#i was hoping for them to be vulnerable like this and i was not disappointed

[jinuaei]

I can offer you an idea of ​​yandere alastor.. What would it be like if alastor as a child knew the reader... Like I imagine alastor as a child not knowing how to act properly like a human, and the reader as a good best friend helping him seems more human (and not because the child reader is scared of him) ... Actually, what would happen?

Wrote this instead of working on my finals hope you enjoyed it!

Yandere! Alastor x Childhood friend! Reader

Warning: Animal death, blood, its YANDERE

WC: ~1.5k

Charlie dragged the whole hotel for another ‘trust’ session, this time, she had the great idea for the sinners to share stories from when they were alive. Granted, some of them were eager to share, namely Nifty and Angel Dust, Husk would share some here or there, although it's mostly due to Charlie and Angel pushing him to. Alastor on the other hand kept quiet during the whole ordeal, until the topic of childhood friends came up.

“I had a childhood friend once, such a sweetheart. Wouldn't leave me alone to play with others!,” Alastor let the statement linger in the air, casually sipping on his coffee. 

The other members of the Hotel look aat him with mouths agape, shocked and surprised at the fact that THE Alastor, Radio Demon, Dealmaker, HAD FRIENDS? Moreover, a childhood friend?? Someone stayed friends with him since they were children???

“Don't look at me like I am incapable of having proper friendships, and no, you cannot ask them about me as a child because they're simply not a sinner! Oh imagine my disappointment when I didn't find them down here,” his eyes glazed over in slight rage as he thought about how you weren't here.

Very disappointing that I will never be able to hold my beloved again. What I would do to be able to chain them to my side once more…

“Well don't leave us hangin’, whose this sweetheart of you’s?,” the white spider interjected.

He tells them your name, sighing dreamily as he starts to reminisce about the times you were together when you were children.

You were the child of one of his momma's clients, a bubbly little thing, always eager to play with him regardless of how cold he is to you. 

His momma was your family's personal tailor, and by God were you a spoiled little thing. Every week you would ask for 2-3 outfits to be created for you, although it looked more like costumes than everyday wear but he doesn't complain, as long as your family treated him and his momma with respect.

Nonetheless, he refuses to be close to you, considering you as a bother, but of course, he would never admit that to you, lest he wants his momma to get in trouble. 

He hasn't always looked forward to when his momma brings him to your house, namely due to you clinging to him every time you meet. There's one thing in your mansion that he’s quite fond of though, once he manages to escape from your grasp, he sneaks into the woods behind your house, gazing at all the wildlife roaming around your property.

One time, he found an injured bird crying close to him, it tried to get away from him but he eventually caught it in a tight grip, it chirped and cried but Alastor just gripped tighter and tighter until, pop! 

Blood trailed down his hands and onto the forest floor below, unbeknownst to him, he had a huge grin on his face, too pleased with the mutilation of the poor bird. A gasp resonates behind him and he quickly drops the bird, face stilling at the fact that he got caught.

When he turned his body to you, your eyes were full of tears staring at his hands that he didn't bother to hide. He prepared himself to hunt you down to make sure you wouldn't tattle on his momma but your next words made him stop in place.

“Are you okay???” you rushed to his side, pulling out a handkerchief and started to wipe off the blood coating his stained hand.

In response, the child looked at you aghast, stupefied at the concern you were showing, marking yourself vulnerable to the predator towering over your much shorter build. He could kill you if he could, he can lie and tell your parents that a bear found both of you and killed you, that he tried to save you but was unable to. But then again… as you fret over him, a thought passes through his mind. 

You are too kind for your own good, just like momma. Don't worry I’ll protect you.

Alastor raises the now somewhat clean hand, and he notes how you didn't even flinch at it, and just looked at him with your wide, innocent eyes. The hand lowers to pat you on the head, ruffling your hair a little bit.

“I am fine, I tried to save a bird but it was too hurt to be saved,” he shows off the bird, face devoid of any emotions.

You frowned at it and suddenly went on your knees and started digging a grave with your hands.

Alastor furrowed his eyebrows and questioned what you were doing, you responded with, “I’m digging a grave for the birdie, I don't want them to die without a proper burial.”

The boy helped you after a few moments of silence. Once you were done, you clasped your hands together, covered in dirt and blood,  silently looking at him to do the same. Look at you, as a child of a rich man you shouldn't be on your knees covering yourself in filth, but perhaps he should indulge his angel for a little bit. 

As you started praying he couldn't help but let the bitterness consume his mind. God wouldn't care about frivolous things like this, prayers do nothing, if it did, how come he and his momma are still at the mercy of that monster of a man he calls his father?

“Amen.”

You offer your filthy hand to him, gazing at him with a smile that could rival the sun. Perhaps the only good thing that God has done, is sending down an angel for him to play with.

“You should smile more, you look very pretty,” he raises an eyebrow at that, startled by your bluntness. Admittedly, he can feel himself flush at your compliment.

“Do you like it when I smile?” he hums, taking your hand. Both of you started to walk back to your manor.

“I do! Mommy always said ‘you’re never fully dressed without a smile’ and that's why I always smile!”

“Then I'll smile a lot for you,” he tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

“You're doing it wrong! It's like this,” you show off your smile, toothy and wide.

He tries again and ultimately fails, you pout at him cutely when he failed, and he couldn't help but smile, genuinely smile at that. In response you shout out ‘like that!’, and start vibrating in excitement that you managed to make him smile.

It was almost nightfall when you eventually managed to get home safely, albeit covered in dirt and grime. What greeted you both were your father, stressed beyond belief, and his mother, on the verge of tears. They both rushed to you guys and hugged the both of you, fretting and scolding at how worried they are, they asked you and Alastor what happened and you, being the loudmouth you are, told them the story that you know.

Both adults are relieved to hear that you both are safe, they rushed you to clean yourselves up. Ever since then, Alastor has been looking forward to every visit they had to your house. And every single visit has been a learning moment for him, day by day he learns what you like and what you don't like. 

You like gentlemen? The next time you meet, he offers you his arm to hold. Do you like poetry? He memorizes your favourite poems to recite whenever you're bored. Do you like food and cooking? He begs his momma to teach him her infamous Jambalaya and other comfort foods to cook for you.

Alastor molded himself to become your ideal man, the most perfect gentleman that ever existed in your life. But then…

“Then what...? But then what??” Angel exclaimed when Alastor trailed off with a cliffhanger. Everyone leaned towards him, captivated by the story he shared. He smiles cryptically, but still doesn't respond.

“Oh well, it seems like it's almost supper time, I should work on it, wouldn't want to be late for dinner hmm?”

Everyone collectively groaned at the cliffhanger, they wanted to know what happened after, but they couldn't complain much lest they want to be part of Alastor's radio broadcast.

Alastor turns away from them, humming to himself as he walks towards where the kitchen is.

But then you had to die as a saint. You had to marry that disgusting excuse of a man you called your husband, and now he killed you. My beloved, was I not enough? Was I not perfect for you? You would have been safe if you were with me… Don't worry, I made sure that ‘husband’ of yours regretted ever hurting you. May this be an offering to my angel.

A haunting scream pierces through hell, amplified by the speakers scattered around the pride ring.

Support me here so I would be more likely to write more fics 🤭

#yandere x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you #Hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel

[tiredfox64]

Hello, I hope you are feeling very well ^^

I really liked your fic "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder"

Can I request a sequel with the reaction of the others in the clan when Tomas and the reader officially become a couple? Can I request something from nsfw too? The others are surprised to notice some marks on the necks of Tomás and the reader 👀

If you don't like this or it bothers you, ignore it, you have every right ;)

Beauty Never Ends Even In Bed

Prior notes: I love this man. I need this man. My head hurts just thinking about him. That could be the heat as well.

Pairing: Tomas x Afab Reader

Warnings ‼️: NSFW, biting, hickeys (that’s the freaking point)

The girls in the clan were quite shocked to see your return. Not only did you save the Shirai Ryu lots of time by nabbing yourself a Lin Kuei assassin but you came back with a boyfriend. The looks on their face when they saw you and Tomas going into your room was priceless. It was like looking at a bunch of fish in an aquarium.

You and Tomas talking about what happened before. Why you shut him out and isolated yourself from everyone. He was sad and disappointed at the fact that there were people in the clan who showed cruelness. He would kick them out if he could but that wasn’t his call to make plus they really needed the numbers. He made a promise to you that they won’t bother you anymore.

Ever heard the term show don’t tell? Well y’all showed everyone that you guys were in a relationship.

Blotches of dark red that blends in with a faded purple are scattered on his and yours neck. A sign of a good time from the night prior. The hickeys of Tomas’ neck really stand out compared to his pale skin. He was the first to get noticed and teased for them. All the men were cheering him on. Boys will be boys.

And the ladies, oh they were jealous. They saw those same beautiful marks not just on your neck but on your chest as well. And just look at that beautiful bruise Tomas left on your shoulder from biting you. He really wanted to show everyone you were his. He made that clear while you guys were at it.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

A heated make out session was going on in your room. One full of passion and heavy breathing. Tomas’ tongue swirled around yours. He held your face in a loving manner as the excitement grew. The only barrier between you two are your clothes. Take it off!

Tomas was about to start taking his uniform off because you stopped him. You hesitated because your confidence still wasn’t fully back.

“Are you sure you want to do this with me?” You asked.

Tomas looked at you with a bit of sadness. He wished you didn’t need to question his decision but he understood you were still dealing with those harsh words from before. He took your hand and squeezed it tight.

“I’m positive. There is not other girl out there who I would trust to be vulnerable with. I only want you. I can promise you that.” His tone didn’t fail him. He spoke the truth and you felt it in your soul.

You nodded your head before taking your hand back to start stripping. Tomas did the same but he would sneak glances at you. Soon you stood before him with nothing on. All your features were on display for him as you sat pretty on your bed. You were looking away all shy. You were missing how Tomas looked at you as if you were a goddess that he was blessed to see.

“Beautiful…” he whispered before taking you into his arms.

He peppered kisses all over you. First on your face and then down to your neck. His kisses on your neck caused you to shiver in pleasure. You were practically melting in his arms. Suddenly Tomas had an idea. A brilliant one. You felt his start to suck on a your neck.

“Wait—that’s gonna leave a hickey.” You warned him.

“That’s exactly the point.”

You got it now. You let him continue, embracing the pleasure that came from it. His hands wandered all over you, grabbing and squeezing wherever he could. The feeling of your soft skin drove him crazy.

More and more hickeys were made. They were scattered on your neck in different sizes. Tomas pushed you down onto your back while his lips traveled down to your breasts. He started sucking at your flesh, causing more hickeys to appear. As he focused on one of your breasts his hand reached up to massage the other. His fingers gently pinched your nipple causing you to whimper at the sensation. That noise you made excited him enough to make his cock twitch. He did the same thing to your other breast to make sure it was all even. Once he was done he looked down at his masterpiece. The hickeys looked so pretty on you. He should do this more often.

“Are you still okay with going forward with this?” He asked softly.

You nodded you head frantically. You were definitely ready. Your legs were spread for him and he saw how you were practically dripping wet. Tomas can’t deny that he felt some sense of pride in him. Seeing that he made you this excited would make any man’s ego rise. He angled himself correctly before slowly pushing in. There was little resistance which just proves how ready you were.

Once Tomas was fully in you both let out a satisfied whimper. The pleasure was euphoric. He was incredibly thick and it stretched you out nicely. You felt so warm and plush inside. He couldn’t hold himself back and he started thrusting into you.

You had your arms wrapped around his neck. Your eyes were closed due to the pleasure. But his eyes stayed on you as he thrusted away. He wanted to look into those beautiful eyes of yours as you two made love.

“Please look at me, beautiful. Would you mind doing that for me?” He spoke so softly and lovingly how could you resist.

Your eyes slowly opened to look up at him. Gosh he looked so handsome. You loved watching his eyes roll back sometimes as he bit his lip. That’s what good pussy does to a man.

A symphony of groans, pants, whimpers, and soft moans bounced off the walls. Tomas started to go rougher and faster to the point the bed frame started to creak. You held each other close. Skin to skin, heartbeat matching heartbeat. You decided to return the favor from before since Tomas was close to you. Your lips latched onto his neck where you proceeded to give him a hickey. He was surprised by how sensitive he was to it. Your lips on his neck made the whole experience ten times better. His hands started to grip the bedsheets as he focused on not cumming inside you yet.

You left your love marks on his neck. The heat of the moment caused you to go a little crazy. They were scattered all over. Tomas won’t mind it just shows how much you love him. You sure do love him a whole lot.

His thrusts started to grow sloppy and your moans grew louder. You both were close. What better way to bond than cumming together.

“I don’t think I can last any longer. Please, please, please let me cum in you, my dearest.” He sounded so desperate it was so cute.

Your heart fluttered at the nickname and caused you clench around his cock. That’s enough evidence to show you were just as close as well.

“Please cum in me. I need you. Please keep going, Tomas.” You begged and he delivered.

After a few thrusts you two were on cloud nine. He slammed into you before biting down on your shoulder. It was natural instincts. He groaned while biting down. The pleasure from your orgasm and pain from the bite was a delicious combination that made you let out the prettiest moans he’s ever heard. The feeling of his cock twitching inside of you while it spilled cum inside of you was unforgettable. Your pussy was milking him just to get every last drop. The best part was hearing him mumble something as it all happened.

“Mine, mine, all mine, my pretty girl, so pretty, fuck, you’re all mine…”

Well your confidence surely came back with that one. Oh Tomas couldn’t help himself. He just loves you so much.

You two stayed there for a good bit, trying to catch your breaths after that wonderful experience. Eventually he pulled out and laid next to you. He pulled you in for a cuddle, rubbing your back gently as he placed kisses on your forehead. You snuggled up against him with little to no worried in your head. All you could think about was Tomas and the love you have for him. Before you passed out you heard him whisper something in your ear.

“I love you. I love everything about you…”

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

How was your trip down memory lane? Was it a good one? Good, wonderful, now get back to the present. You have important matters to get to.

But before you could move on those group of girls who used to bully you came walking up. They looked like they were determined to do something but what.

“I don’t know who you are fooling but I can tell those hickeys are just makeup.” One girl said as she pointed to your neck.

“Yeah, why don’t you stop acting like you and Tomas are a thing and get over it.” Another one added on.

Before the others could add their own nasty words, Tomas came up behind you and wrapped his strong arms around your waist.

“My dearest, what’s the matter? These girls seem to be upset by something.” He acted clueless but knew what these girls were up to. That’s why he placed a kiss on your neck which shocked the girls.

“Oh nothing, they are just confused. They just can’t seem to take the hint.” You answered back.

Tomas picked you up as you giggled and carried you away. The girls were too stunned to speak. They were hella wrong. They were in fact the background characters on this story. You were the main character who got her happy ending with her love interest. That is evident to everyone.

Have I told you that you are beautiful and loved? Well imma remind you again.

After notes: The heat is causing me to get sick and get cramps. Tomorrow will be worse and I have to go to campus where the sun beats down on us. I’m gonna kombat the sun. Adiós!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mk x reader #mk x you #mk fanfic #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada x you #tomas x you #tomas x reader #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada #smoke x you #smoke x reader #mk1 smoke #mk smoke #smoke mk #mk smut

[ricksmarlene]

I am sorry for what they did to you. 

THE ONES WHO LIVE — 1.04 "What We"

#my heart aches #i was hoping for them to be vulnerable like this and i was not disappointed #the ones who live #the walking dead #rick grimes #michonne #richonne #tw injury #tw limb loss #my edit #ricksmarlene

[milfygerard]

living in the inbetween hell where I dont hate or love ttpd enough to agree with anyone on the dash so im just sort of flinching whenever I see a post about it from any side

#barry.txt #taylor swift #im not disappointed bc i didnt have the highest expectations for ttpd #but im also not wowed #a lot of the songs are fun and interesting but the writing on most of these tracks structurally is hanging by a thread #a lot of the rhyme schemes are bizarre and awkward #in my least favorite taylor style where it feels like shes barely stringing them together into these sort of purple prose poems #where she really just wants to fit in words she likes to the detriment of the lyric itself #a lot of jacks production feels unfinished and unimpactful esp compared to waht we know he can do #it feels like a lot of interesting songs that only got like one or two drafts before getting recorded #and it just doesnt hook me #however i do like the songs other ppl hate #and i love that she gave a massive middle finger to the fandom even if its 100% not going to stick #and i love florence and a lot of the second album #i like i hate it here even if its weird and bad #i dont think its her most honest vulnerable or human album but it is her vent-iest like shes just letting it all out #idk #i hope she wraps up eras ant the TVs and then takes a looooong break and does intensive therapy and gets into TTRPGs and chills #anyway the black dog and the manuscript and clara bow best tracks. my final message #probably not bc j have so much to say but

[thebirdandhersong]

😭😭

#on that note im always like but songbird it's better to have a soft and vulnerable heart than a hard and unbreakable one #and then when things come to this im like but is it really though. is it #is there a way to put my emotions in rice and like fix them lollllll #i think. it is the disappointment of knowing that I WAS unwittingly hoping in the first place! tragic and not recommended #'he's just some guy' this is true. however it does sit like an ice cube in my heart and i am trying to figure out how to deal with that #i am unfortunately not mature enough to take the 6 engagements 4 weddings and 4 new relationships of my friends in stride yet #i AM over the moon for them. i just also happen to be medium miserable for myself. alas #but it will pass. #and he really is just some guy. it's more the principle of the thing

[queerdesire]

FINALLY GOT A FUCKING ANSWER. Friends friends friend boys and girls 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

#mine #I am dumb af #I am all sorts of emotions right now #I feel sad upset stupid and angry #disappointed at myself #just dropped like $60 on her last night to be a distraction #had to pry out an answer of what she wanted to do or be because straight up answers are apparently hard #I guess they would be hard if you give them knowing the other person is about to stop making you feel cared and loved for #love when people use previous conversations against you and then say something like that’s a yellow flag for me but yet you have said time #and time again you don’t do yellow flags it’s either green or red you’ve said that #because of course it’s easier to pick something and not give a straight up answer #my yellow flag was i had said in the beginning I have walls up with people because I’m scared to be vulnerable #🤡🤡🤡 #probably because I’ve been used by every relationship in my life 🙃 but you know yellow flag y’all to want to be careful #I’m mad #now I’m just sad #deena when you look back at this remember you want to receive what you give if you don’t receive what you give STOP WITH THE FALSE HOPE

[makoodles]

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

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

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

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell were you—”

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

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

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

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

But tonight, you’re distracted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.” You say quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kid, you–”

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

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

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

And then, finally, silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you don’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– sir–”

“Let me see, sergeant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re still wet, sergeant.”

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

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

You swallow. “It’s just– I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hands you the vibrator, then waits expectantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ghost grunts. He doesn’t sound impressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head wordlessly, beyond embarrassed now.

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

“Never messed around with anybody?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you always get this wet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh god–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Plastic cocks don’t count, darlin’.”

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

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

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

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

Good fucking lord.

“You’ll find out.” He says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The minutes afterwards are a blur. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” He says simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ohdeerfully]

alastor request HAI can it be based on the fact that alastor doesn't sleep, and it's his lover finding out that petting his ears during cuddling makes him fall asleep.

thank you for your service

yess i love sleepy alastor thank u so much anon :D!!

Goodmorning, Love

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: none! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You were well aware of the Radio Demon’s sleep habits. Or, well, lack of sleep habits. You often spent nights in his room, where he would sit with you in bed until you fell asleep and go do whatever the hell he gets up to late at night. You always woke up in an empty room, and often so in the middle of the night, struggling to rest again as a greedy tightness gripped your chest in worry and disappointment.

You understood, though, and tried your best not to let it get to you that you didn’t have his warm body next to you when you woke every morning. But you couldn’t help that twinge of sadness. You weren’t particularly needy or clingy, but would it kill him to stay in bed with you for a single night? And to have a slice of domestic bliss as you woke up?

Obviously. 

You roll your eyes as you lay, staring up at the ceiling. You had just gotten ready for bed, and now waited for said demon to join you for a few hours. Your fingers tapped, impatient, against your chest as you hummed absentmindedly.

“How lovely,” You heard him speak. Tickles of that radio static that always followed him clung to your exposed skin, which was signal enough that he had entered the room had he not announced himself. “What a siren you are, luring me here with that hum of yours.”

You smiled slightly at his comment, scooching over slightly to encourage him over. He obliged, joining you under the covers. He still wore his usual outfit, which made sense considering his tendency to go away all night. You purse your lips at the thought, slightly chewing on the skin.

“Why the face?” Of course he noticed your expression. He always noticed when any emotion tickled your face. You appreciated the genuine tone in his voice, the typical buzz of radio barely detectable in his words. He always got a little softer and kinder when he was alone with you like this.

You appreciated nights with him, being able to see a side of him that nobody else would live to spread word of. You enjoyed feeling a little special, especially to somebody like him.

“Do you think you could stay in,” You asked cautiously, fiddling with your hands as you inched closer to him, pressing your body against his. Even laying, he still seemed much taller than you. You gingerly guided his head down, against your chest as you spoke, hoping the multitasking would keep him from sitting up and rejecting your intimate gestures. “Just for a night. I miss you all night long.”

He allowed his head to lay against you. He did feel tense, of course, letting the back of his head be exposed in this manner as he lay vulnerable on you. It was a strange feeling, but not one he cared to consider for too long. 

“(Y/N),” He began with a sigh. “It’s impossible for me to get much done during the day, what with all the running around Charlie does. Somebody has to keep an eye on that young princess. I prefer to stay awake to get my own errands done at night.” 

I know that, you wanted to say and interrupt his explanatory ramble. You wanted to beg him to understand, just this once. You held in a sigh, watching as his head gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Maybe you should just take this submission from him as good enough.

You gingerly began tangling your fingers through his red hair, brushing out any kinks he may have gotten throughout the day. His tense body seemed to ease slightly, becoming more and more relaxed as you weaved your fingers through the locks.

“You have really soft hair, Al,” You commented, changing the subject. You figured there was no use convincing him. You let your fingers lightly trail upwards, up to his ears. You grazed them slightly with a finger. You touched again. When he made no motion of dislike, you fully began rubbing them. Petting him. You smiled to yourself at the idea of petting the feared Radio Demon. “And your ears are even softer.”

“I try to take care of myself,” He responded proudly. There was another hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. But it seemed heavy. “A well groomed man is a successful one.” You absentmindedly agreed as you stroked the velvety fur of his ears, switching back and forth between them and his hair. You had a preference for the ears, though.

You sighed and began humming quietly again. He rarely got so… comfortable, even around you. He always had some sort of guard up, always had his shoulders squared. He almost never became so… loose and vulnerable.

You noticed the clippings of radio frequency had stopped, which was a noise that was ever present in his wake. You had a suspicion why it disappeared, a small grin forming on your face.

Yes, the Radio Demon never slept. But that was a choice he made, not a curse that prevented him. Even demons get tired. You don’t know how Alastor makes it day by day without a wink of rest, but it was apparent that exhaustion had built up in him. He just needed to relax for a second.

You graced your fingers over his fringe, and craned your neck in a way to get a glance at his face. Yeah, you were right. 

He laid there, eyes shut, features relaxed with the lightest grin playing on his face. Even in sleep, you complained. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the sound of his deep, slow breathing and occasional twitch of his velvety ears. You briefly wondered what the Radio Demon would dream about.

Would he be aggravated with you when he woke up, realizing you had practically cast a sleep spell on him? You didn’t, but the rate of which exhaustion took over may as well have been some sort of magic.

You shut your own heavy eyes, exhaling lightly as you continued to comfort yourself with the texture of his fur and hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You craned your arms and neck as consciousness came back to you, but an unfamiliar weight kept you from getting that good stretch in. Momentarily confused, you blinked open and looked down.

Red and black hair, more of a mess than usual, still took place on your torso. This was a first, and your chest felt like exploding with the glee of seeing Alastor still resting with you. He somehow looked even more relaxed than the night before, his cheek flush against your stomach, squishing his lips up slightly. A light grin was still there.

You gently brushed your fingers over his face, trailing a line around his features with an index finger. His eyes squeezed for a moment, and that static ambience of his slowly, quietly, returned. It was a noise that you had learned to find comfort in. He slowly opened his red eyes, a confused and sleepy daze clouding them. There was a wrinkle in his brow as he roughly propped himself up with an elbow, looking up at you with a furrowed expression.

“(Y/N)..?” He trailed, pausing to take in a shuddering morning yawn through a confused smirk. “Did I… Dear, what time is it?”

You looked at him tenderly. Oh, how cute he was, sleepy like this. Composed like an exhausted kid. Something even you have never seen before.

“Yeah,” You responded to his unspoken question. “It’s probably seven a.m. or so. I dunno.” There wasn’t a clock in your immediate line of sight.” “A.m. …” He said slowly. He sat up fully, looking down in disappointment at his wrinkled day wear. He quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to bring some composure to himself, but that lick of exhaustion was still prominent. Especially under his eyes.

“Yeah,” You said again, a light chuckle following. “Goodmorning, Al.”

He wasn’t obviously upset, it seemed. Though he probably was too tired to think about it too much yet. Maybe later.

“Well… Goodmorning, love.” He responded, still with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I suppose I accepted your plea from last night.” He brushed at his clothes while he spoke, trying to flatten out the creases that were brought on through a night of rest.

“Maybe more often?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation. You already knew the answer, but it was okay. You knew how to keep him in now. You mischievously smirked as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Unlikely.”

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #ohdeerfully #alastor is eepy #fluff

[mystigaron]

IMPORTANT FINAL EDIT: THE PARTNERSHIP AND UPDATE PLANNED WITH IT HAVE BEEN INDEFINITELY SUSPENDED. i might delete this post within the next few days i'm still not 100% sure if i should or not especially since the information on it about ludeo is still relevant. however rain world has halted working with them and the update planned to implement the feature is not going ahead. thanks to everyone who spoke up and helped getting this out there and to the attention of the developers and akupara

i haven't seen this up until this morning and not all that many people within the rain world community seem to be talking about it but

it's come to my attention that rain world has recently partnered with a company known as ludeo for the game's newest update. this was tucked away in the replies of their rain world art month post

ludeo is an israeli company run by two brothers based in tel-aviv. this is incredibly disappointing and fucked up to be doing during the on-going genocide israel is committing in palestine and the surrounding regions and i quite frankly do not care if it turns out this was just down to "poor research" and was an "accident": you can quite literally look up the two founders' names on linkedin and find out where they are based in under a minute. there are no excuses for this

another point of note about ludeo that i find upsetting is that a lot if not all of the images used on the company's site to advertise this product are 99.9% guaranteed to be ai-generated

while this is absolutely not the main issue at hand here as promoting your partnership with this company at this time is already fucked up enough to begin with, going and hiding this post within the replies of another promoting your art month event to the artists within this community is so astoundingly ironic and ignorant

i am not trying to suggest that there are alterior motives behind putting this post in the replies of another about a community event rather than making an entirely new and separate one dedicated exclusively to information about this update, but i do find it strange. i woke up to finding out about this and was absolutely livid, and while what's done is already done, i am hoping whoever was responsible for this knows how fucked it is to be promoting this company at this time, or just in general. i am not trying to start a witch hunt or start shit for the sake of starting shit, but i think this needs to be addressed and spoken about, as money towards israel is money towards more bloodshed and violence in palestine. this shit makes my blood fucking boil

edit: i feel like i should also put this here if this wasn't already terrible enough

please continue sharing support for palestine. links below are sites and donation links that go directly towards supporting palestinian people in need

#rain world #free palestine #from the meat beast's maw

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

hii!! could i request a snow fic where she finds out she cheats on him and voluntarily tributes and hes trying to get her back? i loved the other fics!! I NEED MORE CHEATING SNOW FICS OMGG

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy. || Young President!Coriolanus snow x district!reader

A/n: Sorry anon I hope you’re not disappointed that I didn't fully write your request. I wanted Coryo to lowk suffer in this which is why I didn't dive into details of him getting her back. There is also one scene that is heavily inspired by a scene in the movie Priscilla! I also spent so many hours perfecting this and it was super fun!!!

Warnings: fem!reader, implied infidelity, toxic!coriolanus, manipulation, not proofread, if there's anything else pls lmk!

Wc: 1609

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The rapid clicks echoed throughout the hallway, the sound reverberating off the 12-foot-high ceiling walls. You walk with an eager stride, each step filled with anticipation as you take the familiar route to Coriolanus' office where he spent most, if not, all of his time cooped up in due to the upcoming hunger games.

There was a heaviness in your heart. You have always been the epitome of grace and composure, a woman who played her role in the political theater with finesse, albeit your brief upbringing in district 2. However, behind closed doors, the truth unfolded, resulting in you heartbroken and most of all betrayed. You couldn't ignore the letters that would pile up weekly, the gifts, all for him, from someone by the name Lysandra.

Not bothering to knock, knowing it would provoke a reaction from him, you forcefully swung the double doors open. There sat Coriolanus Snow, seemingly unbothered at your entrance. "Is there a problem?" An icy, impersonal tone carried his words, sharp and emotionless.

Your nose flared as you felt a surge of frustration, his lack of concern and emotion fuelling your anger. Besides, you had never stormed into his office unannounced before. Surely, he would question your sudden abruptness and, visibly, your anger.

Your voice, though filled with a trembling resolve, posed the question, "Who is she?" You hold a letter between your fingers, lifting it up to show him. He lifts his head up from his papers. "And why on earth is she sending my husband gifts and-and love letters?" You stammer, throwing the piece of paper with writing and a kiss—in the form of a lipstick mark in a shade of deep red—on his desk; your façade crumbling at your feet.

Snow stares at you before a scoff leaves his lips, leaning back on his chair. "You know how the people admire me, it's likely that whoever it is, she's simply passionate about expressing her feelings to me," Coriolanus shrugs. Your eye twitches at his response. Lies.

"Really? Well, Lysandra is ever so passionate about expressing her undying love for you," You recite the words from her letter as you watch a subtle glint of knowing in his eyes, "She's the only one who has described her so-called affection for you so intimately!"

As you question your husband's loyalty, an unsettling quiet settles around him. His eyes, cold and calculating, hold yours without a trace of vulnerability. The absence of words from his lips becomes a formidable response, leaving an ominous uncertainty lingering in the air.

His office echoed with a tense hush, broken only by a subtle tapping of his fingers against the armrest in a rhythmic patter. "For god's sake, Coryo. Say something! Who is she?" The slip of his nickname makes you swallow.

"I won't entertain your accusation. She's merely an admirer, nothing more! Have you finished exhausting yourself with this matter, wife?" Coriolanus seethes, abruptly standing up as he gathers his papers, opens his drawer, shoves them in, and slams it shut with such force that you swore you felt it in your bones.

"Is there something your hiding from me?" There was a tense silence that followed your question, Snow's features contorted with a mix of frustration and defiance. Avoiding eye contact, he clenched his jaw and emitted a sharp exhale. The air was thick with unspoke tension, revealing an anger that simmered beneath the surface.

"I have nothing to hide from you," He says calmly but you knew damn well there was anything but calmness within him. Annoyed and frustrated at the lack of information, you open your mouth again.

'"Throughout our entire marriage, I have done nothing but showed you how grateful I am that you chose me to marry, a district girl. You helped me build a reputation here in the capitol so that I would finally be respected, and now, I ask just one simple thing of you," As you speak your voice wavers slightly, revealing the depth of emotion behind your words. "Who is she to you?"

In mere seconds, Coriolanus storms past you, a blur of motion, leaving you momentarily bewildered as you blink, only to find yourself in the same spot. "Coriolanus!" You yell, spinning around as you follow him. "I've just had about enough of you for today y/n," He spat as he briskly walked up stairs, you following him. Servants who were around hurriedly walk pass, heads down.

He steps into your shared private chamber, adorned with decadent furnishings and overlooking the Capitol. He walks a couple steps before he just stops. His breath came in heavy, rhythmic waves, his chest rising and falling with urgency, leaving you standing frozen at the entrance.

"You know, I think you should go see your family for a little while," He turns around as you felt your heart drop. "What?" Your voice echoed with a helpless tone. "You heard me, I think your family has been missing you in the districts, go pay them a visit. Tell them how grateful you have been that I chose you as the First Lady of Panem, hm?"

He takes purposeful strides to the next room, filled from top to bottom with expensive, lavish pieces of clothing befitting both him and you. Coriolanus then pulls out a travelling trunk. The thought of you going back to district 2 sent shivers up your spine. You knew that everyone there now thinks of you as a traitor.

"What- No- Coryo, I'm not going-" Coriolanus cuts you off with a yell, tears forming in your eyes, "I think you should! Matter of fact, I'll help you start packing." A loud noise comes from the trunk making contact with the floor making you jump, a sob leaving your lips. The trunk opening as he starts aggressively pulling your clothes from the black velvety hangers, tossing them into the trunk.

"Coryo- please. Don't make me go back there," You fall to you knees in front of the trunk as your shaky hands remove the pieces of clothing from it. "Yeah, well I think a few months in the districts, away from your lavish life here, will make you realise how easy it is that I can send you back there." He forcefully takes your chin in between his thumb and index as your glassy eyes stare back at his icy, raging, blue eyes.

"Please, please don't send me back there-" Your beg becomes interrupted as he drops his grip on you and yells out the door, "Simon! Get the train ready now for Y/n to go back home!" He calls out to his assistant who answers out a "Of course Mr. President," You let out another sob as you rest your head on the pile of clothing.

Coriolanus glances over his shoulder, his breaths lingering in the air, he could hear your quiet pleas. There's a yearning within him, a desire to approach you and envelop you in a reassuring hug, to tell your that everything is alright and that forgives you. Yet, and unyielding pride restrains him, holding him back from acknowledging that what he was doing was wrong.

With one final look, he turns around, leaving you in a crying mess. Coriolanus was going to send you back to district 2 until the hunger games finished, then, he would come get you and hope that your time there made you ponder your actions, although he knew they were quite reasonable.

Your allegiance to your husband shattered when you were forced onto the train, Coriolanus stood a couple metres away from you as you squirm in the peacekeeper's grips. As you made your way back to a place you once called home, a quiet determination settled within you as you hatched a plan that would not only expose Coriolanus' betrayal, but also allow you to reclaim a piece of your shattered identity.

~

As the Reaping day approached, you made a choice that sent shockwaves through the carefully orchestrated world of Panem. With a steady hand, you inscribed your own name on a slip of paper and placed it in the glass ball, committing yourself to the Hunger Games.

On the day of the Reaping, the Capitol Square buzzed with anticipation, the districts, not so much. Coriolanus, very much unaware of his wife's hidden actions, stood in front of the dignitaries on the stage.

The customary ceremony began, the escort pulls a slip pf paper from the glass ball, announcing the male tribute who would face the Capitol's twisted version of justice.

As the tension mounted, the escort unfolded a slip of paper and read aloud, "Y/n Snow." A gasp rippled through the crowd, and Coriolanus's face contorted with disbelief. Time seemed to free as he processed the shock of seeing his wife's name called out. Surely there was a mistake.

The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer, and anger boiled within him, mixing with the shock and confusion as the crowd erupted in whispers. A woman of Capitol elegance was now standing among the district 2 residents.

You weave through the rows of people, maintaining a stoic expression. As you step up on the stage, your eyes land on the camera a couple feet away from you where you know Snow was watching back in the Capitol.

Coriolanus stared at your face and in that moment, he saw the resolve and defiance that had replaced the hurt in your eyes. The Capitol, known for its love of spectacle, witnessed an unprecedented turn of events. Coriolanus Snow, the powerful President, was rendered speechless as his own actions came back to haunt him in the cruelest twist of fate.

#fanfiction #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #coriolanus snow fanfiction #possesive!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #tom blyth #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #Coriolanus snow x district!girl #district 2 #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #hunger games #hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games fanfiction #hungergamesx

[crimsntwlip]

it’s you | theodore nott.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

warnings: friends to lovers, reader avoiding theodore, reader status not mentioned, fluff fluff fluff !! kissing, google translated italian

summary: based on this request!

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! i hope you enjoy this & happy valentines day lovelies!!!

| posted: 2/13/24 | masterlist |

y/n and theodore had always been two peas in a pod, ever since they first met on the hogwarts express during their first year. even when they were separated by the sorting hat, theodore being sorted into slytherin while y/n had been sorted into ravenclaw, they both knew they would stick together over the years.

y/n was currently sitting in divination class, your mind distracted as professor trelawney rambled on about interpreting signs and symbols from tea leaves.

it was a week prior to valentine’s day and you still haven’t been asked to be anyone’s valentines. you tried to not let it get into your head, but with everyone else around you getting mingled up, you couldn’t help but yearn to get asked. although there was a rumor going around that theodore had already asked another girl, you hoped it was untrue.

theodore, who was seated next to you, noticed your distracted figure and gently nudged you out of your thoughts. you wiped away your thoughts as you turned to face theodore, who appeared concerned.

you turned away, facing back to the professor as you were ready to brush it off when he leaned closer to your level. he whispered,

“are you okay, bella?”

y/n couldnt help but blush suddenly from how close he had gotten. you cleared your throat, trying to push the blush away, theodore's concern softened into a gentle smile.

“i’m fine, theo,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves in the quiet classroom. theodore's eyes searched yours, seeing the slight unease lingering behind them. he knew you well enough to sense when something was bothering you, even if you tried to hide it.

theodore nodded slightly, respecting your boundaries yet still keeping a watchful eye on you in hopes he would get something out of you at the end of class.

once class came to an end, you quickly pack your things away. you had plans to meet luna in the library for some studying. theodore stood by, watching you pack before he spoke.

“y/n, you know you can talk to me ri-”

“yeah thanks theo, sorry i have to go meet luna.” you quickly shut him down, hurriedly walking out. leaving theodore with a disappointing expression behind as he watch you go.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

when you arrived at the library, luna was already waiting for you at your usual table, perusing through a dusty old book with her signature dreamy expression. as she looked up and noticed your arrival, a smile lit up her face. once you settled in and began to study, luna noticed the distant look on your face and raised an eyebrow in question.

“y/n! what's on your mind? you seem a bit distracted today,” luna asked softly, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

you sighed, feeling the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. “i just can't shake off this feeling of unease, luna. It's silly, really.” you paused. luna's expression turned sympathetic as she listened intently, offering you a comforting smile.

you continued, “its just.. valentine's day approaching and... well, nothing special planned,” you admitted, feeling a bit vulnerable opening up about your feelings.

as you were talking about your feelings about the upcoming holiday, theodore was making his way towards the library, in hopes he would run into you. as he entered the library he passed through the tall shelves, pausing as he heard your voice.

“and it’s not like i don’t want to get asked- don’t get me wrong but i was just hoping theodore would’ve asked me?”

theodore's heart skipped a beat as he heard his name mentioned by you. he had been hesitant to ask you to be his valentine, unsure if you felt the same way about him. but now, hearing your words filled him with a surge of hope and courage. he quickly grabbed a random book off the shelf, leaning to get a closer listen but still trying to stay hidden.

“i dont know luna-“ you groaned before continuing. “i mean bloody hell its been 6 whole years of this unrequited love! now i feel a bit silly.. and there are rumors going around about how theodore has already asked another girl. maybe i should give up..”

“you shouldn’t feel silly for loving someone,” luna spoke softly, comforting her friend. “plus rumors are just rumors y/n, they might not even be true.” luna offered you a gentle smile before silence hit the air again. not awkward silence but instead comforting silence, you were grateful you had a friend like luna.

theodore's heart skipped a beat once again. how could he have been so blind? as silence filled the air once more, he had forgotten he was even hiding until a second-year student bumped into him, causing him to drop the book he was holding and revealing his hidden spot.

as the sudden sound caught your attention, your head snapped up and you found yourself locking eyes with theo, who appeared startled like a deer caught in headlights

“hello..” theodore breathed out, feeling embarrassed that he was caught. you stood up quickly, “theo! how long have you been there?!”

theodore stood there, sheepish and unsure of how to respond. he sheepishly scratched the back of his head, trying to come up with an excuse. “uh, not long, i just arrived...” he trailed off, unable to meet your gaze.

you felt embarrassed. you knew theodore had heard everything. you gulped, hastily gathered your belongings, apologizing to luna, and made your excuses before rushing out of the library. leaving theodore behind once again, watching you go.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

it has been days since the events occurred, and you still cannot bring yourself to face theodore. despite his efforts to talk about what happened, you have been avoiding him, afraid that you may have hurt your relationship.

theodore noticed your attempt at avoiding him. whenever you would see him come around the corner, you would always turn the other direction. if he approached you, you would suddenly remember something urgent you needed to take care of.

theodore couldn't bear the distance that had now grown between the two of you. he missed your company, your laughter, and the comforting bond that you both once had. it pained him to see you avoiding him.

on the day prior to valentines day, you were walking through the hogwarts corridors, trying your best to avoid theodore yet again. he finally caught up to you, his voice was gentle and laced with concern as he called out to you, “y/n, please... can we talk?”

you stopped in your tracks, reluctant but unable to ignore the pleading tone in his voice. you turned to face him, and in that moment, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the hurt that mirrored your own. taking a deep breath, you finally nodded, signaling your willingness to listen.

theodore took a step closer, his gaze searching yours for any sign of forgiveness or understanding. “i... i heard what you said in the library,” he began, his voice soft yet filled with emotion.

you interrupted him abruptly, assuming he would turn you down. “yes theo, i love you okay!” you said frustratedly, a faint blush crept up on theodores cheeks as you confessed. but before he could respond, you quickly added, "but I understand if it's not something you're interested in. i value our friendship too much to risk i-” cutting you off, he reached out, gently cupping your cheeks as he brought you into a kiss.

as you felt his warm lips pressing against yours, a rush of emotions flooded through you. the shock faded away as you kissed him back, melting into it.

when you finally pulled back, your eyes met theodore's, and you saw relief in his gaze.

“y/n,” theodore whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth. he reached out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin affectionately. “you've always been something more to me,” he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. “and i want you to know that those rumors about me asking someone else were completely false. it was always you, y/n. it has always been you.”

as theodore's words sank in, you could feel your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. you had never anticipated that he felt this way about you, and now that he had laid his feelings bare, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness.

he continued, “and i've been wanting to ask you out for a while now, but i was afraid of ruining what we have. but if you're willing to take a chance on me, i’d love nothing more than for you to be mine.”

tears glistened in your eyes as you reached up to hold his hand against your cheek, savoring the warmth of his touch. “theodore,” you whispered, your voice filled with raw emotion, “i never thought you saw me the same way.”

a smile tugged at theodore's lips as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “i've been blind not to see it sooner,” he confessed, his gaze intense and unwavering. “i don't want to waste any more time pretending that we're just friends when we could be so much more.”

with a surge of courage, you closed the space between you, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss once again.

#emsnotion #theodore nott #slytherin boys #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys x reader #harry potter fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #—crimsntwlipᡣ𐭩

[minami-ff]

I Want My Kids to Have Your Eyes

Levi x Reader (fluff, sfw)

what a bold thing to say to your captain.

Moonlight hung over the hill like a comforting blanket as you both reclined an arm’s length apart on the soft grass beneath, bodies sinking into the earth. The day had been relentless, a gruelling mission that tested every ounce of strength. Now, in the quiet aftermath, you two found solace gazing upward at the summit’s view, shimmering like scattered diamonds against the canvas of the night sky.

The shared stillness remained comfortable, before you posed a soft interruption to the quietude, "Captain, do you ever think about your future?"

Levi's eyes briefly left the constellations above, attention shifting to you. "Yes, it usually ranges from the next second to the next few months. Which area of land outside the walls to explore, how defensive operations should alter for the next month, which day certain intelligen-”

“Captain-” You interrupted, then hesitated, the vulnerability of the topic making your heart race. "I meant a peaceful future, like having a family, kids?"

Levi's brow furrowed slightly. The thought of it was unfamiliar, impossible. "In this war? That’s far-fetched," he remarked, gaze returning to the stars.

A subtle smile grew on your lips as scenarios played at the back of your mind. "I know, of course, but don’t you ever imagine it? A life after the war, a future where Titans are just stories we tell our children." Levi's expression softened, a fleeting hint of wistfulness in his eyes.

"Like sometimes I think if I had children, I’d take them to play by the oceans, make adorable lunch sets," you continued, "how beautiful they would look if they had your eyes…" Embarrassment started flushing up as you realised you rambled on way too far.

His eyes widened imperceptibly, caught completely off guard by your comment.

"WAIT, that didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean having them with YOU, of course... definitely not…" You trailed off, a splash of pink painfully obvious on your cheeks. Get yourself together y/n, what on earth are you saying to your captain?

“Ouch.” A flicker of disappointment crossed his features. Levi cleared his throat, seemingly caught in the unexpected turn of the conversation. "Well aren’t you very in objection to that idea." he snickered, hiding a trace of sorrow beneath his face.

“Nevermind, I’m sorry, please forget what I said." You apologised in the tense atmosphere.

But Levi didn't dismiss it. Instead, his mind seemingly remained lost in contemplation. "How will your children have my eyes, if they don't have my genetics?" Determined to disprove your faulty reasoning.

You chuckled nervously, "I just mean I hope they’ll be a pretty colour, and delicate shape, like yours."

Levi displayed a rare vulnerability in his expression. He had never given thought to the aesthetic of his eyes; they were simply a part of him, a feature he never considered noteworthy. This was the first time he had received a compliment about them, and it left him momentarily speechless.

"At this rate, my most optimistic guesstimate is that I’ll be slaying titans till I’m 60." You broke the awkwardness joking, "in that case I might not be able to have kids, doubt any man would still take my crinkled self on a date anyway."

"Why not?" Levi replied seriously, his voice a soft echo in the tranquil night. "I won't be even a tiny bit surprised if you're still this beautiful at 85."

A blood-bathed blush adorned your complexion, stomach filling with butterflies and warmth, brain connections zapping around - wondering if he really thought that way, or,

“you’re just saying that.”

Levi sighed, “in all your years of knowing me, when have I ever felt obliged to tell a white lie, Comrade?”

"Right…” You muttered, with all sorts of thoughts doing laps beneath your skull, trying to continue the conversation as level-headed as possible. “Perhaps I'll meet my first love at 99,” a giggle escaping your breath as you joked.

Unexpectedly, Levi's response carried a weight that belied the casual banter. "Well. I think people can be in love without being in a formal relationship. You could easily have your first love now."

Your gaze laid upon his side profile, slightly puzzled by his logic, "but how can you be in love with someone without holding hands, saying mushy things, and all that?"

His head turned towards you, a moment of silence filling the air with eyes drilling into yours, revealing a sincerity that tugged at your heart. "I definitely can."

#aot #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #attack on titan #captain levi #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi heichou #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi fluff #levi angst #levi #snk levi #levi x you #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #snk #snk fanart #snk anime #levi smut #levi edit #levi fic #snk smut #snk final season #aot smut #aot fanart #anime fanfic #anime fanfiction

[helluvapoison]

You were a rare soul— and that means something down here. You didn’t care about holding the title Overlord, nor the power that came with it. You had exactly zero souls under your belt, yet people… respected you. Not feared, respected. A peculiar word to hear in Hell.

Your name was uttered quieter than a whisper, like saying it an octave too loud would summon you.

The Rat King.

Soon you would meet…

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer Morningstar ⁎⁺˳✧༚

warnings: gn reader, language, angst, canon divergence

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• He thought it was very brave (re: idiotic) to carry the title king in his domain

• Lucifer came to you out of boredom, absurdity, and— no shit— the slightest bit of self indulgence! He was supposed to see this so called second king and rip them a new asshole. Except you weren’t a king— not even close

• He scoured you toes to head, seemingly unimpressed. Not rat-like, not king-like. Lucifer knew himself well enough to know he should have been bored by now. His expectations plummeted, nothing was going according to plan. And yet.. he found himself more curious than before

“You’re this ‘Rat King’ I hear so much about?”

“I guess so” You shrugged, “But I didn’t pick that name for myself.”

• You properly introduced yourself to the one and only king. Your real name tasted interesting on his tongue. Lucifer tested it thrice as he shook your hand, relooking you over like he missed something

• Apparently they called you The Rat King because you were in the secret trading business. Give one, get one. Simple as that. You explained the rules to him over a cup of tea that he asked for. It wasn’t his first or second choice of blend but he drank it to be polite. No other motive. Definitely not because there was a question on the tip of his split tongue

• Lucifer wasn’t the most observant of people. He couldn’t tell what people were thinking, he wasn’t fluent in body language. So when he caught your eyes bouncing between his tight grip on the chipped cup you offered him, to his jittery knee sticking out from where he sat. His body and his head were, for one, in agreeance; leave, they told him. He didn’t like to be sized up and that was always his go to answer for why someone was watching him so intently. But with his chest facing you, and his heart in control, he stayed put

• “Lilith.” He choked out, “I want any knowledge you have on her.”

Saying her name out loud hurt more than he thought it would. It was acid in his belly, smoke in his lungs, and fire on his tongue.

Your smile faded.

“What?” He scoffed, “Lemme guess, you want something, right? A deal? I have to make a deal to find my own wife? Let’s get this over with then! I’m the fucking King of Hell, whatever you want is—“

Your hand shot out so suddenly that Lucifer was almost disappointed. He was expecting this. Right? This is what Sinners did, it’s why they were here. Why was he hoping you’d be different? And, more importantly, when did hope creep into his system again? He hadn’t been on good terms with the feeling in decades.

• However, Lucifer’s disappointment was killed before it could spread. Gently, so gently he could cry, you took his hand and pushed it, palm down, onto the table. Your eyes never left his. There was something about them that captivated him. He loathed it. It made him feel small. Not the kind of small that equaled insignificant, either.

No, it was worse.

Vulnerable.

“I don’t do deals,” You said quickly and it had Lucifer wondering if those eyes of yours saw how his mind was spiraling.

Stealing his hand back, ignoring how he immediately missed the contact, he wiped it on his pants.

A suspicious glare took over his face, “You—?What? You don’t do deals? What does that even mean!?”

“I just… trade secrets,” You sounded so defeated, “I don’t need deals for that. But I don’t have any secrets about the queen. I’m sorry.”

• Lucifer expected pity to rear its ugly head from you any moment now. His pride couldn’t take that hit, not today. What was it about you that made him so fucking transparent?

• The uncomfortable silence began creeping into the insufferably small shop of yours. It was fucking suffocating.

“I wish I could help you, I really do.” You said softly.

He really wished you would stop doing that. Your softness felt like a dagger to the heart. Reminding him it existed was agony he thought he’d never feel again.

• “Not one?” Lucifer asked bitterly.

Not a single one of these undeserving demons and sinners that Lilith loved so much spoke about her? Not a whisper or a rumor? They just forgot about her? It’s only been 4 years!

“I’m sorry, your majesty, if I hear something, I can—“

“No… No, it’s fine.” Lucifer cut you off, holding up his hand. His wedding ring blinded him with a sparkling gleam. He sighed, “I think we’re done here.”

• You stepped behind him cautiously, walking him to the door.

“You’re welcome to come back?”

He scoffed out a laugh, grinning at you from over his shoulder, “You’re not getting any of my secrets.”

A smile of your own began to spread.

“I also dabble in conversation.”

_

(part one? or move on to the next character? i dunno if i feel like continuing but want this to be as interactive as possible so tell me what you would like to see!)

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar headcanon #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar

[dailypenpen]

What do Genshin Men think of with you in their arms? (pt.1)

characters: Diluc, Xiao, and Kazuha.

notes: insecurities (Xiao) but other than that fluff. gn reader, only you pronouns used.

a/n: this is my first ever fanfic. ever. omg. this is nervewracking. I do hope everyone enjoys!!

Diluc thinks he does not deserve to be loved. The people he cherished most have slipped past his fingers like sand. And similarly to sand, the hourglass of time pulls these connections apart. He sits at the top, desperately trying to reach for the ones that have fallen away. Only tears reaching towards the bottom of the glass. Almost mocking him.

So he does not understand why you still stay. Why you are here sleeping peacefully by his side. Why you snuggle closer to him, your fingers grasping for him even in your sleep. Diluc feels like he can't breathe. Diluc can't fathom your actions, your love, your care, you most of all—

And yet, he accepts your hands reaching for him. Bringing them around his waist as he presses you close to his chest. His lips coming close to your ear as he whispers sweet nothings. His eyes staring at your sleeping form, the corner of his eyes crinkling with the thought of you. You who have stayed despite everything he's done to push everyone away. Diluc has always kept everyone from arm's reach, yet you somehow managed to instead be within his arms.

He supposes he should reward your efforts, at the very least.

Diluc brings your shared blanket up closer for the two of you. To perhaps shield you from this cruel world, he muses to himself. To be the only one to see such a sight. He continues staring at you with a tenderness that he believes you deserve from him.

He thinks he couldn't fall any more in love with you. But when you smile in your rest, soft and warm and full of life. Well, Diluc sighs as he holds you closer. Maybe there truly is no limit in loving someone as great as you. Someone who makes him believe that he alone is worthy to be held. To be held by someone like you.

"You are the reason why I dream, my love."

Xiao thinks that you are utterly ridiculous. You only remember to call his name when you are falling midway from a tall peak from Jueyun Karst? Did you not think of calling him when you were out trekking so that he could come with you to ensure your safety? Or even before that, when you first went out of the inn to go?

The wind around you moves with a great swiftness that it's almost hard to miss, but you can recognize it anywhere. He grabs you, quickly holding you in his arms. Xiao looks down at you in disappointment, quickly moving to the ground to rest his feet on. You open your mouth to speak, to defend yourself. But even before you can, his narrowed eyes quickly shut down any word you wanted to say. You opt to give him a sheepish grin in return.

His eyes instantly soften as you smile at him. How? He furrowed his eyebrows at you. How could a mortal like you not have any regard for your own safety? Why risk your life with no insurance that you'll get out unscathed? Or at the very least, alive?

He pulls you closer to him without meaning to, without realizing. He refuses to bring you down to the ground. To let you leave his arms. His breathing is ragged, his arms shaking at the countless thoughts that plague his mind. What if you never called out his name? What if Xiao couldn't hear you, couldn't save you?

Xiao's grip tightens on you more, yet he is careful to not hurt you.

You stay silent, not wanting to disrupt Xiao's thoughts. Your hand moves up to his cheek, rubbing circles in an effort to calm him. Xiao flinches at your touch. You slowly retract your hand away yet he leans towards your hand. Wanting your touch. Knowing that you are safe in his arms.

He stares at you, eyes vulnerable. The one thing he hated showing to anyone. Showing how he, as inhuman as he claims to be, cares. That you brought a weakness he desperately tries to hide. That you are a weakness.

"Be careful next time, my light."

Kazuha thinks you are beyond precious. The both of you are admiring the view of the sea from the Crux, nuzzled up to one another. The Crow's Nest (you once jokingly called it the Kazu's Nest with how frequently he goes up there) is the perfect place for the two of you to cuddle without the rest of the crew spotting you. To escape their endless teasing. Especially from Captain Beidou.

You absentmindedly play with his hair, the ponytail now loose as you continue running your hands through it. He chuckles softly at your mindless actions. You truly are adorable, aren't you? Kazuha muses to himself. He wishes he could write a poem about this very moment, to memorialize it. To engrave it onto his very memory.

Yet, he does not. He stays silent. He knows that it's enough that you are with him, that you are content in his embrace and that he is in yours. That no manner of poetry is enough to encapsulate his deep affection for you. To express his joy in being with you. To somehow portray your very essence in a few words.

He knows it's near impossible to summarize you, that would be unfair to your divine beauty. Can a single word even begin to describe who you are to him? Wondrous, heavenly, or maybe even godsent? Kazuha shakes his head in dissatisfaction. No, those aren't the right words either.

The sea rocks the boat and you squeak while gripping his clothes, afraid to move suddenly with the boat. Kazuha smiles at you, patting your head. You grin back at him, releasing your grip on him. Yet Kazuha quickly grasps your hands in his, earning a small gasp from you. He chuckles again, his eyes so full of love. Almost bursting out of the seams.

You laugh with him, and he looks at you like you're his entire world. Kazuha thinks he can finally have a way to describe you. You, the person whom he always wants to rest with. His one constant in his life of being a vigilante and vagabond. The one person in his entire life that he knows that no matter what he's faced, what he's experienced, will always be with him no matter what. That you are the one person he ever truly wanted.

Kazuha brings your hand close to his lips, kissing them delicately.

"You are my home, darling."

Please consider liking and reblogging!!

#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc fluff #diluc #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao fluff #xiao #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha fluff #kazuha #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #did you guys know I slept at like 4am to finish this LMAO I love being insomniac #penguin writings!!

[sleekswosobession]

late

barça femeni x teen!reader

request: here & here

A/N: i love everything about this request. (i did make lucy ona and keira a throuple for the memes)

also Asisat has left.. no more dedicated funny person in my stories 😔

TW: Panic Attack

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You’re late. You’re never late. That’s how you end up on the phone with Ona, stressed and out of your mind.

“I’m not sure Ona! All I know is that my period is late, and I am FREAKING out, so god help me and come over please.” You’re borderline screaming at the phone.

“Ok ok, please just calm down I’ll be there soon. When I get there you better have an explanation of why you think you might be pregnant, you are literally 17.” You can hear her disappointment.

“Yes I know, I know. Just get the tests please.” She says yes and promptly hangs up the phone as you go back to worrying.

- - - - -

All was going well for Ona, she bought two tests which were different brands and payed for them without getting recognised by any fans. She opts to not buy a bag, considering it’s 8pm at night. It’s not like she was going to run into anyone anyways, right?

Wrong, immediately as she walks out of the pharmacy, tests in hand she bumps into not only her captain. But 1 of her 2 girlfriends as well.

“Uhh, what is that?” Lucy says, looking down at the tests in her girlfriends hand.

“I, uhh.” The younger spaniard starts to freak out, not wanting to put you in a vulnerable position.

“Tell us.” Alexia says sternly, leaving no room for argument.

“Well, it’s not for me. It’s for… it’s for Y/N.” The older women look visibly shaken and shocked.

“Disculpe!”

“Qué?”

They speak at the same time.

“Ok, I’m about to go to her house. Lucy you can come with me and Ale you can come if you’d like.”

“I’ll leave the nena to you both, just update me ok?” Alexia is concerned, rightfully so. Ona and Lucy nod, before getting in the car and driving to your place.

- - - - -

You open the door, surprised to see not 1 but 2 visitors.

“Hola.” You say before allowing them access inside the apartment.

“Sorry, I uh might’ve ran into Lucy and Alexia and I had to tell them.” Ona blurts out, you don’t worry though as it would probably get out anyways.

“It’s fine… can I just have the tests now?” She nods slowly, passing them to you before running off to the bathroom.

When you’ve followed the instructions and done what’s needed, you walk out and place the two sticks on the table, flipping them upside down. Once again you begin to spiral.

“Oh god, what if it’s positive.” You mumble, pushing your knees to your chest.

“Hey, if it is positive we’ll do our best to support you, if it’s negative then there’s nothing to worry about. Might be a cyst or something. Take deep breaths for me ok?” Lucy’s reassuring voice leads you into a less panicked state, and you just hoped that time would fly by faster.

When the timer on Ona’s phone went off, you felt sick. You took deep breaths as Ona scratched your back slightly. You counted in your head to three and flipped both tests open to reveal one negative… and one positive. Oh fuck.

“Ona? Luce? Please. What do I do, I’m scared.” Tears stream down your face, your body starts to shake and Lucy immediately holds you tight against her.

“Shh, shh, it’s ok. It might be a false positive, youre going to be ok I promise.” She says as you’re crying, her words fall deaf in your ears as you can only sob harder. Now going into a full panic attack.

“Call Keira, I’ll message Alexia.” Ona nods and calls the other Englishwoman.

- - - - -

It’s around 5 minutes later, you feel like you’re going to pass out when there’s knocks on the door. You register something else happening and soon enough someone has their hands touching your knees and speaking.

The person takes your hand and puts it agaisnt something that’s beating and you try to get in sync with it.

Soon enough, you regain your senses and it’s Keira who’s pulled you back to reality. It seems she knows you’re back with the look she gives.

“Hey…” She whispers softly, wiping the tears out of your eyes. “Whatever happens, you have me, the team and we won’t judge you at all. Ok?” You nod.

It takes a few more minutes until you’re basically back to where you were. You look up at their curious gazes.

“You can ask questions if you want.” You answer the unspoken question.

“So you… you had sex.” You nod at Keira.

“With a guy?” Ona pipes up and you sigh nodding your head again.

“Ok, how about this. Give it another week and we’ll do another two tests, IF you haven’t got your period by then, sound good?” You half-smile and stare at the table.

“Do you want any of us to stay at all?” You shrug, not even sure what you want at the current moment. “Ok, Keira will stay with you and you’ll go to training in the morning. We updated Alexia and she’s worried. She agrees with us about the waiting and what we’ll do after today. She might want to speak to you tomorrow though.”

“Ok, thank you for everything Luce and you Ona.” You look at both of them, smiling gratefully. They pat you on the shoulder before walking out to presumably go home. Then Keira turns to you.

“I brought stuff over in case, don’t worry about lending clothes or anything like that.”

“Ok… could you maybe sleep- like in the bed with me?” You ask, slightly embarrassed.

“Not at all come on, you need the rest.” She leads you to your room and you immediately crash fast asleep against the pillow.

- - - - -

The next morning when you wake up, you know something has changed. There’s a light ache in your abdomen and your muscles are slightly sore. Keira is peacefully lying beside you and you’re happy that she stuck to her word and stayed.

You lazily make your way to the bathroom to use the toilet when you feel as if God has blessed you. low and behold that positive from the previous night was a false one.

You feel immediately at ease and get done what needs to be done in the morning.

“Keira!” You greet happily, she smiles slightly confused. Considering it’s such a dramatic change from last night.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“I finally got it.” It takes a second for her to register what you meant by that but when she does she’s also happy.

“Well, that’s great. Come on, eat this muesli bar and we’ll get going, then you can tell the girls about it.” You nod and head off to training.

- - - - -

When you walk in the room where all the girls are, the ones who knew look at you in surprise of the look of joy on your face.

“Why so happy cariño?” Ale asks.

“Well it seems like someone has blessed me because this morning I got what I’d been hoping for. My period.” You say dramatically and she smiles.

“YAYY THE BEBE ISN’T PREGNANT!” Mapi’s loud voice shouts as you look down, cheeks turning red.

“Welcome to womanhood elskling.” Ingrid pulls you in and presses a kiss against your temple.

—————————————————————————

i fangirled so hard today on the woso writers discord

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x reader #ona batlle #lucy bronze #keira walsh

[amentomensmut]

first time for everything pt2

Drug Dealer! Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 5k

this is part 2 to my fic first time for everything! read the first part here.

Summary: After an unforgettable hookup with your friend Sara’s drug dealer, Mike Schmidt, you go to a college party to try and put a stop to your constant stream of thoughts about it, and more specifically, him. However, when you wind up bumping into the man you had been thinking about non-stop at the party, you can’t help but give in to the one person who started it all. 

Warnings: 18+ content, so much banter. Like, so much. Mike is a smug bastard, alcohol consumption, swearing, kissing, dirty talk, use of pet names, fingering, cunnilingus, finger sucking, unprotected sex 

Note: we are so back. also i really hope you guys like this omg. (p.s. sorry that this part has no cannabis use in it. I know that’s like kinda the whole point, but with the story i wanted to tell i couldn’t find a place to put it and i didn’t just want to shove it in randomly so i sorta just left it out.)

Like smoke filling up your lungs, Mike Schmidt has infiltrated your mind in every way possible. 

Thoughts of him invading every corner and crevice of your brain, making them impossible to shake. To say the least, ever since you had the pleasure of meeting him, your mind has been rather occupied. 

His lips on yours, the smoke from his mouth permeating your own, his hands on your body, your skin on his skin—it's all too much, you think. In fact, if you could go back and erase the entire interaction, you would. It’s the only thing you’ve been able to think about, and it’s all Mike Schmidt’s fault. 

You wonder if he thinks about you too. You know it’s probably unlikely, but you can’t help but feel like he might. Like he also dreams about it. Like he also yearns for you again. Maybe he gets off thinking about it, like you do. You shake those thoughts away, however, when you come to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t as special to him as it was to you. 

"Okay, Y/n, what the fuck?” Sara's voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you.

You whip your head around to see Sara standing behind you. Her arms are crossed against her chest, and her face is painted with a worried expression. 

“What?” you respond, confusion evident in your voice.

“You’ve been staring at that wall for 20 minutes.” Sara says it with an accusatory tone, like she caught you doing something you shouldn’t be. 

“I’m just thinking.” You shrug, trying to play it cool. I mean, you’re not lying. You were trying to do your homework, and then you started…daydreaming. Thinking. Whatever you want to call it. 

“Yeah, I know. Thinking is all you’ve been doing this week. What’s going on?” Sara sighs, and you can see the genuine concern in her face. She sits on your bed next to your desk, trying to meet your eyes. You have a hard time lying to her, and catching her gaze will only make you more vulnerable, so instead, you choose to stare down at your homework. 

“This isn’t like you. You’re the most studious person I know, and you can’t even focus enough to finish a couple questions. Tell me what’s going on.” She continues. You weigh your options. You could tell her you fucked her drug dealer. She couldn’t be that mad, right? Or, you could keep it a secret, but continuing to lie to her is the last thing you want to do. You let out a deep breath and just decide to bite the bullet.

“Okay, um, remember when I went to your drug dealer's house last week?” You wearily start. Sara nods her head, signalling for you to continue.

“Well, one thing led to another, and we kinda, sorta had…sex?” The room is silent after your confession, the weight of your words hanging in the air. When you look over at Sara, you expect to see disappointment or anger on her face, but instead, she's looking at you with one of the biggest smiles you've ever seen.

“I knew it!” Sara exclaims, jumping up in a rush of excitement. 

“I knew there was a reason that you were practically glowing when you got back from his house!” You groan at her loudness, putting your hands over your face to hide your embarrassment. You should’ve known she wouldn’t have been upset with you; she practically shoves you at any man who gives you some sort of attention in the hopes that you’ll break your introverted habits. “Wait,” she excitedly adds. “Does this mean you can get me a discount?”

“No, Sara, I can’t fucking get you a discount. I haven’t seen him since it happened.” You say, and you try your best to mask the disappointment in your tone. I mean, what did you expect? That he’d come running to you the next day, get down on one knee, and propose? You knew it would most likely be a one time thing, so why were you so upset about it?

“So that’s why you’ve been so out of it this week. Plagued by the thoughts of a good fuck. Trust me, I've been there. ” Sara sighs dramatically, shaking her head like she knows this feeling all too well. 

“I don’t know... as cheesy as it sounds, I sort of can’t stop thinking about him? It was so good, and now it’s all I think about.” You admit, and Sara takes her place back on the end of your bed. She takes one of your hands in hers, and she nods her head in an understanding manner.

“You know what you need?” She says, and you shake your head, "No.".

“To get your head out of your chemistry books and go to a goddam party! No wonder you’ve been thinking about him; all you’ve been doing is thinking.” She says, motioning to the copious amounts of school-related papers on your desk. 

“Trust me, Y/n. The best sort of remedy for this kind of thing is to just let loose and forget about all your shit for a little while, you know?” As much as you’ve tried to avoid parties and distractions during your college experience, you can’t imagine there’d be much harm in going to one party. Besides, if you can get your mind off of Mike for a few hours and just have some fun, it’ll be worth it. 

“Alright. Yeah, I think you’re right.” You say, and Sara jumps up excitedly as she begins to talk about one of her good friends that is throwing a party that night, and that it’ll be the perfect excuse to get away from all stress of exams. You nod along, a smile plastered on your face as you try to match Saras excitement. You’re not quite sure if this “remedy” will work or not; however, you’d just about try anything at this point. And like Sara always says, you’re a hermit, so this will be a good way to break you out of your shell. I mean, the last time Sara told you to do something, it ended up going better than expected, so what’s the worst that could happen?

----------------------------------

“Sara, I feel like I’m going to flash someone.” You say as you pull on the hem of your very mini skirt. The walk to the party wasn’t long, but your bare legs are cold and you’re itching to get warm. You’ve never really worn something as revealing as this, but Sara insisted you wear something from her wardrobe. 

“Your skirt isn’t that short; don’t be dramatic.” Sara teases as she leads you towards a house that's booming with both music and people. You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. You haven’t been to a party during your time at college, and to be honest, you weren’t ever planning to. Focusing on getting your degree without any distractions was always your goal. An unrealistic goal? Maybe, but it had been working well for you up until a week ago. However, things don’t always go as planned, and now you’re stepping into a house full of sweaty, inebriated bodies and music so loud it makes the entire house shake. The air is thick and humid, and you’d get lost in the house’s dim lighting if it weren’t for Sara’s hand in yours guiding you through the sea of bodies. Your shoes stick to the floor as you walk through the house, and you know alcohol drunkenly spilled from overflowing, cheap solo cups is the culprit. Sara drags you to the kitchen, where all the alcohol is stashed. 

“We should do a shot! To commemorate the first party of your college career!” Sara yells over the music, already pouring each of you a shot of tequila. You give a little laugh at Sara’s enthusiasm, and you nod your head in agreement. As you wait for Sara to hand you your drink, you notice just how many people there are. You watch through the kitchen window as someone throws up on the lawn. You wince a little at the sight and at the thought of how much alcohol they probably drank. You briefly wonder if going to this party was even a good idea, but you try to shake away any negative thoughts. 

“Babe, you’re thinking too much again.” Sara says, waving her hand in front of your face as she passes you the shot. 

“Sorry!” You half-yell, but Sara dismisses your apology with a wave of her hand.

“Don’t be sorry, just have fun!” Sara replies as she effortlessly downs her shot. You also attempt down your tequila; however, it’s not as effortless, and you grimace at the sharp taste of the tequila on your tongue. It takes everything in you to swallow it without gagging, and you wish you had something to chase it with. 

“Fuck, that’s awful.” You groan as you pull a face. You don’t typically drink alcohol, and when you do, tequila is certainly not your first choice. Sara laughs and places a hand on your shoulder. 

“That’s what makes it good!”

The next hour or so goes by pretty smoothly. You’ve essentially been following Sara around like a lost puppy, accompanying her as she greets her friends, which feels like just about everyone at this party. You watch as Sara effortlessly navigates the room, her laughter ringing out above the chatter and deafening music. As you stand alongside Sara, watching as she converses with a group of people you recognise as being on the school's soccer team, you feel a wave of insecurity wash over you, like an invisible barrier separating you from everyone else. You feel out of place at this party, and in a way you are. You haven’t been to a party in your three years at school, and now you've realised that you barely know anyone around here. You haven’t seen one familiar face, other than Sara, in the past hour and a half since you arrived here. You begin to wonder how different your college experience would be if you just got over your fear of people and parties, and went out like Sara had. You try to dismiss your destructive thoughts, but it’s no use. You feel like somehow everyone knows that you’re not really supposed to be here, and it makes your throat feel dry with anxiety.

“Hey, Sara, I’m going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?” You loudly whisper in her ear, trying not to interrupt the conversation she was currently in. You’re anxiously wanting to get away from the crowd, and your body language shamelessly shows it as you bounce your leg and bite the skin off your lips.  

“No, I’m okay,” Sara says, and you watch as her eyes survey your body, her eyebrows knitting together. “Do you need me to come with you?” She bends down to speak in your ear, although her words are slightly slurred, and you softly giggle at the way her alcohol intake has affected her speech.

“No, I’ll be okay.” You assure her as you walk away from the group, giving Sara a little wave as you make your way to the kitchen. 

You had intended on getting a drink, but when you got to the kitchen and saw the door to the backyard, your desire to escape the muggy, stale air landed you on the back patio instead. Your lungs thank you for the fresh air as soon as you step outside, and the cool winter breeze feels refreshing on your sweaty skin. There’s still plenty of partygoers outside, but it’s certainly not as packed as it was inside. You watch as people play beer pong on a ping pong table on the lawn, and the sight only solidifies your fear of missing out. The sound of hearty laughter and the smell of weed only make you want to go home more, and you sigh as you push off the patio railing to leave. You turn around to make your way back inside when you see him.

At first, you thought it was your eyes playing tricks on you. Like you had been thinking about him so much that an apparition of him was here to taunt you. Like your thoughts of him for the past week had now turned you delusional. However, his eyes lock with yours, and now you so badly want it to be a hallucination, or your mind playing tricks on you. Dread washes over you and you wish you had never come to this party. You want the ground to swallow you whole when you see him beginning to walk towards you, and for a split second, you consider running away. 

You mean for your words to come out nicely; you truly do. However, they don’t come out that way, and instead you say this:

“What the fuck are you doing here?” If your words shock or hurt Mike, he doesn’t show it as he now stands in front of you with that goddamn smirk on his face.

“I have a business to run, Y/n. But you’d know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you?” You’re not sure if you want to kiss or slap him, but you roll your eyes anyway at his smug tone. He gives an unbothered laugh at your attitude and actually, you’d definitely rather slap him right now.

“Your business is selling weed to intoxicated college students?” You retort with a scoff, crossing your arms against your chest like it’s a defence mechanism. You hate that his presence is making you jittery, but you hold your ground, your eyes never veering away from his.

“Funnily enough, they’re my top customers.” Mike smugly says, and you don’t even try to hide the scowl on your face. You squint your eyes at him, trying to read his intentions. He smells like weed and spicy cologne, and it immediately brings you back to his house, and more specifically, his living room. There's a pregnant pause between the two of you, and before you can work up the courage to say something, he speaks again. 

“Cute outfit, by the way. Have you dropped the innocent act yet?” He asks, obviously satisfied with his words. He's clearly trying to get under your skin, and you won't let him.  

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” You fib, shrugging your shoulders like the question is irrelevant. If he's going to try to tease you about your hookup, you won't feed into it. 

“You know, after that night, I don’t think you can really call yourself a good girl. You’d be lying to everyone. You're lying to me right now.” 

“Fuck you, Mike.”

“You should come by my house tomorrow. You're probably all out of the weed I sold to you last time you were around, right?” He says nonchalantly, changing the subject. You furrow your eyebrows at the change of conversation, and your stubbornness to let Mike have any satisfaction during this conversation doesn’t falter.

“I don't smoke weed.” You quip.

“Lie all you’d like, Y/n. It doesn’t change the truth.” He says, brushing a stray hair out of your face before walking back into the house without giving you another look.

----------------------------------

Usually people use the phrase “walk of shame” when you’re walking home from a hookup, however, that phrase pretty much sums up how you feel as you walk up Mike Schmidt's driveway.

You’re not sure how you’ve ended up back on Mike Schmidtd’s doorstep again. Maybe it was the satisfying sting of weed going down your throat and into your lungs, or the insatiable hunger for the man who supplied it to you. Either way, the front door is being opened and the man who you’ve been thinking about non stop for the past week is behind it. 

“Had a feeling you’d be back.” He says with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you’re high before any weed has even entered your system. 

“Don’t cream your pants.” You mutter as you push past him and walk inside. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t know why you were here, you both knew. After Mike left you at the party, you knew you were completely and utterly fucked. That any other attempts of trying to forget him would be worthless. That like a bee to a flower, you’d be back here, in Mike’s house, searching for the one thing you had been denying yourself for the past week. 

“So I was right then, you’re all out of weed.” He says as he closes the front door. You take your jacket and scarf off, hanging them on the coat hanger at the door. You face Mike, who's currently leaning against the front door, watching you. 

“Can I have a soda?” You ask, and Mike cracks a smile at the familiarity of the situation. 

“I would’ve offered, but I wasn’t sure how long you’d be here.” He says, trying to bite back his smile. You follow him to the kitchen, watching as he grabs two cans of soda. Your fingers brush as he hands you the cold can, and you look up at him as he clears his throat.

“So…an eighth again?” He inquires, looking at you over his can of soda as he takes a sip.

“Mike, I’m not here for your goddamn weed.” You laugh. Mike laughs as well, and the exuberant sound is like music to your ears. 

“So you came for my soda instead?” Mike teases, and you shake your head with a smile.

“I think you know why I’m here.” You say, and your cheeks heat up at the thought of what happened last time you were in his house. Your fingers tighten around the soda can at the thought of touching Mike again, and you so badly want to reach out for him.

“I’m not sure if you deserve it. You weren’t very nice to me last night at the party.” He smirks, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning against the kitchen counter. He places his soda can on the kitchen counter and tilts his head at you, waiting for your rebuttal. 

“I was nice enough.” You simper, shrugging your shoulders. If he’s going to make you work for it, you’ll play along. 

“Say please. I can’t believe I have to teach you how to use your manners.” He coos, and you huff when you realise you won’t get what you want right away.

“I'm very polite.” You stubbornly stand your ground, but you can feel your resolve weakening with every word that comes out of Mike's mouth.

“You might be polite, but apparently you forgot how to ask for things.”

“Please, Mike.”

His lips are on yours as soon as the words leave your mouth. All the build up from the past week, all the sexual tension between you and Mike is released into the kiss. The kiss is frantic and needy, like even being this close isn’t enough. His want for you shows in the way his rough hands grab any part of your body they can reach. You blindly slide your soda can on the kitchen counter before threading your fingers through his hair, softly pulling at the root making him moan into your mouth. He tastes like cream soda and weed and his hands caressing your body send a shiver up your spine, and you haven’t felt this way since the last time he touched you. 

“You have no idea how much I've been thinking about you.” He says in a gruff voice as he walks you backwards and lifts you up onto the kitchen counter. You spread your legs so he can slot himself between them, and he presses soft kisses into your neck. His hands are on your waist, stabilising you as he kneads the soft skin there. 

“I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.” You shyly admit, and he softly bites your neck, almost scolding you for your words. 

“Are you serious?” He asks incredulously, removing his head from your neck to look at you. His heavy lidded gaze makes you feel nervous, and his reaction makes you feel like you said something you shouldn’t have. Your silence serves as an answer to his question and he shakes his head at you disapprovingly as he slowly gets on his knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact. You suck in a quick breath at the sight of Mike in between your legs, and an involuntary whine escapes from your lips when he begins to undo the button of your pants. 

“Y/n, the only thing i’ve been able to think about is you.” He groans, and you lift your hips off the counter to help Mike as he pulls your pants down over your ass. Your pants hit the floor and Mike is pressing open mouthed kisses into the insides of your plush thighs. He takes his time, kissing and sucking on the expanse of your thighs, and you think you might go crazy if he continues to tease you. Your thighs slightly close around Mike’s head, looking for any friction you can get. Mike lets out a laugh and you throw your head back in frustration.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there something you’d like?” Mike innocently asks, looking up at you as his mouth gets dangerously close to your pantie clad pussy. A sadistic smile paints his face and you put your hands in Mike's hair, trying to pull him closer to the place you need him the most.

“Mike, stop fucking teasing.” You pant, and a dissatisfied sigh leaves Mike's lips.

“I thought we talked about using your manners.” He mocks, and although he's the one on his knees in front of you, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s certainly still in control. 

“Please, Mike. Please, I need you.” You beg, and not long after, Mike is licking a hot stripe up your covered cunt. You bite your bottom lip, your chest heaving as Mike continues to press messy, open mouthed kisses to the wet spot on your panties. His grip on your thighs is strong, and the feeling of his blunt nails digging into the soft skin makes your head spin. Soon enough, his thick fingers are hooking into your underwear and pulling it down your legs. He wastes no time, quickly latching his lips to your swollen clit and making out with your pussy like a man starved. Your jaw drops in pleasure, and your hand tugging at his hair makes him moan into you. 

“Mike, h-holy shit.” You cry out, as he enters one of his long fingers into you. His tongue swirls around your clit as he pumps his finger in and out of you, and the sounds of him eating your pussy are absolutely sinful. Mike replaces his tongue with his thumb, rubbing your clit in slow circles as he slowly enters another finger into you.

“You’re so tight.” He mutters, and his eyes are glued on your soaked cunt and the way it sucks his fingers in. He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace, curling them upwards, hitting a spot that makes you jerk your hips upward. 

“M-Mike, I’m gonna-” You start, but cut yourself off with a moan as Mike reattaches hip lips to your clit. With his fingers rapidly moving in and out of you, and his mouth doing god's work on your clit, you swear you’re starting to hear colours. Your thighs begin to shake as you start to grind yourself on Mike's face as you near your orgasm. You let out a loud moan as you finally release, the only thing you can feel is the pure pleasure surging through your body as you cum, and Mike coaxing you through it. Your breathing is heavy as you come down from your high. Mike removes his fingers and mouth from your pussy, pressing a final kiss to your clit before he stands back up in front of you. 

“Open your mouth.” He softly demands, and you do, letting Mike shove his cum covered fingers into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the digits, humming as he lets his fingers travel to the back of your throat, making you gag. “That's it.” He praises, caressing your cheek as you suck his fingers. He removes his hand from your mouth and places them on your hips, helping you off the counter. He turns you around so you’re facing away from him, and he presses a hand to the centre of your back, bending you over the counter. He presses himself into you, and pushes your ass back against his covered erection. Mike leans over you, wrapping a hand around your throat to pull you up against his chest as he brings his lips to your ear.

“How could I forget about you when you look like a fucking angel when you cum.” He confesses in your ear, bucking his hips against you as he releases you, letting you fall back over the counter. The sound of him undoing his belt and pants makes you involuntarily clench your legs together, and you turn your head, watching as Mike spits in his hand and strokes himself a couple times before lining himself up with your pussy. 

“Have you been thinking about this?” Mike taunts, teasing the head of his cock up and down your slit. 

“You have no idea.” You whine, pushing your hips back in an attempt to just get Mike to fuck you. However, Mike holds your hips steady, restraining you from grinding back on him.

“Enlighten me, then.” Mike responds, like he has all the time in the world. But to you, it feels like the end of the world with the way your pussy is throbbing and in need of stimulation. A defeated sob leaves your lips at Mike’s teasing, 

“All the fucking time, Mike. I felt like I was going crazy.” You babble, and your words seem to be good enough for Mike, because he’s filling you up with his thick cock. All your thoughts, any worries you’ve had over the past week are gone. The only thing you can focus on is the way he fits perfectly inside you, and the way the grunts and groans leaving his lips sound like perfect melodies to your ears. His hips snap into yours roughly, and you know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

“I couldn’t get high without thinking about you. You fucking ruined weed for me.” Mike admits with a laugh, like the whole thing is preposterous. His fingers work quick circles on your clit and you shiver as Mike places a hand under your jaw, lifting you so he can press kisses into your neck.

“Good. Maybe you’ll smoke it less. It’s bad for your lungs.” You breathily tease, and Mike sucks a particularly dark spot into your neck in response to your words. Mike continues his rough pace, and you clench hard around him.

“Gonna cum.” You whine and Mike only continues to fuck you, wanting to get you there. You cum for the second time, your body jerking as the overwhelming sensation hits you. Mike holds your shaky body up as he cums inside of you, letting out a strained “fuck” as his own orgasm washes over him. You both stand there afterwards, catching your breath as Mike release slowly begins to leak out of you and down your thighs. 

“Did I seriously ruin weed for you?” You hoarsely ask in a disbelieving voice. You feel Mike’s chest rumble as he laughs, and actually, you think his laugh is the most perfect sounding melody.  

“Trust me, It’s embarrassing to admit.” He says, and you let out a quick breath as he pulls out of you. He grabs a cloth out of a kitchen drawer and runs it under warm water in the sink before cleaning up the cum between your legs. He tucks himself back into his boxers before pulling his pants up, and you follow suit. 

“Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.” You jest as you button your pants. 

“Maybe.” Mike says with a smile, and when you look at him, you think you wouldn’t even need weed to get high. You’d just need this feeling.

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