#sub edgar allen poe

[queer-n-here]

hii! I have a request if it's not much ! (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

i wanted to request a clingy and jealous reader where Poe is oblivious to it, but later in bed, Poe finds out about it too late when they go on for more than one round, where Poe's whole boy end up being marked.

That's all there is to this request! Thank you :)

Hey, sorry it's been a while since you sent this. I hope it's worth the wait!

Contents: Fucking Poe dumb because you got jealous.

Warnings: Smut, top male reader, biting, marking, overstimulation, after sex talk, established relationship (it's almost always established relationship with my fics), jealousy, soft reader near the end.

Poe was at his breaking point.

I mean, you'd been fucking him for hours now, and even when he sobbed into your shoulder and begged you to let him have a break, the only thing you did was kiss his forehead and start thrusting in him all over again.

How had you, who were generally so gentle and nice to him, suddenly turned into a ferocious beast?

Now, lying on his back in the soiled sheets and panting, Poe couldn't help but clutch at your arms.

"[Name]," He sniffled, more tears adding to the streaks running down his face. "Please, just... Just let me have a b-break- nggh!"

You thrusted into him again, your tip hitting his swollen prostrate and making him arch his back off the bed. Poe wrapped his arms around your neck pathetically, burying his wet face into the crook of your neck.

Your thrusts sped up slowly till you gained a rhythm, your hips slapping against his and creating lewd sounds that echoed around the room, barely muffled by his moans.

The bed creaked in protest under you as you continued pounding into Poe, his exhausted body trembling and bucking into yours as you continued your assault of his hole. His eyes were brimming with more tears at the overstimulation, and his cheeks were red. Sweaty hair was sticking to his forehead and neck in a way that made you want to pull at it.

You lowered your head and kissed Poe's neck for the nth time that night, creating more bruises in the sea of purple against his pale skin. They looked so pretty on him, you couldn't help but think.

His skin beneath your teeth, his tight walls around your cock; it had been like this for hours now, and yet you couldn't get enough of him. He was too beautiful, too pretty for you to just let him be.

"[Name]!" Poe sobbed. "Ah! Hnngh, Mmph!"

You kissed his lips with a gentleness that was in contrast with your lower half, which was bludgeoning into Poe's ass. He reciprocated, letting you nibble at his lips and swallow down his moans and cries. Pulling away, you placed a kiss on either of his eyes, your hips never stopping.

You marvelled at his beauty as you fucked him, eyes glued to his beautiful flushed face as Poe squirmed and panted underneath you. His walls were fluttering around your cock in a way that made your cock twitch and throb with want even as it was in him.

His skin was growing redder now, and the way he dropped his hands from your shoulders to clutch at the sheets beneath him instead told you that he was close. You sped up, abusing his sweet spot, making his toes curl and eyes widen as the sounds that spilled from his mouth turned up in volume.

"C-close!" Poe panted. "Nghh, [Name]!"

You knew already, and yet at his words you reached down to tug at Poe's cock. He whined, trying to pull away from the overstimulation, but failing horribly when his hips bucked into you at the same time.

He came, ropes of cum shooting out of his dick as his walls clenched almost unbearably tight around you, almost as if trying to milk your cock. You granted him his wish, letting your seed spill into him as your thrusts slowed down to a stop.

You looked down at Poe. His arms had dropped to his sides limply, and he was struggling to breathe, eyes blurred and brain all fucked-out. You pulled out of him, and laid down beside him.

Poe turned immediately to bury himself into you, sweat and tears rolling down his body and mixing with his cum in a messy puddle. You wrapped your arms around him, letting him come down from his high and catch his breath.

When he did, it took him a while to look up at you.

"What was that?" He said when he did.

You looked down at him, feeling slightly guilty. "What was what?"

"You were so mean," Poe complained. "You're never so rough. Did something happen?"

You looked down. "Uhh... Not really. I'm sorry if that was too much."

"If you don't tell me what happened," He pouted. "I'm not gonna let you touch me again. Ever!"

And with that he rolled around, wincing as pain shot up his back when he tried to sit up.

You sighed resignedly, sitting up and pulling Poe back to yourself. "Alright, I'm sorry. I just... Got a little jealous today, I guess. You know, when we went out on a date but some stranger you met there ended up getting more of your attention than me."

Poe turned around, his expression defensive. "He wasn't a stranger, he was an old friend of mine, I told you!"

"I know, I know," You looked down again. "I'm sorry."

"You've already said that, like, three times." He pouted, but didn't seem actually angry with you.

You leaned closer and pecked his lips. "Then, what should I do to make you forgive me?"

He thought about it. "Hmm... Help me wash up!"

You bit back a smile. "But I already do that every time after we have sex."

Poe frowned, thinking. "Well, then... Cook for me!"

This time you couldn't help the smile from showing onto your face. "I do that as well, every time."

Poe's frown deepened. "Fine, whatever. I'll think of it later. I'll forgive you for now, I guess."

He let you pull him closer and wrap your arms around his waist. You planted a kiss in the crook of his shoulder, among the hickeys you'd given him.

#dom male reader #top male reader #dom reader #bungou stray dogs #sub bsd #sub bsd x you #bsd x you #sub bungou stray dog x you #sub bungou stray dogs #sub poe #sub character x you #sub character #sub poe x you #poe x reader #sub edgar allen poe

[herwritingartcowboy]

So kitsune Poe x female Latina reader

Sub reader

Where is mating season

A/n: Day 3 of my 13 days before Halloween (3/13) . Alright hopefully i get this right.

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Character(s): Poe

Warning(s): Smut, Dom Male, Sub female, Mating, nsfw

Readers Gender: Female

Minors Please Leave , Everyone else above 18 can go on

🦊

(Gif Not Mine)

🦊

You knew around this time you husband would be in his mating stage not that you mind but your husband as sweet as he is was always afraid of hurting you as you a human and him a kitsune.

So like every other partner would do you knew he would be in pain of he didn't come to his urges and with consent from both partys you tried to help him out.

Your husband kissed up your legs as he looked up at you seeing you look down at him with lustful eyes as Poe went back to kissing you. With that you you called for poes attention as you cupped his face, "Darling i know your scared but don't worry i'll be okay", now more confident with your words Poe kissed you as Poes fingers tangled in you hair as you tugged at his.

With Poe still kissing you as he went down and stuck a finger in you clit, "Aye!", you moaned out as he started to thrust his fingers in and out of you. "A-am I making you feel good" "Yes miel, fuck faster".

With that Poe started to go faster as he made you reach your climax with Poe licking his finger.

Grunting and Moaning filled the room as Poe started to thrust in and out of you as he wanted to fill you up, to make sure you have his kids, and to claim you as his own making sure all will know.

"Wonder what our kids will look like-Fuck! So tight" "Yes mi amor, a bebe is all i want inside me" "I promise i'll give you baby, j-just hold onto me i think i might cum".

You held onto your husbands back as you wrapped your lags and arms around him as he thrusted deep inside you till finally he cam. Filling you clit up as he stood still not wanting non to come out of as he rested his head on your chest.

"Thank you dear" "No problem mi amor, i'll be here to help you out okay" "Alright".

#hallowen special #halloween fanfiction #13 days of halloween #bungo stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs edgar allan poe #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bsd poe x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #sub reader #male dom #edgar allen poe bsd #bungou stray dogs edgar allan poe x reader #edgar allan poe x reader #poe smut #edgar allan poe smut #request #request speacial #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs imagines

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually. 

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body. 

You pretended to be dead. 

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky. 

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly. 

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands. 

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it. 

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.” 

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up. 

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening. 

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest. 

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.  

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort. 

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.” 

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character. 

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it. 

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up. 

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood. 

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?” 

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull. 

Missions were rarely a failure. 

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.” 

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?” 

“None. Just us.” 

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.” 

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway. 

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it. 

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it. 

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation. 

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room. 

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly. 

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off. 

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin. 

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction. 

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.” 

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue. 

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in. 

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight. 

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends. 

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore. 

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him.  “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh. 

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why. 

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden. 

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions. 

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them. 

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too. 

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue. 

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch. 

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined. 

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you. 

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like. 

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse. 

This couldn’t continue. 

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side. 

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.” 

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air. 

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met. 

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires. 

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?” 

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?” 

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up. 

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.” 

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth. 

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas. 

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless. 

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds. 

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up. 

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though. 

On the second week, it got easier. 

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area. 

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over. 

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table. 

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally. 

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails. 

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind. 

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you. 

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces. 

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair. 

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse. 

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up... 

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!” 

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp. 

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor. 

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers. 

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated. 

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug. 

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly. 

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air. 

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure. 

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.” 

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly. 

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward. 

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game. 

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching. 

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet. 

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table. 

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?” 

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.” 

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you. 

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss. 

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.” 

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it. 

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking. 

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second. 

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos. 

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat. 

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages. 

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out. 

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.” 

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?” 

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room. 

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out. 

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently. 

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.” 

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation. 

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.” 

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back. 

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat. 

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney. 

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly. 

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful. 

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand. 

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing. 

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.” 

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair. 

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back. 

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine. 

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts. 

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high. 

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river. 

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask. 

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare. 

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it. 

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh. 

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already. 

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk. 

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…” 

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be. 

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.” 

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip. 

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able. 

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second. 

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table. 

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion. 

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?” 

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer. 

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix. 

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob. 

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.” 

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality. 

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer. 

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.” 

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own. 

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies. 

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep. 

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.” 

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though. 

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect. 

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt. 

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you. 

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back. 

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw. 

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms. 

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile. 

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.” 

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting. 

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial. 

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action. 

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot. 

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad. 

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you. 

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute. 

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #mw2 #call of duty #mw2 2022 #call of duty mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw ghost #cod smut #call of duty smut #x reader smut #x female reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #simon riley call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare x you #modern warfare x reader #mw x reader #cod mwii

[chuuyasheaven]

❤️ Rei's Kinktober ❤️

Notes !! Firstly, this is my first kinktober, and I’m literally so excited??? I didn’t know what it was until like two years back but I was always late to it, well not this year!! Besides, this will be different like any other you guys will see so just sit back, relax, and enjoy reading this nasty stuff !!!! Rules !! 01. For each weekday will be drabbles written for, except for sundays, those will probably be a short fic or whatever.

02. If you didn’t notice, the names were listed down in alphabetical order, because it’s fun. But also, for each week (or category) will be the characters written for which I think fit in the week. It might occur that some will be there more than once, but my list isn’t that long tbh. .

03. THIS IS AN NSFW EVENT, in case you didn’t know. But we don’t judge here, meaning if I make any grammar errors or take longer to post, I do NOT want to hear anything about it. Thank you !!!!

Week one : “I LIKE ‘EM NASTY !!” — Rough Sex.

01.10 — “Tamin’ bad girls !!” with Akutagawa Ryunosuke !!

02.10 — “Goin’ feral !!” with Atsushi Nakajima !!

05.10 — “Disobedient wife !!” with Fyodor Dostoevsky !!

07.10 — “Endless denial” with Jouno Saigiku !!

08.10 — “Keepin’ you in place !!” with Nikolai Gogol !!

Week two : “I WANT ‘EM SWEET !!” — Soft/Passionate Sex.

10.10 — “Cockwarmin’ cuddles !!” with Atsushi Nakajima !!

11.10 — "Mornin' ride" with Chuuya Nakahara !!

13.10 — “Takin’ a break !!” with Edgar Allen Poe !!

14.10 — “Reassurin’ his wife” with Odasaku Sakunosuke !!

15.10 — “Birthday present” with Ranpo Edogawa !!

Week three : “I LIKE ‘EM SUBMISSIVE !!” — sub! men.

16.10 — “Virgin killer” with Akutagawa Ryunosuke !! 17.10 — “Under the influence” with Chuuya Nakahara !! 20.10 — “Thigh lover” with Dazai Osamu !!

21.10 — “Stress relievin’” with Edgar Allen Poe !!

22.10 — “Special candy” with Ranpo Edogawa !!

Week four : “I WANT ‘EM TWICE !!” — threesomes.

24.10 — "Outsmartin' failed" with Fyozai !! 26.10 — “Seekin’ comfort” with Shin Soukoku !!

28.10 — “Competition” with Soukoku !!

29.10 — “Missin’ information” with Suegiku !!

Halloween :

31.10 — “Bittersweet torture” with Fyolai !!!

IM LITERALLY SO EXCITED ⁉️

#bsd smut #Rei’s Kinktober 2023 !! ❤️ #dazai smut #atsushi smut #fukuzawa smut #nikolai smut #fyodor smut #chuuya smut #odasaku smut #jouno saigiku smut #tetchou smut #poe smut #ranpo smut #kunikida smut #akutagawa smut #bungo stray dogs smut

[straykids-97]

Eloquent 

Synopsis: Chan’s age doesn’t mean he’s practiced in all arts…. 

Dedication: @fluffylino for giving me this idea much love thank you a million times for giving me something to write in my drought <3

Warnings: Vampire!Chan, sub/switch!reader, dom/switch!Chan, dirty talk, fluff, smut, kinky fuckery heh, (plz lmk if I forgot anything) this is also mostly unedited heh, I try to edit as I go through every paragraph so it's probably not great... Anyway.

Eloquence is the painting of the thoughts- Blaise Pascal 

W.C- 1.07k 

You adjust your sunglasses, staring at your boyfriend from the sunny balcony. Chan was seated in the darkened living room of your shared home. On the days it was sunny in Seoul, he hid inside, protecting his skin and making sure he didn’t get burnt by the rays of the sun. Sometimes you wished there was a way for him to be out, to feel the sun on his skin, but there wasn’t. Not unless he died. 

So instead, you stared at each other, watching one another as he attempted to read the book in his hands. Chan preferred to read books instead of reading on the tablet you had gotten a year ago for his birthday, something he insisted that neither of you celebrate. To him, his birthday’s didn’t matter anymore. Age was just a concept of time, something that also was insignificant to him now. 

“Whatcha reading?” You asked, adjusting the top of your bathing suit. “What am I reading?” He corrected, wagging his finger as he spoke. “I’m reading Edgar Allen Poe.” He continued, lazily scanning his eyes over the pages. You knew he could read faster than that. He was distracted. You stood up, coming to stand in the doorway, leaning against the pane of the window that was blacked out by a curtain. “What are you reading of Edgar Allen Poe’s?” You ask making him chuckle, “Ah, now that is an excellent question…” He hummed, “I’m reading, the Raven. Have you ever read it, doll?” you shake your head, “No. But then again, normal people my age don’t really read E.A.P.” He sucked in a breath, holding his chest, “Ouch.” He mocked making you giggle. 

You saunter lazily into the room, plopping next to him, “Must you remind me of my old age?” He asked, flipping the page as he playfully glared at you. “Always.” You lean in, making him breathe in the scent that surrounded you that was intoxicated with. That’s what kept him coming back, the natural scent that reminded of him when he was young. 

“Constantly, really.” You shrug, leaning your head against his shoulder. “In all ways…” You trail off, making him scoff. “And how, ‘in all ways’?” 

“Just the other day,” you sit up, giving him a teasing look, “when you found my fifty shades of gray book.” His face tinted slightly, “you didn’t know what half the book was referring to.” 

“I- I did too.” He stuttered, not an usual occurrence for Chan. He rarely became flustered when speaking, let alone stuttering. He was typically eloquent with his speech; he was proud of it. “Just, back in my day,” he straightened his shoulders, “those methods were for torture. Not pleasure.” He waggle his finger. You pull his book out of his grasp, straddling his lap. 

Chan stared up at you, his eyes filling with lust and curiosity. “And what are you doing?” His formal speech was back. “Well, I figured I could at least introduce in one of the methods…” you trail off, undoing his tie, “it’s brought up quite a bit in the book.” He watched you carefully, his eyes following your every movement as you tied his hands together. “But, isn’t the woman tied up?” He asked, confused. You chuckle, leaning into kiss his lips softly, “Yes but, the woman is inexperienced in the book,” you lean into whisper in his ear, “but our here, you’re the one who’s inexperienced.” You feel Chan shudder, making you bite your lip as you pull away from him. 

You step away from him and pull him up by his wrists and guide him to your bedroom. Chan normally spent the sunny days inside your shared room, but because you wanted to sunbathe, he decided to sit on the couch to at least be in the same room as you. 

You guide him to the bed and tie his bound wrists to the headboard. “You know,” he began shifting nervously, “I could easily break free.” You crawl up his body, humming as your hands ghosted up his chisled features. He shuddered, “n-now,” he squirmed, “b-behave.” He tried to regain assertion, but his stuttering only made it harder for you to believe that somewhere in his mind that he didn’t like this. “You,” you lean into his lips, “behave, Mr. Bang.” He groaned in your mouth as you leaned away. You grind your hips into his making him mewl, “Oh, princess.” He hisses, squeezing his eyes closed. 

You shift again, making him groan in approval. His mouth falls open and his tongue darts over his lips, before sucking his plump bottom lip between his sharpening teeth; something that happens when he goes on the hunt. He only bit you when he had permission, but often his teeth began to protrude when he was aroused, he couldn’t help it. 

You push his shirt up his body, hand resting on his neck as he ground his hips into yours. You groan softly, meeting his grinding hips. “So eager.” You giggle, looking down at him. His eyes were still screwed shut, as if he was focusing on something. His muscles were tensed, he was restraining himself. You bite your lip and roll your hips softer against him, teasing him harder before you lean away and loop your fingers through his slacks. You tug them down his thighs, his boxers not far behind, “Fucking hell.” He groans, hissing as your hand connects with his flesh. “Oh my,” you giggle leaning down and giving him a teasing lick.

That’s when his eyes snap open; glowing bright red. You grin mischiveously, running your tongue along the length of his girth, eliciting a deep groan from Chan. “You devil,” he grunted, throwing his head back into the pillows, “y-you entice me s-so.” You giggle at him and lean away, dragging you hands up his length slowly before grinding your hips along his thigh. For a single moment, you forgot the hot vampire beneath you, chasing your own high. 

But all he needed was a moment. 

You felt Chan’s hands on your throat and chest before your eyes even opened. “Fucking whore.” He seethed, wrapping one of his hands in your hair, tugging on your locks and the other was on your throat, “You forget that I went through the 70’s and 80’s.” You felt his teeth graze the sensitive spot at the base of your throat. He swapped places with you, “You forget your place, mortal.” 

Thank you for reading heh 

©️straykids-97

#bang chan #bang christopher chan #bang chan smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #bang chan hard thoughts #bang chan hard hours #skz drabbles #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids hard thoughts

[divine-knight-hand]

And so, the moon rises on a new, chilling occasion

Amidst a season of falling leaves and rising screams, a certain knight faces herself with the honor of celebrating her favorite holiday. Using the materials and imagination at her disposal, she's brought together a spooky triple feature starring some of her favorite characters from different medias.

Her intentions began pure, but as she breathed life into each inspiring vision, the last of her works began to toe the line between horror and lust. Now you must decide. Will you choose to follow the allure of the darkness, madness, and sex promised by the knight's creations three?

Key: ☁️ - Fluff ❤️- Smut

**Be warned that this event is not for the faint of heart, and definitely not for minors!!! Only interact with this if you're 18+ and able to handle the warnings listed with each title below!!!**

Dividers by @silkholland

The Fluffy First: ☁️ Imagine Looking for Wanda at a Halloween Party (Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader) || AO3 Link

The final installment of Our Wonderful Witch in Red (Rewritten). Wanda goes off alone at a Halloween party, and not a single Avenger knows where she is... Content Warnings: Some confrontational situations and traces of angst. After that, fluffiness all the way! Word Count: 2,874

The Sinister Second: ❤️ The Ball of the Red Death (Prince!Loki Laufeyson x Enchantress!Female Reader) || AO3 Link

A royal feast being converted to a royal ball at the last minute by the god of mischief's mad magic-wielding lover, who just so happens to have an Edgar Allen Poe obsession. What could possibly go wrong? Content Warnings: Descriptions of violence, discussions of death and mortality at length, implied major character death (you just really have to squint), use of enchantment, unprotected sex, mind reading/communication during sex, use of magic during sex, momentary clothed sex, porn with way way too much plot Word Count: 6,905

The Final Chase: ❤️ Night of The Maneater (Michael Afton x Ghostface!Female Reader)

Part 1: The Chase || AO3 Link

Part 2: The Catch || AO3 Link

Since the destruction of Fazbear's Fright, Michael could finally celebrate Halloween in peace, but with a new serial killer on the loose known only by the name "The Maneater", how long will his night stay that way? Content Warnings: Stalking, mentions of death and killing, descriptions of fear and creepy scenarios, death threats, sexual themes, light bondage, slight knife kink, stalker kink, unprotected sex, Dom!Reader, Sub!Michael, edging, pleasure crying, begging, praise Part 1 Word Count: 4,352 Part 2 Word Count: 2,378

#halloween #halloween smut #halloween fluff #halloween fanfic #spooky season #horror fanfiction #smut #fluff #wanda maximoff #loki laufeyson #michael afton #marvel fanfic #fnaf fanfic #wanda x reader #wanda fluff #loki x reader #loki smut #michael afton x reader #michael afton smut #loki #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson smut #marvel smut #marvel fluff #fnaf smut #fnaf #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #five nights at freddy's

[bungou-stray-dogs-archive]

Edgar Allen Poe card - 執事 (Butler)

Leader skill -  聡明なる執事 (Wise butler) Increases Dark atk 20% Increases Dark hp 20% Active skill - 執事はやることが多くて大変であるな……(Being a butler has a lot to do and it's tough...) Deals x5 Dark dmg to an enemy Sub-skill - ティータイムの準備である (Preparing for tea time) Activates when 60 Dark orbs are cleared (54 at skill lv.5) Reduces dmg from Light enemies by 100 for 1 turn (125 at skill lv.5) Affiliation: The Guild Dark affinity Atk: 1206 (Max) | 144 (Base) Hp: 4130 (Max) | 649 (Base) Offensive type

This card is currently unavailable on EN, available from the Perfect Butler event (Apr 2021) on JP **Note, I do not speak Japanese, my translations are probably off, I apologize if they are.

#edgar allan poe #bsd mayoi #bungou stray dogs

[clueingforbeggs]

Imagine being Mat Kirkland. You’ve got a bit of an odd interest, just a fun thought you had one day, probably. And so you make a sub stack, Dracula, a classical novel, sent out as emails every day that the events happened. You don’t know how many people will be interested in it, probably not many, but the next thing you know, everyone on tumblr is talking about it, something you only know because someone contacts you to tell you this. You’ve created a sensation, and now you’re planning to actually publish Dracula daily as a book. And there are plenty of other sub stacks popping up for classic lit. E-pistulae, letters from your friend Watson, Woman in White, Edgar Allen Poe Fortnightly, Jane Austen daily, Whale Weekly, just to name a few. You created a sensation. No, you created a new genre of email. Book club email. You may have just created a way to get much of Tumblr into classical lit, I’m sure many participators in DD and the other sub stacks are not normally into classic lit. Some probably viewed it as stuff they were forced to read in school.

Yes, the ‘thank you’ in all caps at the end of the last Dracula Daily got to me, alright?

[ahumansvoid]

OooOOOOOO

ALL THE BOOKS

(OK not all the books buttttt weekly subs - also this popped up from an email about an Edgar Allen Poe subscription to get emails on days Dracula Daily doesn't update and then offered all these!!!!)

*Frankenstein & Watson start in 2023

#dracula daily #is this old #idk #i just found it and i am excited #a human yelling into the void #so many emailssss #why am i excited about emails

[dothemacarena]

Little late to the party but I'm watching all the eurovision 2023 videos now. I have absolutely zero authority to be doing this but its fun

Ukraine-Heart of Steel: good song cool visuals solid entry 7 out of 10

Estonia-Bridges: power ballad ok kinda generic but I like the message is about building bridges instead of burning them 6 out of 10

Italy-Due Vite: This one is all in italian with no english sub titles power ballad about music? the video and outfit are not interesting maybe its great when you know what it says but i dont 3 out of 10

Austria- Who the hell is Edgar? This is what I want from Eurovision This song is about being haunted by Edgar Allen Poe love the stupid little dance they do and love the look of one of the singers when she is wearing the black suit with a red shirt but thats just the lesbianism. 9 out of 10

UK- I wrote a song: Song about writing a song after a breakup sounds like every song i hear if i go turn on the top 40 radio right now. 6 out of 10

#eurovison 2023 #my post

[wetchickenbreast]

i saw this guy in an almost completely empty publix the other night while ordering an italian sub and he was so edgar allen poe tortured artist sexy dark circles under his eyes vibes and i just saw him again parking his motorcycle at my college i should comphet with him

#people why give off really specific vibes are my type #if i see him a third time i will talk to him #chicken scratch

[queer-n-here]

hi! It's me again from that Poe request :) I wanted to say thank you very much for doing my request! I loved it so much and you're an amazing writer, keep it up! but if you don't mind again, I have another :")) {you can ignore this by the way if u wanna I don't mind <3}

Same as before with Poe, but reader who very much is affectionate with Poe only than anyone else and only clings onto him and his attention (also reader likes to attach himself to hug Poe from behind when he's talking to someone)

your free to do my request anytime you like! (Keep up the good work!!)

Haiyah, thanks man! It's them compliments that always make my day! And y'all here on Tumblr are like, too nice. I do all the requests I receive y'know, unless they go explicitly against my 'morals' (I sound like Kunikida, hell)

It might take me some time, but if you've sent me a req and I've received it, I'll 100% do it!

Also, MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! NOW IS MY CHANCE TO WRITE FLUFF! YOU SHALL BOW BEFORE MY ABILITY; 'FLUFF ON TOP' MUAHAHAHA-

*Clears throat* Um, sorry. Anyways, here's the fic, hope you like it! It's a little short, though!

Contents: Jealous Clingy Reader x Edgar Allen Poe

Warnings: Fluff, slight (non-existent) mentions of sex.

Fluff HCs for Poe

Poe needs a clingy boyfriend, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

When he's overworking himself in his study, too caught up in his novel to keep track of time, he needs you, who'll go up to him and pick him up from his chair and carry him to the bed for cuddles, making him smile at you reluctantly.

When he's outside, maybe picking up some food for Karl, you go and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling his back up against your chest and putting your chin on his shoulder. He splutters and blushes, hissing that you two are in public, but you remind him what he was talking about before you intervened, and he gets distracted enough to let you enjoy him in your arms.

Sometimes you casually wrap your arms around Poe, even as he's talking to someone else, and bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, nuzzling his neck and planting soft kisses against his pale skin.

Poe acts like he doesn't like it, but even as he tries to pull away from your embrace at times, you can see how red the back of his neck and years have gotten. It's cute, you think.

And then one day, while you're being even more clingy than usual (if that's even possible) during a date at a park, Poe suddenly raises a hand and waves at someone.

You looked up, squinting to search for the receiver of this greeting, and Poe starts walking away, towards whoever he'd been waving at. You follow, slightly sulking at his sudden shift of attention.

It turns out to be some detective. As Poe introduces you two, you faintly remember that this man, Ranpo, is the very same as the one Poe goes into long rants about.

How... Interesting.

You greet Ranpo with a nod, and Poe strikes up a conversation. Standing just a little behind Poe so that he can't see your expression, you glare down at Ranpo, your face full of black lines.

How dare he interrupt your date?

I mean, sure, it was Poe who reached out, but doesn't Ranpo know how to decline? Does he not have that function in his brain?

But Poe is smiling, talking excitedly and gesturing with his hands the way he does when he's having fun, so you lessen the intensity of your glare, and turn your head away to sulk instead.

It's Ranpo who breaks the conversation in the end, saying that he's out on some 'Agency business' and that he can't stay any longer.

You take Poe back to your shared house, and kiss him till he's aroused and wants to do it.

And that's how your day ends.

I mean, at this point, your clinginess is making Karl's life hell, too.

Whenever the poor raccoon tries to sit on Poe's shoulder, or just go up and get Poe's attention, you're standing right there in his way, arms wrapped around Poe's waist and eyes sharp as they glare at Karl.

How can you be jealous of a raccoon? Make it make sense.

And Poe, damn, he's obsessed with the feeling of your warmth around him, the way you hold him so close it gives him the butterflies. You're so gentle around him, you've got him convinced that he's breakable.

He knows he's the only one who receives this treatment from you. He's seen the way you look at other people, only half glances because they're just not important enough for you to care. He's seen you get angry, too, like that time you two were out to watch a movie and someone tried to cut in line before him. You look scary when you're angry, to put in simply.

And honestly? He loves every moment of it, even if he'd rather jump off a cliff than admit it.

What he doesn't know is that he doesn't need to. You see the way he leans into your touch, even while complaining about how clingy you are. You feel the way he nestles into you, no tension in his body as he can just relax. You perceive how he looks so assured whenever you're there, arms wrapped around him and peppering kisses on his face.

I mean, isn't that the sole reason you do it? Because he loves getting pampered and coddled even if doesn't want to admit it?

#dom male reader #top male reader #dom reader #bungou stray dogs #sub bsd #sub bsd x you #bsd x you #sub bungou stray dog x you #sub bungou stray dogs #sub character #sub character x you #sub poe x you #sub poe #sub edgar allen poe #sub edgar allen poe x you #fluff #bsd fluff

[chuuyasheaven]

♡ Rei's New Year Event !! ♡ [CLOSED]

Yeah I think y'all know how this goes.. (please don't request anymore bcs this even is closed. But you can request other stuff based off this!! Sorry if you couldn't participate </3)

Rules.

No weird things like in-/stepcest, sc4t/p1ss kink, grape or anything violent.

If you're requesting, give me a small plot to work with, the prompt and character you chose and be nice while doing so!!

Characters.

Chuuya Nakahara Atsushi Nakajima Akutagawa Ryuunosuke Dazai Osamu Fukuzawa Yukichi Ranpo Edogawa Edgar Allen Poe Sakunosuke Oda Kunikida Doppo Fyodor Dostoevsky Nikolai Gogol

Prompts !! (with dom! Characters)

1. "You wanted this, didn't you?" 2. "You're doing so good for me." 3. "Good girl, keep going." 4. "What happened to your bratty attitude, huh?" 5. "Such a slut for me, couldn't even wait for me to come home. ." 6. "Stay quiet, you don't want them to hear, do you?" 7. "Beg for it, I know you want it." 8. "I'm making you feel good, aren't I? Tell me." 9. "C'mon, I know you can do better." 10. "Stop moving, I'm trying to make you feel good." 11. "You want to make me feel good, right?"

Prompts !! (with sub! Characters)

1. "I've been good, right? Please. ." 2. "I promise I won't do it again, I swear." 3. "Make me feel good, nobody does it like you." 4. "Fuck, you're so perfect. . I love you so much." 5. "I'll be quiet. Just please, I need you so bad." 6. "Touch me there– oh, just like that. ." 7. "I'm too sensitive, slow down– ah!" 8. "Keep going, please. I'm getting close." 9. "I'll be good for you, I'll do everything you say." 10. "Tell me I've been good, tell I'm your good boy. ." 11. "I wanna pleasure you, tell me how."

You can send max. 3 prompts at once, and two characters for a threesome. If you send in two characters, make sure each have only one or two lines. Before sending your request, make sure you clarified Reader's gender. (fem!, afab!, gn!, maybe amab!)

THAT'S ALL!! HAVE FUN REQUESTING!!! :3 (I added one more lol)

#chuuya'sheaven ♡ #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut #chuuya smut #dazai smut #atsushi smut #akutagawa smut #odasaku smut #nikolai smut #fyodor smut #fukuzawa smut #ranpo smut #poe smut

[jamieroxxartist]

'Some Subconscious Déjà vu mixed with Edgar Allen Poe Cerebal Seepage. And my dream just got weirder and worse.'

So as some of you guys may know I have a Biphasic Sleep Pattern (meaning I sleep some at night and some in the daytime) I have done this for a few years. It is what works best for me. Mainly it allows me to be up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed pretty early, which is typically when I am most creative etc.

Yesterday this had some strange consequences.

Over the last few days, my wife Dani has been watching this Netflix Series called Fall of the House of Usher. I thought it was a remake of the 1960 Vincent Price movie. It was not. But rather an Edgar Allan Poe inspired mini series set in contemporary times.

My wife loved it and was going on about it, I tried to give one of the chapters a watch with her, but that turned out to be a little too much for me. I don't want to spoil anything for anyone who hasn't seen it. But let's just say I think I was not a fan of a particular Rave / Club. Geeze! Anyhow.

So it's my wife's thing, and that's not a big deal. Something she has been watching when I'm asleep or in the studio or something. Now I am not a EAP nut, but I have probably read all of his work at one time or another. So whenever I would walk through the room the past couple of days I would catch a name, a bit of poetry or some reference (and there is a lot in this Mini-Series) and I would automatically in my head run a Poe program and be like Oh, 'The Gold Bug etc etc. (Also I thought that the character Verna anagram scramble from Raven was a pretty easy one. But the whole show seems to have stuff like that) This has been going on all week long.

So yesterday I go to sleep my couple of afternoon / evening hours and I am in our bed and can hear the living room TV and her show as I drift off.

And ole' Edgar would have loved it, because Whoa! Strange dreams were afoot. Now nothing graphic, gross, scary or Easy like that. No much more subtle horror and dread, disturbingly very Edgar Allan Poe'esk. Of course, tailored just for me. Some Subconscious Déjà vu mixed with Edgar Allen Poe Cerebal Seepage.

I'm in this dream, somewhat Lucid. I mean in the dream I'm kind of aware it's a dream. But I'm not directly controlling anything, just aware. AND I guess in my head the Poe Pattern recognition sub-program is still running because every so often, very subtly Poe stuff showing up. And I'm thinking (like in my dream, thoughts like Fortunato... that's one of the guys in "The Cask of Amontillado" etc etc... then the waves of Déjà vu start coming onto the beach.

People who in real life have passed away turn up here and there and conversations are had with them. But weird conversations, like I'm talking to this one person and a leaf-bare tree over to the side of us catches some wind and limbs start shaking, and the person I'm talking to (in the dream) is looking at me in the face, as you do when talking to someone, but her right eye catches the tree limb movement and her right eye moves over toward it... but her left eye does not! And that is disturbing to me. And then there's a door and party full of dream ghosts of people I have known here and there and a woman shows up in a black dress who I don't remember knowing and she suddenly starts taking her dress off.

And I'm lucidly aware to think to myself, 'Oh it's going to turn into one of those dreams... I didn't see it coming, but ok.'

No I was in a EAP-inspired dream, it was not ok. Not at all. Painful-looking throbbing and slightly pulsing Frankenstein (his creature, yes I know) scars are all over her naked torso, that matched mine (long story I had some medical stuff about a decade ago, that I am still pretty sensitive about for anyone to see. I won't get too into it, but a lot of scars.) Anyhow the dream just got weirder and worse.

I finally woke up! Thank God. It was getting pretty bad. Have you ever have one of those dreams that is hard to shake off afterward? Yeah, this was one of those. In true Poe fashion, I didn't want to go to sleep last night, for fear that the dream projector would fire up right where I left off or something.

And also in Poe-fashion. It did not. I didn't dream about anything, at least that I can remember.

But I'm still thinking about the dream. It's residue still is there. So I spent like ½ and hour writing down ideas and sketches for Paintings. I mean it's good fuel and all. But man.

So if Edgar Allan Poe is your particular jam, well you might want to check out the Fall of the House of Usher series on Netflix. My Wife Dani Loved it!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hello hello Ange~

Happy late Valentine’s!! Thank you for asking my question! I’ve added some of those shows to my watch list!! “The Fall of the House of Usher” sounded really interesting. As to answer the hyperfixation question, I recently watched Billy the Kid (I grew up watching westerns with my dad, so I jumped at the opportunity for memory sake), and ended up really falling for Tom Blyth’s works. I know, kinda stereotypical, but we like what we like. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Another British actor gets me by a chokehold apparently, I really have a type it seems. 😂 but !!! I find it pretty funny that once I started my hyperfixation on Blyth and I asked for a Ewan crumb to help me out, the power of Ewan provided and that new crumb of him with some fans came out like a few days later!!! 😂😂

I’ve wanted to send you more and stop by to check on you, but I’ve been spiralling very bad, and I don’t ever want to be a damper, so I’ve kinda holed myself off. Recently, the one thing that really gets me happy/distracted right now is listening to “Murder on the Dancefloor” and thinking of Barry’s scene 💀 but hey, if it gets me through, it is what it is lol. I wanted to ask, what do you personally do when it seems like everything is going wrong? I’m here for any advice at this point. 🥲

I’m sorry to hear about your long work hours and spine!! I’ve recently started going to a chiropractor to help with mine 😂 it’s done some really good though. I hope all is well and that life is treating you kind. You deserve nothing but the best, and hope you’re staying safe and healthy. Sending you lots of love. 🩶

- Hannah Montana anon.

Happy belated Valentine's, my love!

The Fall of the House of Usher is soooo good. I would highly recommend it, especially if you enjoy Edgar Allen Poe, each episode draws inspiration from one of the poems!

Oh god, Tom Blyth, haha. I've seen many a Tumblr mutual suckered in by him. Personally, I don't see the appeal, but each to their own!

There are even newer Ewan crumbs now, have you seen them?!

I'm sorry to hear you're still having a rough time of things! I find the easiest thing to do when things are feeling rough is just to be gentle with myself - do the basics to survive - make sure I eat, hydrate, shower and get outside for some fresh air once a day. Breaking down big and daunting tasks into smaller sub-tasks when you're feeling the pressure also helps to make them more manageable, and I actually find that once I start on one I'm able to breeze through the rest and the sense of accomplishment I feel afterwards is a huge mood lift.

Thank you for checking in. Please take care of yourself and don't be too harsh with yourself when you're not feeling good. Sending you lots of love and hopes that you will feel better soon xoxo

#asked and answered #hannah montana anon

[dieanywhereelseart]

There is 100% a fandom for classic lit and also a sub-fandom of specifically gothic lit, among other niches as well, I would assume.

thank u im actually a little embarrassed to admit that im only reading the hound of the baskervilles for dnd inspiration and not for the work itself but ykw i might just set up shop. ive always liked edgar allen poe and shakespeare, so i feel like gothic lit would be right up my alley lol

#asks #gothic lit #i see why sherlock holmes was so popular now. one of the original blorbos.