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terrence-silver · 2 years
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RANDOM JACK BLAYLOCK HEADCANONS for @devilsangel29​ 🖤​
― He subscribes to reincarnation. Vehemently so. There’s this belief that nobody is ever truly gone and that the cycle of life only ever continues on and on and on. An odd bit of contradictive spirituality for someone who kills for a living (I’d even argue that he enjoys it), but not only does Jack trust in that, but he trusts that people who have loved each other once will love and inadvertently find each other in every life, under every circumstance, always, re-connecting each other because they were meant to find each other and that it is simply the one truth the universe effectively runs on.
― I think he’s gotten into the ‘business’ as it were, because of his family’s debts, which led to him losing a multigenerational family home, and by extension, a piece of his identity, going from Timothy Calloway to Jack Blaylock, as an alias, once he started terminating people for contractors, looking for a quick buck, understanding that a man doesn’t make a lot of money fast through good means. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, the initial reason he went down such a dark path became muddied and Jack found he actually, well...enjoyed it, a little way too much. 
― Chances are, if we’re going to get analytical, that he simply stooped down such a grimy, morbid path as a career criminal that he never felt worthy of what his childhood home he’s lost both literally and figuratively represented ever again. He was a murderer. He’s killed people. How could he ever go back? At the same time, he’s always wanted to go back, even when he was in out of prison, travelling around Asia, taking hits, mingling in the type of underworld no honest person would ever dare set foot in. It was and remained his one weakness. It was often taken advantage of by contractors wanting to appeal to a soft spot.
― I can see him being a military brat --- from a family of other military brats. Don’t ask why, but I can see it. It would also explain a lot plot-wise. He was simply born in Japan, travelling back and forth between the island and the US, effectively tying him to both places. It would also explain the major amounts of patriotism he has for home (Perhaps, because he’s been continuously ripped away from it time and time again), and the copious amounts of Japanese culture he dabbles in. Suffice to say, he went to school in Japan, he speaks Japanese, he writes Japanese, he’s grown up there, all while being anything but himself.
― In spite of everything, though, he’s immensely cultured. Regardless if he’s been in and out of jail, if he’s undoubtedly changed his identity for safety reasons countless times, if he’s downright a rotten man who lived and continues living a downright rotten life. He’s worldly. He’s cunning and skilled. He spars. He fences. He speaks several languages. He’s sleek and charming when he needs to be --- bordering on being gentlemanly because he truly is, rather than always only pretending. And he can murder with anything, given the opportunity. Jack’s a man of frightening contradictions. 
― He’s also harrowingly morbid. Which should be a given, seeing what his profession is, but it goes further than that. I think Jack romanticizes death. The act of it. Someone taking their last breath. How they die. The wounds they die from. The artistry of their cuts. The way the bleed and groan.The way every victim effectively belongs to the one taking their life. It is almost erotic to him. Heck! It is erotic to him. It is definitely a paraphilia induced from years and years of professional deformation where he views it through occasionally sensual lenses very much verging into the territory of Erotophonophilia.
― But, outside of that, I think that Jack, bottom line, craves and also romanticizes a tremendously simple life; something he himself says too. The way people should’ve always lived. Easy. Routinely. Peaceful. Natural. I think this is his ideal and always was. A man. A woman. Children. White picked fence. A lawn. An orchard. A creek and a garden. A pie cooling on the windowsill, as funny as that may sound. All the things he’s effectively disconnected from and all the things a notorious hitman can never quite as easily return to because of what he is. Doesn’t mean he can’t fantasize about it, though.
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alonetogether · 1 year
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ultrableating · 10 months
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what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life
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calumfmu · 1 month
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arms of a careful lover
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You didn't know how he was, the stranger driving you home. He knew you, knew all about your life, and his picture-perfect ideal of you. As you traveled through the town of Hawkins, you couldn't help, but ask yourself 'Who The Fuck is Eddie Munson'?
cw: smut, sexual tension, riding, oral, AFAB reader, fem!reader, p in v sex, cursing, etc. 4.9k+ words.
The music in the dark bar room was overpowering, filling your senses, tingling in the back of your mind. It was hot—sticky, your clothes not sparing you the freedom of movement as your leather dress felt glued to your skin. You had lost your friend at one point, hearing something about ‘another drink’ about half an hour ago.
Searching for her in the dark red lighting was impossible, faces blending together as the alcohol seeped into their bloodstream. Your back hit firm muscle, two ringed hands coming up to stop you from tumbling onto the wet floor.
Turning around, you were met with the deepest shade of brown you could think of, long lashes encasing them. His hair was long, curly and full, bangs sticking to his forehead with the dampness of the air.
“You alright?” The stranger shouted over the music, the dull thud of the bass banging in your chest. You nodded dumbly, a ghost of a smile on your face as you stood in front of him.
A look similar to your own crept up on his face, smile lines forming on his cheeks as he blinked down at you.
“I’m such a dunce sometimes,” you laughed, voice raised as you leaned into him. Strong cologne hit you, a faint hint of marijuana seeping out of his clothes. “Sorry, man.”
The man shook with a silent laugh, his head swaying side to side as he excused you. “You’re fine, don’t worry about it.”
He moved to leave, hands leaving your shoulders as he stepped to your side. Disappointment tugged at your emotions, teeth gritting as you watched him walk away from you. You called after him, a shouted ‘wait!’ getting lost in the crowd as you watched him disappear into throes of people. His scent lingered in the air, the smell of strong aftershave the only memory you have of him.
Seemingly dumbfounded you stood there for a second, lip jutted out as you searched for sight of him again, standing on your toes as you looked through the crowds. He was long gone by now, a stranger in the darkness as you gave up, sigh escaping you.
Making your way to the front of the building, you stepped outside, feeling the cool air hit your body. A bouncer was out front, arms clasped in front of him as he stared in front of him, unfocused on anything in particular.
“Got a pay phone?” You asked, following the direction in which he pointed. A few feet away, it stood. Picking it up, you pressed it to your ear, silence meeting you as there was no dial tone. Finger hitting the switch, you grew frustrated, realizing the phone wasn’t in working order.
Storming back over to the bouncer, you pointed a finger at him.
“Why would you not tell me it doesn’t work?”
He shrugged, choosing not to look at you as his gaze remained hard. As you took a step towards the building, his hand shot out to stop you, opposite hand pointing at a huge sign to his left.
‘NO RE-ENTRY’, the sign read, in bold, red letters. Closing your eyes in frustration, you silently cursed him. You walked away, hand dipping into your purse as you searched for cash, hopes of getting a cab sitting in your chest. That feeling disappeared as you realized your wallet had been snagged at a point in the night, your fingers coming up empty.
Leaning against the side of the building, your leg was kicked up to support you, heeled boot digging into the chipped brick. Your arms were crossed in front of you, palms rubbing over your arms to warm yourself up.
A few people piled out of the bar, the hour ticking closer and closer to closing time. Thirty minutes had to have passed, no sight of your friend amongst the people leaving. As you watched the group of strangers, the same boy from before—the pretty one—walked in front of you, hair flowing behind him as he tossed a pair of keys into the air.
“Hey!” You shouted, kicking off of the wall to jog up to him. He turned, confused as the click of your boots hit the asphalt. You waved a hand at him, the sting of the cold air reddening your cheeks.
He looked at you in anticipation, face turned up in confusion as you stopped in front of him, weight shifting from side to side.
“You think you could spare me a ride?” You asked, feeling bold in front of this stranger. He looked at you up and down, then sent a quick glance around himself.
“Are you talking to me?” His voice was deep, deeper than you expected.
Laughing, you nodded, pointing to his keys. He glanced at them, gaze lingering as confusion was still evident on his face.
“My friend ditched me, and my mom’s going to kill me if I’m not back before her night shift ends,” you said, beginning to shake as the cold air hit your exposed skin. The leather mini dress you were sold on earlier didn’t seem like a good idea at the moment. “So… please?”
He stayed silent, eyes studying you as you looked around, watching people move around the parking lot. It was growing windy at this point, fallen leaves stirring on the ground. People began to make haste, rushing into cars as the weather worsened.
“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, voice quick as he took a step back from you. Your heart sank, rejection souring your taste. “Sorry, man.”
He pressed his lips together in an apology to you, turning around quickly as he began to walk away. His converse scuffed at the ground, hands dipping his pockets as he made it a few feet in front of you.
Watching him walk away made your heart ache, your escape plan from this desolate area getting further away. You didn’t know what you were going to do at this point, money lost, not a single phone in sight. Walking wasn't an option, the buildings of the inner city miles away from you.
As you began to turn away, the man’s pace slowed, feet coming to a halt as his back was turned to you. Head cocking to the side, you stood confused, watching as his head tilted up to look at the night sky. You heard him mumble something from the few feet away, foot stomping underneath him before he turned back around, eyes making contact with yours.
His gaze was sincere as you waited for him to say something, his fingers curling at his sides as he looked full of nerves.
“I live on Millrose,” you shouted to him, seeing his teeth begin to chew at his bottom lip. Nodding, he sighed, hand beckoning you closer.
You followed his instruction, smug smile crossing your face as you approached him.
“Just promise not to kill me?” He said as the two of you began to walk towards a van. You laughed, quickly glancing at him as you took sight of the dark vehicle.
“You seem to be projecting.”
Snorting out a laugh, his key unlocked the passenger door, his hand coming out to swing it open for you. With the door open, you turned towards him, looking up at him as his height towered over yours.
“I mean, look at me,” You said, hand resting on your hip. “I don’t think I’d do much damage.”
He seemed nervous in the moment, eyes moving quickly as they flitted over your body. His eyelids fluttered rapidly as he gulped slightly, fingers tapping against the open door.
You raised an eyebrow at him as you slid into the seat, heart beating faster as the door closed behind you.
He drove fast. Metallica blasting over the stereo as his fingers drummed against the steering wheel. You gripped the safety handle, hand pressed to the dash as he maneuvered the streets of Hawkins. A prayer sat on the edge on your lips, curses instead flowing out whenever he took too sharp a turn.
“What brings you out here?” He said over the music, hand shooting out to lower it. You briefly glanced at him, heart lunging as he slammed the brake at a stop sign.
“The band,” you began, tugging at your seatbelt to make sure it was secured. “It was the last show I heard they’re playing in Indiana, and I missed the one last year.”
He threw a face at you, mouth wide open. “The band?”
You matched his expression, growing self conscious at his question. “What about it?”
“I dunno if I believe you,” he scoffed, head shaking. “I’ve never heard of a girl like you into heavy metal, its, like, impossible, man.”
It was your turn to laugh, a small gasp coming up as he sped up to run a yellow light. His words confused you, the ‘like you’ lingering in your mind. He barely made it, red flashing briefly as he crossed the intersection.
“Hate to break it you, but…” Your voice dropped to a low whisper, leaning into him as you raised your hand, fingers wiggling in the air as if you were casting a spell. “We exist.”
A blush crossed his face, cheeks filling as his eyes squinted up.
“Okay, okay… don’t make me sound like a total jerk here.”
“You did it to yourself. I’m just saying.” Your tone was light as you teased him, enjoying the way his face lit up at your jokes.
He was quiet for a moment, car rolling to a stop as a red light ticked in the dark. No cars passed by, the only sign of life being a street sweeping crew, cleaning an area of the downtown side walk in the late hours. You chose to relax in that moment, sinking into the soft cushion of the seat.
“If you’re into the same things as me, how come you’ve never said hi?” His voice was almost inaudible. Glancing at him, his eyes were fixated on the red light, waiting for it to change. That same light look was on his face still, eyebrows slightly raised as humour grazed his features. You waited for the punchline to drop, this stranger in front of you urging nothing out of you.
“What d’you mean?”
“At school,” he said, making eye contact with you as you stared into his eyes. You furrowed your brow, trying to recognize him.
“You go to Hawkins?” You don’t remember ever seeing him, memory sifting through faces you see on a daily basis. Nothing rings a bell, not a single recollection of ever seeing the boy before.
He laughed at you, turning back to the road as he pressed the gas. The van sputtered as it accelerated, gravel crushing as he continued through downtown.
“We have, like, three classes together, Yn,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief as your mouth dropped open. Heat began to colour your cheeks. “You’re friends with Carol, Tommy H. Hawkins royalty, man.”
His voice dropped to a mocking tone as he relayed the names, continuing his speech, “I’m just surprised you’d even be caught dead at something like this.”
Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to think of what to say. Swallowing around nothing, you turned your body towards the dash.
“Let alone caught with me. Imagine what the school would say… what the town would say,” his hand rose to move in front of him, as if he was reading a line from a newspaper. “Resident sweetheart led to murder van of town freak, Eddie Munson. Read more, page six.”
You let out a giggle, his own laughter in harmony with your own.
“Oh shut up, that would never happen.” You didn’t acknowledge the fact that there was a bit of truth in what he said, your popularity did threaten to be shattered if anyone even knew you enjoyed the metal sound of music.
A look was shot your way, his eyes rolling at your words.
“You know it’s the truth,” he said, turning onto a main road. “Such a shame, we never got to hang out. If I knew you were cool, maybe my idea of you would’ve changed earlier.”
Your eyes ran over him, watching the way his curly hair sat over his shoulders, a thick mane that accentuated his manly features. You imagined what it might have been like to know him on a different level, to have met him under different circumstances. His words had you thinking, wondering what idea of you remained in his mind.
“Hey… you said Millrose, right? We should be 10 minutes out,” he threw at you, looking for confirmation.
A beat passed, you slow blinking at him as you failed to nod.
“Yn?”
Clearing your throat, your heart began to race as you spoke your next words, “We could hang out now at your place.”
The vehicle swerved slightly to the right, an over correction that had you slamming into the door. Hissing, you pushed against it, seeing the way Eddie whipped his head to you.
“Huh?” His voice was tight, a slightly higher pitch.
You blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“I know it’s almost 2 am, but I don’t have to be home for a few more hours,” you said, voice small as you anticipated his rejection. You didn’t know why you felt nervous, asking out boys was your thing. “We could make up for lost time.”
He didn’t know what to say for a moment, face contorting as he processed your suggestion. You couldn’t help but know that your words had a different meaning, the late hours of the night not welcoming just a friendly conversation.
“You.” He pointed a ringed finger to you, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Want to come to my place.” The finger turned on himself, digging into the white of his shirt. His question turned into a statement, disbelief evident.
“I have, like, 6 siblings,” you laughed, shaking that idea out of your mind. “There’s no way you’re coming to mine.”
“You want to come to my place?” He repeated his question, voice higher as he drove. Glancing at the streets, you knew the direction had changed, him driving towards his own place before his mind could even catch up.
“Eddie, if you say that one more time-” Your laughter kicked up as he punched the gas, speeding down the dark streets of Hawkins. He seemed to have caught up now, words getting lost in his throat.
Before you knew it, a trailer lot appeared in the distance, homes scattered in various places, clotheslines hanging between them. You had never been in this part of town before, your ignorance not allowing you to realize that people did have vacancies here.
Eddie saw your wandering gaze, rolling to a stop in front of his place. Nervous in his own rite, he reached up to twist a curl between his fingers.
“Well, it’s not the Four Seasons, but my uncle’s out,” he said, glancing at anything but you. You smiled at his anxiousness, finding it endearing.
“I don’t care about that kind of stuff, Eddie.”
He scoffed at your words, eyes rolling with humour as he jumped out of the van. You followed his lead, stumbling slightly as the gravel crunched under your boots. Following him up to the door, you noticed the way he fumbled with his keys, having to try two, three times to get it unlocked.
It was spacious inside, dark furniture and fishing hats littering the walls. You could tell it was a man cave, the sign of a woman missing for years. Walking over to a framed picture on a side table, you ran your fingers over it, Eddie standing in front of tree with a serious look, head cocked to the side with a black DIO shirt on.
His throat cleared behind you, Eddie scratching at the back of his head as he tried to subtly kick a discarded shirt underneath a desk, out of your vision.
“You want something? Uh, water? Alcohol, weed, anything?” He scrambled towards the kitchen area, fridge thrown open as he rifled through the contents. Glasses clinked together, something falling as he cursed.
Taking a seat on the couch, you shook your head. “I don’t do any of that.”
His head popped up over the counter separating you, eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs. The fridge swung shut behind him as he looked around, slowly making his way over to you.
He stood in front of you, your heart racing as you looked at him through long lashes. The angle had you appreciating his beauty, cut short as he moved to sit.
“But… you’re friends with…”
“Doesn’t mean shit. It’s not my thing,” you shrugged, placing both hands on your knees. He nodded, an awkward silence settling on you two.
A small smile crossed your face, the awkward air lingering heavy on you two. Eddie whistled, sighing periodically as you glanced around the place, hands tapping on your exposed legs. You didn’t know how much time had passed, Eddie settling his back against the couch as you sat upright.
“What did you think of me?”
“Why did you want to come here?”
You and Eddie spoke at the same time, your words becoming jumbled over each other as you shared a deep shade of red of your cheeks. Making eye contact, he let out a chuckle, hand motioning to you. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth, laughing silently at the situation.
“You first.”
The words were shared again, both of your voices intertwining. Eddie jokingly rolled his eyes, leaning closer to you as he lowered his voice. You noticed his lips were bright red, becoming wet as his tongue darted out briefly.
“Okay, now this is getting weird.” He stretched his legs in front of him, foot bumping against yours before you snatched it back, heart racing at the contact. He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your leg.
“You first,” you answered, trying to cover it up as you cleared your throat. You turned your body towards him, leg tucked underneath you as one elbow was propped up on the back of the couch. “I’m the guest.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” he tried, but failed miserably at trying not to stare at you. His deep eyes running over your exposed collarbones.
“I wanted to come here because I want to get to know you. You seem… cool.” Your own words failed at your attempt to remain normal, noticing the way his chest hitched slowly when you outstretched your hand, fingers running over the small stretch of the couch between you.
“Just cool?” Glancing down at his mouth once again, you turned to look away as he noticed the movement. He seemed more nervous after the gesture, repeating the motion of his tongue over his lip. His head cocked even further, legs widening as he settled further into the couch.
You nodded, mind blanking as you looked at him. Subconsciously, you scooted closer to him, the tension between the two of you thickening. His head leaned back against the couch, the expanse of his neck looking enticing in the moment.
"And what did you think of me?" You asked, curious at his statement earlier. 'My idea of you would've changed' kept repeating in your head, not sure whether or not you should feel offended or not by it. It's not like you should care anyways, this man did not exist to you a couple of hours ago, but you did. You had wished you met this man earlier, your temptation to have him pulling at your core.
"I thought..." His voice trailed off, kicking up at the end of the word as your hand brushed his thigh. Glancing down quickly, you repeated the motion, manicured hand coming up to tug at one of his belt loops. You felt bold, nerves leaving you as you realized he may have wanted this too. Whatever this was.
"What did you think?" You asked again, eyes trained on the jean material beneath your finger tips. You dipped a finger in his pocket, tugging on it as his hips shifted beneath your touch. A bulge was becoming present, material growing tighter. A blush covered your cheeks, nerves returning again as you refused to make eye contact.
"That, uh..." He cleared his throat, bringing a finger to his mouth to sink his teeth into. The hand smacked into his thigh, chocked, sharp inhale being taken. "Thought you were a good girl, you know? Miss, uh, goody two-shoes."
You laughed at his words, hand grazing quickly over his bulge. He took an even sharper inhale, mouth dropping open in a silent gasp. Looking up at him through your lashes, you smirked.
"You still think that, Eddie?" Your voice was a whisper, cutting through the air as he made eye contact with you. His tongue poked at the corner of his mouth, running over his teeth as he gave a quick shake of his head.
A beat passed between the two of you, Eddie's hungry stare bore into your own, your hand still on his thigh. You opened your mouth to speak, teeth bumping into your bottom lip as you stumbled over the words to say.
Eddie lunged at you, hands coming up to rest on your cheeks as you moaned, sitting up on your knees to get better access. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, messy as you climbed over him, swinging a leg over his lap. Moving with a fervor, he licked into your mouth, giant hands cupping your jaw, your hands running over his chest as you pulled at the vest he wore. Wrapping an arm around you, he didn't pull from the kiss as he sat up, allowing you to yank the material off of his body.
You grinded against him, leather mini dress pushed up to your hips as the thick jean material ground into you. Eddie groaned, pulling away slightly to reach down to unbutton his jeans.
His fingers fumbled as he struggled, pressing chaste kisses to your lips. You tugged at his hair, licking up the breathy moans he let out at each pull.
"You ever done something like this before, Eddie?" You breathed against his mouth, pulling up your dress as the button popped loose. His hands paused as his eyes shot open to look at you, panting, heavy out of breath.
He nodded, leaning back into the couch as you pressed a hand to his chest. Raising, he went to kiss you again, only to be pushed down as you gyrated your hips over his.
He whined at the touch, curses flowing from his lips as he placed his hands on your hips, guiding the motion. A wave of heat was sent to your core, wetness dampening the thin material of your underwear.
He nodded at your question, hair shaking in all different directions as you bounced slightly, enjoying the way he fit perfectly in the dip of your pussy.
"Yea-yeah, I have," he said, and you weren't sure if he was lying. Smirking, you raised to your knees, lifting your bum to pull his pants down his hips. He followed your movement, hips raising as the material slid down his thighs. Stopping mid-thigh, you pulled his boxers down, mouth watering at the sight of his cock, swollen and red at the head, dripping in anticipation.
"You want to show me?" You asked, getting off of him to kneel in front. You placed both hands on his thighs, mouth opening to drool against him. Eddie moaned at the feeling, hand coming up to grip at your hair. "Since I'm such a good girl and all?"
"You're such a fuckin-" He began to say before lacing his fingers behind your head, urging your mouth on his cock. You tried laughing around it, mouth full as he pushed you down. Closing your eyes, you choked on him, feeling him hit the back of your throat.
Fucking into your mouth, he let out chocked gasps, head being thrown back as his hands guided your mouth. The pace was too quick, wetness dripping down your chin, onto his balls, the entire ordeal becoming more and more messy. Your eyes rolled back, loving the way he was using you, squelching of his cock in your mouth filling the air.
"Fuck," he moaned, hips pumping up to meet the guidance of his hands half way. You flattened your tongue, gagging loudly as he shoved all the way in. "If anyone could see you right now."
You moaned louder, hand leaving his thigh as you reached down between your legs. You were dripping wet, underwear soaked as he fucked your mouth. Rubbing small circles against your clit, you couldn't help but begin to thrust your own hips against your hand.
"You're so- ah, shit, your mouth feels so g- so fucking good," he moaned, thrusts becoming more rapid. Your fingers against your own clit sped up to match his pace, white hot pleasure filling your body with warmth.
"I'm gonna-" He whined, pulling you off of him with a yank of your hair. Your mouth was half open in a smirk, saliva dripping off of your chin as you looked up to him. His gaze grew dark, eyes rolling in pleasure as he pulled you up to him.
His cock pressed against his abdomen, angry red at the ruined orgasm.
"I need you to cum inside me," you whispered, crawling up to him as you settled in his lap once again. His hands found your hips, your underwear pushed to the side as you hovered over him.
Cock nudging inside you, the two of you mewled at the feeling, you stretched wide with a burn, him encased in the warmness of your cunt. You sank onto him, firmly seated in his lap, his hands rubbing small circles onto your lower back.
His shirt was still on, white tee pushed up to his chest as he sank lower on the couch. You adjusted to the feeling of him, pressing your lips to his as he squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure.
"I can't- I have to move- I'm gonna-" His words didn't make sense, coming out jumbled as you began to ride him, hips moving up and down on his cock as pants escaped his lips. The head of his cock nudged deep against that sensitive spongy spot, your moans becoming louder.
With your head thrown back in ecstasy, you couldn't help, but lean in towards that white hot feeling lingering in your abdomen. Eddie began to thrust underneath you, meeting you halfway as you became more cock drunk.
"You're so perfect, fuck, you're so perfect, so perfect," he muttered praises under his breath, eyebrows knitted together as he picked up his pace. The sound of slapping skin dominated in the room, grunts and your high pitched moans following close behind.
"Eddie," you drawled out his name, the last thrust sending you over the edge, your orgasm shaking your legs as he fucked you through it. You seated yourself on him, hands pressed to his chest as you hunched over, head pressed into the white cotton, hips moving on their own as he stuttered his hips.
His own orgasm followed short, a low moan that he breathed into your hair, your name on his lips. Catching your breath, you whimpered at the feeling of him sinking even further into you, jumping up at your cervix being pressed.
"Here, I'm sorry, here," he spoke in small phrases as he lifted you off of him, moving in one motion to pull his boxers up and lay you next to him. You rested your cheek against his thigh, curling into yourself as you tried pulling your dress down over your ass with one hand.
His hand ran over your back, small circles over the length of skin as you leaned into the touch. You angled your head to look at him, giggling as he stared down at you, fucked out look on his face.
"Was that okay?" You asked, turning so you laid on your back. He nodded dumbly, hair following over his face.
"That was perfect, man," he smiled sheepishly as you laughed, hand coming up to smack his chest at the name he threw you. He was so Eddie, the new character that you happened across.
"We should, uh.. go out," he confessed, nerves returning to his face as you looked up at him. Your eyebrows shot up at the offer, his face covered in horror as he tried to clear up what he just said. "Not like now, no, no, no--not now. Unless you'd want to- but, no... we could, uh... maybe it's a bad idea."
You sat up, pressing a kiss to his mouth as he stumbled through his words. Feeling him relax into you, his breathing evened, lips moving languidly. Pulling away, you rubbed your thumb against his cheekbone, smiling at the way his eyes crinkled at the corners with his own matching smile.
"I want to," you said, pressing a quick kiss to his nose. He blushed, smug look crossing his face as his tried to conceal his beam of affection. "You better wine and dine me after this. I didn't put out for nothing."
He laughed again, kissing you as his arms come to embrace you. "How does a shitty dive bar sound?"
Grin wide with the expanse of your teeth, you shook your head at him, "Sounds perfect, Munson."
an: first Eddie fic, lets celebrate, woooo. its a quick one (in my terms, you know I love the buildup). but lmk if this is something that you guys want more of.
masterlist. inbox and requests are open!
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ghostskiss · 9 months
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Handle It
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Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader WC: 5.1k Summary: Reader is taking a shower and someone decides to crash the party. Warnings: 18+ Exhibitionism (risk of getting caught), shower sex (kinda), SUB SIMON, teasing, begging, sub to dom to…sub, finger sucking, oral, fingering, penetration, overstimulation, spit, creampie
Hot water beads down your back. Well, maybe that’s a bit too generous. It’s hardly trickling out of the showerhead above you, and the water’s lukewarm at best. But it feels great, your eyes are closing, your muscles are relaxing, and you almost forget that it’s a communal shower. That anyone could walk in and join you at another showerhead, there’s several in here, meant to get a group of people clean to save time. Time’s important in the military, you know this. So does everyone else, but there’s an unspoken rule. If someone’s in the showers, you don’t join unless absolutely necessary.
Which is why you’re allowing yourself this moment. You’d announced to the group that you were hitting the showers after the operation. And true to your word, as soon as you’d stepped out of the vehicle, you beelined it to the building. Soap joked about joining you, earning a punch from someone in result. You hadn’t cared to look behind you to confirm who it was, instead you’d waved a hand over your shoulder, acknowledging that you’d heard him, but wasn’t threatened by his constant yet harmless flirts. It was how you two communicated. It was a nice break in the violence and mayhem Task Force 141 found yourselves in. Even if Ghost and Price rolled their eyes at the banter, you could tell it eased their nerves at times. It’s hard to hold onto humanity when you see the worst of it day end and day out.
Getting the bar of soap into your hands, you rub it against your skin, ridding yourself of the dirt and grime from today’s work. It’s normal to get dirty doing what you do, and yet no matter how you wash yourself, it feels as though you’re never clean. You’d scrubbed your skin raw once, after a mission, coming out of the showers with irritated skin. Still. You were never clean. Today didn’t feel like that. The operation went well. There was no killing, no torture, and for once, it was an easy day. You want to savor this feeling, knowing that today went right, how relaxing the water is, feeling somewhat clean despite the past.
A knock rings through the showers, bouncing off the walls. The soap slips through your fingers as you jump with sound, the relaxing feeling you had now long gone. The knock has authority to it. It has impatience. Gritting your teeth, you rinse off quickly before turning the knob to shut the water off. You leave the poor soap on the ground, moving to the cement wall separating the showers from the door of the building.
“What?” You call out, a little irritated. Sure, you’d been in here for a bit longer than normal. But it was the one time you’d actually felt…nice.
A deep voice from behind the closed door comes to you. You resist an urge to roll your eyes. Ghost.
“Been in there a bit. Other people would like to clean themselves before heading in for the night.”
This, you do roll your eyes at. He’s right. You’re hogging the shower, but there’s an unspoken…thing you have against Ghost. He’s stoic and a bit miserable to be around if you’re being honest. He’s too serious, all the time, he never likes to have fun, and if you and Soap are going back and forth, he’s got to voice his displeasure. You secretly think he’s jealous. You think that he either is jealous of the relationship you have with Soap, or he’s jealous of Soap. Probably the former since you two can hardly stand each other.
Sighing out, you cross your arms over your naked chest. Right, you’d almost forgotten where you were.
“Well,” you start out, a bit snarky, “there’s always room, Lt.”
You’re joking, obviously, already moving to wrap a towel around your body. Without waiting for whatever response your lieutenant is trying to muster up, you cross the space from the cement wall to the door, hand gripping the handle to wrench it open.
There he is, in all his glory, towering over you. He’s ditched the mask he wears in operations or important meetings, donning his comfortable skulled balaclava. In fact, he’s changed out of most of his gear. Bare hands, black Henley shirt rolled up to his elbows. Of course, his lower half is clothed in his usual black pants, and he still has his boots on. Yet he looks more naked and vulnerable than you do in your little white towel. He looks at a loss of words.
A playful look crosses your features, a smirk teasing your lips as you prop a hand on your hip. Before you can get a word out, Ghost shifts forward quickly with a grumble tumbling out of his chest, pushing you back into the building with his presence alone. You frown a bit as you move backwards to accommodate his size as the door behind him closes you both in, confused as he glares down at you.
“Christ, could you not waltz around in nothing but bloody a towel?”
Another attempt to not roll your eyes comes over you. “What’re you, shy? It’s not like I’m completely naked.” You gesture at yourself; it’d be as if you were wearing a strapless dress. Granted, the towel is tiny, you’re wet from the shower, and you’re definitely not wearing any panties. Still, you had no idea Ghost was such a prude.
“Really?” Ghost’s gaze trails hotly down the front of your body. Suddenly your face feels hot. He’s never once looked at you like this. Like he’d…
A shaky breath escapes you before you laugh it off, “If you can’t handle me in a towel after shower, I doubt you’d be able to handle being around me in the actual showers.” You jerk a thumb over your shoulder as you watch his gaze follow it behind you. He can see the room of showers over the wall. You think you see his jaw clench under his mask.
This is bad. You’re jokingly teasing him the way you and Soap talk. This is uncharted territory, and you’re not sure you can keep the act up. With Soap, it’s harmless fun. You both know you’re not interested in each other. It’s easy to try to get a reaction out of each other, to see who says the most ridiculous shit first. It’s a stupid game. With Ghost, it’s dangerous. It’s nerve wrecking. It’s serious because he’s serious.
Suddenly he’s looking back down at you. You try not to fidget as you stare back at him. You can’t read him. You’re about to talk to break whatever this tension is, about to tell him the showers are his.
“No, I probably can’t.”
Did his voice drop an octave? Why was it making your skin heat? What was going on right now? You feel like your brain is malfunctioning. Your gaze drops down to the broad slope of his shoulders, and down his frame, distracted a bit. Of course, he’s attractive. You’d be insane to not think so. Even if you’ve never seen his face. It’s the way he holds himself, it’s the way he’s built, it’s his damned voice, and his eyes and everything else. But he’s your lieutenant for Christ’s sake. He’s mean sometimes. He’s ruthless, a brute, a –
“Let me see. I want to try. To… handle it.”
You freeze, eyes shooting back up to his. “You -?”
His chin dips to your towel, “Take it off.”
For a moment, you’re both watching each other. Ghost’s got his eyes on yours, unwavering. He’s really serious about this, you realize. Your thighs are clenching together now, trying to relieve the ache. You were joking, you think, about him not handling it in the showers. Now you’re thinking maybe you’re the one who can’t.
Shakenly, your hands raise to the knot tied at your breast. Your actions stop for a moment, silently waiting for him to tell you to stop. The command never comes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, bearing yourself for your broody and moody higher up. For him. All because you don’t want to back out on what you started. Suddenly, you want to prove him wrong. That he can’t handle it. That you’re not affected at all by his words or actions, or more importantly his inactions. The towel drops.
It’s loud with how silent it is in the room. Who knew a damp towel could be so loud? Your gaze doesn’t leave his, holding it, even as you stand bare in front of him. A smirk quirks your lips. He’s avoiding looking at you. That’s how he thinks he can move around the situation at hand.
Testing him, your hand brushes against your own collarbone, trailing slowly -- tantalizingly slow. Still, his eyes never wander from your own. So, this is how you could play games with Ghost. It’ll be fun to see him break.
“You’re not looking,” you start, stating the obvious.
“Never said I had to. Only said that I could handle being around you.” He shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he won the game.
You laugh a little at that, and watch his eyes ever so slightly dip to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. Your own hands are wandering your body now, groping a bit at your chest. His hands clench at his sides.
“Are you going to take a shower, Lt?” A breathless noise leaves you as you ask, your fingers pinching one of your nipples. Fuck him. You’re so turned on right now it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t have to look. Just the thought of being here in front of him while he’s fully clothed doing this, while the two of you are alone and anyone could walk in –
“No. And quit that.” He growls out, knocking your hand away from your breast. He still hasn’t looked, but you’re guessing he’s getting a view from his peripherals.
“Quit what?” You feign innocence, your hand that’d been knocked away now dips in between your thighs eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “You said you’d try. If you’re not going to take a shower, you can watch.”
Ghost has no words for you now, his pupils dilating before your very eyes. Spreading your legs a bit wider to get a better reach on yourself, you continue. Slow pressing circles on your clit, your arousal slicking loudly in the air. Your free hand goes back up to your tits, to continue groping, pinching, pulling.
Finally, he breaks. He breaks when your pussy squelches around your own fingers, his burning gaze trailing down your body to the hand that’s pulling such noises out of you. A groan sets loose from him, and you shudder from the mere sound.
“Kneel.”
Ghost’s eyes shoot back up to yours in question.
“Kneel, I said. You can get a better look.” Your tone is set in stone. Despite the burning ache you’ve got, the need for him to touch you, you feel in control.
He hesitates for a moment before lowering himself down to the ground, knees pressing against the cement. His eyes have yet to leave yours.
“You can look but don’t touch.” Your breath hitches, arousal seeping into your very being seeing him like this. Listening to your commands. You watch his hands clench on his thighs, his attention going back to your pussy. Your breath hitches at his stare, feeling the heat of it. He doesn’t have to touch for you to feel his attention. It’s making you sloppy, messy, and wet. You keen, a brief thought of asking him to touch you, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
Staring down at him as your fingers continue to tease yourself, you watch him just as intently as he’s watching you. He seems fixated. You wonder if he’s drooling in his own mask. The front of his pants looks tight. His hands are clenching and unclenching on his thighs, his shoulders shuddering when you make a noise in the back of your throat. You watch him tense as you ease a finger in yourself. Your clit is throbbing, aching, begging for attention, you’re teasing yourself just as much as you’re teasing him. Slowly pumping the one finger in yourself, you press another one in, mewling out as your hips buck a little upward.
“Let me taste you.” He rushes out suddenly. Ghost’s voice is gravel, scrapping across your body. Your head nearly tips back at the sound of it, another pitiful noise leaving your mouth.
 Stay strong. Stay strong. You shake your head, unable to give him an actual answer as your fingers create a devastatingly slow pace, slick coating your fingers and thighs.
“Fuck. What’ll take? Let me taste you.” He’s demanding now, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the material over his thighs.
You pant, trying not to stammer. “Beg.” It comes out stronger than you feel right now. Core burning with the need to come.
“Please.” He grits out through his teeth, angry eyes coming up to your glassy ones.
“You don’t sound sincere.” You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head again. Your fingers pause, coming out to press softly against your clit. If you press any harder, you have no doubt you’ll come. You don’t want to give it to him yet. Ghost watches the action, a growl coming from him.
“Please,” he tries again, looking back up at you to see if it was good enough. It’s not and you tsk at him. “Please, let me taste your pussy. Let me put my mouth on you. Please.”
The last plead is strained, almost a whine. Your fingers dip back in, curling as you pump them again. Your head falls forward a bit with a whine of your own and you try to gather your bearings. “How are you going to taste me with your mask on?”
Quickly, he tugs it upward, only exposing his mouth. Christ. His mouth. He’s got a scar running down his lips. His jaw is clenched, and you curse whoever created him. He’s handsome, even if you’re only seeing the bottom half of his face. You watch his tongue tease his full bottom lip, his mouth opening into a soft pant. He’s eager. You catch another whine in your throat, fingers leaving your pussy to press against his mouth, covered in your own wetness. He opens his mouth, latching onto them, sucking and licking, taking anything you have to offer.
You watch with a newfound feeling. Here you have your lieutenant on the ground, kneeling and begging, sucking your fingers like it’s his God given right. Like he has something to prove. That he’s desperate enough to be debased to nothing. He’s moaning at the taste of you, following your fingers as they leave his mouth, like he’s not ready to stop cleaning yourself from them. He’s tilting closer as he watches them disappear back to your throbbing sex.
“No,” you tell him, stopping him from following your fingers all the way, “that’s all you get.” You moan out, your fingers wet with his spit now circling your clit. You need to come like this, having him at his knees in front of you.
“W-wait. Please. I’ll do anything. Fuck, please. Let me give you what you want, I can make you cum. With my mouth please –”
His begging sends you over the edge, not stopping as you cry out loudly, pussy clenching on nothing as your fingers circle and circle. It’s long and crippling, and you almost feel your knees buckle, your free hand gripping the cement wall behind you. Fuck, he’s not shutting up. It drags it out, hearing him whine and beg, a man who you thought could never be like this. You rip your hand away from yourself, panting, thankful for the wall behind you holding you up. Your thighs are quivering and wet from the orgasm, breath trying to catch up to your pounding heart.
Ghost is quiet now, looking up at you, waiting for your next move. His mouth parts, like he’s going to start up again and you hush him.
“Clean me up.”
You barely have the sentence out before he’s shooting forwards, hands gripping your thighs to make room for himself. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, tongue latching onto your already overstimulated clit. You cry out, hands shooting up to his masked head, trying to pull him away as he laps at your cream.
“A-ah, wait, Simon –” You start, squirming, trying to get away from his mouth and tongue. You feel him smile, the bastard.
“Think you can tease me like that? Huh?” He growls as he laps at you, tongue not missing an inch of your pussy. His words vibrate through you, not bothering to really pull away to talk. He’s violent in the way his mouth attacks you. “Think you can just do what you want to me?”
You stutter, about to apologize until he starts to add his fingers to the mix. Two thick fingers of his slam into you, pumping up as his tongue flicks your clit. You cry out, tears in your eyes as you take it. He’s going to make you come again, this fast. Too fast. You feel dizzy, vision fuzzy.
“Making me sit in front of this pretty pussy and not letting me touch or taste it.” He groans, and then chuckles as you bare down on his fingers, clenching hard. “Oh, you gonna come again pretty baby? Come on then.”
He’s mean. Meaner than you were to him. You’re panting, quivering, and aching, your pussy making obscene noises as he assaults all of your senses. You know you’re coming before you feel it. Like a delayed reaction. Gasping and bucking, he’s saying something again that you can’t register because your hearing leaves you, your sight leaves you, every sensation and thought is gone as you cry out, coming and coming again. Somehow in the midst of it, his fingers and mouth leave as you come back down to your body, and he’s holding you up, thank God. You doubt the wall behind you would’ve helped at all. Your fingers are clenched on the material of his mask, and as you blink down at him, chest heaving, you see his wet mouth smirk.
A flash of fear goes through you. This was the Ghost you know. The ruthless, cold, domineering, Simon Ghost Riley. Not the man that’d been on his knees begging. Not the man who’d let you command and tease him. He sets down the leg that’d been over his shoulder. You’re not sure if you’re still completely all together. He stands to his full height, and you shiver, trying to sink yourself back into the wall behind you as much as you can. His hand comes up to your jaw, gripping it gently as he tilts your head back.
“Open.”
You obey, lips parting, mouth opening. Nothing could prepare you for what he does next. He leans into you, pressing up hard against you, lips barely hovering your own. He spits. Fluid enters your mouth, and you moan, swallowing it up. It’s your own arousal, sweet and warm and oh. Your wet lashes flutter shut as Ghost licks the seam of your closed mouth, lapping at you before he nips and bites and kisses you. The kiss he’s giving you isn’t gentle. It’s consuming and you cry into it as your hands find purchase on his shoulders, sliding up to his neck to haul him closer to you. He answers your cry with a groan of his own, his hands cupping your ass to lift you up. Your legs come around him, locking your ankles behind his back to keep him close. Your sensitive pussy is pressed and rubbing against pants, the feeling abrasive and raw but you can’t stop from grinding against him.
 “Tell me what you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” Simon mutters against your lips, licking and biting still. You’re breathless and whimpering against him, his words going straight to your core as you move against him. He’s helping you, moving with your hips, matching you move for move. You’re distracted, unable to give him an answer as you kiss him back, your trembling fingers sliding a bit under his mask to grasp the back of his neck. He hisses out in pain when your nails dig in. “I’ll give you anything baby, please. Just say the words.”
“I – I want…” you gasp, your clit pressing against the seam of his pants. You can feel his length hard and heavy against you.
“Fuck, please. Please tell me.” He’s begging again, rutting his hips up against you, hands keeping you still as he continues.
“I want you.” Is all you can muster; all you can think about saying. You swear your brain isn’t working correctly. Even before this started. You must’ve hit your head during the mission.
"Want me? Want me to what?” He stops moving.
You groan out in frustration, head tipping back a bit before you look up at him. “Please, Simon. You’re teasing me now.” You’re not sure you like how quickly the tables have turned.
Ghost laughs a bit, breathless himself. You think he’s going to drag it out further until he sees the pout furrowing your brow. “Alright. I am. I’ll give it to you.” He still keeps you wrapped up against him, one hand holding you, the other going in between the two of you. His knuckles brush against your bare sex and you moan lowly, watching him unbuckle his pants, pulling his hard cock out. Precum is dripping down the length of it and your throat dries at the sight of him.
Concern must be showing on your face with how big he is. Another chuckle from him, “You can take it pretty baby.” Your concern dies out as he slides the length against your wet pussy and you bite down on lip, trying to contain your noises. You want him in you, size be damned. He runs the tip up and down once more before pressing against your entrance, pushing in slowly. This time, you can’t contain the low moan you have. He gives it to you slowly, pumping his hips up into you, letting you adjust to his size. It’s stretching you open, and you feel like he’s splitting you in half. It’s heavy and deep and throbbing –
“Oh.” You let out, almost surprised it feels so good. Addicting. You feel drunk.
A sadistic laugh comes from the man in you, his cock slowly pumping into you. He’s being nice, giving it to you this softly. His hands are pulling you back onto his cock, pinning you against the wall and his hard body. Your legs tighten around him as your nails dig into his shoulders.
“That’s it. It’s all yours, isn’t it?” Ghost dips down to nip your lips as you whimper. “Been wanting this pussy wrapped around me for so long, baby. Fuck.” He moans lowly as you keen at his words, clenching around his girth. “Teasing me when you have no idea what I’d do to you. For you.”
He’s going slow, dragging this out as long as possible. He’s pressing in deep, rolling his hips before pulling slowly back, letting you feel every inch of him before starting all over again. It’s driving you insane. It feels like it’s going on forever, his slow thrusting. He rocks into your soaking cunt, easing his throbbing cock in you smoothly and repeatedly. Ecstasy has taken hold of every fiber of your being. You hardly feel conscious, as his words lull you into lust, his cock pacifying you into drunken state. He won’t shut up again as you cry against his lips.
“Pussy feels so good. So good. Fuck. You can have this dick whenever you want baby, just say the word and it’s yours.” He moans lowly, the sloppy sounds of your pussy and his hips thumping into you with languid strokes are overpowering your thoughts. His words make your pussy clamp down on him and he moans again, not afraid to let you hear how good you’re making him feel.
“Si—” you gasp, mouth falling open against his, trying to pull him up closer to you.
“Tell me. Tell me, sweetheart. Fuck.” He rasps against you, his hips stuttering slightly at the sound of your broken moans.
“F-fuck me. Please fuck me. Simon, please.” You beg, not afraid to be pulled down to your knees like he had been. To be debased to nothing just as you had done to him.
He’s not just pliant, he’s willing. Eager again to please you. You know he could’ve done what you had to him, teased you, made you beg more, made you want and want and need. But he gives it to you, just like he promised he would. Your pussy flares as his thrusts get heavier, deeper, faster, rougher. It’s destroying you as much as it’s freeing you and your eyes roll back a bit. God, you’re going to cum again.
A knock sounds. Not unlike the one Ghost pounded on the door earlier. You gasp, trying to stop running to the hurdle you’re launching towards. Your body doesn’t get the memo, or doesn’t care, and it certainly seems Ghost couldn’t care less that someone is right outside the door. The man makes a frustrated noise, at you or the knock, you’re not sure. He clamps his hand down over your mouth as you try to contain the noises you’re currently making. You want to tell him to stop, someone’s right there, but he keeps fucking you. God, he’s so mean and cruel and –
“Lt?”
Your heart shudders in fear. Soap. No, God, no one can see this. Ghost fucking you against the wall, completely clothed, unrushed. Despite the fear of being caught, you feel a whine catch in your throat as you thrash again Simon’s relentless fucking. He hushes you quietly, slamming roughly into you now. You stop a squeal, but just barely, a loud yet pathetic squeak leaving you as euphoria bursts through you, pussy convulsing around his cock.
“Just a sec, Johnny.” Ghost throws over his shoulder, a smile playing on his handsome face. He hardly sounds phased even when just moments ago he was the one loudly moaning into your mouth. He hardly sounds winded even with the rough thrusts he’s delivering into you, fucking you through your orgasm. You claw weakly at his chest, angry at him, still coming down from the heaven he just gave to you.
You think Soap leaves, you’re not sure, but Ghost moves his hand from your mouth, back to your ass to bring down onto his cock. He’s using you now, making you meet him thrust for thrust, drilling your G-spot with such precision that your vision fades for a second.
“No, look at me. That’s it. Good girl. You’re so pretty baby. Such a good girl. You gonna let me fill you up now? Haven’t I been good enough for you? Huh?” He’s mocking a bit, but serious. His own form of a joke that you have no power or brain to call him out on. All you’re feeling, all you’re thinking about is his cock ravaging you from the inside, still, overstimulated. Your body hardly cares. It’s right there, right at the edge, ready to jump and to give him your all. You’re too dumb, blinded with pleasure, staring up at him as he growls down at you, throbbing cock ready to give it to you when you say the words. Maybe he really is under your command after all.
A whine comes from you, frantically nodding to him, hands scrambling on him to try to find solid ground while you’re in a different time and space with the fucking he’s giving you.
“No, you have to tell me baby. Fuck, tell me I’m good baby. Tell me I was good, and I can fill you up.” Simon’s begging, whining lowly in the back of his throat, his hips getting sloppier and shorter, pounding into you.
“You’re good. You’re good. Simon, you’re good. It’s so good. Please, pleasepleaseplease come in me.” You’re begging, sobbing, actually, tears streaming down your face as you try to catch up with your body. It hurts, it hurts so fucking good, you make a long and agonized noise against his mouth, he’s kissing you again, sucking your tongue, running his against your teeth, pulling sucking overstimulating –
Simon makes his own devastated noise, a low and shattering groan of pleasure and you feel it just as you’re coming, milking him into you. His cock is surging into you, pumping hot cum with each deep thrust. He’s grinding into you, fucking you both through your orgasms, making you see stars as you cry into his mouth, fingers tearing into his back through his shirt. His hips finally still after what seems to be eternity, your pussy still clenched around him. He keeps himself deep in you as you both try to gather your bearings as well as your breath. You’re staring at each other, panting, chests heaving. He brings a shaky hand up to your cheek, cupping it as he runs his thumb over your tears. The tenderness makes your heart clench. All he’s done tonight surprised you. He leans down to place a kiss against your lips as tenderly as the thumb that stroked you. You kiss him back gently, a little worried where this was going to leave the two of you.
He pulls back, eyes bouncing in between your own. He seems to sense your worry and he sighs, pulling out slowly. You almost want to cry at the loss of him. Ghost sets you down steadily, keeping his hands on you as you wobble, legs weak. You hold onto him and look back up, ready to question what the hell this meant. He shakes his head a bit and nods towards the showers.
“I think I can handle taking a shower with you. But it’s gotta be quick baby.”
Shocked, you stare at him incredulously before you burst out into a terrible laughing fit. You’d almost forgotten how you got here in the first place. You watch his mouth quirk up into his own smile before he starts to laugh a little too. You grab his hand, tugging him with you towards the showers.
“C’mon then big boy. Show me how you handle it.”
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ramonapest · 5 months
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Pressure is, it's kind of my thing
@d20exchange gift for @doodlididi!
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roseofhybrids · 4 months
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Since @sm-baby decided to grace us with the digital carnival comic today. Figured I'd express my gratitude with a small gift
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How to turn 3-4 hours into 5 seconds
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tusks-and-claws · 11 months
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I’m Not What You Need (But I Am)
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Miguel O’Hara x female reader
Summary:  “When you sit there/acting like you know me/acting like you only brought me here to get below me”
You have a concern to bring to Miguel, but when he hears what you really think of him, he doesn’t let you off so easily
Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, kind of missionary idk what to call it, dominant Miguel, brat taming, orgasm denial, dirty talk, choking, sort of strangers to lovers, maybe a little bit of a hatefuck if you squint, reader is a Spider person, def a bit out of character
Wordcount: 3.5k
Find on Ao3 here :3
"Why are you coming to me with such trivial annoyances?" Miguel O'Hara asked you from the platform of his lab, at least ten feet above you. He was tapping on various screens, not giving you eye contact. It felt purposeful, pointed. 
"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to know when fights broke out. Keeping the peace and all that." You felt yourself growing warm, anxiety fluttering in your stomach. 
"What I want," he said, his tone growing short. "Is for people to sort out their own bullshit, so I can worry about what's important. Which, if you haven't noticed, is much bigger than you and I and some stupid fight in the lobby."
As soon as he said it, you knew he was right. But he was still being an asshole. You were only trying to help.
You put your hands up in defense. "I just thought you'd wanna know." Then whispered under your breath "douchebag," as you turned to walk away.
But your progress was halted by something tugging at your wrist. You looked down to see what it was, and closed your eyes, quietly cursing yourself. Neon red webbing. 
"You wanna run that by me again?" Miguel asked. 
You swallowed a lump in your throat. "Nothing, it was nothing. I'll just leave." 
You tried to pull free, but he was reeling you in, like a helpless fish on a hook. "Oh, no," he said, sounding somewhat amused. "No, I heard you. 'Douchebag,' eh? Not very creative. But…" he paused when you were closer, close enough that he could look directly down at you. "I want to hear you say it again. Face to face, this time."
You frowned. "How can we be 'face to face' when you're so high above me?"
He wagged a finger at you. "You've got a point there." In a sudden flash of tingling, your Spider sense triggered. But Miguel was too fast, he'd been doing this for far longer than you had. In an instant, you were wrapped in neon red and being hoisted upward onto the platform. He planted you right in front of him, putting his hands on his hips and leaning down so his eyes were level with yours. "Happy?"
You huffed. Why was he like this? A self-satisfied grin played at the edges of his plush lips as he scrutinized you with bloodshot eyes. Finally registering how close he was, and how huge he was, you started turning red. He could throw you around like you weighed nothing, couldn't he? He had just lifted you up here with hardly any effort. You'd never thought about another Spider like this. Sure, you were all strong, but there was something in Miguel's upper body that you couldn't free from your thoughts, something in those massive shoulders, something-
"Well?" He asked, breaking your trance. "I don't have all day."
You met his eyes. They looked so tired. You didn't want to insult him anymore. You wanted to leave and pretend like the thoughts you had about him never existed. 
But you knew what he needed to hear. 
"Douchebag," you repeated. 
He smiled, and it was humorless. "It's nice to know that this is what people think of me. That I did this for all of us, and everyone in our worlds. And the word that comes to mind when people talk to me is…?" He raised an eyebrow prompting you. 
"...Douchebag."
"That's right!" He pointed a finger at you. "I don't ask for much. I ask for people to listen and respect the operation. And that means respecting my time, too, eh? No more coming right to me with petty fights that people can solve on their own." 
You just stared back up at him, hardly registering his words. Respect time, no more fights, whatever. His hair looked so soft. 
"Got it?" He asked, starting to sound frustrated again. 
You nodded.
"I need to hear you say it."
"G-got it." 
"Good." He patted your shoulder. What an odd gesture. It was very nearly caring. "Let's get you out of here." He flexed his hand, talons coming free. He quickly swiped at the webbing he had wrapped you in, the strands snapping and falling to the floor in shreds.
Your heart was hammering in your chest. His brow furrowed. "Listen, I know I'm scary, but I'm just doing my job."
You shook your head. "I'm- I'm not scared."
"Are you not? Dios mio, I can hear your blood pumping." 
His heightened senses were going to be your death sentence. The longer he stood staring at you, the worse your thoughts became. But you couldn't bring yourself to move away from his attention. You crossed your arms, trying to make yourself small so he would stop looking at you. 
He raised an eyebrow. "What, do you wanna be friends or something?"
No, you thought, I want us to be something different. 
Despite your best efforts, you blurted out, "no, in all honesty, I've never really liked you that much." Why did you say that? What was wrong with you? 
He cocked his head, his eyes widening, processing what you just said. He started to nod. "Oh, wow. Great. Thank you so much. What a productive conversation. And you're still here because…?"
"Because you getting the last word in is infuriating to me." You couldn't stop yourself. You knew this was bad, but you couldn't stop.
"How do you think I feel? You came here for the sole purpose of bothering me and now you won't leave me the shock alone." He pointed at you again, forefinger lightly jabbing your collarbone. "You. Can. Leave. This is my lab, you little brat." He spoke the words through gritted teeth, and you could just barely see his elongated canines, gleaming and sharp in the light of the lab's computer screens. 
Oh no.
You stood there, just blinking at him. You've never seen someone so annoyed looking so attractive at the same time. It wasn't fucking fair.
He suddenly started, the anger from his face vanishing, confusion taking its place. "Oh yeah?" He asked, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "That's why your heart is pounding?"
Fuck.
"What, uh… what do you-"
"Don't play dumb with me.” He placed a gloved finger under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. “I can smell that you're turned on. Is that why you came here to bother me? So you could gawk at me? And maybe I'd fuck you if you were lucky."
You backed up, nearly slipping off the edge of the raised platform. Miguel reached out and caught your hand, pulling you in close to him. Unconsciously, you splayed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. His body was so warm and inviting, and you were drawn into it like a little planet circling a blazing sun. 
What was happening, what were you doing?
"Is that what you thought?" He asked, seeming to echo the questions you asked yourself, his voice growing more quiet as he looked down at you.
You quickly raised your hands away from him, closing them into loose fists and crossing your arms again. "No," you said, truthfully. 
"But you're thinking it now." He nodded. "Aren't you?"
After a pause, you nodded too.
"I really need to hear you say it." He probed.
"I'm…. I'm thinking about it now."
"Oh, are you? Thinking about what?"
You swore under your breath, doing a poor job of hiding a scowl. You should've known he wasn't going to make it easy for you. 
"Thinking about you fucking me." You grimaced after admitting it, waiting for him to mock you and disown you. 
He smiled. "That's funny. I thought I was a douchebag." 
"Fuck you, man!" You threw your arms up into the air, turning around and preparing to hop down from the platform. 
“No no no, come on, now,” he said, grasping your wrist with a large, warm hand. His grip was surprisingly gentle. “Why don’t you give me a chance to change your mind?”
You looked him in the eyes, and there was a small spark there. You sighed, unable to deny the reaction your body had to him. You wanted him. And he was offering himself to you. What reality was this where that was even possible? Not ten minutes ago, you were hardly closer than strangers. “Okay,” you said, offering him a small grin. “Don’t fuck it up.”
“Oh, I won’t.” In another swift movement, he swept you up into his arms and laid you down on your back on the lab floor. He was above you, arms on either side of your head, boxing you in. You could hardly see anything past those vast shoulders. You swallowed. He raised one hand to your head, petting your hair. “Look at that. You really are so pretty. Couldn’t help thinking it even when you were pissing me off earlier.”
You furrowed your brow. “I thought you wanted to change my mind, asshole, is this-”
He cut you off as his hand lowered, skating down your side and brushing against your breast before traveling even further. You exhaled shakily, trying to prepare yourself for this. Miguel O'Hara was touching you. Miguel O'Hara was going to fuck you. 
When he reached the curvature of your hips, he fondly squeezed, humming to himself. "Soft… so soft. You wouldn't want an asshole like me to eat you out, would you?"
Your brain short-circuited at how blatant he was. "No, I- I would, I really fucking would, Miguel."
"Oh, are we on a first name basis, now?" He hooked a clawed finger into the fabric of your suit, ripping a huge gash into it so he could access you. That… that was your good suit. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself from quipping back at him as he scooted downward, wrapping his arms around your thighs and lining himself up with your pussy. You threw your head back in anticipation, screwing your eyes shut. How was this real? How was-
You gasped as his tongue made gentle contact with your sex, slowly and carefully licking a long swipe from your opening to your clit, like he was savoring the first taste of you. 
"You taste even better than you smell, amor." 
Fuck, he was savoring you. You trembled beneath him, your hands tentatively reaching down to tangle with his hair. And it was even softer than you thought it would be. 
"That's it," he encouraged. "Hang onto me." 
You listened, your grip on his hair tightening. As if that were his cue, he brought his tongue back to your aching pussy, lapping at the wetness that was all but dripping from you. Your body immediately felt too hot on the metal floor, and you were convinced that you were beginning to melt under the warmth of his tongue. The almost-penetration was sending you spiraling; he was giving you nothing that you needed while somehow simultaneously answering your every secret desire. You needed that mouth on your clit. Your greedy, aroused body needed more, more. You had him all to yourself and he was teasing you. It wasn't fair. 
You whimpered as you gripped soft locks of his hair, waiting for him to take the plunge. Waiting…. And waiting. But he just kept lapping contentedly at your entrance, just barely dipping his tongue inside. The feeling was pleasant but infuriating. What was he trying to do? Did he want you to beg for it?
Oh.
…He couldn't be serious. 
But that was the only conclusion you could reach. After all, he'd been asking to hear you say things this entire encounter, prompting you to be vocal. All you had to do was swallow your pride. 
"M-Miguel…?" You asked, your voice quiet.
He stopped, picking his head up slightly, looking at you from under his thick brows. "Mm? What is it?"
"Please, um… please…." Your voice caught in your throat. Why was this so difficult?
"Oh, you're begging me now? What could you possibly be begging for… Isn't this what you wanted?"
You narrowed your eyes as he held your gaze with that lackadaisical expression. 
"Please," you started, feeling humiliated. "Please suck on my clit."
"Good girl. All you had to do was ask." In no time at all, his mouth was back on you. He zeroed in on your clit, taking the sensitive bundle of nerves into the wet warmth of his mouth, sucking on it just as you needed. The feeling was so intense and you couldn't suppress any of the noises that escaped you. And the noises he made didn't help in the slightest. He was humming as he worked your clit, the gentle vibrations of his voice adding to the overstimulation. He stopped for a moment to instead use his tongue, and the pointed attention was delicious.
"How are you feeling, amor?" He asked without fully pulling away from you, his voice slightly lisping from the contact. 
"Good," you gasped, feeling like you were getting close to the edge. "So, so good. Please keep going."
"Tell me when you're going to cum."
"Yes, yes I will." 
He continued his efforts, mercilessly devouring you, a cacophony of wet sounds rising to meet your ears. You could feel your orgasm building, your body singing. He was playing you like an instrument. That warm, pulsating feeling was building deep inside your core, threatening to burst apart with every second. 
Your grip on his hair tightened. "Miguel, I'm- I'm gonna-" 
Your back started arching and you closed your eyes as… nothing happened. He pulled his head away from you. You opened your eyes to see him looking at you from between your legs, one of his eyebrows raised. 
"Wha- what?" 
He smirked. "Oh, this? It's nothing... It's just that douchebags usually don't care about making women cum."
Your jaw dropped open. This again? You gritted your teeth, your clit swollen and thrumming with your pulse. You needed release. 
"I'm sorry." You said, your voice desperate. 
He raised his eyebrows, amused. "Oh, wow, that was fast." His tone was so matter-of-fact.
"I'm sorry for calling you a douchebag and an asshole, I was wrong about you. Please let me cum." You spat the words out so quickly that you hardly registered what you were saying. 
"How could I say no to that?" He returned to you, gripping your thighs more firmly than he had before, shamelessly moaning into you as you started to curl up off the hard metal floor. Your orgasm was so close, it was right within your grasp. Your breath started going ragged as you held onto him for dear life. In a white hot burst of pleasure, you came, swearing loudly as Miguel drank up every bit of you, letting you ride your orgasm out on his skillful tongue. He slowed down right as you did, matching your pace perfectly until you were a heaving mess on the floor in front of him.
"My turn, now," his voice came through the fog, it sounded distant. But you could feel strong arms lifting you up and all but dropping you onto your back on one of the lab's computer consoles, its screen turning off in response. He dismissed a section of his high tech suit, his manhood coming free. You couldn't help but gawk at him. His body was unreal. From the small window he created, you could see hard lines of muscle carved into golden skin. Your head started spinning again. 
He began pumping his hard cock as he looked down at you, spreading your legs further open with his free hand. "See how easy it is to get what you want when you aren't being a brat?" The way his muscles flexed through his tight suit while he worked himself was maddening. You wanted- no, you needed him to fuck you. You needed him inside you. 
You nodded your head, answering his question. 
"So, tell me what you want." 
"I want you to fuck me," you answered, still panting from your orgasm. "I want to feel you so badly. Please, Miguel."
"You're a fast learner," he purred, bringing his cock to your folds and lubricating himself on the mess you two had made. He slid over your slick entrance, his head touching your aching clit as he moved up and down. "I'll fuck this pretty cunt for you, since you asked so nicely." 
He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed himself inside of you, inch by thick inch. You moaned, the feeling of finally being full was luscious, he was pressing at your walls from all angles. At last, when he was in up to the hilt, he stayed there for a moment while his large hands found your waist. 
"My God, look at you. You took all of me, and so shocking well. You," he exhaled, seemingly taking a second to compose himself. "You feel so good." 
"Thank you," you whispered, breathless. He was praising you. It was… nice to hear. Stubbornness be damned.
He chuckled to himself. "Please and thank you? You really do learn fast. You've earned this, amor." And with that, he pulled himself out of you, slamming back in with a hard slap. Over and over, he fucked you with the entire length of his cock, hitting spots inside of you that you weren't sure even existed. "Lemme hear you, I wanna hear it all."
You obeyed. "O-oh my God, Miguel, fuck. It's… it's so good. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you."
Thanking him fueled his fire; his grip on your waist tightening, red eyes sparkling wildly. "Good girl, that's it… watching my cock disappear inside of you… it's making me crazy. You like getting fucked by someone you hated before all this? You wanna get filled up by someone you don't even like?"
"Yes, please." Your back arched into him, the pressure from his unwavering thrusts overwhelming you. The feeling was impossibly perfect, your body tingling from your head to your toes. He really did fit inside of you so well.  
"You'll get it, baby. Keep being good for me, you'll get it." 
As he continued, his hands roamed your body. Groping at your breasts, resting on the soft slope of your stomach. You grabbed one of his traveling hands, a rogue feeling overtaking you as you brought it up to your throat. 
His eyes widened in disbelief. “Y-yeah? You want me to choke you?” He sounded excited.
“P-please,” you huffed, grabbing onto his forearm.
“Holy shit, you’re something else.” He began applying gentle pressure to your airway as he kept fucking you. It was the perfect amount of constriction; suppressing your breath intake just enough for your head to feel pleasantly airy. He was good at that, why was he so good at that?
Between the way he was pounding you and the way he was choking you, your muscles started to bear down on him.
"Yes, yes, squeeze that cock. Good girl. You’re gonna get what you want.” 
You clenched down on him, your orgasm rocking you to your core as he fucked you through it. It hit you in giant waves, crashing over you and pulling you into the undertow. You felt completely drunk on it. The warmth of it was everywhere in your body, all the way up to your fingertips. Your head swam, your eyes rolling back into your head. Miguel swore to himself, his tempo becoming more irregular. He released your throat, hands flying down to grip the console. You thought you could hear it cracking. 
“God, you’re tight. I’m gonna fill you up.”
“Yes,” you rasped, your body shaking. 
He growled as he came inside of you, bearing his fangs in clenched teeth once more, and you could feel his cock twitch followed by the heat of his seed as it stuffed you full. He lingered over you, his eyes looking frenzied as his gaze flicked over your face, his chest heaving with every recovering breath. 
You released a deep sigh, smiling tenderly at him. “Thank you, Miguel.”
“You, uh,” he started awkwardly, running his hands through his hair. He still hadn’t even pulled out of you yet. “You earned it,” he repeated. 
He took a short, unsure step back, as he pulled his length free from you. You could feel his cum leaking from you upon his release. There was so much of it. 
He held his hand out to you to help you up, and you grasped it, smiling again as you got to your feet. 
“I’ll clean this mess up, but you.…” He scanned your frame. “...I’ve got a pair of pants on one of the lab chairs down there.” He pointed toward a particularly cluttered section of his space. “Bringing them back would be a much better excuse to see me than a fight in the lobby.”
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qrowscant-art · 7 months
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MY BROTHER ; THE PARASITE
People die, and sometimes they come back. Your brother is one of those. Even as his body rots and his mind unravels, he still has control over you— just like when you were kids.
A short, interactive story about a corpse, a complicated sibling relationship, and the things we forget. Made in Twine. Written, illustrated, and coded in about three weeks for the IFComp.
Content warnings included on the itch.io page and in the story itself.
|| PLAY HERE! ||
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zackcollins · 2 years
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Félicitations || TB vs TOR || 07/01/22 || For: @donttelltheelff​
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bogleech · 8 months
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TOP TEN DINOSAURUSES
maybe you're wondering my most tenned favorite dinosauruses??? The science study of dinasacacers is called "dinosaurusology" by leading experts like myself, and it is constantly changing as we make new uncoveries almost every tuesday when we find new bones in my cousin rob's garage (he hasn't thrown anything out since the 90's!) As such bear in mind that up to two facts I am about to share could become dated over the course of the next century, however as both the king and queen of science this will only be true if I'm still available to approve the new facts. If I'm dead or kind of tired then nobody will ever know what's true anymore so you should be nice to me. #10: OVIRAPTOR
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OVIRAPTOR was a good model for what all dinosacans were like: it was a wrinkly lizard that slithered in filthy dirt and had difficulty standing upright because its bones were made of rocks. This is why we have the term "the stone age," so be grateful you're living in "the bone age!" Oviraptor's name means "eggs velociraptor" because it was a kind of velociraptor that stole eggs. It didn't know what to do with them because nobody invented cooking yet and raw dinosaur eggs were disgusting, so every oviraptor starved to death.
#9: IGUANADON
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This was the last known photograph of IGUANA DON (not to be confused with his cousin iguana dan) when george washington invented photographs 2 million years ago. Don was an ugly disgusting hilarious lizard monster with one horn on its nose and he died because he evolved a dining room in his torso exactly the right size for 21 cavemen to walk in and eat his kidneys. This was not helped by don's instinct to sleep on a big porch under a chandelier.
#9 DIMETRODON
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DIMETRODON was the most common dinosaur of jurassic, which was the fifth and final era of dinosaurs after the ice age but before the ediacaran. In fact dimetrodon was the very last dinosaur to ever exist on earth before they were all eaten to death by the ediacaran's dominant predator: a species of swirly looking weird rock. Nobody knows why these swirly looking weird rocks died out, but it's most likely because dimetrodon was so poisonous from its diet of entirely pufferfish. You can tell it was a sea dinosaur because of its fish fin! #8: PTERADACTYL
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PTERODACTYL was a regular dinosaur until it got married to a species of bat and its bat wife laid a bunch of pterodactyl eggs! This woodcut is however inaccurate: flying would not be invented until president obama discovered the first airplane in 1998, so pterodactyl couldn't possibly have stayed in the air and just immediately fell. The long 900 million year reign of the pterodactyl abruptly ended when the last one finally hit the ground (it took longer in those days because the oxygen disaster made so much more air) #7 SNORKASAURUS
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SNORKASAURUS was completely unique among all dinocaurs by having a really long neck. It was one of the largest creatures to ever roam the earth at over 7 feet tall, or exactly 12 meters to those of you living in Liberia or Myanmar! This is the last known photograph of snorkasaurus, giving birth to the first cavemen. Snorkasaurus went extinct because all of them did this instead of making baby snorkasauruses. This is because like all dinosaurii they had only a tiny peanut for a brain, and nobody was around to give them 'the talk' because that wasn't invented yet.
#6 SMILODON
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SMILODON was a very special dinosaurn because it was the first one to stand up on its hind legs after years of rigorous exercise and weight training. By inventing this new way of walking, Smilodon made it possible for the first monkeys to evolve! This is called "convergent" evolution.
#5 BULBASAUR
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BULBASAUR was a majestic and beautiful species of neopet unfortunately disliked by the scientific community because it is the reason there are no flying dinosuars. Bulbasaur was the first ever flying dyanasar ever invented, 19 billion years ago on September 10, 2001, but the project was discontinued when its first test flight ended in a tragic accident. That's right: on September 11, 2001, Bulbasaur crashed into the stock market, causing the great depression that lead to the civil war :'( now to this very day, flying dinosarers are against the law.
#4 YOSHI
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YOSHI is a type of dinersaulophus called a "bird," which was actually the second attempt by early neanderthal alchemists to manufacture a street legal flying dinnersauran, but the New Zealand government realized if dinophlofbuses can fly, then bats would no longer be special, and since bats are New Zealand's only major export it would have been an economic disaster. The queen of Australia (New Zealand's largest city) ordered the CIA to sand all of the wings off of these early prototype birds. Every bird tragically went extinct when it looked down, noticed how high up it was and remembered it could not fly, activating the effects of Earth's gravitational field.
#3 ANOMALOCARIS
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ANOMALOCARIS was the dinosorcerous that discovered the first primitive cave painting of a modern day crab and invented carcinisation. All the other dinanders laughed at Anomalocaris for wanting to turn into a crab, but guess what??? Every single kind of dinosaur is dead but there's a crab still alive at 29, making it the oldest person in the world. Who's FUCKING laughing now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#2 EARL SINCLAIR
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This is the last known photograph of Earl Sinclair, seen here as an uncredited extra in "Avatar 3: Lost in New York." Earl Sinclair was a sindonaur species that could disguise itself as a human by putting on sunglasses, a necessary adaptation in order to hide from the largest predator dancasore to ever live: Mellisuga helenae. However, near the end of the coal age, M. Helenae finally remembered that sunglasses hadn't even been invented yet. Look carefully, and you'll notice nobody is wearing sunglasses at all in this scene, making Earl Sinclair stick out like a sore thumb! If you're still having difficulty, here's a zoomed in image of this majestic thunder lizard:
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Unfortunately......this wardrobe malfunction made Mr. Sinclair just as obvious to his ancient enemy, and the last Earl Sinclair's brains were sucked out on September 11, 2001, the darkest day in British history because he was the only one who knew the recipe to chicken mcnuggets (the only british food.) To this day all british people are extinct but you can still see their fossilized skeletons waiting in line at the department of motor vehicles.
#1 CONCAVENATOR
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Concavenator was an Early Cretaceous carcharodontosaurid up to six meters in length with an unusual pointed crest on its back.
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echofades · 8 months
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I left because all I wanted was to be with you & I had no idea what to do about it. SHIRA & HANNAH | HARLAN COBEN'S SHELTER
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nikki-rook · 7 months
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Michael Sheen as Aziraphale Appreciation Post - Good Omens [S2]
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onsomenewsht · 10 days
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Helpless to the bass and faded light
About when she bribes you and you dance with her like a filled stadium isn't looking
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》 Leah Williamson x Reader
》 words count: +1k
》 she took my arm / I don't know how it happened / we took the floor and she said
You don’t like football.
It’s quite a boring game if you stop to think about it for a moment. Two dozen and counting people running around a ball trying to kick it into a huge net.
Not something you look forward to sit through for almost two hours.
Despite your father’s best efforts, you being his only kid and his only hope to pass down his passion, the sport never managed to interest you long enough to care.
You even found yourself in the stands of your dad’s favourite club’s home more times than you’re able to remember, going beyond yourself and cheering when the other people around you did.
The things you do to make your parents proud.
How you managed to have the English captain wrapped around your finger, regardless of your well-known dislike for her biggest passion and purpose in life, is still a mystery for your families and friends.
“Pretty please, just this one”
“Oh, shut up!”, you hit her arm and push her off you, both still naked.
You can’t believe your girlfriend is actually trying to bribe you with sex, not even waiting for you to fully recover before asking to go to the game.
“No, you ruined the mood”, you state as the blonde tries to kiss you again.
The huge grin of her beautiful face is quite dangerous, she can win you over so easily and you both know it.
Leah rises off the bed to retrieve a warm cloth from the bathroom and a clean shirt from the closet. You accept her attention, she’s always caring when it comes to you, but you’re pretty sure the extra effort has a not-so-subtle second purpose.
“You can’t buy me so easily, Williamson”
She can.
“It’s a really important game, my love”
“For who?”
“For me?”, she tries as she slots herself under your open arm, a grin hidden between your neck and the pillow.
“I barely bear you playing”
“You love watching me play”
“I love you, period”
Leah knows how much you think the sport is boring, going way out of your comfort zone just to cheer her. She feels immensely supported when she finds your big smile in the stands, wrapped in one of her jerseys.
It’s not that difficult for you to sit and admire your girlfriend in her element, focusing more on her movements and attitude than paying attention to the actual game.
What you find quite annoying is enduring Arsenal’s men’s team.
The defender’s fingers on your side are slowly soothing you in a compromising position, too relaxed and smitten to keep denying her anything. You know she doesn’t need much more to lure you into her trap and, unfortunately for you, she’s perfectly aware too.
When the blonde’s lips find the particularly sensitive spot on the base of your neck, you’re doomed.
~
You’re glad your father is already dead or you’d have killed him as you take your seat in the Emirates Stadium, surrounded by the Gunners’ colours. Your girlfriend’s name on your back could be the final nail.
The things you do to make your lover happy.
“You know I love you, right?”
“You better never forget this”, you quip back.
The English captain has been looking forward to this game for weeks now, you couldn’t have been able to turn her down in spite of it all.
She doesn’t need to know though, you didn’t accept to spend one of your date nights watching the North West London derby for free.
“Maybe you will enjoy it at the end”
Nice try, you will not.
“You know, my dad was a West Ham supporter”
“Could have been worse”, she smiles at you, reaching for your hand.
Talking about your father is getting easier as time finally moves forward and your grief keeps changing its shape. Compared to the abyssal black hole it felt like the first year and a half, its progress.
Leah didn’t meet him, crushing in your life a couple of months after his passing, but she managed to find a space in your heart that keeps growing despite all your fears.
They could have hit so well, bonding over their shared passion for the sport and their never-ending determination to make you happy.
You told her some stories about him, mostly memories to make your girlfriend understand how stubborn and passionate he was about the thing he cared about.
The one thing you all have in common.
“Yeah, he used to gift me a West Ham jersey every year on Bobby Moore’s birthday”
Leah’s laugh managed to overcome the buzzing atmosphere of the stadium, making you feel like she was the reason all the people around you were cheering. You sure think so.
“He sounds like an incredible father”
“Football obsession aside, he was good”
When you turn to look at her, the blonde’s eyes are already on you and the smile on her face is enough to warm your heart.
~
The first goal coming within five minutes has you quite engaged in what’s happening on the pitch, you even drag your girlfriend in a kiss as you both rise from your seats to celebrate.
Your commitment declined quite easily after that, more entertained by Leah’s reactions than the actual game. You nod in amusement every time she tries to talk you through one of her analyses, placing a hand on her thigh to stop her from standing up every time the ball is somehow close to the box.
The second half is more eventual, at least that’s what you can understand by the excitement the defender and the people in the stands around you seem to radiate.
You’re not clueless, you’re perfectly aware a five-nil win against Chelsea is quite the result. You care enough to think you can’t wait to go home - Leah is always in the mood for a private celebration when her team triumphs, especially over another London club.
“Can we go now?”, you ask as soon as the referee whistles three times, declaring the end of your and the Blues’ torture.
Leah’s happiness is contagious, so you’re not mad when she drags you in her arms to join her cheers and enthusiastic dance. It takes you less than a second to indulge her, letting the blonde spin you around and matching her excitement.
When she dips you and seals the move with a kiss the laugh that rises out of you is genuine and loud.
At first, neither of you notice the stadium’s camera pointed in your direction, recording your little moment of pure bliss in each other’s arms.
Looking back at it, as all your friends sent you the viral video, you know Leah saw you two on the big screen and went along with her little cocky display of affection and excitement for the victory.
You’re sure your father could be laughing at it too, despite the colors you’re wearing.
fine.
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kamaluhkhan · 2 months
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IDLE WORSHIP
SLOTH — part i of we'll write sins not tragedies
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pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 515 summary: you and luke fooling around on the roof of the hermes cabin after curfew ;) warnings: smut!! oral (reader receiving); body worship; luke and reader smoke weed....18+ ! author's note: i wanted to do a series of blurbs *loosely* based off the 7 deadly sins and here we are....also, i (finally!) made a masterlist so....enjoy!!
♪ "idle worship" by paramore
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you bite the back of one hand to keep from waking up the entire camp, the other still holding a half-smoked joint loosely between your fingers. 
luke was always skilled, but tonight his tongue feels particularly heavenly.
it hadn’t been either of your intentions for the evening. the plan was for a peaceful night of getting high and stargazing on the roof of the hermes cabin after curfew. 
not entirely innocent, but more so than what it had become as soon as luke decides to shuffle underneath the blanket you share, lips traveling down your body as he mumbles sweet nothings into your skin.
luke kisses down your sternum, unbuttoning the flannel you had taken from him. “you’re so beautiful,” he praises. luke sucks bruises underneath your breasts. “prettier than any goddess.” his tongue traces over your scars. he bites just above your belly button, fingers fumbling with your shorts. “absolutely divine,” is the last thing he says before devouring your cunt.
in your defense…. it has been a stressful week. you and luke had barely had a moment alone, and chris warned that the weed would be strong. 
it’s slightly careless, yes, especially for senior counsellors — but fuck, if you don’t feel utterly blissed out.
you almost break skin when luke tugs your clit with his teeth, bringing you over the edge. luke pokes his head out from underneath the blanket that still covers your bottom half; you take a moment to admire him.
the moonlight softening his scar, illuminating his cheekbones and jawline. backlit by a million shining stars that mean nothing compared to his smile, luke looks like an angel. 
and then, you get a better look at him — his black curls slightly askew; his dark eyes rimmed red; his lips wet with your release, curling into a smirk at how you unraveled for him so easily. 
a fallen angel, maybe. a fucking gorgeous one at that. 
“can i have another hit?”
you take a drag of the forgotten joint, holding the smoke in your mouth until luke is hovering above you. when he presses his lips onto yours, you let him suck up all the smoke, along with whatever air is leftover in your lungs. he removes himself from you, allowing you a moment to breathe while he exhales. 
luke rests one hand on your hip, and reaches the other down to run two fingers across your folds and shoves them into his mouth, sucking like his life depends on it.  
“tastes just like nectar.”
“better be careful then, angel,” you drawl and tangle your free hand into his curls. you can tell luke likes the new nickname from the way he tightens his grip, firm enough to bruise. “if you have too much, it might just kill you.” 
he grins down at you lazily, blinking slowly.
“at least i’d die happy,” luke sighs. 
a giggle bursts out of your chest in response. 
you bring the tail end of the joint to his lips; this time, he exhales directly into your mouth, allowing you to share the last dregs of smoke.
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magicshop · 14 days
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seokjin + iconic solo performances for @cordiallyfuturedwight ♡ [cr. namuspromised]
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