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#maybe i don't need to know everything. i just need to be aware of all the possibilities and use that to determine what's most likely.

buddieisgoingcanon2024 · 2 days

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"I'm one of those who say that to have a future Buddie a Bucktommy is necessary, I think that everything is very planned basically because Eddie's possible coming out of the closet is going to be complex due to three reasons: his parents, his religious beliefs and his military past. Tim knows absolutely all this and I suppose he's aware that such a complex plot can't be developed in several episodes but requires time.

This season proves that they have nothing planned. It was Lucy who was supposed to come back, but the actress couldn't. Tommy was first planned for Eddie, but ended up with Buck. Bucktommy is literally accidental because the original plan fell through. In the original plan (eddietommy) Tim didn't give a shit that a romcom coming out in one episode didn't suit Eddie (parents, religious beliefs, military past). It was Ryan who said it didn't make sense for Eddie, so they passed it over to Buck. I really hope Eddie will have a coming out and we will have buddie. But I also see that they don't have anything planned and kinda go with the flow. And I think they need to hurry if they want to make buddie. Will Tim stay for s8? Or will he pass the show over to KR again and go back to Lonestar? In that case we can kiss a coming out for Eddie and buddie goodbye. My only hope is that something shifts in 710, both need to be single and a sign in the direction of buddie needs to happen. Otherwise we could end up with a missed opportunity 2.0 like the shooting, a repetition of s5 with unnecessary Tommy stuck for a whole second season like Taylor and KR in charge. Nightmare scenario.

I have a good feeling something WILL happen in 710 because of what Maddie said during Bucks coming out scene (to her)…

Maddie: “I don’t think you’re a fraud. I just think that maybe you’re not sure of your own feelings yet. And if there’s something you need to tell Eddie, you will. Just in your own time.”

There has to be a reason Tim wrote that for Maddie to say to Buck.

#buddie #oliver stark #evan buck buckley #911 on abc #ryan guzman #eddie diaz #maddie buckley

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n1ghtfurys · 3 days

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For the record

Mentions a toxic relationship

(Also I've never done this before so....yeah.)

“For the record this is self destructive” Soaps tone is flat, this has happened so much he's not even shocked anymore. Simon's mad over you, you have a fight, break up and he comes crawling back even when it's your fault. You make him stupid and it grates on Soap like nothing else, the fact that you don't like him doesn't help the situation much either.

“For the record I'm aware of that.” Ghost replies sounding exasperated, he knows you're bad for him. You like the attention you get, the way he fucks you when he comes back like he's hoping you'll see him as the only guy in the world and in a sense you do. You love him, you really do but you can't help yourself. When it's good it feels too good, so you fuck it up. You know it fucks with him and you know Soap hates you for it but you can't help it. You know one day he might not come back and that terrifies you, you're trying to stop it but old habits die hard right?.

Simon sighs and drags his hand over his face. He knows it's dumb to be so caught up in you but you get him and he can't explain it other than he loves you, loves being with you. Even the stupid bits where you decide you hate him, all the mood swings and screaming and shouting. The make up sex, the cuddling, the way you rake through his hair, how sweet your voice sounds, all of it.

Usually whenever you guys ‘fall out’ he spends the entire time fantasising about what he'll do when he gets back to you, that mixed with the fact that he was on deployment before your last spat has him reeling. He’s nothing if not pent up, the anger doesn't help either. He hasn't been able to get you out of his head, he's lost count of all of the wet dreams and the videos he's replayed. Some of them weren't even sexual, just videos of you smiling at him (from a vacation he took you on a while back).

He shifts his hips, trying to make the way his cock is chubbing up, again, from just the thought of you less noticeable.

“Si-” Soap begins but Simon cuts him off.

“For the record I've been picturing her body draped over the sofa wearing nothing but my mask.” He regrets it the minute he says it, he can't stop the way the idea of you like that makes him feel. How it makes his cock throb.

Soap rolls his eyes and makes an exasperated noise. “For the record.” He mimics clearly annoyed.

"I'm screwed." Simon knows he's right, he knows the two of you are toxic but he's addicted. Everything about you is so good, and maybe if he keeps coming back you'll realise that whatever fucked up reason you have for treating him like this isn't worth it.

Simon and Soap sit in a charged silence for a while before Soap appears to get sick of Simon's awkward fidgeting.

Simon gives him a grateful nod before Soap pauses at the door, “For the record, I think you should leave the lass, no matter how bonnie you think she is.”

They both know it fell on deaf ears, not only because he was too focused on how bad he wishes he could push his cock into you instead of his hand but also because they both know he's down bad.

The way Simon's palming at his cock the minute the door clicks shut is honestly pathetic, he wants you so bad it feels like he needs you. He dips into the grey joggers he has on and pulls his aching cock out and gives it a few fast tugs, before pushing his thumb over the tip and smudging the pearly bead of pre like you do.

He bucks up into his hand, your name falling out of his mouth as he imagines it's your soft hand wrapping around the base of his cock. As he wishes it was your tongue circling its sensitive head.

He drags his hand along the throbbing member remembering the way you clench around him. Envisioning your perfect form bouncing feverishly on his cock, milking him dry.

Before he knows it he's thrusting into his own fist, moaning your name over and over as if it will make his thoughts real while he spills over his knuckles. All while wishing he was cumming into your needy little cunt.

#cod smut #cod men #ghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost smut #ghost x reader #drabble #smut #soap cod

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slvttyplum · 1 month

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banner: @roseschoices divider: @cafekitsune

choso never really got mad, he didn't feel the need to get all up in arms about things he couldn't t control, the only thing he could do was control his own emotions and that's what he did most of the time.

growing up with brothers aren't easy, they turn you over, rat you out, get you in trouble, everything under the sun, so choso was used to teasing and rough play, but what he wasn't used to was seeing you practically naked trying to go out the house.

his blood didn't immediately boil at the sight, he tried to stay calm of course and question the situation, like why the fuck his partner was walking out of the house with a bikini top and shorts that barely covered the bottom of your ass.

“oh! im just having a beach day with my friends.” the innocent smile on your face convinced him that you weren't aware that your outfit wasn't necessarily appropriate to wear, so he didn't shoot you down too quick and instead put the same smile on his face.

“is that right? i didn't know. do you have a cover-up?” trying to slide in the subliminal quickly and smoothly, but once he heard your answer, his blood ran over and told you to please change your outfit.

“i… choso i just got this outfit.” those words sliding into his ears and sliding right out, he couldn't give one fuck. normally he wouldn't care what you wore, but that right there was a no no. you're going on a day trip with your friends without him wearing that, whose attention were you trying to get?

there was no need for him to keep trying to explain to you why you shouldn't even be wearing that outfit in the first place, but his dick thought otherwise, a prime example as to why you shouldn't be wearing it.

if it can happen to him, it can happen to anyone else.

“go change.” his jaw clenching and his arms folded as he stares you down, waiting for you to budge or break down, giving up and go change.”

“no, bye.” you slide on one flip-flops before choso walks closer to you, grabbing you by the waist and bending down and leaning closer to your ear.

“go change for me. don't be difficult.” his breath warm and sliding over your ear then neck, almost making you collapse, but you had to hold your own.

“no.” with that final no, choso picks you up and puts you over his shoulder. it was over for you, when he walked to the bedroom and tossed you on the bed, you knew you weren't making it to the beach.

choso stripped your shorts off revealing a bikini and not even five minutes later, the both of you were naked, and you were on all fours arched with your head against the pillow and chosos dick sliding in and out of you.

moans falling out of your mouth as his body clashes with yours and his hands roam your body, sending chills and then tingles shortly after. your eyes rolling up to the top of your eyelid and your body jolting every time he hit your sweet spot, the overwhelming pleasure was too much for you to handle.

your hands try to grip the sheet, but choso puts his hands over yours, balls them into a fist and puts them behind your back.

choso couldn't stop fucking you. the thought of someone else seeing you in that outfit made him upset, his blood boiling, turning into arousal.

he fucked you into the early morning. that day forward you never wore anything to piss him off, or maybe you did, getting fucked by an angry choso was painfully hot.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #jujutsu choso #choso #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #choso smut #kamo choso

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moralesispunk · 3 months

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I think you're either team ghost x civilian wife! reader where the rest of the 141 have no idea you exist or team they know and it's a very familial like and I'm the first one

simon who does everything he can to keep you his secret, even more so when your family starts to grow. when he's finished with a mission he will spend the next 48hrs barely sleeping, moving around to make sure no one is on his tail before making it home into your arms.

it's not that he doesn't trust the 141, but you and your family are far too precious to trust anyone with. you've heard the stories of all of the other men, are sure you would need only one look at them to be able to guess which man belongs to the many names he's told you over the years, but you're aware they don't know that you exist.

that on the rare nights simon ventures out to meet them for a sole pint between missions they think he's holed up in some bachelor flat back in manchester, perhaps with a string of women that come and go, but they couldn't be more wrong with his wedding band hidden under his gloves when he's home like now or safely in his drawer at home when he's on missions.

and it's not that he doesn't wish he could shout about you from the rooftops. everyone in your town knows that the big scary man whose face is always conveniently hidden in the shadows has a missus at home who brings your chubby babies to the toddlers and drops your kids off at school.

but the 141 don't know about you, not until enough time has passed since simon retired to consider it safe enough. simon with his aching joints and trembling hands, the ringing in his right ear and back pain that requires at least two, hour long soaks in the bath a week. simon the husband and dad who has butterfly clips in his hair and at least one nail painted from the game of hairdressers his oldest likes to play, a bright pink plaster on his knee to match the youngest, and one hand on your belly at all times with the third (and final in your opinion but simon is working on that) of your brood.

simon who is out for drinks with the 141 three years after retirement and slips and says something about moving house and the hassle, the rest of the men deciding they will help and so simon decides it's finally time. but he doesn't forewarn them about his family before the day, standing in the garden of your packed up house that your family has outgrown while the men stumble out of the van they hired only to stop dead in their tracks when they see you.

you who is waving in the doorway, a toddler on your hip and looking like you're about to pop while another child - maybe six or seven by their guesses - swings from simon's arm, with a dog jumping up paws on his chest. and like the man he is he doesn't explain, just jerks his chin towards the piles of boxes and empty moving van he's started to pack.

"think you can start making a move on that?"

a few hours later and still no explanation from simon, he's in the first van packed with all the furniture and bigger boxes with you and the kids and the guys follow behind, slack jawed and still confused as they stay speechless until they pull up at the new house.

they're still staring at you as you pile out of the first van and you're shaking your head, elbowing simon in the ribs and muttering a "put them out their misery, Si" and they swear they almost drop dead when they see how gently he handles you, an arm around your waist and a kiss to your temple as he guides you and the two gremlins towards the guys while the dog starts sniffing around its new home.

"fellas, this is the missus and kids," he says and you roll your eyes, holding out your hand towards them and introducing yourself by name, adding on the kids who beam up shyly at these strangers.

that seems to shake them out of it. john takes your hand first, shaking and turning to simon with a "you hide her away in case we try to steal her from you?" he winks and you and only grins wider when simon's hand on your hip seems to squeeze tighter. gaz and soap are bending down and coaxing your two girls out of their shyness, complimenting their light up trainers and asking if it makes them run faster before cheering them on as they run to the front door and back.

they set you up on a fold out chair and do all the heavy lifting as you point them and the boxes in their arms to their correct rooms. later, Simon treats them to dinner (a takeaway) and has you sitting on his knee with the girls in bed and for the first time he spends a night with the guys telling you stories of Simon "Ghost" Riley.

"they're lyin' love," he'll mumble in your ear at every story, "don't believe them do ya?" his hand strokes up your back, squeezing your neck.

"yeah, babe, believe you," you say while smiling at the men around your new dining room table, men who have saved your husbands life more times than he can count, and you find yourself curling closer to simon because of that

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon riley x female reader

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a-b-riddle · 4 days

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Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #angst #grovel #jealousy

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bayjaruchel · 6 months

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Underneath The Strobe Light

－－－

Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're aware of your feelings for Mike, but you're unsure if he feels the same. A single late-night conversation changes everything. (4.2k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

Extra Notes: Posted October 29, 2023

－－－

You know Mike, sometimes. Mainly in bits and pieces.

You know he has that poster of Nebraska above his bed; you know he's got a soft spot for terrible eighties cartoons. You know he likes his steak well done. Maybe it's generally useless information — but you've tucked it all away in a dear corner of your brain, in a well-worn cardboard box with his name scrawled fondly on the side in Sharpie.

He's been busy nowadays, especially with his awful new job at that abandoned restaurant. You've always been there if he needs someone to watch over Abby. It's a strange juxtaposition— spending more and more time at his house, but spending less and less time actually talking to him. But you know he's exhausted, both mentally and physically.

You don't expect much. You don't need much. Even though Mike's always offered to actually pay you for babysitting Abby, you've always declined.

However— needing and wanting are two very different things.

And you want. So, so much.

Sitting here, on the couch in his living room, your mind always wanders back to him. Abby's a really nice kid, even if she's a little on the eccentric side. Whenever you're sitting with her, watching her draw or watching the television, you can't really focus on Mike. But now, with her safely put to bed … There's nothing to stop you. Nothing to distract you from the empty spot next to you on the couch.

You blink, already bleary-eyed from the hour. There's some mediocre sitcom playing on the television. It's practically white noise, and you can feel yourself slowly but surely being lulled to sleep. The stubborn part of you wants to fight it. The tired part of you wants to just let it happen. You fumble for the remote instead, switching the channel.

World News Now?

Not bad, you think wryly, slumping back into the pillows. You liked the guy playing the accordion and singing about the news, polka-style. Hopefully they'll bring that back. Maybe large broadcasting networks actually do know their audiences.

Yeah, no.

You stifle a yawn, tugging your blanket a little tighter. The room's dark, so the only real sources of light are coming from the kitchen and the bluish glow of the television. The only sounds besides that of the T.V. are the occasional car passing by, joined by the gentle chorus of crickets. It's quiet, but not in a discomforting way.

It's kind of perfect. Like your own little bubble in the world. Untouchable. Not until the sun rises, anyway.

Your bubble suddenly pops when a car pulls into the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement, and your heart skips.

It couldn't be anyone else.

About a minute later, there's the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swings open and then shuts behind him. Softly. He knows Abby would wake up if he slammed it. Then there's the thump of him setting down his stuff— carelessly.

The couch cushions squeak a little when Mike sits down next to you. Silently. He's gotten rid of that stupid security vest.

"Hey," you offer.

"Hi," he obliges.

You're sure he's not really paying attention to the T.V. "How was work?"

It's bland small talk at best, and brutally annoying at worst. But it's the only way to move into interesting conversation territory. And he didn't just trudge past you to go flop down on his bed, so you're assuming he does want to talk. You might pretend not to know, but you're well aware of his social life— or lack thereof. Everyone needs to talk, sometimes.

"Pretty dull." Rolling his probably stiff shoulders, he lets out a small sound of discomfort. Sheepishly, he murmurs: "I kind of … I kind of just napped, to be honest."

"Aren't you supposed to be a security guard?" You tease. "That's a really important job, you know. You have to stop all the dangerous teenagers from breaking in and spray-painting dicks on the walls."

He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh. "Honestly, the pay's too low to take it seriously."

"And yet … "

"There weren't any kids, okay?" Mike shakes his head. When you turn to look at him, though, he's smiling. It's faint, but it's there. "No dangerous teenagers that I had to fight off. It was fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

You don't want to let the silence set in.

"Oh, yeah, we finished the leftover spaghetti earlier. For dinner. I hope that's okay."

"No, it's terrible," he deadpans. "I hate you."

"Asshole."

"Whatever." Mike snickers, and you bask in its gloriousness. "Yeah, it's okay. I know that I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Did you, uh … " He pauses for a split second. "… Did you like it?"

His tone makes you wonder, but you hastily brush it off. "Yeah, I did," you clarify, "the sauce was pretty great. Was it store-bought, or?" Because if it was, then where can I get it?

"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "Great stuff, for something that's canned. But I always add a little more garlic powder, too."

"Oh, really?"

Mike hums an affirmation. "It's like magic, I'm telling you. Doesn't even take a lot to add flavor."

"That's cool." You rustle with your blanket again, adjusting it more out of habit than anything else. That, and it's kind of cold. "I'll try and remember it for later."

He's almost cheeky when he speaks.

"It's life-changing."

You can't help but snort. "You sound like an addict."

Incredulously, he glances at you. "To what? Garlic powder?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I can't believe that you'd say that." He slowly shakes his head, for the second time in the span of roughly a minute. "Especially as someone who's experienced it firsthand—"

"—you're the one talking about how life-changing it is—"

"—you can't possibly ignore the irresistible savoriness of garlic powder."

You look at one another for a moment. The sheer absurdity of the situation sets in all at once. And, well. He starts giggling, and you can't hold it in, either. How could you? Even though he looks at least part zombie, his eyes are still very much alive. Despite the blatant awkwardness and lingering shyness that always follows him around, he's still got a very contagious laugh.

After you both calm down, he lets out a long sigh.

"It's getting really late."

You cling to what little stubbornness remains. "Yeah?"

"Are you gonna head home?"

Again, there's something there. Despite his nonchalant attitude, it's almost like—

—but you're probably overthinking. Wouldn't be anything new. He has to get some rest, and so do you. The drowsiness repeatedly threatening to tug your eyelids closed is a testament to that. Normally, you'd just pass out on the couch or something, and take off early in the morning; before Mike and Abby wake up. But now, it's different. Now, you actually have to make a choice before your sleepy body makes it for you.

"Um." You rub your eyes again. "I mean. I could, if it's bothering you—"

"It's not."

He interrupts you so quickly that it catches you off-guard. It seemingly catches him off-guard, too, judging by the way he promptly averts his gaze and pretends to care about the guy on the television going on about some sort of plumber strike in the city.

"Oh." You need a second to process. "Oh, okay. Well, in that case … I don't really think that it'd be safe for me to drive right now." You laugh, a little too airily for it to be completely genuine. "I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel or something." At least that's the truth. "I'll just take the couch. As usual."

"Okay," he says. He's back to murmuring.

"And I'll be gone before you eat breakfast." Subconsciously, you're fiddling with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. It's well-loved. "As usual."

You think you hear him suck in a breath, seconds before:

"Why don't you stay?"

Your own breath stutters in your chest.

"... what?" Is all you can manage, without horrifically humiliating yourself.

"I mean," he rushes to correct himself, "you come by sometimes because you want to spend time with Abby— she likes you a lot, you know, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me . I think—" He's properly nervous now, his knee bouncing up and down. But he's already continuing before you can get a word in. "I think she'd like you to be here in the morning. And you don't accept pay, anyway. You just— won't."

His nervousness is spreading to you. "Hey, I—"

"Why are you here, anyway?"

The question sounds like it's been a long time coming. He's demanding you now, brow furrowed and eyes sparking with emotion. "Is it out of pity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for Abby? Because if you do, then— then you can just—"

"It's not!" You exclaim.

Immediately, you realize that there's a sleeping girl not too far away, and shamefully lower your voice.

"... It's not, I promise. I just—" It takes a little while for you to gather the right words, and when you do, you don't drop your gaze from him. All of his previous frustration is all but gone, replaced by a slightly wide-eyed expression that's making your heart ache a little. "I genuinely really like spending time with Abby, okay? She's really sweet, and creative, and just a really great kid. And I—"

You stop yourself.

"And you what?" Mike asks, gently.

Might as well, huh?

"And I really like spending time with you, too," you admit, finally unable to meet his eyes and focusing on your lap instead.

There's an incredibly tense beat, in which you swear your life flashes before your eyes.

Then:

He's barely audible when he speaks. His knee has stopped bouncing, but he's playing with his thumbs. Clearly, your confession— vague as it was— resonated with him, in some way. You hope he understands what you meant, because you couldn't possibly put it all into words in a way that would make sense.

"Feeling's mutual," he mutters.

Your head almost snaps up at that. Maybe you had expected it, deep down— you're not oblivious, duh— but it's one thing to have a hunch, and another to have that hunch proven. And out loud, no less.

"Yeah?" You dare to ask.

Slowly, he looks up. He meets your eyes.

"Yeah," he repeats breathlessly, like the wind's been knocked out of him.

You let your blanket fall from your shoulders, and it slides all the way onto the floor.

You reach out.

He lets you lace your fingers through his.

Mike's palm is sort of clammy— and he's shaking a little— but he still squeezes your hand. On instinct, you guess. It still makes you smile. He doesn't return it, but his lips are parted a little, and you really, really like that. More than you probably should. You like a lot of things about him more than you probably should.

You scooch a little closer, and he doesn't move away. You let your gaze drop back down to his lips again, making your intentions clear. Still, you don't know if it's clear enough. You lean in, just barely.

"... Can I?"

His reply is almost instantaneous.

"Please."

You swallow all of the witty quips you could make, and kiss him instead.

He's very tentative at first. Like he hasn't done this for a while. But you ease him into it— and before long, he's got one hand on the back of your neck, the other somewhere near your waist. He tastes like coffee and something else you can't really put your finger on. It doesn't really matter, though. Because you are kissing him, damnit!

His eyes are still shut when you part— with a soft smack — but they flutter open after a second. You're not sure if you're supposed to say something meaningful. Luckily, he leans in instead, and your thoughts are immediately transported elsewhere.

You kiss like this for a while. It's really nice, and you know he needs it. So do you.

However— when you start losing track of time, lost in the moment, he makes a noise.

It's quiet, definitely. But it's nothing like the little hums and sighs he's been making so far. It makes you shift closer, pressing more insistently into him. And he responds, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around you, closing the little distance between your bodies that there was. You can practically feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest when you slip your tongue past his already kiss-swollen lips.

He moans.

You indulge yourself. For a little longer. And Mike chases you when you part.

"We shouldn't do this in the living room," you whisper, nearly panting. "The couch is a little—"

"Okay," he whispers back, already sounding wrecked. "Okay."

You've been in his room before. You've sat on his bed— you've even laid on it before. But you've never straddled him on it before. It's a position that makes your head spin a little, and you occupy yourself with kissing him again. His hands fit perfectly on your hips, but they don't stay there for long, tragically— they trail upwards, up your waist, to your back. To your shoulders, and then back down again. It's as if he just can't get enough. You can't either. You need more.

So, you tug at his shirt. He gets the message right away— hands scrambling to pull it up and over his head. He's still rather slim, but with a slight softness, mostly located in his midsection. There's a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, as well as the provocative happy trail leading down from his navel. You drag your eyes downward, admiring him, and then decide that you're wearing too much clothing. Your top comes off, dropped onto the floor near his.

Mike takes more time to admire you when your torso is completely bare. His hands are warm on your bare skin, and slightly rough. Like before, he's hesitant at first, but when you encourage him— either literally or with physical indications— he grows bolder. His stubble scratches gently against you when his lips find your collarbone.

You squirm a little, not even realizing it— and you feel him. Simultaneously, you both gasp. He's not fully there, but he's at least half-hard— and it can't be comfortable in those jeans.

"Should I—"

"Yeah—"

With steady fingers, you unbutton his fly, and then unzip him. It's a little awkward when he shimmies out of the jeans, and when you wriggle out of your bottoms— you both snicker a little, but he's back to comfortably breathless when you settle back onto his lap. Under normal circumstances, you would tease him again. And yet, you can't bring yourself to. Not right now, at least.

All you want to do is keep going.

You roll your hips, testing the waters. His breath audibly hitches, and his hands fly up to settle back on your hips. He looks up at you, eyes already half-lidded— and they close when you grind down again. And again. His lips are clumsier this time when you kiss him, but he still reciprocates all the same. The sensation of him directly underneath you like this is intoxicating. You can feel every little twitch and every little jolt.

"Fuck," he breathes, long and drawn-out, " God, I can— I can see the spot on your—"

"Yeah?" You encourage, grinding down again, drinking in his answering groan. "You like that?"

"Yes —"

"You want me to take 'em off?"

Mike's pupils are blown wide, even though his eyes are already dark as is in the dimness of the room. He nods, once, then twice. "Yes," he murmurs. "Please," he adds, for good measure.

He stares openly when you get off him, just enough to peel off your last remaining layer of clothing. And when you sit back down, well. It's obvious that you'll have to give him a second. "Can I," he says, finally, "can I touch you?" The way he's looking up at you again is just so sweet, so needy, that you consider saying no. Your throbbing core quickly shuts that idea down.

"Go on," you encourage.

He helps you move so he has easier access, and—

His fingertips find your slit, already wet for him.

"Look what you did to me," you murmur.

He visibly flushes— and then carefully works one finger into your slick heat. The feeling, combined with his thumb brushing against your clit— it's relief that you've needed this entire time, and you can't help but let a quiet sound escape your lips. It's apparently enough incentive for him to quicken his pace a little. Deliberately, he continues massaging your sensitive nub in a firm but easy pattern as he gently pushes a second finger inside you.

Mike may be out of practice, but evidently, he still knows what he's doing. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, some more open-mouthed than others. Crooking his fingers, he maintains his diligent rhythm. A thought floats through your mind, unbidden— he must have strong hands, if he's been able to keep up like this—

Two becomes three, and you're spreading your thighs a little wider for him. He's still transfixed, but speeds up at your urging, breath hot against the divot between your neck and shoulder. You chance a glance down, and you can see the visible outline of him through his boxers. You did that to him. He's desperate— for you.

"Mike," you gasp, "nnh—"

"Yeah, c'mon," he mouths, against your neck, "c'mon—" He's not letting up in the slightest, and when you tell him to, he speeds up again. He needs to see you cum just as much as you need to feel it. Your needs and wants are rapidly blending into one. You squeeze your eyes shut, but open them to look at him. His dark curls are a mess, his hand working tirelessly between your legs.

"Mike —"

He says your name in return, like he's the one in the vulnerable position.

"Mike , 'm gonna— 'm gonna—"

"Please," his breaths are ragged, debauched, "cum, please, c'mon, lemme see it—"

"Oh —"

The tension snaps, and you spasm around his fingers. Your hips twitch, and you moan, your mouth falling open as you ride out your orgasm. You're rising— falling — molten honey pooling in your core, before flowing throughout your body. And Mike keeps going throughout it all, letting you enjoy the sensations until you're fully satisfied.

Nearly boneless, you sag backward. His fingers, soaked with your glistening release, slip out of your cunt with a wet noise. He doesn't waste any time in bringing them up into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue— at the taste of you, he groans, even though it's muffled. Your mind takes a moment to catch up again with the world, but another thought manifests itself— how would he react, if you let him use his mouth on you? How would his head look between your thighs? He would be noisy, wouldn't he? Enthusiastic, pliant, and—

Your desire, although it waned for a short minute, comes back tenfold. But you take one look down again and— you can do that later. Right now, you want him inside you.

Mike lets you tug him down for another kiss. He lets you feel the worn fabric on his thighs, almost playfully. When you palm him through them— he hisses through his teeth, hypersensitive even though you've barely touched him yet. You're going to fix that, though. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down.

You were right. He's desperate. As soon as his overheated skin meets the cool air, he lets out another quiet hiss. And when you take him in hand—

"Mmh —" A firm stroke from base to tip, and you've already got him. He's average in length, but a little girthy. You know he'll be perfect. There's a little drop at the head of his cock, and you resist the urge to lick it off, focusing instead on warming him up a little. He whispers your name, once, when you pump up and down, twisting your wrist.

"Got a condom?" You ask, stilling for a second. His eyes snap to you.

"Oh my God, " he quickly mutters under his breath, before raising his volume, "uh, yeah, I think so. Lemme—" And he's already scrambling off the bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand with speed, but somehow simultaneously managing not to make much noise. He rifles through them, but soon emerges victoriously with what he was looking for. It's a little funny, how he doesn't waste any time in ripping it open and tossing the garbage into the mostly-overfull pail near his bed. Hastily, he rolls on the condom. You think he's expecting you to lay back or get up on your hands and knees so he can fuck you like that— you wouldn't be entirely opposed to it— but that's not what you want right now.

You place your hands on his chest and push him back down so he's sitting against the headboard. He goes without complaint, even shifting when he understands what you want to do. He's flushed almost down to his neck.

When you sink down on him in a smooth slide, still slick from earlier, you both moan. He sounds strained— he's biting his lower lip, squirming until he finally bottoms out. You have to take a moment to catch your breath, too; the fullness is just how you imagined, but it's so, so much, especially because of your lingering sensitivity.

"I'm not—" He audibly swallows, hands tightening on your waist when you move just a little, "oh, fuck, I'm not gonna— I'm not gonna last long." He's babbling a little. "You're tight, fuck."

You rock back and forth, once, and it's enough to force a choked noise from his throat. You watch his face, observing every little twitch, the clenching of his jaw. You can't hesitate for much longer, though— so you begin lifting yourself and dropping yourself down on his cock. Just in little movements at first, so you can get used to the feeling. His eyes squeeze shut—

"Look at me," you demand, and he does. He doesn't try and thrust up into you when you really start to move. Up and down, up and down, with lewd plaps that accompany your sounds; his grunts— you swear you hear him whimper . His eyelashes flutter open and closed, as he struggles to follow your command, wanting to be good. For you. Even though you can see his thighs flexing as he holds everything back. You ride him for all you're worth.

True to his words, you can tell when he gets close. Maybe he's been on edge this entire time. You thread your fingers through his hair— he buries his face into the crook of your neck, maybe out of embarrassment. You can feel how flushed he is, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Your muscles are aching, but you're determined to make him cum. You're determined to do this for him.

He says your name, but it's more of a whine. "Please — I'm gonna— I can't — "

"Go on," you pant, "you can. Don't hold back." Your arms are wrapped around his neck, now, holding him tight; just like his arms around your waist. The contact is almost too much, but somehow it's still not enough, despite him being inside you. "Go on," you repeat, after he whines again, the sound sending white-hot heat straight to your core. "Cum."

Mike twitches, and you can feel him pulse— the sound he lets out is high-pitched, muffled into your skin. You slow your movements— the aftershocks of his orgasm last longer than yours. It might've been a little while for you, but it had definitely been longer for him.

He doesn't let go, even after his breathing's slowed down.

Gently, you pull his head back so you can look at him. He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes. The kisses you press to his cheeks and forehead make him scrunch up his face.

"Hey," he rasps, "I gotta throw out the condom. Hang on."

"Yeah, okay."

When he slips out of you, you both sigh a little. With unsteady fingers, he ties up the condom before chucking it into the pail.

The sheets are cool on your skin when he pulls them over you both. The room reeks of sex, but both of you are too exhausted to care. When you turn to lay on your side, he's behind you, throwing an arm over your waist. Tugging you closer. Almost absentmindedly, there's a kiss pressed to the back of your head.

"Thank you," he mumbles.

You stare at the far wall, unable to close your eyes just yet.

"For what?"

"For—" A pause. "For everything, I guess."

The awkwardness is back. But you let it in. You smile.

"You're welcome."

He doesn't respond, but shuffles nearer, chest pressed up against your back. It's not long before you're both fast asleep.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut

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les4elliewilliams · 2 months

Text

bound by love // ex-girlfriend!ellie

☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆・・・・☆

daily click・palestine masterpost・do not buy any game from naughty dog, neil druckmann is a zionist.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

wc/warnings: 5.6k ; strap-on sex (r!receiving), tribbing, oral (r!receiving), cheating, use of names like whore, slut, baby etc. and toxic relationship. do NOT read if you're sensitive about this kind of stuff!! do not romanticize toxic relationships and run far away from toxic people.

a/n: also first time writing smut so please be kind😭. not proofread so i'm sorry if you find any mistakes

pairing: toxic!ellie, ex-girlfriend!ellie also stalker!ellie???(just ellie stalking your social media and location) and jealous!ellie ig.

☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆・・・・☆

I know that you're shitty and you're bad for me

But I can't stop thinking 'bout it

✩ You used to console yourself by saying that the problem was not you but her. You believed that she was the one who caused all the issues in the relationship. However, as time passed, you started to realize that the situation was more complex than you initially thought. You began to question your own actions and words and wondered if you could have done things differently. You tried to stay positive by reminding yourself that sometimes things don't work out, and it's okay to move on. But you couldn't move on.

✩ Despite all your efforts to move on and forget about her, you always found yourself drawn back to her for some weird reason. You tried everything you could think of to let her go — you blocked her on every platform you could, hoping it would help you move on, but it never seemed to work. No matter how hard you tried to forget her, you always ended up unblocking her, usually within an hour of blocking her. It was as if you were powerless to resist the pull she had on you, no matter how much you wanted to be free of her.

✩ You were the one who broke up with her, claiming she was too toxic for you. However, you cannot deny that you also had your fair share of faults. Both of you were aware of the toxicity in your relationship, but still, it lasted for three whole years. You often wonder how you were able to tolerate her for so long. She always seemed to go out of her way to provoke you and get a reaction out of you. She would intentionally make you jealous, making nasty comments about other women's bodies to make you insecure and maybe even cry. She loved it when you got possessive and jealous; that was the only way she felt cared for and loved. She constantly needed reassurance, and her overthinking would stop only when you got possessive of her or extremely jealous; it didn't make sense, and she knew it wasn't normal, yet she couldn't help herself. But it wasn't only that. She was also extremely manipulative and a liar. It was a never-ending cycle of negativity, and both of you were caught up in it.

✩ If she was a toxic girlfriend, imagine how toxic she was once you two were broken up. When you broke up with her, you thought you were better off as friends, but soon enough, you started to realize how wrong you were.

✩ Even though she treated you poorly throughout your relationship, you always returned to her. Your love for her was strong, and it seemed as though returning to her was the only thing that felt right. Even though she was responsible for causing you a significant amount of emotional pain, she still felt like home to you — like the person who you could always run to whenever you needed it. She always knew the right thing to say to calm you down, cheer you up, and sometimes even make you cry. That was the thing about Ellie that confused you the most; She could be either the best person ever or the worst.

✩ When something big goes down in your life, she's the one you call up first. It doesn't matter if it's something totally dumb or something that seriously ticks you off, she's the one you rely on for comfort and support, and she's always there to baby you.

"S'okay baby— mhm, you got this," whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you rambled about your day "Want me to beat them up for you? You know I would," and she wasn't kidding, sending whoever made you mad to the ER without you even knowing it. You have always been someone who disliked violence. In fact, you were never the kind of person who would resort to violence, no matter how heated a situation may have been. You've always been the rational one between the two of you, thinking things through before acting. On the other hand, she was more impulsive, acting without much thought or consideration for the consequences of her actions. Anyway, you would find out what Ellie did to your coworker when he showed up with a cast around his arm, threatening to take legal action against her. You always found yourself in the middle of the conflict, pleading with your coworker not to sue Ellie and trying to smooth things over.

✩ Lots of

"you're the hottest girl i've ever dated" "i would take you back in a heartbeat" "i still have a soft spot for you" "best pussy i've ever had"

✩ She'd randomly show up at your place in the middle of the night, pounding on your door, little did you know she'd be pounding into you the second you let her in

"nfuckk— my pussy…s'all mine" Murmuring nonsense into the crook of your neck as she fucked your tight little hole with the new strap she desperately wanted to show you (which became your favorite for obvious reasons). "think anyone else can make you feel like this, hm?" and she wouldn't let you cum if you didn't reply, she wanted to hear you say that you belonged to her and her only.

✩ She constantly checked your social media accounts like a fucking maniac, fearing that you may have moved on or started spending time with other girls. This behavior was not healthy, and she was aware of it. Despite that, she couldn't help herself and even had access to your location, which she used to stalk you whenever you didn't respond to her messages or calls quickly enough. On two separate occasions, she unexpectedly showed up while you were on dates with other girls. At first, you brushed it off as a coincidence, but after the second time, you realized that she still had your location and that her sudden appearance was not coincidental at all. Therefore, you turned off the location sharing. and in no time she was blowing up your phone with texts

"why the fuck would you turn it off?" "moving on already?" "where the fuck do you even think you're going?" "try all you want, but you know who you belong to"

✩ It became increasingly clear that you and her were not meant to be friends. You still belonged to her in her mind — and perhaps it wasn't just in her mind. Deep down, you knew that she was right even though you were no longer together.

✩ Although you had repeatedly told Ellie that you wouldn't get back together, she remained convinced that you would eventually return. Instead of giving up, she actively pursued ways to reconnect with you. She would often surprise you by showing up at your apartment with a bouquet of your favorite flowers or things she knew you would like.

"Ellie, what're you doin' here?" you asked as you saw your ex-girlfriend holding a lovely bouquet of flowers in her hand. You were taken aback as you looked at the bouquet — it was a Hello Kitty bouquet. You had mentioned this type of bouquet to Ellie before you broke up, and you were surprised that she even listened to you when you kept rambling about how cute it was. You had seen it on Pinterest before and never thought she would remember. Her green eyes met yours, and she scratched the back of her neck before flashing a warm smile your way. She knew you'd love it. "Hi, angel," she said. She handed you the bouquet and planted a soft kiss on your cheek. Her free hand quickly found its way to your waist. She leaned back enough to gauge your reaction and asked with a cocky smile, "What d'you think?" The sudden appearance of Ellie took you aback, but you couldn't help but admire the bouquet in your hands. The Hello Kitty plushie and the colorful flowers were so cute. You didn't expect her to remember your love for this particular bouquet, but you were grateful that she did. "May I come in?" Her tone was confident, and her eyes shone with a mischievous glint. You couldn't help but wonder what she was up to, but you stepped aside to let her in nonetheless.

✩ She would listen intently to everything you said during your relationship and make mental notes of all the things you wanted or needed. However, she never acted on them until you broke up with her. Suddenly, she would start getting you those things, being the girlfriend you always wanted her to be, trying to convince you to give her another chance. But you weren't stupid; you knew that as soon as you let her back into your life, she would go back to her usual self, and her toxic behavior would come out once again.

✩ She showered you with compliments, gifts, and attention, making you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered to her. When she realized that her love bombing wasn't working on you, she changed her tactics. She began dating a girl she had always insisted was "just a friend," even though you had always felt insecure about her because you thought she was prettier than you. But Ellie was using this girl only to get to you. She wanted to make you jealous and make you feel like you were missing out on something she could provide. She hoped you would come back to her, begging for another chance. You were devastated and couldn't help but compare yourself to this other girl, wondering what Ellie saw in Dina that she didn't see in you. But as time passed, you began to realize that Ellie was playing games. She didn't care about this girl, or about anyone else for that matter. To her, you were the one that got away, the one that she couldn't have. And so she used this other girl as a pawn in her game, hoping to win you back. But you didn't fall for it.

✩ She just went ahead and started posting pictures with her new girlfriend on Instagram to make sure you saw them and felt like shit. And, well, it worked like a charm. Even though you knew she was doing it on purpose to upset you, it still hurt like hell because she never posted pictures of the two of you together on social media, claiming she preferred to keep things private but as soon as she started dating her new girlfriend, she suddenly started posting about her non-stop, which made you feel even more hurt and insecure.

✩ You realized that cutting ties with Ellie and blocking her from all platforms would have been the wise thing to do. but let's be honest, getting revenge felt much more satisfying than being wise sometimes. You wanted to show her that you were not someone to be toyed with cause that's what you felt like: a toy. You started seeing a girl you had recently met, but you made sure not to make it too obvious. You didn't want Ellie to think you were only doing it to get back at her. Of course not, it had to look natural. You wanted to show her that you had moved on with your life and that you were over her. Even though it was quite the opposite, you weren't over her.

✩ When you began sharing pictures of your new girlfriend, she dropped her fake composed demeanor and started bombarding your phone with messages. You finally had her exactly where you wanted her.

2:33 am "who the fuck is that girl in your story?" 2:34 am "hello?" 2:36 am "answer your goddamn phone" 2:37 am "Why do you even care, Ellie? you're in a relationship." 2:39 am "what the actual fuck" 2:42 am "tell me" 2:46 am "who is she" 2:53 am "My girlfriend."

✩ After that, she vanished from social media and every other platform for nearly a week, leaving you on read. You had mixed emotions about it. On one hand, you felt a sense of pride for getting back at her. It was working because she seemed jealous. On the other hand, there was a part of you that couldn't help but miss her. You longed for her presence and wished she would come back. Her presence wasn't the only thing you longed for; you missed her hands all over your body, touching you just in the right places. She knew you like the back of her hand. She knew exactly how to make you arch your back and make you scream her name.

✩ You couldn't cum. It had been weeks, maybe a month, and your little friend down there was starting to ache. You were horny, so fucking horny, but you couldn't cum. All you could think of was your fucking ex-girlfriend almost as if your pussy had a mind of her own. Not even your favorite toys were helping. it felt good, but you felt like something was missing. You reached out to the nightstand and grabbed your phone, unlocking the screen with a swift gesture and opened the messaging app. It was wrong, so wrong and you knew you would regret it the next day, but you needed her. Your fingers moved effortlessly across the virtual keyboard as you typed a message to her.

1:15 am "Els, I know it's wrong but" 1:15 am "I'm horny" 1:16 am "I need you, please"

You let out a deep sigh of frustration as ten long minutes ticked by, convinced she wouldn't text you back. The last conversation you had hadn't gone well, and you were starting to think it was all over between the two of you, for real this time. Just as you were about to give up and put your phone back on the nightstand, you heard a familiar chime. Your heart leaped into your throat as you saw that it was her.

1:27 am "lol your little gf can't make you feel good like i do?" 1:29 am "omw"

In just 10 minutes, she was back in your apartment, in your arms, and inside you. It was almost like nothing happened like she hadn't just made you cry for a whole month for getting with the girl who made you deeply insecure. All her 8 inches buried deep into your soaked hole, stretching it out and making it hurt, but it felt good. "Is this what you wanted, hm?" she kept mumbling random things into the crook of your neck, not that you were listening to anything she was saying; she was fucking you dumb, and you couldn't seem to focus on anything else but her thick strap pounding into you relentlessly, hitting your cervix just right. You were a mess, literally. "Ellie...nngfuck.. slow down" you breathed out between incoherent moans, panting like a fucking dog in heat "Take it, slut. Show me how much you missed me." She hissed, thrusting hard into you, all your juices spilling out of your pussy, making a mess on your pink sheets. All she wanted to do was destroy you, mark you as hers.

"C-can't," you whined as pornographic moans left your throat. She groaned deep in her throat, savoring the sounds of pleasure falling from your lips, almost as if her life depended on them. She missed this so much. She missed you so much. She increased the pace, pushing deeper into you each time. Her hands moved to your hips, gripping them tightly as she continued to thrust her hips against yours, her thrusts becoming faster and harder, your breath coming out in heavy gasps. "So fucking tight, baby," she panted, her voice hoarse with need "You belong to me, don't you?" She bit down on your neck, her teeth grazing lightly against your delicate skin, leaving behind a mark as evidence of her claim over you; you whimpered at the sensation. You were hers, no one else's. She wanted to mark you all over, hoping your girlfriend would see the hickeys on your breasts and neck the next day.

All you could do was nod frantically, "m'yours, all yours" you babbled out, painfully arching your back. So fucking incoherent. Especially after promising yourself that you would never let her lay a finger on you ever again. But you were desperate, you needed to cum, and you needed her right now. "That's my girl, only I can fuck you like this, yeah?" Her hands roamed all over your body, pinching your nipples and rubbing your throbbing nub harshly. She wanted to hear you beg for her and admit how much you needed her. She needed you to need her.

"Tell me how much you missed my cock." She demanded, slamming into you again and again. Your high-pitched moans filled the room, each one driving her wilder. She could feel her own climax building as her clit bumped against the back of her strap with each thrust; the sound of your pleas combined with the tightness of your pussy around her strap-on were enough to push her closer and closer to the edge. You felt that familiar sensation build in your stomach; you were close. "Soo much, ahhh!...missed it, yeah.." you couldn't even put together a proper sentence. Her grip on your hips tightened, tugging slightly as she continued to thrust into you, hitting the spot that had you rolling your eyes into the back of your skull, over and over until you couldn't hold back anymore.

"That's it, whore. Cum for me. You don't belong to anyone else," she snarled, her voice laced with possession. She knew just what to do or say to push you over the edge, and it worked every single time; that's why you ran to her whenever you needed a good fuck. She could feel your body tensing up and your pretty pussy clenching around her strap-on. You came simultaneously, your combined moans filling your cozy bedroom, her well-defined abdominal muscles glistening with a thin layer of sweat. She rolled you over, so now you were on top of her, riding out your orgasm on her silicone cock as she ground her clit against the back of her strap. "Oooh fuuuck!" you cried out as pretty moans left your mouth. She took in the sight of you on top of her, her strap still buried deep inside you, riding her cock; your tits bounced as you did so, a sight that she loved. No one did it like you. No one was remotely as good as you. She took a glimpse of your cum sliding down the strap, you were so fucking wet, and nasty wet sounds filled the room, but she loved it. "Fuck, baby," she groaned, clenching her teeth tightly together, causing her jaw muscles to bulge prominently. Her hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you moved your hips, setting the pace, your eyes locked on hers the entire time. Her fingers dug into your skin, leaving small marks that she knew would fade within hours but would always remind her of this moment. Her veiny hand reached up, grabbing one of your breasts, squeezing it firmly and twisting the nipple between her fingers. Your breath came out in ragged gasps, her eyes never leaving yours as she watched you take her cock like the fucking slut you were. "Taking me so well, such a good girl f'me, aren't ya?"

"El..." you whined as she toyed with your nipple. You weren't going to last long; you were still sensitive and your pussy couldn't handle it. "'m gonna cum again!" you cried out once again, bouncing faster on her thick strap. She watched you with unabashed hunger, her eyes never leaving your body as it moved above her. She thrust up, meeting your movements, pushing you closer to the edge. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with your thrusts and the strap disappearing inside your juicy-coated pussy almost made Ellie cum right then and there. Your thighs started to tremble, and she could feel you clench around her dick; your gasps and moans becoming more frequent. She wasted no time, her fingers digging into your hips as she slammed you down on her strap, making you cry out her name, "Just like that, yeah...take it."

When you finally collapsed against her, panting heavily, Ellie couldn't help but smile. "Mine," she rasped, her voice thick with possession and satisfaction. As your bodies finally came down from their highs, breaths slowly returning to normal, she pulled out of you, leaving your wet and sore pussy gaping open. You whined at the sensation, suddenly feeling empty.

The smile plastered on her face faded as you pulled away, the coldness in your voice seeping into the air between you two as you told her to return to her girlfriend. She reluctantly mimicked your movements and sat up, breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes met yours, searching for any trace of warmth or affection, but all she found was distance. She grabbed her clothes and started to dress herself quickly, trying to calm down, her movements precise and controlled, hiding the hurt and anger she felt at your words. She was confused. You had called her, and she thought you were ready to take her back into your life. She wasn't expecting you to discard her like a toy. "I see how it is," she muttered, her voice cold and distant. She gathered her belongings, not meeting your gaze. "I shouldn't have come here." When she was fully clothed, Ellie turned to face you, her eyes filled with regret and anger.

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," your tone coming off as sharp and cold. You put your shirt on, struggling to process what happened. You missed her so fucking much, and the sex with her was also something you missed a lot. You knew she was right when she told you that no one could fuck you like she did; your girlfriend couldn't even make you cum, while Ellie knew precisely how to touch you to make you feel good. "Can't believe it...Dina, really?" you muttered under your breath as you got dressed, catching her off guard. Your outburst was so sudden neither you could understand it. She could sense the jealousy in your voice and knew exactly what was going on, and the realization made her feel a twinge of satisfaction. "Is this what it's all about? Me fucking with Dina?" she scoffed, her eyes rolling in annoyance. But despite her outward annoyance, she was secretly glad you still cared and got jealous. It meant that you had never indeed gotten over her. You struggled to maintain eye contact with her, the words "Just…get out" barely escaped your lips. You felt a burning sense of shame for letting your jealousy get the best of you, but at the same time, you couldn't help but release all the pent-up emotions you had been holding in for so long.

She snorted from her nose, shaking her head in disbelief, almost amused by all this "Just say the word, and I'll dump her ass," she said in a flat tone, her emerald green eyes staring right back at you as she placed her hands on her hips. You could tell she was serious, as there was a hint of desperation in her voice. She was hoping you'd ask her to drop Dina's ass and come back to you, but of course, you didn't. "I would do anything for you" desperate, so fucking desperate. You let out a deep sigh and firmly shook your head, looking into her eyes. You could see the pain and desperation in her gaze, but you couldn't just let her back into your life like that. "Go," you repeated yourself. "Fine, whatever," she sounded so pissed, disappointed. For a moment, you wanted to take your words back, but you knew that letting her into your life again was the worst idea ever.

✩ That night only made it incredibly difficult for you to move on from her (not that you could before), but she was all you could think of. You found yourself constantly yearning for her at every moment of the day. You'd often text her, and she would always come over, no matter what she was in the middle of. She was willing to drop everything to be with you and 8 inches inside you or between your thighs. Even if she was out with Dina, she didn't seem to care — it became obvious that something was going on between you and Ellie. You couldn't understand how Dina couldn't tell that Ellie was cheating on her with you.

6:34 pm "Baby, need you" 6:36 pm "I'm so wet, been thinking about you all day :(" 6:37 pm "proof??"

✩ One of the things you used to do quite regularly was sending her nudes. You would send her nudes on Snapchat unexpectedly, mostly to surprise her or get some sort of reaction from her. Sending snaps to tease her was one of your favorite things to do. Whether it was a picture of you in sexy lingerie or a video of you playing with your pussy, riding the purple strap she had left at your place weeks ago. You loved making her horny, and it always worked. She would always end up knocking at your door, eager to fuck you or eat you out.

"Teasin' me like that in public — tsskk," She mumbled against your throbbing core as she teased your clit with her tongue. Your legs were on her shoulders, and you watched her head disappear between your thighs. Your fingers tightly gripped into her auburn hair as she devoured like a starved animal, so pussy drunk. But even in that state, she was such a sight.

✩ You were the only one she could think about, even when fucking her girlfriend. Her mind too fixated on the cute little whimpers that left your mouth when she was inside you or sucking on your clit. The way your legs trembled when you were close, your hips jerking away from her when it became too much for you. No one could make her wet like you did, it was a fucking curse having to fuck someone else while thinking of you, hoping that would be enough to trick her brain into thinking she was fucking you instead.

✩ She would save each of your snaps into her phone's gallery and meticulously organize them into a special and hidden folder she had created just for you. This folder contained not just your nudes but plenty of other stuff — from intimate pictures you'd send her to videos she'd take while fucking you. She would go through the folder occasionally for personal use (iykwim).

✩ Your girlfriend was quick to pick up on something odd going on. She'd notice how you would turn your phone upside down, making sure the screen was facing whatever surface to make sure she wouldn't see your ex-girlfriend spamming your phone with texts (she would do it on purpose, by the way). That's how she knew something was up, but for some odd reason, she brushed it off.

✩ She was fed up with your stupid girlfriend constantly in the way. Why weren't you breaking up with her already? She couldn't understand; she was trying to be the best version of herself for you, yet you were still not hers. She tried everything to get you caught, like texting you while your girlfriend was around, sending you risky snaps, calling you...but nothing seemed to be working. So, she decided to hurry things up by texting your girlfriend and sending her some evidence.

She selected a video from her gallery to send to your girlfriend, writing a text message to go along with it before hitting the 'send' button "is this ur girl?" In the video, she was strapping you from behind, and you were telling her exactly what she needed to hear, "Better than your stupid girlfriend, yeah?" "Y-yes. Oooh fuckk. nhhmmm...faster, please" "Can she fuck you like this, hmm?" "No one can fuck me like y-you do...pleaseplease faster"

✩ Your girlfriend felt hurt and betrayed after realizing that you were using her to make your ex jealous, and she ended things between you two. You didn't seem to be affected by the breakup significantly, as if you had been expecting it all along. Honestly, it was almost as if the relationship never existed to you.

✩ Despite feeling indifferent towards your recent breakup, you were furious that Ellie had been the one who caused the end of your relationship. Who was she to control your life in such a way? Well, she couldn't give a fuck, to be quite honest. Seeing you with other girls consumed her from the inside. Nevertheless, she did not break up with Dina.

✩ But of course, you couldn't just let it slide. You already had a plan.

You were at Ellie's place, your back pressed onto her messy blankets, your leg on top of her shoulder as she held the other one firm, adjusting herself on top of you, to be more precise... on your pussy; grinding her wet pussy against your dripping cunt as filthy wet sounds and whimpers echoed in the room. Her hips moved in a slow motion, her green forest eyes fixated on yours. You reached to her nightstand to grab her phone, "Can I...nghhm... record us, baby?" you managed to utter between soft moans as she rode you, her movements became more desperate, chasing her own orgasm. "Record how good m'fuckin' this pussy?" her voice was husky, her breath ragged. Her head rolled back as she continued to grind against you, moaning at the friction, and her eyes fluttered shut. You unlocked her phone and quickly went through her contacts, pressing on Dina's name to start the call. Although the plan seemed foolish and overused, it worked out perfectly.

Dina appeared at Ellie's doorstep in no time to shout at her while you listened from her bedroom. You were amused by the drama that was unfolding before you. It was entertaining to watch Ellie deny the evidence. Dina's voice rose higher and higher as she accused her of sleeping with her ex. When Dina stormed out of the apartment and slammed the front door behind her, you emerged from your hiding spot and leaned against the doorframe, gazing at her with a mischievous grin on your face. Your arms were crossed over your chest as you watched her, waiting to see her reaction. When she turned to look at you, her face etched with confusion and surprise. You shrugged nonchalantly and said, "My finger slipped," with a lopsided smile.

She snorted and shook her head, but you could see the amusement in her expression, "Such a bitch," she said, though you could tell she was trying to suppress a smile. For some reason, she couldn't help but find it funny, she knew she deserved it.

✩ She gradually made her way back into your life, taking slow but steady steps to regain your trust and affection. And before you knew it, she asked you to be her girlfriend again. You hesitated at first but eventually gave in to the strong feelings you still had for her. The first few months of your second chance together seemed to be going smoothly, or so you thought. Then, one day, out of the blue, she broke up with you, claiming that she needed a break from the relationship.

✩ Your heart was shattered into countless pieces, struggling to comprehend where it had all gone wrong. And to make things worse, it seemed like you were the only one suffering, while she appeared to be completely fine, almost as if she were unbothered by the whole situation. You had poured your heart out, begging her to give your relationship another try, but she seemed to be holding back, almost...distant.

✩ But that didn't stop you; you were determined to win her back. You tried everything in your power to get her to love you again, just like she used to do when she wanted to win you back. You started showing up at her place unannounced, always with little surprises for her: her favorite snacks, flowers, handmade stuff, and love letters. But unfortunately, all your efforts seemed to be in vain. The more you tried, the more she pushed you away. You couldn't tell how she had switched so fast and went from doing anything to get back with you to this.

✩ When you asked her for an explanation, she said she felt emotionally unavailable. She went on to say that she wasn't sure if she still loved you and that she needed a break. You could see the hurt in her eyes and feel the weight of her words as they slowly sank in. It was a devastating blow that left you feeling utterly destroyed. The pain you felt was almost too much to bear.

✩ She promised to come back to you once she felt better. Months passed, and she didn't return. You were left feeling lost and heartbroken, struggling to cope with the pain of the breakup. To move on, you tried to distract yourself with other things, keeping yourself busy with work, hobbies, and spending time with friends. As time went on, you slowly began to heal and accept that it was over. When she unexpectedly came back, you were already over her.

"im ready to give us another try" "Ellie, it's been a fucking year." "and?"

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weird-and-unwell · 3 months

Text

“Autism isn’t a disability”, “it’s just a difference”.

I am of lower support needs. I hold down a (part time) job. I have travelled around my home country. I live alone.

At work they complain about my speech. I’m too quiet, they say, “barely audible” is the words used at my autism assessment. My voice is all monotone, and it needs to be more expressive. I get this complaint every week for a year straight, until my manager gives up. I don’t attend trainings because I forget and find it overwhelming anyways. My coworkers form friendships, and I watch them talk, wondering how they make it look so easy. I get a new manager, I tell her I find the work socials too overwhelming to attend. She tells me I can just say I don’t want to come. I don’t know how to tell her that I desperately want to, to be like the rest of my coworkers, instead of constantly being the one sat on the sidelines.

I come home, and I can hear my neighbours again. The niggling background noise messes with my head, and I meltdown; I throw myself on the floor, I hit my head on the ground repeatedly as I scream and cry, tear out my hair and scratch my arms and face. When I complain, people tell me that I just have to accept that neighbours make noise, that I should just ignore it, or block it out. I am the problem, the one overreacting. I put in earplugs and it hurts and I'm crying again. I wear headphones but I can't handle the noise for that long.

I have reminders set for everything. Every chore, no matter how big or small. My phone beeps at me, reminding me that I need to wash the dishes. If I don't go now, then tick the little box on my phone to say I did it, it won't get done. My home is almost always a mess despite this. It's not just chores either. I won't think to wash, dress myself, brush my teeth or hair, without those reminders. And unless someone actively prompts me to do so, I will do those tasks "wrong". I haven't changed my underwear in a month, and I'm currently aware that's a problem, but within the hour I'm going to forget all over again until I'm next prompted.

I can't sleep without medication - it's not unusual for autistic people to have messed up circadian rhythms. Without my medication it's hard to even tell when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. When I was younger and at school I slept through so many lessons, and when I have my mandatory breaks from my sleep meds I sleep through every alarm I set. I want to work full time some day, and I'm terrified of what my sleep issue will mean for me then.

I don't travel independently. I don't travel anywhere alone, always with someone or to someone. If to someone, I have assistance the whole way. I find it embarrassing sometimes. Yes, I have a job that requires a certain level of intelligence. No, I cannot get on a train by myself. If I am not shown To The Train, To My Seat, I will be unable to travel.

Last time I travelled, I was left alone at the station for ten minutes. I stayed rigid and sobbed the whole time. I was overwhelmed. It was too loud, I didn't know where I was or where I was meant to be going, and until the assistance person came back I couldn't do anything because for some reason I cannot understand it.

I spend a lot of time trying to explain to people that despite my relative competence, I am unable to do many things. Why can I understand high level maths but not how to get on a damn train? No fucking idea.

"Autism isn't a disability" most severely affects those with higher support needs, and this is absolutely not to take away from them. But for fucks sake, autism is disabling.

Maybe you personally are extremely lucky and just find you're a little "socially awkward", or just find some textures painful or nauseating. Maybe you would be fine with just a couple of adjustments.

But for a lot of us, even lower support needs autistics, it doesn't work like that. I will never sleep properly without medication. I still have the self-harming type of meltdowns as an adult, over things that are deemed as being "just part of life". I live alone but have daily visits from family - if I'm left fully alone I forget all the little daily things one is "meant" to do. I had speech therapy as a child to get me to the "barely audible" "mostly correct" speech. I don't mask, I'm not really sure how I would to begin with.

I'm not unhappy with being autistic. It's just who I am. Life would be easier if I were neurotypical, but I also wouldn't be me. I just wish those luckier than me could...stop saying it's all chill and not at all a disability.

Because yes, socially, I am "awkward". I obviously don't make eye contact - I stare down and to the side of whoever I speak to. People think it's weird or creepy or a sign of disinterest. My autism assessor wrote down about how I often use words and phrases that don't make sense to others, even though they make perfect sense to me. In my daily life this means I'm frequently misunderstood, and have to try explain what I mean, when what I mean is exactly what I said, and the true issue is that what I mean just doesn't make sense to others. I gesture, at times, but again, my gestures apparently don't make sense in relation to what I'm saying. I take things literally, I have almost no filter, and I can't explain how I go from topic to topic.

And yes, I do have sensory problems. Sometimes people, including others with sensory problems, tell me that "sometimes sensory issues have to be tolerated", and I wonder what they think of as being sensory issues. I'm sure they do struggle, but if I say I can't handle a touch, I mean you will need to forcefully hold it against me for me to touch it more than a second and it will make me meltdown. If I say "I can't eat that", I mean that I am unable to swallow it, that I will gag and choke and inevitably spit it back out, as much as I try. If I say I can't handle a noise, I mean I'm so close to a meltdown and my meltdowns are a problem for everyone around me.

But yes. Autism. Not a disability. Just a fun quirky difference.

#actually autistic #autistic #long post #autism

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comicaurora · 2 months

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So based on that last ask with King Arthur is he choosing to fall in love with Gwen even if she has a high chance of falling for Lancealot? If so, it's tragic. Doomed to love another that won't fully love you back.

Does Arthur even just tell Lancenalot to get the hell put of the kingdom some loops?

I think it's more like-

You become aware of your existence somewhere around the age of 3. You were born under mysterious circumstances you don't know the details of. The first time through, you were growing up in a castle. Lately you find you are growing up among peasantry.

Maybe you have brothers. Maybe you have a sister. Maybe you're an only child. Your family is distant either way. They speak welsh. They speak latin. They speak french. They speak english with american attempts at british accents.

The first few times through, there wasn't a sword. Now it's a consistent presence - a shimmering blade stuck in a plain anvil or a large boulder, haunting your hometown or a nearby forest glade. It looks different every time, feels different in your hands. It was made for you.

There are more trials every time. In the first stories the crown was yours from birth. Lately it's been further and further away, behind more tribulations and tournaments and beasts to slay. More guidance from the ageless old man you remember from the earliest days, the welsh days. He's different every time. Everything's different every time. And still nothing changes.

The crown is yours. It's inevitable. And when the crown passes into your hands, it carries the kingdom with it. It's yours now. And it's going to thrive! You hardly need to do anything. Heroes flock to you and pledge themselves as knights, then spend the decades tearing off on wild quests and adventures, getting into the kind of trouble that serendipitously always keeps the kingdom safe. The adventures feel familiar, but never quite play out the same way. Chalices, black knights, fairy women, questing beasts. You rarely see them for yourself. You're too important, after all. You're the kingdom's beating heart.

You have a queen. You don't spend much time with her. It's jarring how much she changes every time. You hate how much it surprises you the times she genuinely loves you; you never really get to enjoy it. The kingdom doesn't run itself, even if just having you around seems to make the forests grow thick and the rivers run clear. Mostly you spend time with her when you're rescuing her from abduction. You very rarely have children together. You miss them.

It didn't used to end in fire, but lately it never ends in anything but, and you never know when it's going to start. You're never home when it starts, but you spend so much time out tending the kingdom or questing anyway. But you always learn too late - treachery. Your knight, your vassal, your bastard child, your lady love. Camelot is burning. You watch your life's work precede you into the grave.

You die. You sleep under the mountain. You dream. It's quiet.

Somewhere in the world, a writer picks up a pen, and you become aware of existence somewhere around the age of 3.

#asks #not aurora

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 2 months

Text

thinkin about a reader who is a people-pleaser. who is so eager to please in bed. who needs to be needed. like you just can't quite get your head into your own pleasure unless you know he's enjoying himself. maybe part of it is that you want to feel wanted and to be what he wants.

you breathe into his ear, asking if he likes this, if this is what he wants; you need to know he's enjoying himself.

it's a good idea or it's a bad idea. depending.

nsfw ↓

GHOST senses the implicit question underneath immediately. you don't need to ask again. he's so equipped for a praise kink. you've shown him your weak point and goes for it, even if you yourself aren't totally aware of it. sinks his claws in and no lol you are never getting away.

"course i like this," he murmurs, voice all gravel. "nowhere i'd rather be than inside you. you like this too?"

"yeah."

"like it when i talk to you? when i tell you how sexy you are like this? how tight you are?"

you clamp down on him in an involuntary response. he groans, then chuckles.

there is no sweeter place than right here between your thighs. he keeps talking, praise slipping out of his mouth while he watches you bunch and writhe, you squeezing him with your legs and your pussy, fitting him like you've got everything to offer him-- he dissolves into low, heated curses when you clamp down around him again and cum at his praise. you're done for. he'll never stop now.

GAZ is craftier about it. he'd never take advantage of you, darling, of course not. ignore how his voice dips, smooths, laces itself with authority, silk hiding steel. ignore the funny way his words seem suddenly smug. it flutters in your gut the way sees the power you're giving him and takes it with both hands--wields it like he's rescuing you from yourself.

"of course i like this. now don't think so hard, sweet thing. let me handle it for you."

he would never abuse his power over you, of course not, not even when he's edged you for so long tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you're begging him, and his eyes darken. voice soft, veiled, his murmuring hiding something you can't detect under the need he's stoking in you.

he doesn't release you until you've told him what you want. this isn't just about him, he chides; he wants to know what you want. he wants to please you. but somehow, the lust in his eyes when you're begging him for release--to do what only he can do for you--somehow that's the only thing on your mind when you finally cum.

SOAP is pure id. you want to know what he likes? if he likes this? he'll tell you, yeah, he likes it, and the way you double down on riding him makes him want to cum then and there. it's not just the way you feel. it's the look on your face, the tension on your body, like you have something to prove. you're fighting your goddamn demons just bouncing on his dick.

it makes him worse. he doesn't manipulate you. it's not like that. but you asked, aye? you wanted to know, didn't you? wanted to know what he likes, what makes him feel good, and soap wants to try everything. more than that, he wants to see you try everything. he wants to see the look in your eyes when he overstimulates you, when he puts you on your knees and pushes his boot against your cunt, making you ride it as you suck him off. he wants to blindfold you, cuff you, get you prone and under him in every possible sense and push you to your limit. all he has to do is reassure you that he's abso-fuckin-lutely enjoying this, hen. enjoying that fucked-out look in your eyes, that look of surprise on your face when you find something new that gets you off, that look he becomes most fond of--the "fuck, this just woke something in me" look. he fucking loves pulling orgasms from you that you never expected to have. and you're doing such a good job, aren't you? you're working so hard.

he lavishes the praise on you. it takes no time at all for you to start responding to his praise even when it's clear he's turned on by just how depraved you're willing to be for his enjoyment.

"you'd do anything for me, wouldn't ya?"

it makes him so goddamn hard when all you can do is affirm, half-babbling, wanting more praise. all he has to do is reassure you that he likes this. and he does. he really does.

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

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