oh sh-...hum"

Hmm... She curses? He never heard her curse. It's adorable.

"Please tell me you're ok... Are you hurt anywhere else? Why didn't you call me? I mean-"

God that blush is cute. How can you be so cute? He wants to just put you under a glass case and keep you in there. He'd get lots of flowers and moss. You'd be his fairy-

"Mr Riley?"

She tilts her head to the side.

"I'm fine. No broken bones."

That seems enough to make her sigh of relief. But suddenly she grabs his good hand and she tugs softly towards her still open door.

"What?"

Simon is floored that this is the only thing he manages to say.

"You can't stay on your own! You just got into a crash! You need to be looked after!"

"What?"

He wants to punch himself now. Don't you know any other words Simon Riley?!

Also, why is he walking behind her like a lost puppy she's softly tugging on the leash of?

Why is he inside her apartment? With the door closed?

How did he end up sitting on the couch? With a cup of tea and cookies.

"What?" He asks again.

She giggles.

"What do you want for dinner? I'll let you decide what you want I'll go prepare the guest's bedroom!" You happily jump to your task after he nods.

Simon looks around, the warmth and cozy space, the plants and the weird cat staring at him from the window sit. He kinda looks at Simon the same way Simon is looking at him. With the same expression that says:

"What?"

#fanfiction #fanfics #simon ghost riley #fanfic #simon riley #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost simon riley #i need a simon in my life #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost

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frvnkcastles · 2 days

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Hii I love your work so much!! I was wondering if you would do Frank Castle x reader based off of Sunlight or Francesca By Hozier? I don’t know I just feel like with how deeply this man feels that one or those would be perfect for Frank and the reader.

I WOULD DO IT AGAIN ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: A glimpse into the way Frank feels for you.

Warnings: Fem!reader, violence, reader has unspecified mental health issues

Word count: 1.2k

Author’s note: I fell in love with both these songs thanks to this request!! I tried to combine both of them, though I suppose I got more out of Francesca. I’m a little on the fence about this one shot in general, but I hope you like it! Thanks for your patience <3 Also, I keep forgetting to say this, but thank you so much for 700 followers!!! It means so much to me that we’ve created this little community of traumatized Frank lovers :)

There was nothing Frank wouldn’t have done for you. He had known that quite early into your relationship, his devotion for you growing more and more every day, even if you weren’t officially dating. In fact, your feelings for each other had gone unspoken ever since you had met, but he couldn’t deny they were there — he cared for you so much it terrified him, it kept him up at night.

He thought about the first time he met you often. He’d never forget the way you looked in that dress you had dug out of your closet just for the occasion, how the warm bar light illuminated your starry eyes and how you had been nervously gnawing on your lip while glancing at your phone for the millionth time.

”Whoever’s standin’ you up would regret if they saw you in that dress”, he had spoken up from across the mostly empty bar counter, and you had immediately looked up only to find a man so attractive your stomach did a somersault. Rough around the edges but undeniably easy on the eyes, even more so when the corner of his mouth had twitched upwards in a sneaky smirk, even when his stare was focused on the crowd behind you. You had shuffled on your feet, looking around to see who he was referring to, but when you had turned back to him, you found him gazing right at you, making your mouth run dry.

”I was supposed to have a date”, you had explained over the music, ”guess it was a waste of a pretty dress.”

He had chuckled at that. ”Well, for what it’s worth, you made this old sucker’s heart skip a beat”, he had shrugged before gesturing at the empty seat next to him. ”Buy you a drink?”

And ever since then, he had been hooked on you. You made him feel alive, you gave him a reason to get up in the morning. So when you had told him you felt like you were doing the opposite, his heart had shattered in his chest.

”I realize I have a lot of baggage. So I don’t blame you if you want to, I dunno, check out now”, you had explained meekly, distance between you as you both stood in your kitchen at an ungodly hour, fresh stitches on Frank’s abdomen. ”I guess I’m not a very easy person to be around, is what I’m saying”, you had added with a quiet chuckle, and at that, Frank had closed the space between you, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he swallowed all the air from your personal space.

”You think I am?” he had stated matter-of-factly. ”You’re wrong, sweetheart. I don’t remember the last time it was this easy for me to be around someone. You make me feel… Yeah, you just make me feel. I can’t get enough of you. Don’t ever think I’d wanna get rid of you, ’cause shit, as long as you’ll have me, I ain’t goin’ anywhere”, he had explained, passion behind every word, and it had made you tear up.

”You know everything that’s wrong with me and you’re saying you still want to be my friend?” you had asked to confirm, and licking his lips, Frank had glanced at yours before nodding. He had forced himself to withdraw, not wanting to cross any lines, but he had given your hand a squeeze, nonetheless.

”Never been more sure of anything.”

He wasn’t letting go of you. As much was confirmed when his enemies caught whiff of you being involved with him — before he knew it, your name fell from the lips of his latest target, and he had seen red. The men were coming from left and right, punching him, stabbing him, each of them claiming their piece of the Punisher, but he wasn’t going to rest until he’d know you were safe. Their taunts of getting to his little girlfriend had pushed him over the edge, and with feral anger, he slaughtered the lot of them, not letting a single henchman slip out and get to you.

He had wanted to avoid you seeing him like this so badly. But as soon as he was done, as soon as the men lay dead at his feet, he was rushing out of the warehouse he had been lured into, just to make his way to you.

The urgent knock on your door in the middle of the night wasn’t a completely unfamiliar sound — you had stitched Frank up more than a few times, but you could tell something was wrong. As soon as you opened the door, a bloodied Frank burst through, his eyes wide and alert, his shaky hands clamoring to find purchase on your shoulders.

”Hey, hey, what is it? Are you okay?” you asked with worry, eyebrows knitted together as you tried to balance Frank’s larger frame, your hands resting on his arms.

”I—I needed to know you were okay”, he managed to get out, breathless and panicking, and nodding to promise him that you were, you attempted to meet his frantic eyes and calm him down.

”I’m okay, Frankie, I’m okay. Breathe, honey”, you reassured, and slumping against your body, Frank pulled you into a vicelike hug, squeezing you tight, breathing you in. Blood stained your clothes and hair, but your priority was getting Frank across the panicked state he was in, to assure him everything was okay.

”They said they were coming for you. I—I couldn’t let them. I wasn’t gonna let them”, he repeated, before grunting, ”I killed ’em all.”

Pulling away slightly, you looked into dark eyes with a disbelieving frown. ”You did that for me?” you whispered, and finding solace in your gaze, Frank found it in himself to catch his breath and understand that the imminent danger was over.

”You’re goddamn right I did. I’d do it again and again. I’d do anything for you”, he swore, letting his forehead fall against yours. You closed your eyes and took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling him towards the bathroom.

”Let’s get you cleaned up, big guy.”

Even after he had had time to shower, he was still on alert, constantly checking the windows and pacing around your apartment. You had to fight him to the bedroom, insisting that you both needed to get some rest, and he supposed he could do that — watch over you, make sure you’d get to sleep soundly. Soon enough, you were cuddled up in the bed and Frank was sitting next to you, resting against the headboard with his eyes laser-focused on the closed door.

”Hey, you can relax. They’re all gone. No one’s coming for me”, you reminded him softly, caressing his arm with tender fingers, and swallowing, Frank slowly and reluctantly sank deeper into the mattress to be closer to you.

”I ain’t ever lettin’ anythin’ happen to you. You know that, right?” he grunted, and with a nod, you reassured him.

”I know. You always make me feel safe.” His eyes softened at your words, and gently, he reached over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering for a brief moment.

He really would have done anything for you.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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lunargrapejuice · 1 day

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good morning angel

sephiroth x fem!reader | 4.4k+ words

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, domestic and cute that turns into a little rough and loving sex<3, teasing, pet names, oral (receiving), size kink if you squint he is huge idc, prone bone, cream pie, a little sappy? and possessive - i just think y'all are madly in love always, let me know if i missed anything please!

sephiroth knew you were up to something from the moment you stepped into his space and caught his attention.

oh yes, there was no doubt in his mind that there was something you were after when you sauntered from the bedroom dressed in one of his old training shirts and a cute pair of panties he could see only the hem of in your steps, your skin looking heavenly and soft in the morning light pouring in through the windows of your shared apartment.

his own skin still lingers with the memory of you in his arms last night and early this morning and as much as he wants to indulge you both in having you against him once more, he is interested to see what exactly you’re after before he’ll be coaxing the words from your sweet mouth; a saccharine prospect that has him smiling behind the book he had been reading since coming home from early morning training.

your steps are light as you make your way to him and though he acts like he’s still paying attention to the pages in front of him, his eyes never leave you. they drink in the way the thin fabric of his shirt sits on your figure and shows the curve of your breasts and nearly the entirety of your legs. it would take only a tug to reveal the most intimate parts of you but you look just as divine with his clothes on.

stopping behind where he sits on the couch, you wrap your arms around his neck. “g’morning,” you greet, voice honied and barely above a whisper, your lips brushing along the shell of his ear and lingering both before and after you place a kiss there.

“good morning,” he hums back with the same gentleness. closing his book, he keeps one of his fingers between the pages he had been reading and rests it on his lap, turning his neck to give you his full attention but when he expects you to kiss his lips, yours instead meet his cheek and are moving away much too quickly for his liking.

your hands travel along his bare chest and over his muscular shoulders as you pull away from him and he’s left in the living room without a proper kiss to his lips that you normally would have given him upon starting your day. he can only watch the sway of your hips and the little peaks of your bum with each step you take towards the kitchen and away from him in your tantalizing walk.

“hungry?” you ask once you’re at the threshold of the kitchen. without turning fully you look back and see sephiroth not even attempting to hide the way his darkening gaze threatens to devour you whole. you will your legs to not tremble as they wish to under such a lovely and intense expression.

he can’t help but let out a deep chuckle at how cute you are when you want to tease him and feels his mouth water for what he’s truly hungry for when he answers,“yes, sweetheart. i’m famished.”

the way he stares at you and the words he speaks ignites the heat that was already kindling below your belly when you decided to enact your little plan this morning and make it hard to take your next step without it being back towards him so you could crawl into his lap and kiss him like he was the very air you needed to breath but you were determined and already enjoying the way he reacted to you. but you were only getting started.

most would agree that it wasn’t the smartest thing to provoke any soldier, let alone the strongest of them, but you were eager to see how far you could push sephiroth in your teasing, how far you could go until he broke. the rest of your plan was already set, all you needed to do was not break first. which he wasn’t making easy from the moment you saw him sitting there shirtless, long silver locks draped over one shoulder and glistening in the morning sunlight like the most expensive silk, the fabric of his pants stretching around the muscles of his thighs and his long fingers flipping pages of his book when you really needed them on you instead. it certainly hadn’t helped with the way he spoke to you in a sultry deep voice that was dangerous for your heart.

just as you hoped, he follows you into the kitchen and with each step you hear him take, your own are in a hurry to take your position. leaning his body against the entryway with his arms folded over his chest, he watches with amusement and desire as you stand on your toes to reach for something sitting on the top shelf of the cabinet. one hand splayed on the counter helps you stand a little taller but the other that reaches for what you need brings up your shirt, giving sephiroth the perfect view of your legs and ass.

sparkling mako eyes roam over your figure, starting at the stretch of your feet and calves. moving up your legs, sephiroths cock twitching at the sight of your thighs and where he’d rather have them right now. his gaze moves up to fabric half covering your bum and stopping just where the hem of your shirt rests on your back, keeping the rest of you hidden from him. your hair sways in your reaching movements and when he makes it to your hands, he sees your half hearted attempt to get whatever item you’re after and smiles boyishly.

he’s still wearing his smile when you turn around after a few more moments of your pretty show. your lower lip is in an endearing pout, your eyes glinting with an exaggerated plea, not that he’d ever be able to deny you even without it.

“can you help me seph?”

pushing off the wall and unfolding his arms, the tug on his lips grows. “of course.”

you make room for his bigger figure but before he can attempt to grab the item you want, you’re pressed against his right arm. the warmth of you melting from the fibers of your shirt and onto his skin and it doesn’t get past him where your breasts are placed to squish against him either.

as if knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep this up if you looked into his eyes that you know are on you, he was so impossible to resist, you instead focused on the cabinet and how it felt rubbing against him as you stand on your toes again, grabbing onto him tighter, and point towards the teapot nestled in the corner.

“that one please,” you’re all feigned innocence and paying no mind or word to the teapot that has its normal spot on the counter only a few feet away at a height you’d have no problem reaching.

you feel the rumble of his silent chuckle that vibrates through his upper body but he doesn’t say anything about it either and grabs what you asked for without any issue or having to use much of his reach. meeting his eyes when he hands it to you, you smile sweetly with a quick ‘thank you’ and draw away from him yet again. your free hand, feather light, gliding down his peck and like it hadn’t been there at all, disappears before reaching his defined abs in the distance you put between you.

as unfair as you saw this considering the amount of control over his emotions that your beloved often displays, but still wanting to try, you underestimate how much of a hold you truly have over sephiroth. it took more strength than he thought he had to resist you at this moment. with your back to him now, it would be so easy to scoop you onto his arms and take you where he pleased or press you against the counter with your back to his chest and let you feel how crazy you make him with a press of his hips. only you could bring sephiroth to his knees so easily but he would hold strong, play along, see what else you had planned.

thankful you aren’t facing him as you get water from the sink, he adjusts himself in his sweats, trying to make how hard he was getting not so obvious. you’d hardly touched him but there’s no denying how much he needed and loved you, it was something not even his body could hide.

in the moment he had looked away from you however, there was a crash, splashes of water followed by your little gasp, and when he looks up in earnest worry, you’re facing him, the front of your shirt soaking wet and revealing to him every dip and curve from the tops of one of your breasts and half of the other, over both of your peaked nippled and down past your navel.

sephiroth swallows the noise creeping up his throat, something between a chuckle at the lengths you were going that he finds utterly adorable and a groan because your antics were working and he was growing hotter, harder, by the second.

“oh my gosh,” you laugh it off, your tone still clinging onto your fake innocence but your body is betraying you and soon you’re certain your words would too. just a little more. “clumsy me.”

your steps are quick to pass him, avoiding his blown pupils that watch your every but he stops you before you can get far with a large hand around your wrist and his heavy voice, “where are you going?”

dipping your head, you hope to hide the way you bite back your victorious smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth but sephiroth sees it all.

“to change,” you say after a moment, your voice flirty and wavering from your previous act.

“oh?”

“mhm,” you affirm, needing no strength to slip from his grasp, though you didn’t want to part from him but if you didn’t go now, you’d surely break first.

your steps are light and slow at first as you take off your shirt before making it out of the kitchen but they turn into a hurried walk down the hallway when you hear him following after you. your pace picking up with every step, you can’t suppress your giggle the closer you get to the bedroom or the full blown shriek you let out when you get into the bedroom and suddenly he’s in front of you with a wicked smile on his lips. you knew he was faster, inhumanly so, and you doubt anyone else has ever been pleased while being chased by him but your cheeks hurt from your smile.

using momentum from your running, you hurry onto the oversized bed and start to crawl across the mattress towards the closet in what you know is a futile attempt to continue this little escapade. you don’t get far at all before sephiroths hands are around your ankles and pulling you back towards him with your stomach and breasts dragging along the soft duvet. he handles you like you weigh nothing at all, like there's no way you’re getting away from his grasp.

your giggles only stop in the steadiness he has over your body when he lifts your hips. you can feel him coming between your legs that his hands help spread and the hardness of his cock on your clothed pussy makes you whimper. nin your fluttering gaze, hazy in anticipation and in the wake of heat spreading throughout your body, you can’t make out much of the bedroom in front of you but you feel sephiroths big hands keeping you pressed against him, holding the weight of your entire bottom half. he doesn’t move and when you shift to be on your knees, moving your hips for friction, he stills your them but you swear you can feel him throbbing between the fabric of your panties and his sweats.

you let out a whimper in protest, reaching behind you to move his hands from your hips so you could feel more but he doesn’t budge.

“what is it you really want, hm?” he asks, clicking his tongue. leaning down closer to you, he’s sure to keep you flush and still against him as he whispers against the skin behind your ear. the weight of him on top of you, the warmth of his minty breath and the headiness of his tone has you breaking in defeat. you want him so badly and as he had predicted earlier, he coaxes the words out of you. “use your words angel.”

“i want you..” you could feel your face burning with almost the same intensity as between your legs but it wouldn’t stop you from getting the words out, not when you knew you wouldn’t get it without saying it to him, especially when you teased him first and when he had you in a position where you could hardly touch him. turning your head towards him, you look back to see the silver of his hair and green of his eyes, his pink lips so close to yours. “want you inside me seph- please.”

“mmm,” he hums in approval that only adds to the mess you’re becoming underneath him. “my good, sweet, girl.”

bucking his hips against you, sephiroth captures your lips in a hungry kiss that’s full of tongue and teeth as he grinds his hips against your cunt but he can’t take everything separating you for long. a few more breath stealing moments pass and he’s breaking his lips from yours, his kisses traveling to your neck and down your back and his hands help you settle comfortably on your knees with your feet hanging off the edge of the bed.

you stay like that, your chest and cheek pressed into the mattress and ass in the air while he slides your panties off of you with painful slowness, letting his fingers brush along your skin the entire way but never where you needed him most.

“so wet for me.” the words come out in a near purr at the dampness of your panties and the glisten of slick on your folds. his hands leave you entirely then and you hear his soft thud of his sweats meeting the floor followed by his knees followed by the feeling of his hair tickling your calves.

you don’t get the chance to look back at him or say anything. burning hot and eager to taste you, sephiroths tongue licks a fat stripe from your clit to your entrance. the pleasure is white hot, leaves you ready to beg for more, like you couldn’t be without. which wasn’t entirely untrue, you could never be without him. instinctively arching your back, you feel more than hear the deep hum of pleasure he lets out at the taste of you. he doesn’t waste a moment to delve in for more of your arousal either.

grabbing onto your trembling thighs, his seemingly boundless strength helps hold you upright while moving you as he pleases. it starts off with the press of you against his face until you’re worried he won’t be able to breathe but you can’t focus on the thought for long with the way he takes your clit between his lips and licks and sucks mercilessly all the while his nose nudges against your folds.

an intoxicating mix of your essence and his silva melts against his tongue, drips down his chin, and has his hard cock leaking on the floor below him but his throbbing length is the last thing on his mind. sephiroth is totally and completely lost in you and your pleasure that he desperately craves.

it’s too much and yet not enough when you feel so empty, want him to touch more of you, need to kiss him again but even if you could muster the strength to get any of what you wanted or voice it, his hold on you keeps you exactly where he wants you and the pleasure he gives you with his skillful mouth makes you want to break right here and now.

“oh fuck,” your words are muffled in the sheets you bury your face into when sephiroth pulls away from your clit with a lewd wet noise and uses his hold on you to bring your hips back and fuck you on his tongue. your hands clench the sheets, your breasts rubbing along it in time with the push and pull of your body. arching your back more, the angle it provides, how greedy he is to taste all of you he can, the feeling of his tongue inside of you, has you so very close. “seph!”

sephiroth is panting as he pulls away from you, just far away enough you can still feel the heat of his breath against your folds and the tickle of his hair on your thighs when he says, “cum for me sweetheart,” before his mouth is back on your cunt and at the feeling of his teeth grazing along your clit your body has no choice but to follow his command.

you cry out into the sheets as your orgasm washes over you as he devours you like a man starved, bursting and caught on the tongue that didn’t let a single drop go unsavored. his deep moan vibrates against you, adding to your ecstacy, and he doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden out every second of it and then some. it’s only his hold on you that keeps your body from collapsing onto your stomach with the last few body shaking flicks of the tip of his tongue to your clit and they still tremble in his hands when he stands up and effortlessly, gently, helps you lay completely flat on your belly, one cheek resting comfortably in the soft sheets.

he uses the same tender touch when he crawls over you, cages you between the bed and his large body with his arms and legs on both sides of you and caresses your brow, brushing hair from your face to behind your ear. his own hair hangs around you like a curtain of starlight, the length of it pooling on the bed in puddles of soft silver as he leans down, pressing some of his weight against you, his dick snug against your ass, and kisses your temple.

basking in the euphoric pleasure still emanating in the room, your hand comes up to cup sephiroths jaw, your finger brushing along his cheek, feeling the brush of his long lashes as he leans into your touch and lays his hand over yours so he can keep it in close and place a kiss there, whispering his words into your skin. “tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

nodding, the pressure between your legs already rekindling in a burst of warmth and need that spreads like wildfire through your veins and to your heart, all you can manage is a barely audible ‘okay’. it doesn’t get past his ears that are keen to catch every noise and word he drew from you however.

as eager as you are to feel more of him, get exactly what you asked for, you hate when he lifts off of you to position himself. you can still feel him straddling your legs and crane your neck to look back at him. your heart beat is uncontrollable at the sight of him, as if it wasn’t already so irregular from your orgasm only moments ago but this was something different, from the kind of beauty that stirs your soul and engraves in your mind to see in your dreams over and over again. you certainly did want to see this again, though not within a dream when he was right here; his tall and broad figure towering above you in all of its scarred, ethereal beauty. pale skin marred on his arms and legs from tests and battles, long silver hair messy and yet still perfect against toned muscles honed by years of training, his much larger hand wrapping around more of his cock than your hand can but goddess it still looks so big in his hold.

pumping himself slow and tight, his free hand grabs a handful of your ass with strength that has you mewling and your sticky folds spreading when he grasps just a bit harder. sephiroth keeps you like that, giving him the perfect view of your hole, fluttering and wet in anticipation, the perfect angle to press his leaking tip into you, so shallow and squelching in your arousal with every inch he pushes into your tight heat and when he pulls out of you just to sink back in a little further, again and again.

“‘s so big..” you can barely mumble the words with how his cock is stretching you, a mix of pleasure and pain that you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins, nor do you want it to stop.

he chuckles, a bit strained from how he’s holding back in order to give you time to adjust to his size but it’s so hard to do with how tight you are around him like this. sephiroths weight is on you again, resting on his elbows to keep from crushing you completely but every heaving breath he takes pressing you into the mattress, lets him slide deeper into you until he’s fully sheathed inside of your tight walls. “you can take me, can’t you angel?” his voice is low, husky.

you can only whimper in reply when your velvety walls squeeze around him, pulling him in deeper, and he bucks his hips in response, somehow sinking even deeper into you. you moan into the sheets as you press back into him, a silent plea for him to move that has him setting a slow and focused pace, letting you feel the thick vein running on the underside of his cock with each drag of him outside of you and the press of his tip that you swear you feel in your guts when he delves back inside.

“just like that,” you hear him say but in the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body, you don’t know where exactly it’s from, if he’s near one of your ears or in his incredible height is praising you from above your head.

“sephiroth.. please..” you don’t know what you’re begging for, you have all of him, everything that was and will be his, his very body and soul, and though you repeat the words again and again, you didn’t have to. he’s giving you exactly what you needed as if it was his own desire.

he goes faster then, your hands hold onto the sheets with the repeated buck of his hips slapping against your ass but there’s no getting stability at this pace and when you bow your lower back, drunk off of him and still so greedy for more, his cock reaches deeper than before, his weight pressing you further into the mattress.

“fuck -” he curses through his heaving breaths and clenched teeth at how unbelievable you feel, how well you take him, like you were made for each other and no one else could have this, have you.

your body jostles underneath him with every deep onslaught of his cock thats desperate to claim you, feel all of you, and to keep you close, in this perfect spot, one of his arms comes around your front, locking you securely in his hold and against his chest as he thrusts in and out of you with fervor. his face rests so close to yours now, you can feel the short hairs of his bangs on you, can hear the noises in his throat and in your watery vision, you can make out blurs of silver and green before feeling the press of his lips against your face, the edge of your lips and over your shoulder. every kiss so soft compared to the way he’s taking you.

“you’re perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his arm around you tightening with a roll of his hips that has your eyes watering in pleasure. “so perfect and all mine.”

“all yours,” you agree breathlessly and feel him sigh where his lips rest on you but it turns into a sinful call of your name that seeps into your skin and drives you to the brink of another release when he goes harder, faster, like he may never get to feel you like this again and the last thing he wants to hear is you screaming his name as you come on his cock and milk him for all he’s worth.

it certainly won’t be the last time but you couldn’t hold back the waves of bliss that comes over you. its ripples over you both, crashing again and again on every tingling nerve of your being and by the stutter, growing sloppier - needier, thrusts that start as you pulse around him, sephiroth is following right after you.

he reaches for your face with his hand not holding you against him, in a gentle contrast to the way he was fucking you only moments ago. he cradles your face lovingly so he can capture you in a searing kiss as he spills inside of you, plentiful and sticky. there's a mess between your legs, leaking from your pretty pussy still stuffed full of his cock and onto your ass and sephiroths hips.

neither of you pay it any mind as your kiss breaks and you slump in his hold, completely spent but still basking in the humming afterglow of your love making. his mouth doesn’t go far, the softness of his lips brush along your cheek as he releases you from his hold and lifts some of his weight off of you, allowing you to settle comfortably on the bed and take in a deep cooling breath that’s full of the mixed scent of sex and your beloved.

his voice is quiet, like despite that it was only the two of you in this room he hadn’t wanted anyone, not even the planet, to hear his words. they were only for you. “i do adore your teasing darling but if you want me so badly, you don’t need to go to such lengths. i’m yours for the taking.”

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#final fantasy vii #sephiroth #sephiroth x reader #final fantasy vii x reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ffvii #ff7 x reader #final fantasy 7 x reader #🌙moonlight.stories #final fantasy smut #sephiroth smut #final fantasy vii smut

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sisters-sideblog · 2 days

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And my other fill for Ravioli ship week, for that most classic trope of "Only One Bed!" Read it here or on Ao3.

△△△

Link wasn’t home much for a while. After his recovery and agreement that Ravio could use his house while he was away, he promptly found himself halfway across the country chasing clues for several weeks straight.

He did make it back home eventually. Shaking off the dungeon dust, he staggered back to rest and resupply, so tired he’d forgotten Ravio would be there and nearly drew his sword at the enthusiastic greeting that waited for him in what he was used to thinking of as an empty house.

In fairness, his abrupt return seemed to startle Ravio as well.

Now he slumped over dinner, already eyeing the corner where his bed had been shoved aside. It looked like there was just enough room to push one of Ravio’s added tables out of the way and crawl in.

…In fact.

Yes.

There were scuff marks on the floor. New ones, as if someone had been doing exactly that for several nights.

Link realized he’d stopped chewing, spoon dangling precariously from limp fingers. At his back, the sounds of Ravio enjoying his own meal fell suspiciously silent.

It occurred to Link. Finally, belatedly. That he perhaps should have thought of this sooner.

He hadn’t seen any of Ravio’s possessions aside from the stuff he sold. Wasn’t honestly sure he even had any. But the bag was obviously magical, so maybe…?

Link cleared his throat. Ravio twitched at the sound, spoon clattering against his bowl.

“Where have you been sleeping?” Link asked in the most neutral tone he could manage.

“Um. Well. You see.”

When Ravio didn’t continue, Link waited. But aside from clearing his own throat in a distinctly nervous manner, Ravio didn’t continue. Link finally turned to look at him. From the way Ravio dropped his spoon entirely, there was some kind of expression on his face.

“You’ve been sleeping in my bed.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mister Hero!” Ravio immediately returned in a loud but not terribly sincere tone. “I had to leave home so quickly, you see, and I was sleeping on the ground with all those dreadful monsters around before you so graciously lent me your home. It isn’t very comfortable down there. As, ah. As you know. since you’ve probably been sleeping on the ground, too.” He faltered to a stop rather than try to dig himself back out of the hole he’d talked himself into. His hands were wringing together, his posture hunched in a way that made Link think he might be about to throw himself back down on the ground like he had when he was begging for a place to stay. Link couldn’t see the extraordinarily sad puppydog eyes, but he could feel them aimed right at him.

He had spare blankets and a bedroll. The space in front of the fire would be perfectly warm.

But Link wouldn’t get any sleep himself if he made Ravio sleep on the ground while he enjoyed the comfort of a bed mere steps away. If the guilt didn’t keep him up, the sounds of Ravio shifting around certainly would.

He sighed. “Fine.”

Rounded shoulders immediately straightened. Link swore the fake ears on the hood perked straight up. “Really? Oh, thank you, Mister Hero! I promise you won’t even notice I’m there!”

Link doubted that.

△△△

The problem of logistics returned once, after much arguing, they had cleared sufficient space around the bed for them to both now be standing on either side of it. The dying fire cast a dull orange glow through the room, the door locked and the shutters closed for the night. Link was halfway through trying not to think too hard as he stripped down to his nightclothes before he realized Ravio had pulled his boots off and stopped, reaching to fold back his side of the covers with the bunny hood still on.

“Are you going to sleep with that on?” Link didn’t really want those giant embroidered eyes staring at him in the middle of the night.

“I usually don’t,” Ravio said, which wasn’t an answer.

“I don’t care what you look like,” Link tried.

It didn’t seem to help. Ravio faltered, wringing his hands and just standing there awkwardly. He finally cleared his throat. “Could you turn around?”

Eyes narrowed, Link gave him a suspicious visual sweep. “Why?”

“I’m going to take it off.”

“I might roll over in my sleep,” Link warned. He still didn’t have the faintest idea why Ravio didn’t want him to know what he looked like, but obviously he cared quite a bit. It was only fair to warn him.

“I know, friend, I didn’t mean you had to stay facing away all night! I have this!” He pulled something from one voluminous sleeve; after a bit of squinting, Link first thought it a mask, then a blindfold. But it had no eyeholes to be the former and looked too padded and comfortable to be the latter.

“I’m not wearing a blindfold!” he said hotly.

Ravio, Link had noticed, seemed to almost fluff up and out when he worried he’d angered someone against himself. Like a frightened cat with puffed out fur trying to make itself bigger than it was. “It’s not for you, it’s for me! And it’s a sleeping mask, not a blindfold!”

They stared at each other from across the bed. One beat. Two.

Feeling red in the cheeks and more than a little foolish, Link turned around. Rustling sounds behind him; the covers folding back. He heard Ravio sit, then near silence for several long moments, save Ravio hissing a brief curse to himself.

“You can turn around now,” he finally said. When Link did, he found Ravio sitting upright in the bed, hugging the far side, his hood traded for some kind of silk wrap that completely covered his hair and ears and the “sleeping mask.” Between the two, he was still nearly as covered as with the hood alone. Unlike with the hood, it was obvious he could no longer see, the direction of his head aimed somewhere more towards the middle of the room than Link himself.

“Well. Good night, Mister Hero,” Ravio said, sounding as awkward as Link felt.

“Good night,” Link echoed. He watched Ravio lie down and roll onto his side, facing away.

Climbing into his bed with someone else already in it was… odd. Link tried to lay on his back, since that seemed the safest way to not actually touch his bedmate. But he’d never been much of a back sleeper. It didn’t take long for things to start to ache, and no amount of fidgeting was making it any better.

Ravio politely didn’t mention Link’s shifting, but his shoulders drew up under the covers.

This wasn’t going to work. Time for Plan B.

Trying hard to roll over without pulling any of the covers off of his bedmate, Link gave in and flipped to his side.

This presented a new problem. His bed wasn’t terribly large. When he tried to curl up it pressed their backs together; a feeling startling in its intimacy. But more importantly, drawing his feet up meant he encountered Ravio’s own.

“Your toes are cold!” Link yelped.

“So are yours!” Ravio lied.

“They are not!” Link yanked them further up regardless to get his poor innocent calves away from Ravio’s freezing toes, but that just pressed their backs more firmly together. Grumbling, he flipped over again. Onto his stomach now, head turned to the side on his pillow so he could breathe, one arm hugging the pillow and the other curled up against himself; a position Gully had found him in more than once when he was sent to see why Link wasn’t yet awake and working at his apprenticeship. He’d turned his head habitually to the left, and so now faced Ravio, his nose nearly tucked all the way up against the back of his neck. He thought he saw Ravio shiver when he exhaled.

Link liked the way he smelled.

“Is this okay?” He felt the need to check.

“Perfectly fine, Mister Hero!” Ravio returned in a pitch that could accurately be described as a squeak. Link didn’t have the mental energy left to check whether he meant it. The past few weeks had been long, and now that he was finally comfortable they were catching up to him. Incoming slumber weighed down all his limbs.

It felt nice. To fall asleep next to someone. It felt really, really nice.

Not falling asleep on a hard dungeon floor helped, too. Ravio was right. Sleeping on the ground sucked.

Even if he did wake up in the middle of the night to find that Ravio had stolen all the covers. Ravio put them back when he rose before Link did in the morning; Link woke to the warmth of someone else’s lingering body heat in the blankets heaped up over him. It was a feeling he thought he could very quickly get used to.

#raviolishipweek #ravioli #albw #ravio #link #raviolink #myfic

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timefospookies · 2 days

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“Chuuuuuyaaaaa!”

That grating voice…

“Dazai?!”

The skinny man gave the redhead a friendly wave from the couch- which he was comfortably sprawled out on with a wine glass in hand, and the TV on to a barely audible volume.

“Welcome home!”

“How the hell did you get in here?”

“Broke in.”

Chuuya stared for a few seconds, contemplating the scene with an air of resignation.

“I shoulda known,” he sighed, giving in.

He was too damn tired to even get angry. He’d been working his ass off for weeks on end and now that he finally had time to go home, he wasn’t planning on wasting that time on this idiot. So he continued on his way, closing the door behind him, removing his shoes, and placing his coat and hat on the hanger by the door. He stretched out with a groan as he walked past the couch towards the kitchen, sensing Dazai’s hazel eyes lazily tracing his every move. The brunette swirled the wine in his glass and took another sip.

“That better not be one of my good wines!” Chuuya yelled over his shoulder.

“Ha! As if!” Dazai shouted back, “Wouldn’t be caught dead downing one of your stupid snobby wines. Talk about embarrassing!”

The redhead felt his ears heat up as he twitched in visible annoyance. He scoffed as he eventually shuffled back to the couch with a bottle of wine and another glass in hand.

“Oh, shut up! You know what’s really embarrassing? Thinking that cheap sake actually tastes good!”

“It does,” the man retaliated blankly.

“Yeah, if you like the taste of piss! Now, move your ass!”

Chuuya roughly shoved Dazai to the side in an attempt to slip into the couch.

“Wha-hey! Ow?! Go sit on the other side, it’s literally completely empty!” he cried.

“It’s my damn couch, I get to decide where I wanna sit!”

“Oh my godddd, Chuuya’s so childish,”

“Chuuya’s gonna kick you out of his fucking house if you don’t move!”

Dazai scoffed, rolling his eyes, but regardless he ceded a bit of his space to him.

After an extended physical struggle, the two settled into a comfortable enough position in which neither would complain- leaning against each other, practically shoulder to shoulder; Chuuya’s foot dangling off the arm of the couch, and his own arm rested around the couch’s back; Dazai with his legs clutched to his chest, and head rested on Chuuya’s shoulder. Their wine glasses had been abandoned at the foot of the couch. As the movie on the TV droned on, the redhead felt his eyelids grow incredibly heavy. He had to make an active effort to keep his head from falling forward, as the sudden weight it gained was far too much for him to handle. He sighed, and he sighed again, and again.

“Long day?”

“Hah,” he sneered, “Try month.”

“They’re working you to the bone, huh?”

In response, Chuuya sighed once more.

“Well, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that,” the other chuckled. “Sucks to be you.”

“Yeah, that’s real helpful, asshole.”

Dazai shifted, peeling himself away from Chuuya and adjusting their position to bring the shorter man closer to his chest.

“Mmm,” he murmured, running soft slender fingers through the mafioso’s hair “My poor, poor slug...”

He scratched gently at his scalp and Chuuya couldn’t help but give a content hum as he allowed himself to melt into the man’s chest, and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Jus’…gonna lay here a sec…” he mumbled as he slowly drifted off.

His eyes fluttered shut and soon he was snoring softly into Dazai’s chest, to which the man could only smirk. It was endearing. The warmth of the moment. The comfort. Dazai wrapped his own arms around Chuuya’s body and settled into a more comfortable laying position, so that as he fixated on his lover’s steady breathing, he too could drift into peaceful slumber.

#Chuuya is tired™️#dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #skk #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo gay dogs #bsd skk #soukoku #soukouku #spooky talk #skk fanfic

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kerrysdreamcorner · 2 days

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𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩

A Love and Deepspace Fan-Fiction

Ⓢⓤⓜⓜⓐⓡⓨ

Sometimes it helps to have your boyfriend wrapped around your finger.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: Fluffy Drabble

‘He must be sleeping.’ I thought, staring at the short thread of unanswered text messages. ‘Too bad.’

Leaning over the kitchen counter, I dialled his number and picked at my nails while listening to it ring. Though it was the middle of the day, I wouldn’t put it past Xavier to be taking a nap at this hour. That man could fall asleep anywhere, whenever he wished to.

He answered just after the third ring, and as expected, sounded like he had just woken up. “Yeah?”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Is this what I’ve been reduced to now? Just a ‘yeah’?”

“Oh, it’s you.” I heard shuffling in the background and wondered if he was getting out of bed. “Hi, angel.”

“Hi.” I let myself feel the shyness his nickname brought, but just for a moment. There was something that needed to be done. “Can you come down to my place? I need help reaching something.”

He yawned. “You want me to come down a floor just to reach something for you? Don’t you have a step stool?”

“Well, yeah,” I tapped the tips of my nails on the counter. “But I want to take advantage of my boyfriend privileges.”

“Boyfriend privileges?” Somehow, I could tell he was smiling and shaking his head. “Alright. I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you~”

Hanging up, I moved into the living room and waited impatiently for Xavier to arrive. My other neighbours were coming and going, every sound outside my apartment’s door getting my hopes up only to let them fall as the sounds faded. Then a light knock finally came.

I threw myself at the door, yanking it open so I could pull my boyfriend inside. “About time.”

“I got here as fast as I could.” He reassured with a soft smile.

“Liar.” I extended my arms and gestured to nothing in particular. “You could have just appeared here.”

“You’re right.” Xavier shook his head, but I heard him chuckling under his breath. “So, what is it you need help with?”

Stepping closer to him, I placed both hands on his biceps and rose to the balls of my feet. “It’s okay. I can reach it now.”

I pressed my lips against his, stomach twisting in delight at the soft, breathy sound of surprise that escaped him. His cheeks and ears were bright red when I dropped back onto my heels.

I smiled up at him. “I got what I needed.”

He turned his head away from me, a habit I noticed whenever I flustered him enough. “You were able to reach it all on your own.”

I scrunched my nose and shook my head in disagreement. “You were an entire floor up. I didn’t feel like going all the way upstairs.”

“So instead, you had me come to you.” Xavier’s hands caught my hips, pulling me flush against him. He dipped his head, nose brushing against mine. “Since I’m here now, you may as well take more.”

I massaged circles into his arms with my thumbs, the small space between us sparking with electricity. “Well, if you’re offering…”

I sighed as he closed the distance, letting him take the lead and guide the kiss. If he was willing to indulge me, then I’d take as much as he was willing to give.

#x oc #love and deepspace xavier #lnds xavier #lnds #love and deepspace

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psiroller · 14 hours

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in which chilchuck tries to get some but ends up a sucker to his caretaker instinct once again

i just wanted to write something where chilchuck unironically indulges laios' hyperfixation, lol. im folding this into something larger but it kind of stands on its own for now, so here.

“Hey,” Chilchuck slurred. An arm crawled around Laios’ shoulder, stirring him from his reading. “What are you doing up? It’s my shift.”

“Just research,” Laios replied cheerily. His eyes were drawn back to the book and away from Chilchuck, something that elicited a soft huff of irritation. “I’ll still be good to take over for you. I’m kind of wound up, you know? Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah,” Chilchuck snickered, his hand brushing across Laios’ chest with just a bit too much pressure to be purely friendly. “I’ve been wound up, too.”

Laios met Chilchuck’s lascivious gaze with concern. “Are you starving yourself again? You wouldn’t have such bad insomnia if you ate well.”

“I got wine, there’s nutrients in that,” Chilchuck giggled, giving Laios’ tit a fond pat. Laios smelled the drink on his breath and the hair on his neck stood on end.

“On an empty stomach? Chil…” “What you getting worked up for? I’m fine. I know what I’m doing.”

Laios’ brows furrowed. Chil stared up at him, waiting for him to back down, and the smug smirk only widened when he didn’t.

“You gonna force-feed me or something? I didn’t take you as into that kind of thing.” “Knowing how depraved you are, you’d enjoy it if I did.” Chilchuck scoffed. “Oh, yeah, you’re one to talk—”

Laios closed his book. “You’re being reckless,” he declared, in that know-it-all leader tone. Rarely used—Laios hated using it—but terse enough for Chilchuck to tilt his head and shut his mouth for a minute. Not long enough.

“Being a little tipsy doesn’t mean my eyes and ears don’t work,” Chilchuck groaned, pulling away and slumping onto the next step up from the one he was perched on. “It’s not my job to fight them anyway. All I gotta do is throw the bottle at your head and I’ve done my part.” “I’m not talking about the party, Chil.”

Chilchuck shrunk away from Laios and crossed his arms.

“When did you become such a nag?” Chilchuck groaned. “I’m older than you. I know my limits.”

Laios turned from his seat on the floor, rising on his knees, invading Chilchuck’s space. He braced his arms on either side of Chilchuck’s lap.

“Do I have to say why?” Laios rumbled. “If you don’t want me to care, stop making passes at me.”

Chilchuck clucked his tongue. “Didn’t have to hit on you to get you to take a few quills to the back for my bony ass.” “So much for never talking about that again.”

Chilchuck grinned. Laios’ eye twitched, knowing that Chil knew he’d taken the bait. Chilchuck reached up to cup Laios’ face; Laios let him, unfortunately.

“You can relax, big guy,” Chilchuck said, and the softness in his voice made Laios deflate all at once. “I got by just fine until you hired me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to believe you,” Laios murmured. Chilchuck could feel the muscles of his jaw working as he spoke, the weight of his heavy tallman skull in his palms. “I do. But you don’t know—" “I’m fine,” Chilchuck asserted. “What’s got you so…?”

He stopped, bit his tongue. Laios looked up at him with those insufferable, upturned puppy dog eyes, deep amber in the low firelight, and he remembered. Chilchuck let out a long-suffering sigh, stroked up his cheek into Laios’ hair and scratched his scalp.

“We got this,” Chilchuck said. “It’ll be alright.” Laios slumped forward into Chilchuck’s lap, thick jaw slamming down onto his legs like a harpsichord lid, and Chilchuck squawked. Laios turned his face into the loose-fitting, threadbare slacks Chilchuck normally wore to bed, sucking in a long breath that made his back rise and then letting it all out through his nose. It reminded Chilchuck of Leed’s wargs after a good dinner, resting their big, wrinkly heads on any friendly knee and whining for attention.

Chilchuck scratched at his sideburns. He knew propositioning Laios would be risky in the dungeon, but this wasn’t the kind of disaster he’d envisioned if it went wrong. His hand came to rest on Laios’ back, and he rubbed it along the length of Laios’ spine. Laios’ broad body sunk that much further into his lap. Chilchuck’s calves were going numb, but he held deathly stll, as if he’d scare Laios off. As if he didn’t want to scare Laios off and get out of this mess.

“We’ll find Falin,” Chilchuck said. “We did it before, and we’ll do it again.” Neither of them believed it, really, but it was a nice thought. Maybe if they chanted it enough a spell would be cast. No mana sickness yet; they’d have to keep at it.

“I’m pretty confident about that,” said Laios, muffled in Chilchuck’s legs. His breath puffed warm on his thighs in short, controlled breaths. “But if we do and we don’t get her, if the Mad Mage takes care of us, then—it’s not just Falin, anymore.”

Chilchuck’s breath caught. His fingers curled in Laios’ shirt and tugged fitfully. Laios didn’t budge.

“She used to be all I had, you know.” Laios hugged Chilchuck’s pins-and-needles calves, which further trapped him but also returned some level of blood flow. Small blessings. Chilchuck wished he were dead. “That was fine. It was—better that way. Less to worry about. Then I found a nice girl, and I proposed—"

“Wait, what?”

“—she was so cute, so nice to me, but when my father said Falin would have to leave, I couldn’t just leave my little sister to rot somewhere, so—I broke it off. It didn’t matter, if I could earn enough money and Falin would be okay—”

Try faking a heart attack. You have the plausible deniability. “He… sent Falin away?” He was dimly aware of Marcille and Falin having met at magic school. “You were supporting her?”

“—but I didn’t even—need to. She was happy where she was. And I still—I still dragged her here, let her get eaten, let the Mad Mage take her. What kind of brother—”

Chilchuck gripped the back of Laios’ skull and pulled at his hair, not enough to move him, but enough to shut him up. He let go and ruffled it instead, soothing out the tension in his scalp. Laios melted, limbs melting to the stone tunnel floor.

“I see why you’ve been so wound up,” Chilchuck said. “You’ve just been sitting here and spiraling. Are you even reading that book?”

Laios squeezed Chilchuck’s legs to his chest. “Not really. I’m looking at the words but I’m not… retaining anything.”

That’s bad. “Let me see it.” Laios looked up at Chilchuck with confusion, then distrust. “Please?” That only confused Laios further, but he lifted the worn old tome from the floor for Chilchuck to take.

“Dragons of the Eastern Archipelago,” Chilchuck read out. “Another cookbook, eh?”

The jocular tone whiffed right past Laios’ ears. “It’s… not really research,” he admitted. Chilchuck thumbed through the pages—there were many detailed technical sketches of long-bodied, short-limbed dragons with horsehair and deer antlers, strange boggling eyes and stretched lips. More impressionistic doodles filled the margins, with scrawled-circle eyes and jagged teeth, little flared scratches of the broad side of a pencil representative of dragon fire. Their fat snake bodies had wobbly, uneven sides and sloppily looping scales—but some were a little more distinguishable as a dragon than others.

“Ah.” Chilchuck cleared his throat. “Nothing wrong with a little light reading, I guess.” He tried on a smile. “The, uh, pictures are nice.” “I kept telling Falin that long don’t breathe fire,” Laios said, voice tight, “but she kept saying it would be cooler if they did.” “That’s what they’re called? Longs? Seems kind of on-the-nose.”

That managed to get a laugh out of Laios, but it sounded more exasperated than anything. “It’s just one of the native words used for them, but it’s not Shuro’s language, apparently. The word he uses is ryu.”

“I haven’t seen anydragons other than red and green. Maybe it’s just the dungeons I’ve been to.” Chilchuck said. He winced, realizing he’d just stumbled over a lecture topic, but Laios stayed folded across his lap, seemingly having gotten comfortable there, and stayed quiet. The silence made Chilchuck’s hair bristle. Chilchuck nudged him, knuckles against Laios’ temple.

“C’mon, man, I set you up. Go on.” “Now you’re just making fun of me.” “Seriously, Laios. I really want to know this time, and you’re gonna sulk about it?”

Laios turned up from his lap to read Chilchuck’s face, though he never seemed to be able to get it right all the other times he’d attempted it. Chilchuck heaved a melodramatic sigh and patted Laios’ head, an action that lowered his hackles. It really shouldn’t have worked that easily, but Laios closed his eyes and hummed.

“There are… so many kinds,” Laios said dreamily. Dread began to creep in on Chilchuck’s charitable mood, but he’d talked himself into a corner. “They’re super adaptable. Pretty much anywhere you have a dungeon or an ecosystem robust enough to support one, you can find a dragon.”

“I’ve, uh, heard about white dragons. Furry ones, kind of like these guys, but with wings and the stocky body type. Never seen one, though, so it could have been bullshit.” “Oh, they’re real. Pretty common up north.” “Do they really breathe ice? How does that work?”

“Basically, yeah. It’s super-cooled air. They have huge lungs and a fuel organ like a red dragon, but instead of burning the waste matter inside, it liquefies it into a kind of slurry—” Chilchuck grimaced, but Laios was already talking with his hands and not measuring Chilchuck’s enthusiasm. “—that undergoes a rapid chemical reaction when exposed to the air the dragon exhales.”

“Huh.” Chilchuck absently stroked the back of Laios’ neck. Laios squirmed, but didn’t complain. He slipped out of his kneeling position to sit flatter against the wall, head still flopped over Chilchuck’s lap but looking outward toward the fire. The angle looked uncomfortable, so Chilchuck dropped a step lower, letting Laios slide over just a bit more, lay more solidly in Chilchuck’s lap. Laios’ ears had turned red. “Y’know, I always just figured magic did it. I never knew any of the biology until I met you.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong for thinking that way,” Laios half-shrugged. “They wouldn’t exist without some kind of mana source, so they’re still a product of magic. But to sustain the kind of huge, complex bodies dragons have on mana alone would starve the ecosystem, so they have to develop organs and bones to keep them upright and moving to serve their purpose.”

“To destroy whatever enters their lair?”

“To survive.”

“Same as the rest of us, then.”

Laios hummed. Chilchuck’s wrists had begun to hurt from holding the book, so he propped it up on the crown of Laios’ skull. He didn’t seem to mind.

“So what’s this big pearl they keep drawing the long dragon with?” Chilchuck asked, even though the answer was right beneath it, indicated helpfully in a list of figures.

“Oh, that’s an egg, believe it or not.”

“No kidding.”

“Dragon clutches start out pretty big, but because of how demanding the hatchlings are, most of them don’t survive to adulthood. Some species of dragon choose a ‘favorite’ out of their eggs to focus on and raise instead…”

Chilchuck smiled into the palm of his hand as Laios rambled, flipping through the book to keep his eyes open as Laios talked, listening as the spaces between words grew and his tangents unspooled, dissolving into dreamlike nonsense. The weight of Laios’ head got heavier in Chilchuck’s lap until the static crept back in, but Chilchuck had no intention of moving him anymore. It was well past the scheduled watch shift change by the time Laios began to softly snore, but Chilchuck didn’t rouse him.

#chilaios #dungeon meshi #ficroller #if you recognize the dragon egg factoid i know what you are

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beskarandblasters · 23 hours

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Stonecatcher

Chapter Three: Let Me Be Your Stonecatcher Please

Din Djarin x OFC Athalia (Second Person POV)

Artwork: The Lovers by René Magritte Gif: @cherubispunk Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Series summary: An up-and-coming bounty hunter and a promising arms dealer cross paths on Dantooine. What starts as a business relationship quickly becomes more. How long can you bury your emotions and be a stonecatcher for someone else before you finally snap?

Series warnings: pre season one of The Mandalorian, instant smut but slow burn romantically, Athalia is able-bodied but other than that has no physical description, angst

Chapter summary: While on a supply run to Coruscant, you run into Mando.

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter warnings: anxiety, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, creampie

You’re on your way to Coruscant for a supply run, the first one you’ve ever had to do. This opportunity sort of fell into your lap. One of your new customers, Clint, was buying a blaster from you when he told you he knew a guy in Dantoo Town who was going to Coruscant. The contact in question, Sid, was looking for others to join the trip so long as they chip in on fuel. That agreement seemed fair to you so you said yes.

You’re leaning against the window of a ship, cheek pressed up to the cool glass, and staring out into the vastness of space. You’ve never left Dantooine, much less ventured out of Casia more than a handful of times, and yet you’re handling space travel better than you anticipated. The chatter among the passengers turns into white noise as you close your eyes, imagining what Coruscant is like. It’ll be weird to be around so many people, so many speeders, and so little nature for once.

Once you get to Coruscant, you’ll head to the lower levels, a place Sulee warned you about. You’re not sure how she knows so much about them considering that you’re almost certain she’s also never left Dantooine. Yet she has mysterious knowledge and wisdom that you definitely took into consideration for your journey.

Mind your business.

Don’t make eye contact with strangers.

Keep your head low.

Don’t let anyone walk all over you.

You’re nervous but also excited. You’re excited to see a new place and for this wonderful business opportunity.

But you can only think about your future endeavors for so long until your mind eventually wanders…

Mando.

It’s been another few weeks since you’ve seen him. You wonder what he’s doing. Probably off chasing another bounty.

You didn’t expect to see him after the first time you crossed paths. And yet you did. That has to mean something. It’s unfortunately all you’ve been able to think about. You told Sheva about the event that led you to miss the party at the cantina. But you’ve neglected to tell Sulee, assuming that in her old-fashioned ways, she’ll tell you that casual sex is a bad idea. Even though you think it’s already growing deeper, that a meaningful connection is already being forged. But all this begs the question;

When will you see him again?

You’ll get your answer soon enough.

Sid lands the ship in a docking yard while you stare out the window. Neon lights flash in your face and heavy raindrops pelt the windows. He reminds everyone that the ship will be leaving by mid-morning the next day, before disembarking. You’re doing this supply run alone. So you’ll have to meet the supplier, pay them, and carry everything back to the ship on multiple trips.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Sid asks as you head down to the lower levels. He must be going there, too.

You look over at him, watching as he shivers in the rain and noticing how the wet strands of hair stick to his forehead. He’s a human male, a couple of inches taller than you, with dark skin and warm eyes. His hair sits at his shoulders and goosebumps prick his skin where it’s exposed. You’ve only met him once before coming here but so far he’s proven to be a valuable contact and also a good friend.

“I do.”

“Do you need me to show you where to go? You know the password?”

“You did enough by getting me here. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll hang around the area if you need me. Chances are I’ll be in a cantina.”

“Sounds good,” you chuckle, bidding him goodbye before you head to the meet-up spot.

You’ve heard rumors of a sort of flea market for arms in the lower levels. Sid seemed to validate that it does indeed exist. He said it’s on Centurion Street, inside of a clinic. You have to approach the front desk and say the phrase, “I need a central processor for my Protocol Droid.”

You’re not nervous. You’ve got Sulee’s advice repeating in the back of your mind and a blaster attached to your belt. If you want to break into this industry, you need to know how to navigate it and how to interact with the clientele, plus all of the other shifty characters that come with territory.

You wander the streets before locating the correct street. It’s slightly less busy on Centurion Street but still just as shady. Your hand hovers above your blaster and you pray to the Maker you won’t need it. Soon you find the clinic and it definitely looks fake. You head inside and get a brief refuge from the rain. You’re the only one in the lobby and the overhead fluorescent light is somehow worse than the neon sign. Everything is absurdly clean, a harsh contrast to the neighborhood the clinic is in. You approach the front desk where the receptionist is sitting and tell her the code, half expecting her to laugh in your face. She gives you a knowing look and gets up to let you in. You follow her behind the desk and into an open doorway. And it’s a little underwhelming. For some reason, you were picturing a large secret market place but it’s just a guy in a back room with an absurd amount of weapons.

“Who sent you?” the man asks.

“Sid Clemon.”

“He didn’t come with you?”

“Nah, he decided to hit up a cantina.”

“Typical. Tell him don’t be a stranger,” he says before turning around to comb through his stock.

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“Anything and everything.”

You buy a decent chunk of his stock, mainly different types of blasters and a few thermal detonators. It takes you a couple of trips to get it all back to Sid’s ship. The man who sold them to you (whose name you didn’t get) didn’t offer to help you but you didn’t expect him to either. He did help you load all the product into large gray bags, telling you “Can’t be out there on the street with all of this out in the open. Can’t be showing your cards to just anyone.”

After the last trip, you head back down to the street, deciding to look for Sid in random cantinas and find out what to do next until you leave. Are you expected to sleep on the ship in the docking yard? Or are you supposed to find a random motel to stay at?

The rain has let up but everything is still rather wet, including your clothes. And now that the rain has gone away the street is even more crowded. You scan your surroundings, looking for a sign for a cantina. But you find something else instead.

There he is, standing in the busy street. Not Sid– Mando. Although you can’t see his face, you can tell by his body language that he’s overwhelmed. His helmet swivels in all directions, trying to keep an eye on every person around him. But it’s hard when the streets are packed with people shoulder-to-shoulder.

He still hasn’t noticed you yet. Instead of bursting through the crowd to head towards him, you wait. You wait for him to notice you. And when he does you can’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach. For some reason, it excites you to see him at a place other than Dantooine.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, placing a hand on the small of your back and guiding you off to the side.

“Supply run.”

“It’s not safe here.”

“I can hold my own, you know,” you say, tapping the blaster attached to your belt.

“Do you… need help?”

‘What do you mean?”

“Carrying stuff back to your ship.”

“Oh! I already finished, but thanks for the offer.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Killing time. We’re not leaving until tomorrow morning.”

“Who are you here with?”

“Just some guys from Dantoo Town.”

“Are they going to miss you for a few hours?”

“No… Why?”

He points to something behind your head so you turn to follow his gaze. Across the street is a neon sign for a motel that looks abysmal at best. Is he suggesting that you get a room together?

“Are you asking me to”

“Yes,” he says abruptly, replacing the hand on the small of your back and walking you towards the motel.

“Are we splitting it?” you ask.

“I’ll take care of it.”

He’s taking you to a motel. He’s paying for it. Stay calm. Stay calm.

It all happens so fast. He books a room and pays for it with a hefty handful of credits, leading you down the hallway. Once you’re in the room, he lets go of you, collapsing onto the bed.

“Are you… alright?” you ask, walking over to the side of the bed as the door closes behind you.

“I’m fine. I just don’t like this planet,” he says softly.

“Why?”

“Too many people.”

“Do they make you anxious?”

“...No.”

“It’s normal to get anxious, Mando.”

“Not for me.”

Poor guy. From what you’ve seen of him so far he doesn’t seem to be in touch with his emotions, which is why he’s rejecting his own anxiety.

“Can I help?”

“How?”

“You’ll see,” you say, moving to the foot of the bed.

The bulge in his flight suit catches your eye. He needs to be taken care of. You sink to the floor and motion for him to inch closer to you. He obliges, boots planted on the floor on either side of you. You palm his cock, hearing him groan while you touch him so delicately.

“You need to relax,” you tell him softly, increasing the pressure of your hand, “You’re so tense… Have you ever had anyone take care of you before?”

“...Not like this,” he says, poking up his helmet and looking at you.

“Lie back down,” you say gently, placing a hand on his breastplate and coaxing him to lie on his back again.

You remove his cock from his flight suit, watching it spring free from the confines of the fabric. You wrap your hand around the base, watching the pre-cum bead up at the tip of his cock before spilling over and running down his shaft. As you stroke him you watch the stress and exhaustion leave his body. He practically melts into the bed and it makes you feel good that you are the person to take care of him like this. Surely, he’s gotten head before, but probably not by someone who cares about him like this. You’re just assuming but you gather he’s not one for long-term relationships. It makes sense given his line of work but maybe he’s changing his ways. Why else would he cross the galaxy for you? He could’ve purchased that blaster anywhere. Maybe he’s developing feelings for you, too. Maybe he’s just not showing it.

You enclose your lips around the head of his cock while your hand continues to stroke him. Your other hand cups his balls, eliciting a deep moan from him.

“Feeling good?” you ask, pulling your mouth away for a moment.

“Mhm,” he moans, voice all strained and dripping with arousal.

You return your mouth to his cock and suck in your cheeks, watching as his hands grip the sheets at his sides. Your tongue slips in between the head of his cock and his foreskin, swirling around the sensitive tip. Saliva seeps out of your mouth and coats his shaft, making everything that much more effortless.

He melts into the bed as you bring him closer to the edge. But you’re not done with him just yet. You rise from the floor much to his dismay until he realizes what you’re doing. You peel off your wet clothes, nipples perking up in the cool air of the motel room. Goosebumps prick your skin and a shiver runs down your spine. He’s so attractive lying there on the bed, broad and spread out with his cock dripping in pre-cum. For once you’ll get to be face-to-face (well really face-to-helmet) when you fuck. The arousal drips down your legs as you get onto the bed, straddling him with your entrance grazing the head of his cock.

He doesn’t protest you straddling him. He embraces it instead, hands gravitating to your waist. You lower yourself onto his cock, slowly taking all of his length. He groans, reveling in the feeling of your warmth encapsulating his cock.

“Kriff, you feel good,” he says, squeezing your waist.

You rock your hips back and forth, feeling his cock sink into you deeper. You rest your hands on his breastplate, staring directly into the visor of his helmet. You lean forward, bringing your face closer to the black T shape.

“You’re so big, Mando,” you moan, voice getting high pitched on the last word as his cock hits a sensitive spot.

“Mmm, you take it so well, ruusaan,” he says, voice sultry and silky smooth.

Ruusaan. What does that mean?

You don’t have time to think about it as he jerks his hips up into you. You’re getting closer and closer to coming, and tingling sensations run throughout your body. Your fingers grip the edge of his breastplate, clinging for purchase as you rock your hips back and forth even faster. He’s getting closer, too, strained moans come out from underneath the helmet.

Your orgasm erupts from your core and your sounds of pleasure fill the small motel room. His orgasm is triggered by the sensation of yours, spilling over the edge thanks to your cunt clenching his cock. He guides the movement of your hips as you both cum, feeling you squirm and writhe while you ride out your high.

Once you’re done coming you pull yourself off of him, collapsing onto the bed beside him. You catch a glance of your wet clothes on the floor and get up to set them on the heater, wondering what’s next for you two. Normally, he leaves.

This time he doesn’t. Instead, his chest heaves up and down. You just want to take care of him again.

“Mando?” you ask, turning to face the bed. He doesn’t sit up. He remains where he is, his chest rising and falling as he tries to control his breath.

You glance at the chair at the desk across the room and walk over to it, pulling it out for him before reaching for his hand.

“Come sit.”

Reluctantly, he gets up from the bed and sits on the chair. His hands grip the armrests for dear life as if this is his way of releasing the stress. You stand behind the chair and ghost your hands over his shoulder pauldrons.

“Can I take these off?” you ask.

“Why?”

“To massage your shoulders?”

“Oh… Go ahead,” he says stiffly.

You remove each pauldron and place them on the desk, bringing your hands to his sore muscles. He’s as stiff as a board as you touch him and you have to gently remind him to relax.

“Relax,” you whisper beside his helmet.

You rub his shoulders like you’re absorbing his stress and anxiety. He slumps into the chair, helmet thrown back. You imagine his eyes are closed underneath.

Is this what peace looks like?

He falls asleep on the chair. You let him. It seems like he really needed the rest. Your clothes dry in the meantime and you get stressed again. It’s the middle of the night and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do until it’s time to go. Maybe you’ll sleep in the bed? And secretly hope he’ll wake up and join you.

That’s a reality you’ll only see in your dreams, though.

When you wake up you’re greeted by darkness. He must’ve turned the lights off. You feel around for him in the bed but he’s not there. Perhaps he’s still sleeping in the chair? Maybe he didn’t want to encroach on your space in the bed.

You reach for the lamp on the nightstand which illuminates an empty room. You’re alone. Sadness builds in your gut. He just… left you.

But not without a word. There’s a note on the nightstand. It reads;

Thanks for the massage. Catch you back in Casia.

At least he left a note.

You do one final look over of the room before leaving, grabbing his note and putting it in your bag. You set out into the early morning and wonder where Mando is now. You’re one of the first people to arrive back at Sid’s ship, waiting around in the stillness of a quiet Coruscant for once, before the planet wakes up. But eventually, you’re joined by the others.

“Jeez Athalia, did you stay up all night?” Sid asks, laughing at your disheveled state.

“Something like that,” you sigh.

“You could’ve stayed in the ship,” he points out, lowering the exit ramp.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you say, slumping into the same passenger seat you sat in on the way here.

The other passengers talk amongst themselves as you lean against the cool window of the ship. Sid takes off and before you can fall asleep you think about what he called you.

Ruusaan.

You’ll have to ask him what that means next time you see him.

There is one thing that’s certain- you have a lot you need to tell Sheva about.

Once you’re settled back in Casia with all of your purchases put away, you head to the cantina to tell Sheva about your trip.

She places her hand over her heart when she sees you, letting out a sigh of relief.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” you say, chuckling as you sit down at the bar.

“To be honest I wasn’t sure if you’d ever come back.”

“What do you mean?!”

“Come on, the lower levels are sketchy.”

“Well, I survived.”

“Congrats.”

“Anyway… I have something I have to tell you.”

“Spill,” she says, leaning on the countertop.

“I saw Mando again.”

“On Coruscant?!”

“Mhm.”

“Like you just happened to run into him?”

“Yup. On the street.”

“And how did that go?”

“We spent the night at a motel together.”

“Wow, things seem like they’re getting serious.”

You bite your lip and grimace. If only that were true.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Well… he left in the middle of the night.”

“He what?!”

“I mean he left a note!”

“But still… Girl, that’s suspicious.”

“I don’t think so. I think he just has an issue with commitment.”

“Do you have the note?”

You reach for your bag and pull out the folded-up piece of paper from the motel, handing it to her as she looks at it with a raised eyebrow.

“ ‘Thanks for the massage. Catch you back in Casia’… Girl, what is this?”

“I found him on the street. He took me to a motel where we had sex and then I rubbed his shoulders after. He seemed stressed,” you shrug.

“Exactly! He’s using you.”

“What?? No, he’s not.”

“He buys your products, has sex, and then leaves every single time. Except this time your “product” was in the form of a massage.”

“…You don’t think he’s feeling anything for me?” you ask, starting to feel doubtful.

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m not saying he doesn’t… I’m just telling you to be careful.”

“Thanks…” you say, getting up from your stool, “I’ll be careful. I promise”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No!” you half-lie, “I’m just tired from the trip.”

“I get it… Just think about what I said, okay?”

“I will,” you tell her, smiling at her before turning and leaving. The evening rush is just starting to make its way to the cantina. You’re tired from the trip but you also need to think about what Sheva said.

You don’t think he’s using you but also… so what if he is? You can take it until he fully realizes his feelings.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Tag list: @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @freelancearsonist @djarins-cyare @survivingandenduring @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @chiyo13 @pedrostories @schnarfer @burntheedges

If you like my work, consider supporting me on Ko-fi!

#stonecatcher #din djarin x oc #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original female character #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x original character #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian smut

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siriussslut · 2 days

Text

casual: mary macdonald

“knee deep in the passenger seat, and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?”

warnings: explicit smut, oral sex, semi-public sex, and worst of all- a situationship

masterlist

okay guys let me know if you want me to make this a multiple part thing cuz there are quite a few lyrics about sex in this song + it could end with them getting together. hope u enjoy! 💞

———————————————————————

“hey,” mary slides into the driver’s seat beside you. she’s in a short, pink, floral dress with an empire waist, accentuating her breasts. not that they need to be accentuated. your gaze drops to her exposed cleavage.

“so i was thinking we could go see the movie and then stop at…” she trails off when she sees where you’re staring. she smirks. “or we could just stay here.”

you’d rather it honestly. it’s much harder being “casual” on a literal date. and casual’s what mary wants, isn’t it?

“or we could just stay here.” you repeat. you’re in her car, parked in an open garage.

“we can’t go inside, my family’s home.” she’s staring at you like she wants to eat you. like she’d unhinge her jaw just to swallow you whole.

“well we have- room.” you gesture to the car. you don’t really. it’s a small, old beetle, but you two have made do in tighter spaces.

she grins, climbing onto you. she straddles you, pressing your lips together in a kiss.

“you’re so hot,” she mumbles in between kisses. her dress is short enough that it doesn’t cover beneath where she sits, and mary’s almost always wearing a thong, so her bare ass is pressed up against your thighs.

“you’re so hot,” you say back, squeezing her ass. she reaches for the chair levers as you kiss. her tongue slips inside your mouth just as she pulls, pushing the chair as far back as it goes.

she breaks away, sliding down before the seat. you spread your legs, knees sticking up, one poking out the car. you help her unzip your shorts, tossing them aside. she pulls your underwear to the side, lips slick and red, plump from kissing. “fuck, you’re so wet.”

she removes your underwear, tossing it along with your shorts.

“what if someone sees us?” the garage door is about three-quarters up, the setting sun bathing the two of you in shades of pink, red, and orange.

“then you better come quick.”

you moan the moment her lips connect with your pussy. she licks between your folds, collecting your desire on her warm tongue. “you’re so delicious.” her nose bumps into your clit as she talks into your lips.

you press your hand against your lips, stifling a whine so loud her family would definitely hear.

she licks her way up to your clit, engorged and waiting. her lips wrap around it as she uses to fingers to spread open your hole.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” she says around your pulsing bud, slipping two fingers inside your cunt.

your fingers tangle in her curls, pushing her face deeper into your sopping pussy.

she kisses your clit, before sucking on it like candy. her fingers thrust in and out of you, filling the garage with pornographic squishes.

she’s devouring you like you’re her last meal, all while fucking you at a brutal pace. through dancing spots, you see an older man turn the corner of the street.

“m-mary,” you mumble in a fucked-out daze. “someone’s getting close.”

she loosens her oral grip on your clit to talk into your pussy, soft and silky. “then come. come into my mouth, baby.”

she presses kisses on your clit, nibbling gently with her teeth. as the man nears, something inside you snaps. you moan into your hands, barely succeeding in muffling the whimpers of mary’s name.

you close your legs as he gets close enough to see, still riding the high of your orgasm.

#mary macdonald #mary macdonald smut #mary macdonald x reader #mary macdonald x reader smut #marauders #marauders smut #marauders era #marauders era smut #marauders girls #marauders girls smut #marauders era girls #marauders era girls smut #smut #harry potter smut #hp smut

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3-2-whump · 3 days

Text

Tying Up Loose Ends

<prev

Okay I'm back!

(But you had hardly left!)

Whatever! Here's the next chapter and the conclusion of this

TW/CW: creepy whumper, jealous whumper, manipulative whumper (I guess?), nsfwhump (not graphically described), noncon (at the very end, not graphically described, and honestly you could end the chapter just before it happens and it would still make sense)

A rhythmic series of knocks reverberated through the door of the office at half past eleven, just as Thomas had planned. He scooted closer towards his desk and minimized the windows he had opened on his desktop PC. “Come in,” he replied.

The door cracked open. The kid –Nico, my nephew, Michael once told him–stepped hesitantly inside, shoulders to ears, brows drawn tensely. “Y-you wanted to see me, Boss?”

“I did.” He gestured to a chair in front of the desk. Nico approached it stiffly, visibly uncomfortable being so close to the Don of the Costa Family. “Oh come on, sit down, I don’t bite, you know!” he chuckled.

Nico briefly looked around the room, eyes bright and alert. “Wait, where’s Khaled?” he asked, blinking at the empty space behind the Boss’ chair.

“On a coffee run,” Thomas answered simply. He suppressed an eye roll as Nico looked down, squinting at the bottom of the desk as if he could see through it if he stared hard enough. He cleared his throat, and Nico snapped his gaze back up. “I could ask him to get you something before he leaves the café, if you’d like?”

Nico shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him like that,” he insisted. The young man drew back the chair and took his seat across from the Don, and waited in questioning silence.

No matter how many times he had rehearsed this meeting in his head, nor how many arrangements he had to make over the past couple days to lead the boy to this point, Thomas still couldn’t help the nerves that feathered into the edges of his composure. Keep it cool, keep your tone calm, never betray how you truly feel, stay in control, a familiar voice once told him.

“So, how’s school?” An innocuous line, and as good an opener as any.

“Great, it’s been great.” Nico huffed an awkward little laugh as he hung his signature smile. “Which reminds me, thank you so much for allowing me this job in the first place, sir! I never got to thank you properly, or in person before-”

Thomas stopped him with one raised palm. “Hey, hey, that wasn’t all me. Let’s give a little credit to your Uncle Mike, too, right?” Nico conceded with another awkward laugh. “I understand it that this job helps you pay for your schooling, is that correct?”

“I mean, yeah,” Nico began to answer. “I don’t know how much college was back in your day, let alone law school-”

I never went to college, Thomas remembered, trailing off into his own thoughts as Nico kept nervously rambling. That was never really my scene. Never really had the brains for it, or the personability, according to my teachers. My brother, the Golden Child, on the other hand…

He redirected his thoughts at the right time where Nico started to complain about the most important part. “Wait, can you say that again?” he requested.

“My last tuition payment didn’t go through,” Nico repeated, an edge of desperation in his voice. “And if I don’t scrounge up enough money within the next two months, I won’t be able to afford my next semester’s worth of classes!”

Thomas gave a sympathetic expression of concern, even though he knew about this all along. After all, he was the one who delayed the payment to the college. “Is that so?” he asked with feigned interest.

The door cracked open again, though this time a familiar young intern entered. He cradled a cup of coffee in one hand and carried a takeout bag in the other. The guard whipped his head around, nearly bolting from his chair in shock. “Khaled?”

“Nico?” The boy approached, dumbfounded as he wordlessly set the spoils of his errand onto the Boss’ desk.

“You actually were out?” This time, Thomas rolled his eyes. Was it so hard to believe he used his fuck toy for honest work sometimes? (He supposed maybe yes, considering how much Nico had probably inadvertently witnessed over the past three years.)

Khaled’s well-timed entry provided a natural transition to the second half of his plan. “Speaking of which, I would like to thank you for looking out for Khaled this last weekend,” Thomas said. His boy silently took up post behind the desk, standing up straight with eyes slightly downcast, as he had trained him. “You’re a good kid for that. Most guys, they probably would’ve taken liberties, but not you.” Thomas craned his neck to look over his office chair. “Isn’t he a good kid?”

“Yes, sir,” Khaled readily agreed.

“Oh, no, please, I’d have done that for anybody! He’s my friend.” Thomas noticed how Nico cast a furtive glance at the boy behind him.

Friend, my ass. The very thought of how ‘friendly’ those two might have gotten had he not intervened that night made him seethe in possessive jealousy, though he maintained that icy façade of control.

“Of course, even if Khaled doesn’t remember it, you and I both know he was a wreck, wasn’t he?” The boy had sworn up and down and sideways that he didn’t remember what he had told his friend that night, no matter how much he’d tried to beat a confession out of him. Thomas leaned over the desk, dropping the volume of his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Since Khaled still had no idea what he had told Nico, the next best course of action was to discredit his words entirely. “He was saying some pretty crazy things, wasn’t he? Things that you and I both know not to take too seriously?”

“Well… I don’t know” Nico began, “don’t they say ‘in vino veritas?’”

“Don’t they also say ‘God don’t pay tuition?’”

You’re being too blunt again, a familiar voice in his memory chastised. Yet he couldn’t help but smile as he saw understanding dawn on the young man’s face. “Well, go on,” he coaxed the young man standing behind him. “Tell him.”

Khaled bristled uncomfortably before hanging his head low. “He’s right,” he agreed somberly. “I may not remember what I said, but, it was probably not true. You should just forget it.”

“But, Khaled-” Nico began to protest.

“You heard him yourself, kid,” Thomas cut in. “Now, you’re gonna forget whatever it was he said when he was wasted, and just keep studying hard, alright?”

Nico attempted to make meaningful eye contact beyond the boss’ shoulder, but Thomas didn’t have to turn around to know Khaled would keep his eyes firmly fixed to the floor. The young guard let out a defeated sigh as he slumped back in the chair and offered a small, reluctant nod. “Yes, sir. Like it never even happened,” he muttered.

Check mate.

“Good boy.” Thomas leaned back in his chair, his hands folding on the top of the desk as his mouth curled into a small smirk of victory. “Now, try contacting Student Financial Services again. I have a feeling your tuition payment might’ve been resolved after all.” He waved him off with a final self-satisfied smile. “You may go.”

The kid looked green around the gills as he pushed himself up from the chair and excused himself from the room. As soon as he left, Thomas swiveled around to face the boy behind him. Khaled ventured a resentful, hopeless glare into his owner’s eyes before looking once again to the floor. “Well?” he goaded. Khaled did not rise to the bait.

Thomas pushed away from the desk, motioning to the familiar darkness underneath the hardwood like he was commanding a dog to lie. “Go on.” He took a sip of the slightly cooled coffee as he watched his intern crouch and fold himself into the space with stiff reluctance. “You know what to do, and you know how hard you need to work to get back in my good graces,” he sneered. “Now, put that tongue of yours to a better use.” He pushed himself back in and trapped the young man underneath the desk.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344

#whump writing #creepy whumper #jealous whumper #manipulative whumper #nsfwhump #tw implied noncon #not graphically described but its there

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thewastelandlosers · 3 months

Text

Looking at me with them big ol' eyes

#he stares so much and gets so close into your space #i love the thought that he's purely and naturally a space invader and doesnt realise he needs to keep a sociable distance unless told too #im guessing other companions get up in the LW space too but i dont have them do i wouldnt know #so i just see it as a Charon trait and other companions know what personal space means #Charon would be 'personal space for me but not for thee'#Charon #Fallout #Fallout 3 #Fallout Charon #Fallout gameplay

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fisheito · 3 days

Note

Imagine you have to set up yakumo's enclosure for the next couple months. How do you set it up and what do you put in there?

oh NO.! THE PROPPHECY HAS BEenm FUFILLED

i am standing in my room, leggies rooted to the floor. i am in shock .frozen and i have no idea how to proceed. there is a perpetual pathetically sobbing serpent under my blankie.

#stares at the camera and stage whispers #i can't be responsible for another living creature. i can't. or . er. i can. but I SHOULDN'T #i'll have to suppress every violent urge in my body to keep this thing alive for several months #i CANNOT fling him out the window. i WILL NOT grab his entire face and squeeze. I SHALL NOT chew on his tail.#now i'm reminded of that post where it's a pretty princess cage on the floor and comments go [that aint big enough for a dog]#and OP is all [it's not FOR a dog 😀]#yeah. that's me right now imagining a full grown yakumo in a cage by my bedside #SO FOR EASE OF MY IMAGINATION AND TO increase yaku's chance of surviving these next months #i'm going to try real hard to imagine him exclusively in pocket snake form (scrunches up my face in valiant effort)#his enclosure (crib?!?!) is flanked on all sides by eiden plushies #since yaku is an adult there is a smaller chance of him suffocating on eiden in his sleep. wait. actually #arranges the eiden walls to give some pockets of air. i don't trust him. he WILL suffocate on eiden given the opportunity #he gets one of those tiny dollhouse cooking sets for enrichment LOL #or i'll give him a bunch of those make-your-own gummy kits with elaborate setups and tiny egg gummies #crying yaku is the excuse i need to finally get a humidifier #i can survive not misting myself.. usually... but yaku will cry himself into dehydration. it's misting time #he gets an entire alcove closed off in the corner with his basic needs met. i cannot perceive #he can lurk in privacy as much as he wants. there are at least TWO hot rocks in there with garukaru's faces painted on em #there is a duplicate open-space alcove next to it for when he actually wants something from me LOL #is he a free range snake? can i take him to a bunch of restaurants and shove food into my sleeve for him? he wants to sample the delights..#tempted to put a bell on him just so if he gets loose in the basement i'll know to fish him out #but he's pretty cautious... he won't get into any fatal situations in the house right? ...does he know how to swim?!#at least one day is reserved for testing yaku's swimming capabilities.#he is going into the bathtub while it has a film of water. gonna test his traction. i hope i won't get panic-strangled #asks

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makoodles · 4 months

Text

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

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, inexperienced!reader, first time blow jobs, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, riding, jealous ghost, some communication issues!

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The problem with sleeping with a man like Ghost, you’re coming to realise, is that now that you’ve experienced the reality of sex (and good sex) you can’t stop thinking about it.

In the week following the night you’d spent together, you swear you can feel his phantom touch on your hips, your thighs, your back. It feels like he’s carved a space for himself inside of you, something you’ll never get back – not that you want it back in the first place.

Realistically, you know that the whole ‘loss of virginity’ thing doesn’t have as much to do with how you’re feeling as the fact that it was Ghost who had taken it. You had long bullied your hymen out of the way with your collection of silly dildos, but nothing could have prepared you for the scorching hot heat of Ghost’s massive cock splitting you open, or his clever tongue licking at you, or his thick calloused fingers rubbing torturous circles into your clit and fraying your nerves apart.

The worst part is, you don’t know if anything is ever going to live up to the way he made you feel again. You’ve tried to replicate his touches, his rhythm, the way he had split you open, but your fingers are too small and none of your dildos can imitate the way he had worked you stupid. To your immense dissatisfaction, you don’t even come close to coming again.

It feels like something inside of you has cracked open, and you don’t know how to stop all of this new yearning, how to stuff it all back inside and pretend that nothing has changed.

The problem is that while you feel as though you’ve been changed from the inside out, you don’t think Ghost feels the same way. Maybe the most infuriating thing is that Ghost seems entirely unaffected. Other than a couple of lingering glances and knowing stares, there’s no indication that he had done anything more intimate with you than grappling at training.

All you can do is attempt to follow his lead, to be as casual as possible.

It’s harder than it sounds.

You find your whole body straining towards him when he’s close to you, though you try to keep cool. You fail miserably. You can’t even look in Ghost’s direction without thinking of his big fingers hooked inside you, rubbing at your clit, squeezing at your tits. You can hardly look him in the eye without thinking of the way he looked when he was squeezed between your thighs with his mouth on your cunt, the way those big brown eyes watched as you writhed on his tongue.

And yet, you can hardly tear your eyes away from him. You look at him in a completely different light now. He’s the first man to take you, the first one to touch you so intimately, the first one to make you come. He’s still your lieutenant, but it’s like all of a sudden your eyes have been opened to a new aspect of him. He’s no longer just your untouchable superior, the man who’s always so cold and distant behind that death mask – now he’s the man who was gentle with you, the man who kissed you sweetly when he took your virginity, the man who gave you the first, second, third orgasm of your life.

But despite the way you had been offered that new little glimpse into Ghost, he still remains an enigma to you.

You can feel his eyes on you throughout the week, though it’s never at the same time as when you’re looking at him. And maybe you’re imagining it, but it seems as though he’s gotten freer with his touches, too. A big palm on the small of your back as he steps past you, a quick squeeze to the shoulder. It’s subtle, and you can’t be sure that he’s actually touching you anymore than usual.

But other than the subtle glances and the light touches, Ghost doesn’t make any genuine effort to approach you again. He still treats you like just another member of the squad, no different to Soap or Gaz.

If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training. You end up standing to the side, sending infrequent glances their way in the hopes that he’ll give you something.

You’ve never been the fittest or the strongest, but your level of distraction in those few days following your night with Ghost is absolutely mortifying. You’re slow, you’re clumsy, you mess up everything.

You don’t think you can be blamed when you’re working in the same space as Ghost. You can hardly bring yourself to look his way when he’s lifting weights, unable to handle looking at the flex and curl of his muscles under his long-sleeve black workout shirt. It clings to him, letting you see every little shift of muscle and tendon beneath that stupid top as he works, and your mind very unhelpfully provides a slideshow of memories of him between your spread thighs.

You know it’s obvious. You glance at him, then glance away, then back again. Your eyes linger, bright and too interested, before you’re able to hide it. You wonder sometimes if your yearning is obvious on your face; you hope not.

But if Ghost sees it – any of it – he gives no indication.

If you have to be honest with yourself, you’ll admit that you’re disappointed. You had hoped that– well. You’re not sure you can bear to admit what you’d hoped, even just to yourself. It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldn’t be content with just being your first, that maybe he’d want to be your second, your third. Silly. Almost blasphemous.

You don’t technically have to show up to training, so after only two days of your awkward and uncertain pining in the gym, you stop showing up. The role you fulfil as part of the 141 is a non-combat one, so you know you won’t be missed in their ongoing training. You’ve mostly been working in communications; maintaining secure communication channels and ensuring that information is transmitted accurately and securely. The boys rely on you in the field, and you feel like you owe them a certain level of physical fitness just in case things go frighteningly wrong when you’re out there with them.

There’s just something so mortifying about the whole situation. It feels as though Ghost had peeled back the layers of you and taken a peek at your soft unprotected insides. You’d been vulnerable in front of him in a way you’d never been in front of anyone before, in a way that you can hardly stand. You had thought that you’d been okay with it being a one time thing, but you weren’t exactly doing a whole lot of thinking at the time.

So yeah, every time he glances away from you, or when he doesn’t even bother to look in your direction at all, it feels like you’re being rejected anew. It’s…. It’s not ideal. But you’re a big girl, and you’ve dealt with repressed desire and stifled yearning for years now. At least now you have a real experience to add to your reserve of imagination the next time you try to get yourself off.

It’s fine. You convince yourself that you were being ridiculous in the first place. He’s Ghost, after all. You feel a little foolish for even having the brief hope that something more might happen between the two of you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You manage to keep to yourself for most of the week, and the rest of the squad is kind enough not to say anything about it. But when Thursday comes around, you realise it’s not going to be possible to avoid Soap and his persistent insistence that you join them all in the moderately-sized cantina for drinks that night.

Truthfully, it doesn’t take too much persuading to convince you to go. Avoiding training with the squad had resulted in a week of isolation that had left you lonely and wishing for some social interaction. Besides, you’ve never quite been able to say no to Soap, and so you’re dragged to the little cantina for the second Thursday in a row.

To your absolute bewilderment, you find yourself in the exact same position as you had been in the last time you shared drinks with the squad, exactly one week ago.

Despite hardly speaking to you all week, Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week. You end up partially squashed into the arm of the sofa, with Ghost’s massive hulking body brushing against you with every slight movement.

It’s galling to admit it, but you feel like you’re on fire. He doesn’t say much other than a soft murmur of a greeting when he first settles down beside you, but then he throws his arm around the back of the couch in a move that’s unexpectedly intimate.

You try not to read too much into it. While Ghost may be fairly aloof and menacing to those that don’t know him well, to you and the squad he’s always been subtly territorial. His eyes flick around the room semi-regularly, never at ease even in the middle of base. When Gaz goes to get drinks, Ghost’s eyes follow him until he gets back as though he’s expecting something to happen in the few minutes and couple of feet that he’s gone. He does the same when Price steps out for a smoke, and when Soap steps out to the toilet.

So the arm behind you (technically resting on the back of the couch rather than your shoulders) doesn’t actually mean anything. The curious look that Soap sends you doesn’t mean anything either, and you studiously ignore it as you force yourself to relax at Ghost’s side.

You drink the vodka soda Gaz hands you a little quicker than you mean to – maybe it’s because your nerves are already set on edge, but the alcohol goes to your head. Quickly.

It’s a pleasant floaty feeling, and it eases some of the anxiety that’s been bubbling thanks to the heat that sinks into your skin from his side pressed up against you. By the time you drain your glass, you’re leaning against his side. He doesn’t react, for better or worse; you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand, whether he likes you bundled up by his side or if he’s just tolerating it.

When Ghost’s eyes finally slide over to you from behind the dark pits of his mask, you nearly jolt. His gaze is lazy and half-lidded, but he reaches out to take the glass from you. His gloved fingers brush over yours, and you can’t stifle the embarrassing little judder that runs down your spine.

“Slow down.” He murmurs, setting the glass aside. “It’s still early.”

You had been hoping all damn evening that he would just look at you, but now that you finally have his eyes on you it feels as though you’re pinned down by them. You try not to squirm, once again remembering the way those dark eyes had watched you so darkly as he had hunched over you, rutting into you until the tears were streaming down your cheeks.

Your mind goes blank under his attention and his closeness, the ambient noise of glasses clinking and loud voices laughing and joking and muffled old eighties tunes fading to nothing until the sound of Soap’s loud voice brings you back to yourself.

“Let the lass drink, LT.” He crows, grinning, and you realise that he already has another couple of drinks in his hands. You hadn’t even noticed him leaving for the bar. “She deserves to have fun tonight. Don’t you, bonnie?”

“Sure.” You agree easily, relieved by the distraction and already reaching for the new drink. You’re still all fidgety and distracted, eager to drown yourself in it. “I deserve fun.”

It feels as though Ghost’s gaze is burning right into the side of your head, but you fixedly ignore him. He’s so intense, you’re pretty sure that you look like a dazed idiot under the weight of his attention. It’s the most he’s looked at you all week, and you attempt to hide your face behind your glass as you take a sip of your fresh drink.

He’s drinking too, though he’s foregone his usual whiskey in favour of a dark lager that he’s barely touched. The glass is sweating with condensation, and he swipes a thick gloved thumb over the fog on it absent-mindedly as he watches you.

You watch Gaz and Soap as they joke with each other, trading jibes and jabs and stories that you hardly even hear. It feels a little as though your ears have been filled with cotton wool, as though everything around you is just distinctly muffled. You feel like you’re on another planet, awareness tethered only by the hot, hard line of Ghost’s muscular body pressed against your side.

Over the last week, you’ve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.

You’ve heard men laughing about girls they’ve slept with who’ve become too clingy, who’ve wanted too much, and wasted their time searching for something that those guys aren’t willing to give. Maybe it’s because you’re so conscious that Ghost has taken several of your firsts, but you’re so determined to not be that person.

Ghost isn’t exactly a big talker anyway, unless it’s the odd sarcastic comment or ribbing with Soap, so it’s not like you’ve talked about the situation. You had just awoken the morning after with a deep ache in your core and a sore back, though the pain was soothed by the warm embrace you were all wrapped up in. You had been nervous, but you needn’t have been. Ghost had given you nothing. He just rubbed your back with one shovel-sized hand and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder (through the mask, so you don’t know what to make of that) before he rolled out of your bed to pull his trousers back on, grunting that he’d see you later.

So, you don’t talk about it. Not with him, and not with anybody. It feels like so much has changed, yet everything stays the same. The deja vu you’re experiencing from sitting on the couch drinking with him like this is overwhelming, and experiencing him staring at you like this after a full week of distance is making you feel hot and fuzzy and stupid.

While Soap is in the midst of a loud and enthusiastic retelling of a story from his basic training days, you build up the courage to glance up at Ghost. He’s already looking at you, as though anticipating your attention.

“You’re staring at me.” You mumble, your fingers clenching compulsively around your chilled glass.

Ghost shifts, and you feel the thick muscle of his bicep roll behind your head. He grunts in quiet agreement.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything else, uninterested in justifying or explaining himself. It’s like he thinks that he doesn’t need to; he just keeps watching you, his light blond eyelashes drawing low over his eyes as his head tilts.

Self-conscious under his intensity, you glance away again. Soap is still talking, but you can’t focus. Despite the fact that Ghost is big and warm and so frustratingly attractive beside you, it’s hard to ignore the subtle prickle of irritation that’s growing under your skin.

After all, he had taken your virginity and then proceeded to act as though nothing at all had changed between you for the rest of the week, and now he’s sat next to you with his gaze that heated? What the fuck?

The second drink goes down even easier than the first thanks to your awkwardness. You’re not sure what to make of his attention – you’ve spent the whole week keeping a sense of distance, determined to stay cool and casual. The last thing you want to do is freak him out by seeming like an over-eager idiot that’s gone and fallen in too deep with him, unwilling to lose whatever meagre respect Ghost has developed for you since you started working with the 141.

“I’ll get the next round.” You blurt suddenly, pushing yourself up off the couch.

It’s too abrupt to be casual, and you pointedly don’t look at the half-full glasses in your squad mates’ hands as you hurry away. You probably could have played that off better, but you need a moment to collect yourself away from Ghost’s relentless stare.

You take the opportunity to breathe at the bar, rubbing at your eyes and sighing. The bartender is busy, so you just stand there for a long moment, mentally chastising yourself.

God, this is just embarrassing. You’re a grown fucking woman, and here you are getting so ridiculously flustered over your lieutenant. You never thought that you’d be the type to turn into a silly little mess over the first man you ever sleep with, but maybe it was inevitable. The little embers of that crush you had been harbouring on Ghost since you joined the team have been fanned into a full on flame and you hardly know how to handle yourself.

It takes a significant effort to keep your attention away from the table; you can’t help but want to look, to see if Ghost is still looking your way, but you keep your eyes to yourself.

When another body appears at your side, you jolt in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be followed, and your first thought is that it must be Soap. But when you glance to your side, you find a stranger standing closer to you than you expected.

Well, he’s not a total stranger. You know him to see around the base, sandy-haired with a too wide smile. You think he might be a second lieutenant, but you’ve never actually had any dealings with him and you can’t think of a name… Daniels, maybe?

“Hello there,” He says, and even with those two words his intentions are unmistakable. His tone is suggestive, as is the way his eyes scan over your body. “How you doing?”

It’s far from the first time you’ve been hit on by men; it comes with the territory of being a woman in a male-dominated environment. They look at you like they want to eat you sometimes, in a way that sets your teeth on edge. You’ve always danced around the subject of intimacy, embarrassed about your lack of experience and too anxious to actually seek out anyone to change that. What happened with Ghost was unexpected, and just about changed your entire outlook on sex and physical pleasure for life.

Your first reaction, as always, is to shut him down or ignore him. But something makes you pause, and glance back at him.

He’s sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.

“Let me get this next one for you,” He says, gesturing at the bartender to catch his attention. “What’re you having?”

“Uh..” You hesitate a moment, biting your lip. “Vodka soda.”

He orders, then leans against the bar and turns to face you fully. His gaze is appreciative, and for once you don’t shy away from it. You so rarely return male attention that you hardly know what to do, but you manage to muster up an awkward smile.

When the bartender returns with your drink, you feel a momentary pang of guilt. You had almost forgotten that you were meant to order drinks for the table, and you send a swift glance over your shoulder.

The boys are still engrossed in their conversation, hardly even noticing your absence. All but Ghost.

The lieutenant has half-turned, his arm still slung over the couch where you had been sitting as he stares. The realisation that his eyes are still on you has your spine straightening, self-conscious now about your posture and your body language.

You look away swiftly, and try not to feel guilty. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all. He hasn’t spoken to you all week despite the fact that he’d nearly done your back in fucking you.

Your experience with Ghost may have been a one-time thing, no matter what you might have been hoping for, but there’s no reason that it has to be a one-time thing for you with anyone else. Even with your stupid vibrators and dildos, you haven’t been able to come close to coming in the week following your night with your lieutenant. You’re starting to wonder if maybe you’re not capable of coming without someone else’s hands on you.

“I’ve seen you around, been meaning to talk to you,” Daniels is saying, and in your distraction you almost miss it. “But it’s, uh… it’s a little difficult to catch you alone.”

You almost scoff, but you manage to swallow it back down. You know exactly what he means; the 141 sticks together and looks out for each other, but it also sometimes feels like you have a couple of overprotective guard dogs. They take watching you seriously, probably due to your non-combat role on the team, and you’ve never discouraged it because you like the way they make you feel safe.

“Yeah, the guys can be a little protective.” You laugh a little weakly. “But don’t mind them.”

Even now, you can feel Ghost’s dark eyes burning into you from across the room. You wonder how on earth Daniels remains so unaware of it.

“Mm,” Daniels leans in, his white teeth glinting. “Can’t blame them, I suppose. Why don’t you come and join me and some of the lads at our table for a bit? Spend some time with some new people.”

You shift on the balls of your feet, thinking. Admittedly, you’ve never been big on socialising when on base, other than the usual minor exchange of pleasantries. You hardly even know what to do in the face of a man’s interest in you now.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You demur, reaching up to scratch absently behind your ear. “I don’t think the boys would appreciate me abandoning them for the night.”

Daniels’ smile widens, and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel clumsy with your socialising, as though you’re stretching muscles you’re not used to using. Since you had joined the 141, you hadn’t done too much mingling outside of the squad; they’ve been your only friends and confidantes, ribbing and supporting you in equal measure. In the face of a stranger in the on-base cantina, you find yourself floundering.

“I think they get enough of your time,” He murmurs, leaning against the bar in such a way that his body is angled towards you. “C’mon, I’ll buy you another few drinks and we can get to know each other, huh?”

Maybe the vodka was a bad idea. It’s lowering your inhibitions, making you actually consider his offer. You’re pent up from a week of unsuccessful touching yourself, and you crave physical intimacy.

If you can’t get a repeat performance from Ghost, then maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if you looked elsewhere, with someone who might be interested in more than a one time thing.

You glance down at Daniel’s hands where they’re wrapped around his beer glass. They’re big, with strong slender fingers and calloused knuckles. Nice hands, you think, but you can’t help but compare to the enormous thick paws of your lieutenant. Still, you think they’d do the job.

“Well–” You start to say, your tone wavering and uncertain as you consider his officer.

But you don’t get to give him an answer before a massive hand settles on your shoulder. It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.

For a moment, Ghost says nothing at all. He just stands at your shoulder, so close that you feel the muscle of his chest and stomach brush against your back, and stares at Daniels from over the top of your head. The glare isn’t even directed your way, and yet you find yourself wilting from it.

“On your way, Sergeant.” Ghost drawls, lifting his chin and gesturing at him dismissively.

Despite Ghost’s obvious intimidation factor, Daniels doesn’t immediately do as he’s told. He huffs out a short breathless laugh instead, as though he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.

“We’re only talking, Lieutenant–”

Ghost doesn’t even respond. His glower just intensifies, until Daniels trails off and his mouth snaps shut. You get the impression that if anyone else tried to intimidate him just by staring and posturing, Daniels might actually square up and fight. He seems like the type to make poor decisions while drinking – maybe you were going to be one of them.

But as it is, Ghost has an intimidation factor unmatched by anyone else you’ve ever known. It goes beyond his giant hulking physique and skull mask and low gravelly voice that can sound like a clap of thunder when he’s angry. It’s like he has an aura, something that radiates off him in dark waves saying ‘Don’t fuck with me’. Any sensible person would back the fuck off when faced with his full, unwelcoming attention.

And sure enough, Daniels is no exception. He raises his arms to his shoulders and gives Ghost a mocking sort of smile before retreating backwards. To your mortification, he doesn’t so much as glance your way even as he turns his back on you.

Irritation settles over you like a blanket. It makes your skin itch and your teeth grind, and you turn to scowl at Ghost.

“What the hell was that?” You demand, and your voice comes out sharper than you had technically intended.

Ghost’s head tilts, and those sharp dark eyes find you from behind the mask. The eyeblack is beginning to fade in patches around the inner corners of his eyes – bizarrely, it serves as a reminder that Ghost is just a man, not just a massive wall of muscle with a terrifying glower.

“What was what?” He says. His voice has dropped a notch, deep and rumbling into you even as you step away and turn so that you’re facing him head on.

“You– I was just–” You flounder for a moment, searching for words as you gesture uselessly with your hands.

You’re indignant over his interruption, and your frustration grows as you find yourself unable to articulate yourself. Where the hell does he get off interrupting you talking to another man? He hadn’t spoken to you all week, and now he feels confident enough to cockblock you?

“Mm.” Ghost grunts. “What were you doing?”

Your jaw clenches. “I was talking. Is that a crime now?”

Jesus, you sound like a brat. You don’t even know where this insubordination is coming from; he’s your lieutenant, regardless of that one night you had spent with him. You’re being too bold talking like this, but it’s like you just can’t help yourself.

His eyes darken, lashes blocking out his irises as his gaze narrows at you. You force yourself to maintain eye contact, to keep your spine straight and shoulders back despite your impulse to crumble.

“Watch that mouth, doll.” He warns, his voice low, and you feel your stomach tighten at both his words and his tone.

But your self-preservation instincts are still missing.

“You can’t ignore me all week and then get annoyed at me when I–”

He cuts you off as though he’s not even listening to you. “Not here. Come on.”

And with that, he wraps one big hand around your upper arm and begins leading you out of the cantina. He’s not harsh, and he doesn’t drag you or anything, but judging by the tense set of his shoulders arguing with him would be a really bad idea right now.

You’ve pissed him off, and you don’t want to make his mood worse so you allow your feet to move automatically as he leads you out of the room.

You can feel eyes on your back as you leave, and you feel yourself grow squirmy with embarrassment. No doubt the rest of the squad is watching you get hauled off by Ghost right now.

Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off — how mortifying. You pray they didn’t catch your little exchange with Ghost at the bar, but you have a feeling that hope is in vain. The 141 are close-knit and protective over each other, but they’re also terrible gossips.

“Let me– Sir, let me go–” You start to complain, testing his grip. His hold on you is iron-clad, and yet still somehow gentle enough to avoid bruising.

When you realise where he’s leading you to, you stop complaining very quickly. You had figured that he was just going to drag you into the corridor outside and give you a talking to, but he doesn’t stop there. He keeps going, until you realise that he’s leading you all the way back to your own damn room

“What are you doing?” You demand in a hiss. You’re so incensed that you swear your hair is standing on end.

After all that, is Ghost seriously hauling you back to your room like you’re a bold child? Is he angry because of your insubordination at the bar?

A cold trickle of anxiety enters your stomach, and you steal a worried glance at his face. The hard-shell mask he uses on missions has been traded for the softer black woven balaclava that he usually wears when he’s not in the field, but it doesn’t make him any easier to read.

He doesn’t answer until the two of you have crossed the threshold of your room, the door shutting behind you with a firm click.

Now that it’s the two of you, alone once again in your tiny shitty room, you find your indignant confidence waning rapidly. He’s just so big, the huge masculine frame of him making you feel more ridiculous than ever for your momentary flash of brattiness. Even worse, having him in your space like this is only making your brain go into overdrive, as though your body remembers what happened the last time he was here like this.

You decide that the best defence mechanism to prevent yourself from looking like a fool is to cling onto those last little dregs of anger.

“You’re unbelievable.” You snap, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me all week! And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, you’re over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?” And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, “Sir.”

Throughout your mini little rant, Ghost has just watched you. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t know how to read, unable to get a feel for what he’s thinking through that inscrutable mask.

“‘S not true.” He grunts after a moment, and you realise that his eyes have creased in a way that suggests he’s frowning.

You feel like you’re going to explode. “Yes, it is! Daniels was barely speaking to me for two minutes before you scared him off–”

Bizarrely, your words make Ghost snort. You hadn’t even realised how tense his shoulders were until he relaxes, and you stare at him in confusion as he steps past you towards your bed. Your anger fizzles out, leaving behind self-conscious confusion as you watch your lieutenant settle down so that he’s sitting at the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide.

“His name is Davidson.” He says, and his voice is missing the somewhat dangerous edge it had only moments earlier. “And that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Embarrassment flares, though you try to stifle it. So you didn’t know the guy’s name – whatever. You would have learned it by the end of the night, you’re certain. You open your mouth, defensive and prickly, but Ghost speaks again before you get the chance to.

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” He says, watching you like he’s trying to figure you out. When you just blink at him, he sighs. “Jesus, sweetheart, just sit down for a second. Tell me what I did wrong, yeah?”

You’re left feeling a little wrong-footed, hesitating in the middle of the room. You had expected him to be a little angrier than this, to chide you for your behaviour. Or maybe you had expected him to be cold, or dismissive.

Slowly, you take a few steps towards the bed. He watches you approach, those dark eyes watchful and sharp, but says nothing as you nervously perch on the bed beside him.

Despite the fact that this is your room, you’re stiff when you sit next to him. Your brain is in overdrive, providing you with very unhelpful memories of the last time Ghost was on your bed and flooding your body with mortifying heat.

“You’ve barely spoken to me since we–” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, averting your gaze and staring at some point past his shoulder. “Since last week. If you wanted to keep it professional, that’s– that’s fine–”

Ghost’s spine straightens, but he doesn’t speak yet. He just watches you, and lets you flounder awkwardly as you struggle to articulate yourself.

“I don’t want to make things awkward, I just–” You’re tripping over your words, wincing when they come out all clumsy. “I’ve never done this before, so I’ll follow your lead, but I don’t understand the point of sending Dan– Davidson, whatever, away like that if you’re clearly trying to keep things between us professional–”

Finally, Ghost speaks, though it seems like he’s suddenly developed incredibly selective hearing.

“He’s a wanker. Chases around any woman that stands still for too long in that damn cantina every time we’re in there.” His voice is a low earnest rumble, but you’re too agitated to properly hear him. “He didn’t have anything to offer that you’d be interested in.”

“That’s not–”

“Besides,” He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. “I think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.”

Blood rushes to your head so fast you feel a little light-headed. Right, so he’s decided to cut straight to the chase then. You swallow, and your dry throat clicks audibly.

“Right.” You say. “Yeah, that– um… that’s made things awkward, I suppose.” A brief pause, and then you sheepishly add, “Sorry, LT.”

Ghost just watches you, his brown eyes inscrutable beneath the fan of his pale eyelashes. Under the dark fabric of the mask you see his jaw flex, as though he’s considering his next words carefully.

“C’mere.” He says.

You had been expecting him to say more, and you hesitate a moment before reluctantly shuffling over a few inches. Though he had invited you to move closer to him, you’re suddenly so conscious of crossing any possible boundaries.

You had never slept with anyone before, and you don’t understand what’s expected of you now. How are you supposed to act, now that you’ve had a one-night stand with your lieutenant?

“Haven’t been ignoring you,” Ghost says, and he reaches out to place a hand on your knee. The touch makes your eyes widen, gaze darting down to stare at his thick fingers where they wrap around the underside of your knee. “You jokin’? Been watching you all week. Thinkin’ about you all the time.”

That’s a bold enough statement that all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You can’t deny that he’s been watching you – you had felt his eyes on you regularly, but always from a distance. But…

“You never–” You start to say, before swallowing again so you don’t say something stupid. “You haven’t spoken to me.”

“Spoke to you during training, before you stopped showing up.”

That’s a little galling, and all you can do is scowl.

“Stop that. You know what I mean.” You snap defensively.

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think Ghost might be confused behind that stupid mask. His head has tilted just slightly to the side in the same way as it usually does when he’s trying to figure something out.

“I was trying to give you space, doll.” He murmurs. “It was your first– I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.”

The uncertainty in his voice is unexpectedly endearing, but you’re not ready to let go of your irritation with him just yet. Admittedly you’re losing steam, but you struggle to straighten your back and affect a scowl nonetheless.

“I didn’t want space.” You say, and it comes out a little more childish than you had intended it to. You try not to cringe at yourself. “You just– we never talked about anything, you just woke up the next morning and left and then all week you hardly spoke to me.”

You curse your inexperience even as you speak, feeling like a total idiot. You just wish you knew what was expected of you, what Ghost wants. Was he put off by the fact that he had to guide you, fumbling and clumsy, through an experience that was absolutely mind-blowing for you but probably sub-standard for him?

And oh, that thought makes dread curl in your belly. What if Ghost wasn’t impressed with your… performance? You had no idea what you were doing, only that the way Ghost had touched you felt so good, so much better than you’ve ever managed to make yourself feel with your fingers or toys. And when he had brought you to orgasm, you had lost yourself completely. You hadn’t made any attempt to return his attention, too lost in all the new pleasure you were experiencing.

There’s a pause, the silence between you stretching taut. Ghost doesn’t rush to reply, instead apparently thinking hard before he speaks.

“I go for a run in the mornings.” He says at last, his voice low and rumbly.

It takes you a moment to process that.

“You– what?”

Ghost shifts, and the cheap standard issue mattress beneath the two of you squeaks. “That morning, I… went for a run.”

He must realise how that sounds – maybe the expression on your face tips him off – because he hurries to add on to it. “Creature of habit, love. I didn’t– I don’t do this often either. I stayed the night, we cuddled. I thought–”

He stops rather abruptly, and doesn’t finish so you don’t quite know what he thought. Your confusion has gotten the best of you, and you’re staring at him in agitated confusion. God, he’s bad at communicating.

“Should have stayed.” He says gruffly, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds a little chagrined. “Thought we were fine, until you started avoiding me. And then I thought you just needed time to yourself.” He gives a jerky shrug, clearly out of his comfort zone. “‘Cause it was your first time. Dunno.”

Oh. Well.

Now you’re the one blinking at him. That’s… not what you had been expecting.

While you thought Ghost had been giving you the cold shoulder, he had thought that he was being considerate. Jesus. You’re not sure how to even begin processing that.

“I didn’t need time to myself.” You say, and you sound pathetic.

There’s a beat of silence during which you feel thoroughly examined. Ghost hardly even blinks as he watches you, his scrutiny making you sweat.

“No,” He rumbles after a moment. “Apparently you didn’t.”

You roll your eyes, honestly a little irritated with him. Even after it’s been made clear that your miscommunication has caused issues this whole week, he’s still so hesitant to just fucking talk to you.

“Right, well–” You start to say, a little sharp.

He grabs at you before you can retreat, his enormous hand comically large around your wrist. He’s not holding you harshly, his grip just loose enough that you could break out of it if you tried. But instead of pulling away, you allow him to tug you closer. His free hand reaches for your hip, and quicker than your tired mind is able to follow he’s tugged you up into his lap.

“Jesus–” You blurt, grabbing at his shoulders for balance.

Ghost is built like a brick house, all thick and sturdy with all that solid muscle. He’s broad too, and your legs are forced wide as he encourages you to settle in his lap. You try not to let your reaction show on your face, but Ghost is watching you so carefully that you’re certain he can read every micro-twitch anyway.

“Last week wasn’t enough?” He asks, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds hungry. Maybe you could even delude yourself into thinking there’s an undertone of hope, too.

But maybe that’s a step too far. This is the Ghost, after all. He’s veritably a human weapon, every inch of him battle-scarred and solid beneath the heavy clothes and thick mask. You’re pretty sure that any kind of yearning you hear has been prescribed by your own imagination. But you can’t help yourself.

You shake your head, your breath catching in your chest. No, last week wasn’t enough.

“Then why bother with that idiot at the bar?” Ghost asks, his big hands folding around your hips. “If you wanted to be fucked, you could have just asked me.”

You swallow thickly, your throat clicking audibly. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to speak so bluntly, but it’s typical of Ghost to get straight to the point without beating around the bush.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to do that with me again.” You say, your voice edged with insecurity.

There’s a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. It’s borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, he’s still so intense.

“What made you think that?” He asks, his voice low.

You find yourself quite abruptly aware of the position you’re in. You’re sitting perched in your lieutenant’s lap with your legs spread wide, after a week of pining after him like an embarrassing little puppy. You’ve been craving physical contact, yearning desperately for that same kind of pleasure he had introduced to you ever since your night together.

“You’re difficult to read.” You whisper awkwardly, shifting. You’re hyper-aware of your weight in his lap; even though you know he’s strong, the thought of being too heavy for him is a little mortifying.

But his hands tighten around your hips, keeping you securely in place across his thighs.

“You think so?” His voice is low, a little rough, and the gravel of it causes a little frisson of heat to trickle down your spine. “You been trying to read me? Can’t have been doin’ a very good job, darling, since you’ve been avoiding me all fuckin’ week.”

Your breath comes out tremulously, and you pray he can’t hear the shake in your voice when you speak. Judging by his darkening gaze, he hears it loud and clear.

“I just– Didn’t know if you would want me again.” You whisper, feeling foolish and inexperienced and clumsy.

Ghost watches you, his dark eyes flickering over your face, before he finally hums. Then his grip tightens around your hips and he pulls you so that your clothed crotch grinds against him. You gasp, your eyes widening when you feel the thick ridge of his cock in his tac trousers, unmistakably hard as your clothed cunt slides over him.

“Feel that?” He asks, his voice dropping into that deep, hungry register that you’ve been hearing in your dreams all fucking week.

“Yeah.” You choke, fighting the urge to grind on him like a fucking slut. If your hips twitch, just a little, you think you could be excused.

You are already intimately familiar with his cock, considering how eagerly he had fucked you open on it a week ago (several times, too), but the way it fills his trousers makes it seem ridiculously big and you wonder, a little wildly, how the fuck it ever fit in you in the first place. It presses against the seam of his trousers, right between your legs, and then Ghost grinds up into you and you swear your vision sparks out for a moment.

“Oh!” You blurt out in a wavering whisper, clutching at his shoulders. “Oh, god.”

“Still think I don’t want you?” He grunts. His hands are like fucking shovels, and he takes a grip of your ass and squeezes until you squeak.

Your head is swimming. Your trousers are too tight, the crotch of them pressing into your clit, and you feel like you can't get enough air in your lungs.

“I don’t know.” You say stupidly.

It’s like your cunt knows that Ghost is near, because you’re fucking drenched. You can feel your underwear stick uncomfortably to you beneath your clothes, slick and wet as you feel the shape of Ghost’s cock press into you.

He sighs beneath you, his big palm stroking over your ass affectionately.

“You think too much, doll.” He mutters, his finder squeezing into the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a stress toy. “Way too fuckin’ much.”

He’s probably right. God, you want to stop thinking. Want to return to that stupid, dazed, fucked-out state of mind he had sent you to when he had stuffed you full.

Hesitantly, you grind yourself down onto the thick bulge beneath you. It feels good, that familiar pleasant little spark jolting up your spine as you hump yourself against him.

“Yeah,” Ghost grunts, his voice thick with unmistakable want. “That’s it. You’ve been wanting this, havent’cha?”

“Yeah.” You admit, so quietly that it’s almost inaudible. “Yeah, I want it.”

But Ghost hears. Of course he does. He lets out a low sound that has your thighs squishing closed around his hips, overwhelmed and running far too hot.

He has you on your back so quickly that your head spins, and you end up staring at the ceiling for a moment in bewilderment, trying to figure out how you’d gotten there. Ghost is already leaning over you, his dark eyes intent on your face as he settles between your thighs.

You think you should probably be embarrassed about the ease with which you spread your legs, eager to feel his bulky body between your thighs. But you’re already running hot, your chest tightening with want, and you find yourself mercifully relieved that he’s here. The miscommunication between the two of you is going to be solved, Ghost wants you, and you’re about to get what you’ve been craving all week.

He pulls your own pants off effortlessly, leaving you in the underwear that you’ve fucking ruined. You try to shut your legs, face burning hot with embarrassment as you try to hide the sight, but Ghost doesn’t have any intention of letting you hide yourself.

He pushes your legs back open, then presses his masked face to the inside of your thigh. You’re not sure what he’s doing; you remember, with a little thrill, the feeling of his red hot mouth against your pussy, but you don’t think that’s what’s happening here because he’s still got his stupid fucking balaclava on.

“Did she miss me?” He asks, his words muffled by both the mask and the pudge of your thigh.

“What?” You ask breathlessly, thinking for a moment that Ghost is talking about you in the third person.

But then he nuzzles his masked face against the sodden seat of your knickers, and you realise that he’s talking about your fucking pussy.

“Oh my god, you weirdo–” You choke out, but you don’t get any further than that before Ghost is tugging impatiently at your underwear, trying to reveal your cunt.

He hushes you, almost absent-mindedly, and you hear him take a breath when he finally manages to get your knickers off. He tosses them aside, his dark eyes focused intently on your bare cunt now that it’s been revealed. It’s embarrassing, but you can’t bring yourself to try and hide again. He’s touching you so reverently and looking at you so hungrily that you’re not brave enough to try to deprive him of the sight.

“My fussy girl,” He mutters, low enough that you almost don’t hear him. “Have you been touching yourself? Using your toys this week?”

You shiver, a little embarrassed. You have been using your stupid toys, but they haven’t been working. No matter what you do, you can’t replicate the feelings that Ghost had managed to elicit in you with such ease, and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that.

But the mention of your toys reminds you of something else, too. A recurring thought that’s been practically haunting you, that’s had you imagining Ghost up above you and around you as you’d sucked experimentally on your dildo, sliding it into your mouth just to see how much of it you could take.

“Wait–” You say, and though your voice wavers, Ghost sits back immediately, eyes on your face. It’s like he’s just waiting for your word, an order, a direction. Something in your belly warms, and you take a breath.

“I want to try something.” You tell him before you can lose your nerve. “Sit back down.”

He sits at the edge of your bed, his bulky frame moving far more gracefully than you’d expect for his size if you hadn’t already seen him in action. He’s almost patient, until you catch the way the fingers of his right hand drum against his thigh as he waits for you to do something.

Since you’re already stripped from the waist down, you see no point in remaining clothed on top too. When you pull your top and bra off, Ghost makes a low appreciative rumble deep in his chest that you swear you can feel run down your spine.

“Promising start.” He says, and you want to smack him.

You shoot him a little scowl, before deciding to just ignore him. You’ve fancied him for an embarrassingly long time, probably since the very first time you had laid eyes on him upon joining the task force, and now he’s sitting on your bed, willing and hard and admitting that he wants you. It takes your breath away a little, especially the way that he doesn’t seem put off by your inexperience at all.

Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him and watch his eyes widen beneath the balaclava. It’s somewhat gratifying to see his surprise; like you’ve finally got one over on your big bad lieutenant.

“Very promising start.” He says, and this time he sounds a little husky. “D’you know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

The answer is, very obviously, no. You have no idea what you’re doing, you’re learning as you go along. But Ghost hasn’t judged you yet for your clumsy fumbling exploration, so you can only hope that he’s willing to put up with this too.

“Sort of.” You say evasively. “I’ve seen it in porn, and I’ve… I’ve been practicing.”

Ghost’s groan sounds like it’s been punched out of him, and it’s rough enough to have you glancing up in surprise from where you’re trying to get his stupid trousers unbuttoned. Your hands are unsteady and unsure, and it’s slow-going.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding a little out of breath himself. “Which one?” “What?” You’re a little distracted, not paying full attention to his question as you tug at his trousers. You’ve finally got them unbuttoned, and you pull impatiently in an effort to get them off. Ghost lifts his hips to help, though your eager impatience seems to amuse him.

“Which one of your toys’ve you been practicing on?” He asks, the barest undertone of a groan in his voice. “The pretty little pink one?”

You feel embarrassed heat prickle in your face because yes, it had in fact been that one you had been practising with. You’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that you’re apparently so predictable that Ghost can guess which dildo you’ve been sucking at, imagining it was him.

“Maybe.” You mutter evasively.

Ghost lets out a low chuckle right as you manage to wrangle his cock out of his briefs, and then you have to pause for a moment because oh. You had known, of course, that he was big. You had felt him for days after that first time, like a fucking internal bruise that ached at you every time you moved. He was bigger than any toy that you owned, you know that, you’ve felt it, and yet now that it’s in front of your face it seems so much bigger than you remember.

You’ve watched porn with so-called ‘monster cocks’ and it isn’t like that. It’s just… bigger. Than average, that is. At least, as far as you can tell, because it’s not like you have enough experience with dicks in real life to have any idea of what average really is.

Ghost must recognise the momentary flash of panic that crosses your face, because he reaches out and strokes a gloved thumb over your cheek. The fabric is rough against your skin, but you relax at the feeling anyway.

“You don’t have to.” He says quietly.

“I want to.” You insist, swallowing that swell of nerves.

Now that his cock is bobbing in front of your face, you have to fight the sinking feeling that you’re in over your head. But you’re not willing to back down; not when you’ve been thinking about this all damn week, and especially not when you’ve got the man that stars in all of your fantasies sitting on your bed with his legs spread.

You shuffle forward a little, and try not to feel intimidated at the fact that Ghost’s thick thighs twitch when you reach to take hold of his cock. He’s so big that it feels like he’s dwarfing you beneath him, his bulky form enveloping you in shadow when he leans forward to make sure he has a good view of what you’re doing.

You stroke experimentally over his cock, your fist a little clumsy. Despite your frenzied and very pleasurable tumble with him before, you had never actually gotten the chance to touch him in return. You had been too overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation he had delivered upon you to even think about returning any favours, and the fact that you’re getting the opportunity now to reciprocate and explore fills your tummy with butterflies.

“Grip it harder, love.” He grunts, shifting his hips so that he can fuck his cock into your fist. “It ain’t gonna break.”

“Shh,” You admonish him, glancing up with a frown. “Let me do it myself.”

Ghost snorts quietly, probably finding your determination silly, but he still his hips and lets you go at your own pace. His dick is big, and you stare at it with some level of wonder as you stroke your fist over him. You can’t help but compare the feel of him to your dildos, only because they’re your only real point of reference; his skin is velvety soft and hot to the touch, yielding despite how hard he is, and you admire the slide of his foreskin pulling down over the crown.

It’s not the size that really catches your attention though. No, what you really notice is how fucking perfect it is. Pretty and pink, flushed more red towards the tip, the head shiny with just a hint of smeared pre-come. It curves, slightly, to the left, and it feels nice in your hand. You feel a little light headed as your eyes dart over the pale blond downy hair that covers his thighs and the base of his cock.

You gather your courage, then lean in and lick tentatively at the rosy pink crown of his cock. You had been a little worried about the taste, having no idea what to expect, but you needn’t have been. He‘s a little salty, but nothing inoffensive; he just tastes like skin, and you relax a little in relief.

He groans, his head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. You pause, hoping for some sort of direction, and as the moment stretches out he looks back to you and tilts his head.

“Thought you wanted to do it yourself?”

Bastard, you grumble in your head, before steeling yourself. You know that your grip on him is clumsy, that your stroking is unpracticed, and you can only pray that he doesn’t mind.

You take his cock into your mouth, jaw hinged wide as you try to avoid using your teeth, and attempt to suck with no finesse. You go too fast, try to take too much too quickly, because all of a sudden the head is tickling the back of your throat and you’re coughing, choking, and sputtering.

You pull back, blinking rapidly as your eyes sting with tears and drool drips unattractively down your chin. You go to wipe your face, but Ghost catches your wrist before you can.

“Slow down,” He murmurs, pulling your hands away from your face so he can look at you. “You in a rush?”

“No.” You grumble, and your voice comes out a little hoarse from the choking. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Even though you’re quite certain that Ghost already knows that, it’s a little humiliating to admit.

Ghost just hums, his eyes tracking over your petulant expression and the stringy spit that’s trickling down your chin, falling in thick globs above your tits.

“Don’t matter, love.” He rumbles, reaching out to thumb at your chin. You think for a moment that he’s wiping you clean, but then he just ends up smearing your spit all around your mouth. “Play with it as much as you want to. Don’t think too much.”

You swallow, the sound a little too loud in the quiet of your room, before nodding. This is what you wanted – the chance to touch him, to explore his mouth with your hands and mouth just like he had done with you before.

You readjust your grip on his cock; it looks so stupidly big in your hand. You can tell that he notices too, because he lets out a gruff sort of groan before he reaches out, one hand winding around the back of your neck to cup at the base of your skull.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He breathes, his eyes locked onto you.

His eyes are dark, almost completely blacked out by the thickness of his pupil, and he stares down at you with an air of such anticipation that you couldn't dream of keeping him waiting. Gripping him in your hand, you give an exploratory sort of stroke — the skin is velvety soft and smooth, and he lets out a short groan of appreciation when your fingers caress the head of his cock.

You start moving your hand again, adjusting your grip and stroking him off. You wish you were better at it, or at least more confident, but Ghost doesn’t seem to have any complaints. He just grunts quietly, flexing his hips once before apparently remembering what you had said and going still.

It takes a moment before you work up the confidence to bring it anywhere near your mouth again, but finally you lean forward and press a gentle little kiss to the head of his cock. You’re rewarded with a quiet puff of laughter, and his thumb strokes a soothing circle into the back of your neck.

Encouraged, you dip your head and lick the tip of him properly. He tastes salty on your tongue as you take him carefully into your mouth. This time you just suckle at the head, not wanting to push yourself too fast. His taste isn’t nearly as strong as you had been expecting; you hardly notice, really, enjoying the weight of his cock on your tongue and the feeling of being encircled by his big thighs.

It sounds stupid and maybe a little paradoxical, but you feel safe like this; Ghost towers over you even sitting down, and when you’re on your knees for him like this with his thick thighs bracketing you and his clean musky smell in your nose, you swear you never want to leave this moment.

You let out the most pathetic little whisper ever when you suckle at his cock, your tongue licking insistently at the underside of his glans. Ghost is always fairly stoic beneath that mask (other than his occasional bursts of humour and arrogance), so managing to pull out the soft but heavy breaths from his mouth when you suck at him makes pride swell in your chest, warm and syrupy sweet. It also makes something else twist in your belly, tight and hot enough to have your thighs squeezing tight together.

You used to have so many stupid, virginal plans for what you’d do the day you got your hands on some real, non-plastic cock, but everything you’ve ever heard about dicks and oral sex immediately flies right out of your head. You have no technique, and all you do is suck, gracelessly, trying to get as much of Ghost in your mouth as you can. You’re making loud, embarrassing slurping noises, and you’re certain that you’re drooling.

Judging by the grunts above you, Ghost has got no complaints about your technique (or lack thereof). One of his big hands reaches down to cup your face, fingers probing, testing at your jawline as it works.

“Fuck,” He snarls, tilting your chin up so he can see the way your lips are wrapped around the tip of his massive cock, “Knew you’d be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

That makes you shiver, an electric jolt that shoots right to your clit. You’re not sure what feels better; whether it’s his fat cock in your mouth or the hot wanting intensity in his eyes or the low filthy praises he’s growling.

God, you want to be good at this. You’re definitely no natural, but you fight so hard to push past your uncertainty to make this feel good for Ghost.

You’re pretty sure he’s lying about you looking gorgeous, though. You’ve never felt less sexy than you do in this moment. Your eyes are streaming over-stimulated tears, your brow is scrunched in concentration, you’re gripping onto Ghost’s thick thighs for both balance and emotional support, and it’s taking everything you have not to choke on him again.

Who the fuck gave him the right to have a cock like this? Complaining about it feels borderline blasphemous, especially when you have first hand experience of just how good he is at using it. You’re making a mess of yourself, slobbering all over him in a way that’s definitely a little gross, but you’re surprised by just how much you’re enjoying this.

You get a little too eager, because you take him a little too far down your throat and gag. You pull off quickly, choking lightly and still gasping for breath. Maybe your brain is a little oxygen-deprived, because you feel stupidly hazy.

You take a moment to recover, nuzzling dazedly into the curls of his pubic hair. Blond, of course. God, that shouldn’t be cute but it is.

The thick length of his dick might be intimidating (as proven by the ache in your throat right now), but the velvety balls nestled below seem almost paradoxically vulnerable. You’re fascinated by the sight of them; you might have been amateurishly familiar with cocks from your dildos alone, but his balls are entirely new to you.

You spend some time lavishing them with tiny licks and kisses. Ghost hums in surprised pleasure, the sound swelling to a rumbling purr when you start caressing his thighs and hips with a tender, shy touch.

Encouraged by his reaction, you return to his cock. It’s jutting proudly up, flushed a lovely pink colour, as though it’s just waiting for your attention once more. It’s already covered in a lather of foamy spit from your attention before, and when you sink your mouth down on him once again you do so with a bit more confidence.

“Like a pro, baby.” Ghost grunts appreciatively. A calloused thumb rolls over your cheek, under the fan of your lashes, and wipes away the moisture that’s gathered there.

You most certainly are not sucking his cock like a pro, but you appreciate the encouragement all the same. It’s nice to know that you’re not doing a horrific job, at least.

You spare a glance up, half-expecting Ghost’s eyes to be closed. Instead his gaze is avid, sharp, practically electric through that thin window of his balaclava. He’s watching you closely, taking in every detail like it all might be snatched away from him. It’s too intense, and you look back down, focusing on his dick again.

An outraged, possessive noise escapes you when Ghost forcibly tugs your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth. It twitches a little once it’s been removed from the wet heat of your mouth, all shiny wet and pink, and you lick your lips. God, you want to get back on that, and you don’t understand why he’s taken it away from you.

Ghost lets out a low, breathy chuckle, reaching out to thumb at your spit-slick lower lip before reaching for your elbows and bodily hauling you back up onto the bed.

You practically bounce, falling back on the mattress and squirming to try and get your bearings again.

“No,” You say, and to your bewilderment it comes out on a sob. “I wanted you to come on my face–”

You can tell that Ghost’s expression does something strange beneath his mask because his eye twitches and he takes a deep breath. But he doesn’t put his cock back in your mouth. Instead he reaches back and pulls his shirt off, and you take a broken little inhale because last time he had fucked you, he’d hardly gotten undressed at all. But now you’re being blessed with the sight of scarred pale skin pulled taut over the thick swell of muscles that turn to a softer belly, that pale trail of curls starting just below his belly button.

“Next time.” He says, and it comes out on the ghost of a groan. “Fuck, love, next time.”

He’s quick to hook his hands under your thighs and haul them apart. You just about have time to spread your legs before he’s muscling his way between them. He tugs impatiently at his balaclava, tugging it askew to reveal his mouth, then he presses his nose into your humiliatingly slick pussy and starts sucking at your clit like it’s a hard candy.

You shriek, your thighs clamping shut around his ears as you writhe, but he clearly has no intention of stopping. The muffled moans he lets out into your cushiony cunt vibrate in the best way, and he’s so brazen about it that it just about takes your breath away. You don’t even know if he can see anything, considering his mask is completely lopsided and his eyes aren’t lined up with the holes anymore, but he’s working with such enthusiasm that it doesn’t even matter.

And honestly, his enthusiastic pussy-eating combined with the sheer visual stimulation he’s providing is really doing it for you.

You’re probably going to get a crick in your neck from the way you’re craning your head just to watch him hunch over you, that tongue of his peeking out from beneath the edge of his mask just to lick you. He’s built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh god, fuck–!” You choke out, your cunt clenching down hard as Ghost slides a finger into you.

Of course, Ghost’s fingers are also thicker than average. A single one of them feels like what would have been two of your own and you gasp a bit at the sudden stretch. You open up easily, your body welcoming him greedily and bearing down hard around his digits. Maybe it’s because you’re used to controlling the depth, speed and angle of penetration completely when you’re playing with your toys, but relying on Ghost for pleasure feels so damn exotic and exciting. Now you can only tilt your hips and go with Ghost’s pattern of movement; a bit harder, a bit deeper than what you would have done on your own.

He pushes another finger inside and it’s snug in your cunt, two fingers squished together nicely by your pulsing walls, hot and wet. It makes a sticky sound when he pushes them knuckle-deep, and then he sucks at your clit again, hard.

You’re honestly taken aback when your stomach tightens up and a wave of white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your back bows off the bed, you cover your mouth with a balled-up fist, your chest heaves.

It’s exactly as good as you remember it being the first time, maybe even better, and the noises you make are broken and pathetic as you whine and cry.

Ghost licks you through it, big long laves of his tongue punctuated by sweet little suckles on your clit that feel almost fond. All you can do is lay there and take it, your head spinning a little as you catch your breath and try to figure out how the fuck he managed to make you come so damn quickly when you’ve been failing so spectacularly for a week.

You’ve barely finished coming, still shaking with the aftershocks, when he climbs up your body. At some point he’s shucked his trousers off, and the fact that he’s naked sends a little zing of excitement through your tired body. Or at least, as naked as Ghost tends to get. He’s still got the damn mask on.

He’s breathing heavily; his mouth is slightly ajar, mask tucked up around his crooked nose as he settles on his haunches between your thighs. He’s still staring hard at your cunt, his eyes glued to the way your clit is still twitching. He’s still so damn quiet, and you have no idea what he’s thinking.

When he reaches out to thumb at your clit again you whine. You’re sensitive, and his thumb is calloused and rough. You wiggle, lift up your leg and press your foot to his broad chest to stop him. You may as well be pushing against a brick wall for all the good it did.

Ghost just exhales a quiet laugh, capturing your ankle in his massive fist. He turns his head and kisses your ankle; the gesture is unexpectedly tender, and makes something in your chest tremble dangerously.

He uses his hold on your ankle as leverage to raise your leg, spreading your thighs out wide until your hips ache. You feel so exposed, the lips of your cunt parted ever so slightly, and he’s quick to press his cock against your still-twitching clit.

“Oh, look at her,” He breathes, low enough that you have to strain to hear. “Shite, she missed me, didn’t she?”

His hand is steady as he strokes his cock, dragging it through your sticky folds. The pretty pink head catches on your clit each time, and you let out a quiet whimper. Ghost doesn’t even notice; his eyes are zeroed in on your spread pussy, watching how you flutter around nothing.

“Fuck, she’s been waitin’ for me all week,” He coos, his cock notching at the entrance of your cunt and pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch as his thumb rolls against your clit. “I know, baby, been waitin’ for you too.”

Jesus, you feel like you’re gonna die. You’re taking all these big deep shivering breaths, still trembling a little from your orgasm and eager for him to just fuck you already, but his filthy talk in your ear is sending you spiralling. You’re so wet it feels like you’ve sprung a leak; you can feel moisture running down your ass and under your thighs, and you burn with both mortification and desire.

Ghost presses his cock in a little further, and your back arches as you groan. Despite the orgasm and the fingering and the fact that you are so fucking aroused right now, the stretch is intense.

“Yeah, she’s beggin’ for me.” Ghost is still talking – at this point you think his words are meant just for himself, because they’re low and a little slurred, his eyes glassy as he stares at the way his cock spears through the slick folds of you. “Listen; it’s like she’s talking to me.”

For a second, you have no goddamn idea what he’s talking about. But then, in the silence, you hear the squelch of your drippy cunt as he squishes his cock against it in shallow little thrusts, barely even pressing the tip inside.

“Oh god,” You whine, high and needy. “Just– stop teasing.”

The bastard laughs, all low and gritty and a little breathless.

“It’s not teasing, lovie.” He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jawline. “You’ve been avoiding me for a week straight. I’m just reacquainting myself.”

Then he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a move so sweet that it honestly takes you aback. Every complaint in your head flies out the window, and you turn eagerly in an attempt to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so hot, his lips plush and hungry and a little salty. It occurs to you that you’re tasting yourself in his mouth, and your body draws up tight and tense in response.

“Simon,” You breathe, intending to tell him to get a move on and just fuck you already, but you don’t even get as far as finishing the order.

He groans as though the sound of his given name is a signal, and before you know it you’ve got a huge wall of muscle hunched over you and around you as Ghost holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You feel his cock prodding at the entrance of your cunt and your legs fall even further open, until your hip joints ache.

When he starts to push in, the stretch burns in a way that makes your mouth fall open as you choke on the air in your lungs. You’re wet and pliable and eager, your pussy sucking hungrily at Ghost’s dick in an effort to take him deep quickly, but you had almost forgotten what this felt like. You can’t stop the way your cunt tightens eagerly as he rocks in an inch.

He laughs lowly in your ear, has to swallow back a groan when you clench tight around him, “C’mon, stop pushing me out, darling.”

“Wait,” You gasp, reaching down to place your hand over his belly. “Wait, oh my god, you’re too big–”

His stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he's putting in to keep from rocking into you all in one go, and you spare a moment to admire his patience and his sheer resolve to make things good for you. But even though he’s obediently paused to let you catch your breath, he chuckles quietly at your reaction.

“It’s only the tip, baby.” He murmurs, cooing softly to you like you’re something easily spooked. “You’ve taken it before. This pretty little cunt of yours is so hungry, gotta let her have it.”

You nod, hesitantly. He’s right; he may be big, but you’d taken him before. Only last week. And you had been a virgin then. Well, technically. Not physically, maybe, since you’d long stretched out your hymen on your dildos, but mentally. Though at least last week you had stretched yourself out on your vibrator, and then Ghost had spent so long opening you up with his mouth and fingers.

Ghost rocks forward another inch, and the stretch makes you squeal like a fucking stuck pig. It’s mortifying. How the hell did he ever manage to fit that fat cock inside you?

You slap at his belly hard, writhing away.

“No, nope, not gonna fit.” You wheeze.

Ghost pulls back, and you can read the disappointed slant of his mouth and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock. Now that you get another look at it, you take a deep breath. It’s still well-lubed with your spit and the pink cockhead is shiny with your slick.

It’s big, but you know you can take it. You just… you need better leverage.

Your jaw clenches in determination. “I need to be on top.”

There’s a moment of silence as those words settle between you, as though Ghost’s brain is buffering. Then his lips start curving up into that semi-familiar smug smile, and he rolls the two of you over so that he’s laying on his back in your bed with you perched clumsily atop his thighs.

His cock juts up proudly, practically bobbing as it leaks prespend down his length. He settles back, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you – the position makes his biceps bulge in a way that is very appealing and also most likely unintentional.

“Go on.” He encourages, as hungry and wanting as you’ve ever heard him. “All yours, gorgeous.”

All yours, your brain repeats, the words echoing around your skull until you’re certain that your head is empty but for that. You want him so much it makes you feel dizzy.

You shuffle forward until your pussy is hovering over the blood-flushed head of his cock. The cute pink blush has started to darken into a red that looks painful, and you take a little breath at the idea of helping him out with his little problem.

You lower yourself down so that the tip of Ghost’s cock is lined up with your entrance and begins pressing in, stretching you wide and slipping in inch by inch. You gasp desperately as you’re speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open.

Though you’re the one controlling the pace, it still seems overwhelming, all-encompassing. You can feel your cunt stretching wide and taut around the width of him, fluttering as Ghost groans in dazed appreciation.

You glance up at him, to see that his eyes are a little unfocused, missing the intensity that they’ve had all night. His gaze is flickering from the way your cunt is sliding down on his cock to your breasts to your face, so fast as if he’s trying to take it all in before it disappears.

His oversized hands come to rest on your hips, and you half expect him to pull you down impatiently on his cock. But he doesn’t, they just rest there as though he needs to ground himself. His stomach is tensed so tight you know that his abs will be sore in the morning, and to your delight you can see a lovely pink flush climbing across his lightly-haired chest.

You keep your eyes on his half-masked face as you slowly rock your way down onto the length of him, your breath occasionally hitching. Though he doesn’t rush you, you can feel the way his fingers twitch on your hips and the way his jaw grinds, and all those little tells only increase your excitement.

You’re so full you feel like you’re about to break in half, and Ghost’s gaze on you feels like a physical weight, but you don’t stop. You wiggle clumsily, trying to take him deeper and unintentionally pulling gruff groans out of him every time your body tightens.

Then, finally, you take him to the hilt. He groans, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way your body sits perched on his lap, little tremors rocking through you as you adjust to his size inside.

“That’s my girl.” Ghost says, and the praise comes out on the edge of a growl. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me.”

Tingling heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over him as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system – you’ve never heard Ghost sound so soft and wanting.

One of his hands reaches between you, one big thumb settling right over your swollen clit. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.

“Would you have gone back to his quarters?” He asks, and the seemingly non-sequitur is too much for your dazed, cock-stupid mind to keep with.

“Huh?” You breathe, tentatively rocking your hips and moaning softly as his cock hits just right inside.

“The guy at the bar.” Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. “The one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?”

Oh, you think a little wryly. You should have known that he’d be a big possessive bastard.

“I don’t know.” You say, but you’re barely paying attention. You’ve started to rock for real now, and it feels good. Your rhythm is barely more than a slow grind – you think, distantly, that you should be lifting yourself up and down and fucking yourself properly, but grinding so that he hits deep and your clit rubs up against his pubic bone just feels so fucking intense.

“Waste of your time.” He grunts, his grip tight on your hips as he watches you hump lazily. “Jesus, look at the way you’re sucking me in. Cunt’s so fussy, she was just waiting for me.”

The worst part is, you think he might be right. You had been touching yourself every night this week, trying and failing to recreate the high he had brought you to. The touch just wasn’t the same, and no matter how close you got you just couldn’t fall over that damn ledge.

“Yeah,” You whine, hardly even aware of what you’re agreeing to. The sweet ache of the stretch has almost disappeared now, and you hump back onto his cock with abandon. Your chest is heaving as you pant, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but there’s nowhere else to go because he’s filling you up so completely.

You tip forward, grabbing clumsily at his shoulders for balance as your face smushes against the cushiony softness of his pecs. God, he’s so strong, it’s like your body weight is nothing to him – he just accepts your whole body leaning into him, humming in satisfaction.

Tentatively, you lift yourself up a few inches so you can ease back down. You repeat the movement a few more times, and then you’ve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock.

“Simon,” You gasp, and it comes out in a whimper that’s far more pathetic than you had intended. “Am I– am I doing good?”

He’s gritting his teeth – you can see the tense line of his jaw as he tilts his head back, watching your face as you bounce stumblingly on his cock.

“Like I said, lovie, you’re a natural.” He says, exhaling harshly through his nose. “Gimme a kiss.”

When you lean forward to kiss him, the angle shifts and all of a sudden he's hitting the spot that makes your knees go weak. Your thighs are already burning from the exertion of riding him, but you whine desperately.

“There.” You moan into Ghost’s mouth, the two of you sharing air as you pant against each other’s lips. “Oh god, please–”

The muscles in his thighs ripple as he lifts his hips to meet yours as you bounce down, and then all of a sudden he’s fucking into you from below. The strength in his hips almost bodily lifts you every time he fucks up, though you almost thwart his every thrust as you try to grind on him again, trying to get his cock to hit just right again.

Fuck, your legs are tired and your knees are aching, but you can feel that glorious build up in your tummy again. Ghost has taken over most of the heavy lifting now too; instead of relying on you to bounce up and down, he’s drilling into that one spot inside you that sends liquid heat shooting up your spine.

Your mouth is hanging open and you’re pretty sure that you’re drooling all over his lovely, soft chest, but it just feels so good. You don’t understand how he does this, how he makes it feel so good for you. You think, a little wildly, that maybe your cunt was made for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight,” Ghost grunts, and his chest rumbles beneath your smushed cheek. “Gonna come again for me, sweetheart? Go on, cream on me.”

You didn’t actually think you were that close to another orgasm, despite how good it feels, but maybe Ghost knows you and your pussy better than you know yourself because you feel yourself go tight and gushy, nonsensical gasping and babbling spilling from your lips. The soft squelching noises your pussy makes as his cock fucks up into you is obscene, enough to make your nipples go tight and tingly.

Then his thumb rolls hard against the swollen bud of your clit and you’re gone. You think you might actually scream, but it’s muffled against the now drool-covered expanse of his thick, bulging pecs.

You let out a choked out wail as your orgasm rips through you like an electric shock, leaving you trembling madly in its wake. You swear you come apart completely, unravelling at the edges as you writhe in his lap, grinding wildly even as he continues to fuck you through it.

You don’t get even a moment of reprieve, because Ghost keeps going through the waves of your orgasm. He pulls you up to kiss you, sloppy and dirty, and then starts thrusting for all he’s worth. You’re put in mind of bull-riding, and your thighs clench hard as you try to stay seated as he bucks against you.

It's the most unravelled you’ve ever seen him. Ghost is always cool and in control, always meeting everything with smug, arrogant confidence. To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know you’re already addicted.

This is not the lazy rhythm of before; he’s uncoordinated and frantic, kissing you hard and messy as he shoves his cock up into you so hard that you’re sure it’s going to leave a permanent impression inside you. Maybe that’s what he’s aiming for. You take it easily, split open and pliant and soft and wet.

You’re oversensitive and shivery, breathing hard and whimpering on every other thrust, but you don’t complain. It only takes a handful of thrusts before Ghost finishes with a bitten off snarl, his jaw clenching and head tipping back as he pulls you off him just in time for his cock to spurt several thick ropes of creamy cum between you. Most of it lands on your belly, dripping down onto your pussy like icing on a cake, but some of it spurts onto Ghost’s own soft belly too.

It makes a mess, but you don’t care. You feel so dreamy-floaty happy right now, your limbs floppy and rubbery as you slump down onto his chest. He catches you easily, and lays you down gently onto the bed.

You grumble when he moves, but you remember this part from last time. You don’t bother opening your eyes; you know he’ll come back.

Sure enough, he returns within moments, and you feel a warm, wet cloth wiping at your belly and inner thighs. You part your legs, pleased with the feeling of being looked after. When you blink your eyes open again, you see that he’s pulled the mask back down to cover his lovely, talented mouth. You try not to be too disappointed over that. His eyeblack is smeared too; it gives the impression of total debauchery.

“You alright, love?” He asks, and you realise that you’ve just been staring blankly at him.

“Yeah.” You mumble, stretching your body out like a cat. Now that you’ve been given a moment, you can feel all those little aches flare to life between your legs, around your hips, and up the base of your spine. You wince, but don’t complain.

To your delight, Ghost climbs back into bed with you. He’s a little too big for the standard issue frame, but you’re more than happy to roll on top of him and cuddle close to conserve space. He seems similarly happy to have you all laid out on his chest, because he presses his masked face to the top of your head and inhales slowly.

“Are you staying, this time?” You ask quietly. You think you know the answer after your conversation earlier, but you can’t quite help the little pulse of insecurity.

“As long as you’ll have me.” He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance, like he’s talking about more than just staying the night, and his fingers are sure and steady as he traces absent-minded little patterns down the length of your spine.

You swallow, heart racing, and rest your cheek against his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his own heart soothes you, and you bite your lip. He’s so solid, reliable. You’d trust him with your life, with anything.

You glance down, your eyes curiously seeking out his now softening cock. It’s laying in a bed of his blond curls at his crotch, and it looks so unthreatening when it’s flaccid. You admire the shape of it absently, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the sight of it. You can’t lie to yourself and say you don’t feel a little possessive, either.

“Are we dating now?” You ask quietly. You’re not able to look him in the eye when you ask it, so you keep your face turned down. You don’t think you could handle seeing his expression if his answer is no.

There’s a pause. His hand halts the sweet patterns he’d been drawing on your back.

“Was that a question for me, or my cock?” He asks. He seems to be aiming for his usual sort of dry humour, but his tone comes out a little guarded, as though he’s actually not sure.

You raise your head, stifling your insecurity, and make eye contact with him. Those pretty brown eyes, so warm when they’re looking at you like this.

“You,” You say.

There’s another pause, and then his hand starts tracing its way over your bare back again.

“Yeah,” Ghost says, and the corners of eyes crinkle. “Stuck with me now, lovie.”

#okayyyy here we go!#simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod smut

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