#came outta left field at the right time
Text
"I'm pretty sure that cookie turned me gay and I won't apologize for it."
-6th graders walking past me at work
#KIDS I HAVE QUESTIONS#how does one aquire these cookies?#cookies#lgbtq#made my day#i was howling#came outta left field at the right time#lmao
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Anhedonia 1/2
Word count: 5,5 k (part 1) and 4,4 k (part 2)
Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader
Tags: SMUT 🔞🔞🔞 Literally just unadulterated, deranged filth, plot is there for decoration. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Mutual pining, sexual tension (duh), blood & injury, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), mutual masturbation, cum all over the place, light humiliation, dirty talk, some praise, swearing, mask stays on, fluffy/reconciliatory ending.
Summary: Reader is a Task Force 141 operator and a terrible brat (and suffers the consequences of it later). Enemies to lovers/toxic relationship that takes a healthy turn in the end.
"Think you're smarter than your lieutenant? Is that it?"
"No sir."
You coat your voice with steel. Stainless, similar to the knife he has strapped to his thigh. You would lick that blade clean if he asked gently, but he's not gentle. You'd flatten your tongue on his thighs too, if he asked nicely, if there was a chance he might pet your hair while you do it – but Ghost doesn't take pets.
He only has soldiers. Subordinates.
- - - - - - - - -
He's a mountain you want to climb.
A peak you wish to conquer.
But there's no basecamp, nothing to hold on to. You learn that relatively quickly, during your first weeks under his command.
And he's good. You find yourself wondering how on earth the man's not a captain by now. Perhaps they want to keep him on the field, because he earns his alias every day. He's a shadow no one sees before it's too late, he impregnates his enemies with bullets. Dead silent as he does it, or if he's in the mood, prefers to drive thick, sharp steel between the soft spot behind the collarbone.
It's ridiculous how your eyes steal their way to his left hand as soon as he rids himself of those skeleton gloves. To catch if there's a ring, a warning sign that he's taken.
He's not.
He notices – you're caught red handed. Caught like a fly in a web.
So you decide to go cold on him. Prove that it was just a sweep of a gaze, not a probe, a giveaway.
"Think you're smarter than your lieutenant?"
You're doing it now as he questions you, tries to bully you into submission. You guide your eyes right behind the top of his head, which makes it seem you're looking at him although you're not.
And it drives him crazy.
"Is that it?"
It's the first time you're here, in a silent office booming with his barks. But you know you're under scrutiny from now on. Caught his attention, just like you wanted to with that little stunt of yours.
"No sir."
You coat your voice with steel. Stainless, similar to the knife he has strapped to his thigh. You would lick that blade clean if he asked gently, but he's not gentle.
You'd flatten your tongue on his thighs too, if he asked nicely, if there was a chance he might pet your hair while you do it – but Ghost doesn't take pets. He only has soldiers. Subordinates.
You pull your gaze down to his at last, allow him to see the yawning hunger in your stare before you blink it away.
He draws air through the mask, and you wonder if the skull he's sewn onto the black textile came from a real human.
"Dismissed."
- - - - - - - - -
At some point, you notice that Ghost isn't just a good commander. He's a man on a powertrip, and a fucking bully.
He treats you different, like you’re made of glass. You’re a fresh arrival, but you’re also the only woman on his team, so you figure your Lt is just a good old “gentleman”. You’re always the last to enter a stormed building and the first to get back on the plane. You almost hope there would be some hazing, a rite of passage, but there’s only plentitude of cold shoulder, a roaring lack of trust in your abilities.
You pull more stunts. Clear his upstairs, take some bullets for him - and he doesn't even notice. It’s just that you didn’t know there would be a bomb planted in there as well. The warning comes right after you’re done cleaning.
"Wha' are you doin' - get outta there…!" He does forget to swear, and you notice too late that his accent grows thicker when he's worried. To the marrow of his bones, you would say, but that assumption would be even thicker than his Mancunian – to expect that he cares a single flying fuck about you.
He only wants to stay out of it. Doesn't want blood all over his hands, go to sleep with the knowledge that some kindly relatives get a death notification of a soldier that used to belong to him.
Maybe that's why he's the first to arrive - how the hell is a man so huge capable of being so quick? - to assess the damage.
"What the fuck have I told you-" he starts before he sees the state you're in. Half of your left sleeve blown and burnt off, revealing second-degree burns and jagged skin. The side of your hip bruised by shrapnels, some of the fragments tickling inside the flesh, ugly debris that will soon cause an infection or worse. You'd still say you got out lucky.
"I dunno. What have you told me?"
I did well, didn't I?
You lie there like it's nothing, back against a half crumbled wall and a spoil of bodies around you. Victorious, because your body is the only one that's still breathing. If anyone else had done this, he would praise them on a job well done, on the site, on the spot. With a lighter tone to that charred voice. Then call for a medic.
But inside, you're feeling cold. You disobeyed orders, so there will be no praise for you. Creeping shock takes you with it as the ice seeps further into your chest and your arms start to tremble.
By the look of it, you'd say he's infuriated.
But that doesn't stop you from laughing when you see the look in his eyes, the only part of him that shows skin, shows emotion behind all that gear and ombre of his mask.
Blood bubbles on your lips, coating pearl white teeth in crimson froth.
Shit… Things are far worse than you thought.
And he blinks. Scans what you can't force your own eyes to look at. The reason why you're gurgling blood.
A tiredness spreads through your limbs, so profound that it surpasses even his usual state of exhaustion. You barely discern how beautiful those pale, almost white eyelashes are against all that darkness.
Something inside you breaks, gives in to the cold. It allows his stare to pass right through. It grips your heart and soothes your wounds.
You almost tell him he would be a fine leader if he wasn't such an asshole.
"Haul me back, will you, Lt?"
He's struck silent, like the blood on your lips and the manic laughter had weaved a spell that binds him mute.
His arm twitches, disguises the jolt into a motion to reach and lift you up, not in a fireman's carry, but close to his chest; bridal style, like you're his heart's chosen one.
You tell yourself it's only the shock speaking. He carries you like this because of the gut wound.
- - - - - - - - -
"You tryin' to get yourself killed or you just wanna end your career?"
He sits next to your bed while you wake up, high on opioids and tied to an IV.
Nice to see you too.
He leans on his elbows, legs spread wide, and with an annoyingly soft look inside the sockets of that skull. It almost fools you: that he might actually care. And of course he does. Just not about you. Only about his own reputation as a superior who almost had their KIA count crawl up by one soldier.
"Hey? You still wi' me?"
You know you passed out in his arms. Only to wake up to the sound of his voice: in a bed less staunch than his embrace, as you notice to your horror.
You wonder whether he had ever even left you. Whether he had sat on that chair as a hulking sentinel for hours. Or days. The thought makes you more drowsy and content than the morphine running through your veins. The odd intimacy falsely makes it seem that this is not an interrogation, but a hushed discussion between teammates. Friends, dare say.
"What have I done wrong this time," you sigh, more as a statement; but he answers a question.
"You didn't obey orders."
"I did, I tried to get out as soon as-"
"Don't get me started on how ya ended up there in the first place." He raises his voice, an order for you to stuff your explanations up your arse. Under his breath, he continues. "A fuckin' poor excuse for a soldier..."
Bright, searing light flashes before your eyes as you hear what he never even meant to be a silent whisper for his ears only.
"You're a fucking bully," you croak a weak, dry rasp, voice coated with tension like a string about to snap in two.
And it shuts him up. For a second or two, at least.
"If that's what it takes to get you to obey orders then I'm happy to be one."
"Happy?" You feign a laugh, then wince when you feel a blunt pain between your ribs. "Do you even know what happiness is?"
He leaves.
- - - - - - - - -
"You feelin' better?"
He stops you at the base as you brush past him like he doesn't even exist. He's standing wide and tall as you turn, hands clasped in front of him. Over his cock, you can't help but notice.
Some distant voice tries to tell you that he only tries to offer you a truce. But even the idea of Ghost worrying about your health makes your stomach turn.
"Yeah, had a nice little vacation from your barking. I'm feeling splendid."
He gives you a once over with a gaze turned steel.
"You better quit with that tone, soldier."
"Or what?"
You take a step, and notice he has to fight some urge – to back away, or to take a step forward to meet you, you cannot say. It encourages you to start some shit. It makes you want to throw caution to the wind and rip out his throat.
"You better quit with the fucking bullying 'cause it doesn't work on me. Try something else for a change. Sir."
The hallway echoes with your piercing spurt of words. You sound childish, but he takes it all in like a sponge. Stands taller still, looks down at you like a dark, unwavering maw.
You expect more barking. Furious shouting, spit flying if it wasn't for his mask. You expect a slap – no, a fist to your face, or a giant hand clamped around your throat to remind you of your place.
You expect him to threaten you with being dismissed for fucking good.
But instead, the wide blown eyes get half covered with heavy lids, smudged paint running to the creases to reveal how pale his skin is under all that black. The liquid in his stare turns to solid glass, but not before you catch a flash of chutzpah.
- - - - - - - - -
The following week is horrid.
He treats you like a princess. And not just when you're alone with him – precious few seconds, barely a minute every now and then – but when you're at work. On the field.
He humiliates you in front of your teammates. Showers you with attention and praise.
Tries something else for a change.
You come back soaked and shaky, barge into your room only to send fingers down as soon as you're out of your gear and cleaned up. You think about his hands, the forearms covered in faded ink and bulged veins and the muscles that bunch as he tucks a gun against his shoulder. You think about his stare that locks gazes with you as he leans back against the hull of a plane, you replay his voice in your head, the thick smoke that loses all blaze and cools down into soft embers as he asks if you're in position.
Everyone else can hear his purr, everyone is thinking by now that the two of you got something going on. Everyone else gets unemotional distance and professional sharpness.
You come against your fingertips, so wet that it's difficult to rub through the afterwaves with precision. You're near the point of tearing up as you stifle the moans which threaten to echo all the way to the hallway, betraying your desperate longing for his cock.
You would get in position for him if he was just a tad nicer, if there was any promise of those cruel arms holding you after.
After only a few days of hearing his feigned care and concern through the comms, you march into his office.
"I'm fucking done with you," you slam the door shut so no one else has to hear how you unload weeks of frustration on him.
"Is that so?"
You feel like you're a storm, an entire tornado in one woman, but he remains calm, doesn't even bother to get up from the leisurely position he's in – on a chair far too small for him. Plucks you like a chord, nibs at you like a wound that tries to heal into a scar but is not allowed to.
"You just want me to quit this shit, don't you? Is it because I'm a girl?"
You hear yourself breathe, know he's thinking you're hysterical. He asserts dominance simply by not taking any part in this absurd little fit of yours.
"What the fuck have I ever done to you?"
You think it's a reasonable enough question, that he is a man who would welcome tearing down every last scene of this stupid charade too. But he merely stares at you, calm as he ever can be. Spreads his legs further apart, and you catch a bulge – it's difficult to tell, because he's wearing field pants and not jeans, but you can almost swear the motion is meant to disguise a swelling erection.
And even the concept, the idea of him getting off on you screaming at him and making yourself a fool after he has just humiliated you, causes something to crash and burn.
"You're just a psycho," you accuse, not being able to come up with anything better. His eyes narrow with a smile, tired pools of brown that tell you he thinks the exact same thing of you, especially when you're the one who's freaking out here. Getting wounded and losing your shit during the first few months on the job.
The look could be mistaken as affectionate, but you know he's just tired. The smile makes him look slightly drunk – and not with love.
"Then what does that make you?"
You blink and stare, blink and stare, just like you have always done with him when he's being a dodgy asshole.
"The fuck do you mean?"
"No need to play games with me, luv."
Your chest is heaving. Your heart is pounding. Saliva pools into your mouth before you send it down with a throat-wrenching swallow.
Luv.
You're caught, wrestling and strangling in his web, and you know it – he knows it.
"What games," you still try, try your all to make him break first although you already know that's not going to happen in a million years.
"I know ya want my cock."
"Huh- wha-..." You stutter like a moron at first, then find your English again. "Excuse me?"
"Want it so bad I bet you're wet even now."
It only adds to your shame that it takes you a moment.
"I'm out of here."
He laughs.
He fucking laughs as you go.
The waves of darkness follow you to the door. And the thing is, you're unable to leave. You march away with horror in your chest, with weak legs and an aching cunt and a burning heart, but none of it makes you turn the knob.
"You forgot something?"
His voice is molten, burning velvet, and your stomach lurches, your pussy throbs.
"It's right here if ya want it."
You quiver a sigh, turn slowly, the sound of squeaking boot soles on the vinyl floor being a fitting melody to how your will finally breaks in half.
Everything bends under his searing gaze, and you're still breathing like you had just run a mile, your heart pounding in your ears instead of your chest where it belongs.
"What happens if I do? Want it?"
Your heart can be heard in your question which shimmers between you until he drops one giant hand on his thigh, just a fingerbreadth away from the thick tent between his legs.
"You get fucked. Hard."
You're not smart enough to suppress the faint breath before it escapes through your teeth. The creases at the corner of his eyes deepen, they reach under the mask.
"What if I want you to be gentle?"
You sound pathetic. Weak. He doesn't buy it, doesn't understand that what you're asking is actually part true… No, your most secret wish.
"As if."
"What?"
"As if you wanted it gentle." He mocks you over and over again, and it pricks at the back of your neck, like an itch you cannot reach.
"You don't know shit about me."
"You're making it pretty hard to get to know you, sweetheart."
The term he uses eats its way through your skin like a worm, starts to fester like a spreading plague right beneath your heart.
"I'm not your sweetheart."
He cocks his head, only slightly. A gesture that reminds you of an anaconda trying to decipher whether the animal in front of them is a plaything or prey with teeth.
"Hurts my feelings when ya say that."
You don't take the bait: ridicule or point out that he has no feelings.
You just wait. The time of prancing and dancing is over, and you're tired. Worn out.
The tension of weeks, the restlessness of sleepless nights and adrenaline induced faps do not end with a seize of a wrist, a hungry kiss or him smashing you up against a wall. It all ends with him rising from the chair with a rustle of fabric and a creak of wood, and you hear yourself swallow.
I never meant to hurt your feelings, the little girl in you whispers with a puny voice, the girl who believed in fairytales as a child.
But the grown ass woman knows the man before you is only here to take what he wants, which is nothing more than to drive his cock inside your cunt. There's nothing romantic about it, he just wants to empty himself into you like he would empty a gun into unsuspecting flesh.
Still, you search for some emotion as he walks to you, some cue or clue that he has feelings too – and you want to slap yourself for it.
You square your shoulders and bring yourself down to his level, which means you have to transform yourself into a cock thirsty slut. Not that it requires much of an effort. It comes fluidly, far too easily, especially when he looks at you like he has already stripped you. Like he has done it a hundred, if not thousand times before: took your clothes off with his eyes. Traced the way your ass and breasts swell inside camos and field shirts and how they press against concrete as you take support for your aim or sit down on a plane, how the fabric stretches to curve and hug the flesh he wants to sink his hands and teeth into.
He stops a breath away, the breadth of his shoulders looming over you like a tower. A summit you can't reach.
You remember a name, something not uttered around the base, even if everyone knows it.
"Simon," you breathe, and he staggers – takes a ghost of a step as if answering a call. It turns into switching his weight on the other leg, but technically, he's closer now, close enough to drown into. "Why are you so mean?"
You can hear his teeth clash together as he clenches his jaw. You're walking on a tightrope, and you're faltering, far more wobbly than he. That question is tender meat, it allows him to see a glimpse of the girl, silken soft, innocent and plush, trusting. It causes a glitch, confusion he's not familiar with.
Then he lifts his chin, just a hair's breadth.
"Thought you wanted me to be."
It's almost sentimental, what he says. How he says it. Equally soft… Tentative, inquiring. He's still bone and steel and tendon, but his eyes and voice are not. They're a relic from a distant past, and you stand there, agape.
You dare to hope that there's more to this man, that he isn't here to retaliate. That you're not here to be punished. You risk a flutter of lashes as you scan his face – his bone charade, a prison – up and down, then swallow a decision with a solemn intake of air.
"Where do you want me?"
You're sanguine, almost flirty, but your offer hits nothingness.
There's no additional giveaway to him having any kind of longing, other than the longing to insert himself inside you and take whatever sick pleasure he gets from torturing you. The brief slant was just a fish hook to be sinked into your lungs and carry you to the shore for him to gut and roast. Feast upon.
"Desk."
It's too late to back down now.
Not that you even want to.
You stuff your heart down your throat before it spills up in tears, then slip past him, to the furniture he wants to be your marital bed.
He watches, shoulders rising with heavy breaths as you undress. Shoes and pants end up in the same heap you soon step out of. You enjoy the flash in his eyes at the notion of you wearing strings – something so impractical and uncomfortable yet sultry under all that durable, heavy canvas. A woman emerges from the waves of thick fabric meant for a soldier. Some Aphrodite.
Well, it's something for him to think on after this. Something to torment himself with while on missions if this is to be just a one time only slip.
The bulge in his pants is even more visible now. Demanding, and it adds to the warmth already pooling down below as you set yourself up on that desk, near the edge, for him to feast upon.
You don't spread your legs for him, though. You want to make him work for it. You simply shiver as the cold wood meets your skin, but even more shaky you get when he doesn't have to go through the same ordeal as you. He simply opens the front of his pants and tugs the fabric down, just enough to allow the hefty thickness to spring free.
And it doesn't exactly spring, because it's so immense that you have to do a double take. It simply vaults, bounces up once when seeing you on that desk. You throb at the sight of him, even if he doesn't give you much – he's still fully clothed, with his mask on, only cock jutting out and hands liberated from black gloves with bones printed on them.
His balls hang heavy beneath the veined weight of his cock, and you instantly think about how you're going to fare with at least a week load of cum about to be stuffed inside you. You've had a hand down your pants almost every night for weeks on end, while he has been staring at you with a thickening haze of lust and what seems to be a pair of heavily encumbered nuts.
You don't even notice how your mouth drops open in hungry astonishment.
"Have seen that look before," he brags, and you snap your mouth shut.
Fucking manchild.
He grabs the veined girth like it's his favourite weapon, something he's proud of, and your legs part by themselves for him to step in between. He doesn't have to work for it after all.
"Knew you wanted it," he rubs it in your face like someone who has passed an IQ test with genius scores.
There's nothing ceremonial about the way with which he spreads your lips with the thick tip, slides up and down to coat himself with your wetness, ample amounts of it. It only takes a probe or two for him to find the right angle, and you help him instinctually, offering yourself to him as he slips inside.
The hungry clench grips him immediately, making it a long, arduous journey for the both of you as he has to practically force himself in. But it's worth every thick inch, and your head tilts back with a moan.
"Yeah… Sing f' me, just like that," he cheers you on, and you feel a trickle of hot, wet cream run down your ass. Your slickness is probably running down his shaft by now, too. He adjusts his stance, comes closer, so close that you feel like you are sheltered by his upper body, the shoulders that form a warm cave around you.
And your body betrays you. His praise makes you tight around him, and he groans. You bite your lip at the sound while he takes his time with a few exploring thrusts, then settles fully inside, like you're his new home.
"Nice 'n' snug, just like I thought," he turns toward your ear, the edge of the jarred skull brushing your cheek and making you flinch. He sounds appreciative, relieved, like you're his little treat after a hard day. He's been thinking about you, imagining how tight you'd be for him…
"Didn't take long for you to spread your legs for me."
And he has to be an asshole about it. Has to tear you down a bit for every inch of vulnerability. Your teeth sink in the inside of your lip from the sheer heartache, a little too hard.
"Didn't take long for you to offer your cock to me," you cut back, tasting blood on your tongue. He chuckles.
"An offer you couldn't refuse," he muses, satisfied with himself.
His hand comes to cradle your shoulder, then slides down your back. It feels… feels like a caress. A fond, loving touch. Paired with the thickness spreading you open for him, it also feels like hell.
You grab hold of him, fingers curling around the slippery fabric of his jacket. He allows you no skin, and you try to hold on to the sleek shield you can't get past.
"No," you admit with a panted sigh as he slowly glides in and out of you. "Is this how you break in all your new recruits?"
He doesn't offer a witty comeback, but the silence is stretched further by the fact that he stops moving.
"’S not about breakin' in," he finally answers, resumes to thrust slowly. Agonizingly slow, like he wants to commit this moment deep into memory. Not a quick rut then, as you had expected, hoped, even. But the feeling of thick heat, the brush of his pelvis on your clit, has you clinging to him like he's your knight in shining armor.
And he's gentle with you.
Gentle.
It makes you want to kiss him, lift that mask just enough to have a taste of his neck, see his mouth just before it opens to devour yours.
"You didn't- ah- answer the question." Your shaky breaths must be music to his ears, but you decide that's all he's going to get. He knows now that you're jealous of his attention and his cock.
"Not here to answer your questions," he says, but you hear a lacing on top of it: amusement. "Just wanna hear your pretty cries."
Even if he's far more tender than you had expected, his cock soon pounds into you seamlessly. Fat, urgent. You stretch around him, hear the slickness and an occasional squelch guide him through the thrusts with ease. A lewd fucking that has his shoulders shaking as he reaches for a better hold of you, almost enough to call it a hug. His tightening balls hit against the hard edge of the desk instead of your flesh, but he doesn't seem to care at all.
"C'mon… Let's hear 'em," he coaxes, begs, almost, but you don't sing on command. Much less cry for a man who's tormented you for weeks on end.
"I'm not giving you anything," you utter while giving him loads of hungry cunt and tugging of clothes. If he was naked, he would have scratches all over his back by now.
"You drive me fuckin' insane. 'N' that's sayin' somethin'..." His hiss of an outburst causes you to recoil from him, or perhaps it’s the cause of his hands which thieve their way under the hem of your shirt. But he doesn't probe or squeeze. The touch is far from carnal, even if the palm hovers warm near your breasts. It settles against your ribs, a featherlight caress across the healed wound you suffered not too long ago because of him.
Tears burn at the corners of your eyes.
Fuck… You might open your legs for him, take gunshots for him, but you're not going to cry for him.
"Good, then we're both crazy," you whisper while trying not to choke on a flood. He hums – it's a rumble that rises from his chest and ends in his smoke-burned throat. And for every bit of weakness, he allows you a peek of his own fragility. It's a transaction, you assume, only used to trap you further into the abyss.
"You've dreamed of this, then?" The shadows sigh into your ear, ravenous.
"Mh," you nearly sob. You tell yourself it's just a noise that happens to erupt, not a confession. But he's the jury and the judge, decides your whimper is a full-scale avowal.
"Mmh…" he mocks with a satisfied rumble in your ear, overjoyed with the bare minimum of a moan you just gave him.
For a moment you fear you're dealing with a starving narcissist. He's praise-starved, love deprived, but good at what he does, and you feel yourself clench around him again. It's an increasing grip this time, not a throb or a suck. The first sign of an approaching orgasm, and it drives him over the brink far too soon.
"Fuck– I'm close," he pants, slightly alarmed. "What about you luv?"
"Not yet," you lie, and he believes you because it dips right inside his deepest fear, like a finger poking an open wound.
"My cock's not good enough for you?"
He discloses something precious: women are usually writhing in his arms by now, but you're not screaming, you're not crying and coming. You're not coming at all, because he's too greedy, too lost in the solace of you.
It's kind of sad, how fiercely you've masturbated at the thoughts of him, only to get the real thing and have it end too soon. You want to surrender and lean back on the cold desk, show him how good you can be as you wrap up around him and make lots and lots of noise just for him, only for him…
But your fingers find an opening, they steal their way under the mask and trace his blood heated neck, and you know he's not going to last – and you have to tear him down while he's at his weakest.
"It's good enough..." you give him the truth and a Judas kiss, knowing he will gobble it up like cake. Slowing down isn't going to do shit, the man is a split second away from heaven, and you tell him what's the matter with a whisper.
"...but you're not."
He comes right then and there with a throaty moan, the most agonized wail you've ever heard leave him. His back arches as he tries to bury himself deep, sweat breaks upon your fingertips from the shame and fury – caused by your words or the fact that he came before giving you your peak, you can't tell.
You feel him throb inside you, like a pulse of a powerful heartbeat before his shoulders cave in, rendering him fragile. A crumbling colossus, too heavy to bear his own weight.
He allows himself only a breath or two. They break upon your skin, somewhere between neck and shoulder, the humidity of his torment nestling in the valley behind the collarbone where he usually shoves knives in. Then he withdraws like a wounded soldier, leaves you emptier than you were before you even knew him, leaves only a fat trickle of combined cream and cum behind. It begins a steady trail down your perineum, ends up on the desk, like a proof that this is all you two are good for.
You're on display, your destroyed and hungry cunt winking against cold air, mourning the loss of his thickness. Your skin aches for the callus of his palms, the touch of them far more reverent than you had ever imagined.
He tucks himself inside his pants without sparing a single glance your way. An injured animal that needs to seek shelter to lick his wounds.
You feel terrible pity, a sinking fear and a blast of guilt upon noticing you might've been wrong. You want to apologize, not as a heartbroken, scorned woman – but as a girl who only wanted everyone to be happy.
"Simon…"
He zips his pants – an audible hint meant to tell you that he got what he wanted, and nothing more. It's like witnessing a giant's limp, and you want to fall on your knees and beg forgiveness.
The voice that follows cuts deeper than the bullets you took for him.
"Dismissed."
#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley x reader#ghost x you#ghost x female reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x female reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
completely inspired by a gif set u reblogged. Javi helping you into a bullet proof/tactical vest. you’re scared and he just says a gentle “arms up” as he secures the velcro. he’s scared as well, doesn’t wanna lose you, doesn’t want you to get hurt. but it’s like the fear, the adrenaline, has your emotions haywire and you look into his eyes as he takes hold of your hand so gently and tells you that you’re gonna be okay, and you just want to kiss him, and he wants to kiss you too, but then it’s time to go, and he tells you “later”
IDK WHAT THIS IS LMFAO Javi brings the slut outta me
you’ve inspired me anon here is a TINY FIC/DRABBLE YEEEEEEEE
pairing: javier peña x fem!afab!reader
warnings: fem!afab!reader; use of pet name ‘sweetheart’; canon-typical allusions to violence; language; ANGSTY POO
omg I can’t believe there’s no smut. GUYS I WROTE SOMETHING WITHOUT SMUT. I loooove writing my javi tho so while im busting my ass working on Salvatore part 3 feel so free to leave me lil thingies like this.
-em<3
—
“Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but—”
It was never supposed to be like this.
It was just a summer job — something safe, boring, admin and agendas and addendums. Should’ve known better, taking a government job in the world’s most dangerous city.
She should’ve known better, taking a government job in the world’s most dangerous city. Shit. My chest feels like it’s on fire, burnin’ through kerosene.
Is she gonna clock how unsteady I am?
Javi’s footsteps echo down the nearby hallway; you recognize them immediately, and their slanted, hard-right-drag-left rhythm. He comes lumbering through the door, cradling tactical gear between his big, bulging biceps. God, you’d had… thoughts about those biceps.
Even now, with the embassy under cartel-siege, it’s oh-so-hard to push away the x-rated daydreams swirling inside your stress-addled mind.
And he doesn’t look scared.
Fuck, she looks so scared.
“Here,” he says, extending the protective vest towards you. Gingerly peeling your hips off of the desk at your back, you extend your fingers to greet and grab at the rough, thick canvas. The sheer weight of it makes your heart lurch into your throat. Neither one of you lowers your hands.
The dark-green-death-sweater you’d seen him wear so many times, cursing yourself for registering, for caring about what it meant.
That it meant Peña — schmoozing, cocky, effortlessly crude Javier Peña — was going into the field.
So neither of you let go.
The stupid vest had always served as a kind of divining rod, leading you both to the real source of your constant bickering, your irritation and the look of mutual, unabashed worry you had shared as a soldier came bursting into the office, panting in tune with the sirens, carrying news of the currently unfolding attack.
Caring without meaning to.
Giving a shit without wanting to.
“I-“ you swallow, trailing off, cursing the swelling bubble forming at neck-breaking speed inside your throat, “I don’t know what to do with this.”
Of course she doesn’t. That one’s on me. ‘Thing like her should never have to wear one of these.
Shouldn’t even have to see one of these.
“S’okay,” he mutters, taking the burden of the gear into his hands, brow furrowing into a look of delicate responsibility. “Turn around.”
Under different circumstances, those words might’ve (embarrassingly enough) enticed a very different feeling from you.
Now, they were simply effective.
Acceding, you rotate, painfully slowly as every hair along your spine lifts, one after the other. Peña shuffles, adjusting both himself and the gear to stand close — too close — behind you.
“Arms up, sweetheart.”
You listen, dragging your arms up into the static air, trying to ignore the soft edge in his voice. It reminds you of something.
Something like resistance.
Stifled want.
Desire with a sock shoved down its bone-dry throat.
And it’s so level, so calm. How is he so calm?
Can she tell I’m totally freaking out?
Your shoulders sag under the weight of the vest. Jesus. It’s so much heavier than you’d imagined. Not quite as heavy as the feeling of doom settling over you, grief from the naive sense of safety you’d walked into work with.
Just this morning.
Javi busies himself with the Velcro, uncharacteristically silent. His knuckles brush the insides of your wrists, and you try to resist it — God, you really do — but all efforts to keep those prickling tears at bay are undertaken in vain.
You quiver slightly, face burning in shame.
Is she shaking?
Gentle, unusually gentle when his fingers wrap around your upper arm, spinning you around to face him once more.
“Look at me.”
You do. His shadowed eyes swim, dance, rage with experience, and you’re left envious, wishing that you’d hardened yourself to the world in the same way. How many times had this man woken up, driven to work, drunk his morning coffee and smoked his morning smoke, accepting that it could be his last?
Knowing Peña, he probably found ways not to think about it.
For sure, he didn’t think about it.
But you did.
Every time that vest came out.
“Everything’s gonna be fine, alright?”
It’s an almost whisper, a mere brush of air against your brow. His own creases in earnestness as he utters the pledge.
“How can you do this for a living?”
You don’t mean for it to come out so rough and jagged, hissing for help like a neglected kettle on the stove. Javi offers you a smile of understanding as though remembering his own first time.
Then, before either of you can stop it, he places the flat of his palm to your cheek.
And you can’t keep from noticing how easily the calloused pad of his thumb molds to your complying skin.
“You get used to it,” he returns, and every word is coated, soaked in the sad, tragic truth. “Though this part’s always hard.”
Nothing exists beyond the smell of tobacco on his breath and the total absorption in his eyes. You’re sure the latter is mirrored in your own, too.
Timid, uneasy, begging him to ease the discomfort for you. “What part is this?”
The part where I lie to you. The part where I bubble-wrap the only thing in this country worth protecting into a shitty, almost useless accessory of war.
The part where I remember—
Is it the part where we remember how easily we could lose each other?
And we don’t even have each other, for God’s sake. Lookin’ up at me as if she can trust me, and the only thing I’ve been able to trust for years is that the moment will come, that moment where it all just gets to be too much and fuck—is this it? Maybe—
This is the part where we—
Kiss her, God, I just wanna fuckin’ kiss her—
Kiss?
“Peña! Time to move!”
Murphy’s voice slices — easily — through the tentative moment of uncertainty. It erodes the softness of Javi’s features into that familiar, hardened stone.
His hand drops from your face, but the tracings linger.
If you couldn’t trust the world outside, maybe you could trust Javi inside. Maybe he’d learned to live without something to lean on, but you weren’t yet prepared to go on—
She doesn’t know how much I fuckin’ need her. Or how many times I’ve tried to say it—and in so many ways—but every time I open my goddamn mouth it just comes out… wrong. Like it’s not enough. Like it’s not true that I can finally fuckin’ breathe when she’s… just… existing around me. Like losing her wouldn’t mean goin’ on—
Faithlessly. Radically accepting the confusing, overwhelming uncertainty of the world.
He clears his throat.
“I’ll see you after.”
Your gaze tumbles down, averting the twinge of dishonesty in his own at his promise.
“Yeah—yeah, see you after.”
He backs away without turning. For a moment, you think he’s gearing up to say something. Something like he always says, like, don’t be a fuckin’ idiot, or use your head or maybe even a smile, sweetheart.
But he doesn’t. He just shakes his head, his dark hair tumbling around and exaggerating his hesitation. Although it hurts, you force yourself to watch as he walks away. How he bows his crown, brings a hand up to anxiously rub at the side of his jaw, the roundness of his shoulder responding and near-bulging under the blue cotton.
Admittedly, a kiss from Javier Peña would’ve been nice.
But to be cradled between those arms, wrapped up in him instead of the goddamn tactical gear squeezing, robbing the air from your lungs…
That would’ve been it.
When this is all over, you think to yourself.
And as Javi greets Steve, apologizing for the delay, the hand squeezing his gun feels strangely empty, haunted by the novelty of touching your burning skin.
When this is all over, he thinks to himself.
Anyways, isn’t that what faith is? Making plans for later, as if anyone’s ‘later’ is promised, a guarantee? As if either of you could count on tomorrow?
Yeah, that’s gotta be it.
Joining the gaggle of scared, hopeless government employees, desperate for reassurance, for the realization blooming inside the depths of your knowing; you pause, letting it hit you, translating it into words…
“—I have it.”
—
#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña x female reader#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier peña x y/n#javier peña angst#javier pena narcos#javier peña fic#javier pena x y/n#javier pena#narcos#narcos fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you
535 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! Could you please do a one-shot where Crosshairs and his gn! human crush get seperated mid battle. He tries to find them and when he does? They're covered in energon. He thinks they're actively bleeding out so he, in a panic, confesses his love for them, thinking they don't have much time left
And then Y/N reminds him that humans, in fact, do not bleed energon, and that they're fine and love him too
I was wanting to do this prompt before it was requested!! I love this!
Sorry it took so long babes!
Crosshairs x gn!crush!reader
Mostly fluff.. slight tweaking of the prompt cause I'm working through my writers block
“Shit,” Crosshairs said as he was shot in the shoulder. This mission has gone completely sideways and Crosshairs is uncomfortable with the fact that he doesn’t have you in his field of vision. You guys never separate and this was just as uncomfortable for you as it is for him. Hound was trying to call out to him to see if he was ok as he took down the last con in their area. “Yeah, yeah. Just a scratch. You got eyes on (Y/N)?” Crosshairs grumbled out. “No. I think short-stuff is with Bee. We should head out, this area is cleared,” Hound said as he and Crosshairs transformed into their vehicles and raced out following the sound of gunfire in the distance.
You were with Cade and Bee at least and that put you in slight ease as you weren’t alone. You and Cade were running for cover when massive bullets were raining down on you both. Bee was covering you guys waiting for some kind of backup.
“(Y/N), I’m going to grab one of those big guns, we have to help Bee!” Cade yelled. The gunfire was so loud and you can feel a tightness in your chest. Usually you don’t have this problem when it comes to the fights, but you were getting scared not seeing Crosshairs. Cade noticed your erratic breathing and immediately knew what was wrong. He put his hands on the sides of your face and made you look at him. “Hey, hey, hey. I know you’re scared right now and you and I both know Crosshairs is fine. This ain’t his first rodeo and this ain’t your first rodeo, right?!” you nodded your head trying to work on your breathing, “We’ll see ‘im again, we just need to clear the area, ‘K?” You nodded again and felt yourself easing up as Cade told you his plan to get one of the guns from one of the dead cons nearby. Cade ran off from your safe place and went towards the con.
Bee was knocked off his feet and he landed close to where you were hiding and landing on top of the dead con that was next to you. Some energon from the dead con had splattered onto you when Bee got up and ripped one of the arms off and hit the con that knocked him down. “Eat shit, dick-head!” Bee yelled out. This, however, knocked the con on the ground next to you. The con turned its head and saw you wide-eyed. You yelped at the hand coming to grab you and you couldn’t help but watch it reach out when all of a sudden Cade got his hands on the gun and started shooting at the cons hand, effectively stopping it from grabbing you, but also effectively covering you in more energon.
The con roared in pain and was about to get up it was shot down and Crosshairs came running up to you. Hound was helping Bee finish the last two cons when you were snatched up by Crosshairs. He saw all the energon on you and immediately started panicking inside, but he knew he had to be strong for you and get you somewhere safe and fast. “Oh, darlin’. Yer bleedin’. I gotta get you outta here,” he quickly rambled off as he transformed into the stingray with you buckled in the driver’s seat and he drove up to Cade, “Cade! Get in!! We gotta get (Y/N) medical care now!” Cade heard ‘(Y/N)’ and ‘medical care’ and rushed into Crosshairs. “(Y/N), (N/N)!! You ok? Where are ya hurt-” Cade started rambling but was cut off by Crosshairs. “Darlin’, I need you to stay awake for me, ok? I ain’t lettin’ you die on me like this on my watch.” Cade is still frantically raking his eyes over you looking for any injuries and not seeing anything. He’s confused now, but at this point you’re getting lightheaded from the fumes of the energon so he thought maybe you had a headache. “Hey, Crosshairs-” Crosshairs interrupted Cade as he pulled up to a hospital, “Get them inside now! They’ve probably lost too much blood!” Cade just shrugs as he walks you inside thinking there’s something wrong, just not something as serious as bleeding out.
Hours pass by and you finally come out with Cade with just a boot on from rolling your ankle earlier when you recoiled from the con that came for you. Crosshairs was shocked to see you up and at it without looking like death itself. Crosshairs was still in his stingray when he pulled up to you and made sure you were in his driver seat safely. He drove off, but was soon pulling over and opened Cade’s door, “Right then, off you pop, Cade.” “What? Why are you kicking me out the car like I’m not a friend.” “I need a moment with Y/N and I ain’t doin’ it with you in the car.” Cade heaved a dramatic sigh and got out, but before he could slam the door closed, Crosshairs sped off with you confused. “Crosshairs, what's wrong?” “Alright, darling. I need you to listen and listen well.” You were still confused as to his tone being so serious. “Baby, I thought… I thought that I lost ya. Before I got to tell ya just how much I love ya,” you take a deep breath, “There was just so much blood on ya and all I could think about was getting you to a doctor.” “Blood?” “Yeah, the bright green blood on ya? You nearly passed out from losing so much.” At this point, you had to laugh. Crosshairs was shocked at you laughing at him so he found a safe place to pull over and transform. He scooted to sit on the ground and had you wrapped in his hands. He looked at you with worry in his eyes, “Darling, I’m serious. I thought I was about to lose you,” he nearly whispered. You reached your arms out towards him and he brought you closer to his face. You placed your hands on either side of his face and looking him deep in his eyes, “My love, the green stuff that was on me was not my blood. Humans don’t have bright green blood. It’s red and the reason I almost passed out was because of the fumes of the con blood that was on me.” Crosshairs let out a small breath that he didn’t know he was holding. He finally relaxed a bit and closed his eyes, leaning his head forward a bit. You leaned in and put your forehead against his. You couldn’t help the small giggle that came out, “Thanks for worrying for me big guy. I love you so much and I’m sorry I scared you.” Crosshairs just basked in the warmth of your tiny hands on his face and your head leaning against his. He opened his eyes softly after feeling you placing small kisses on his face and chuckled at the feeling. “You mean everything to me in this god forsaken universe, baby. I’d even go as far and say you’re my sparkmate, love.” You smiled, “Sparkmate, huh? I like the sound of that.” Crosshairs let out a little chuckle and gave a kiss to the entire right side of your face. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to my baby now that I finally have you,” Crosshairs said, “Let’s go home.”
424 notes
·
View notes
Text
Interrogated by a beast
(konigxfem!reader)
TW: non-con, violence, imprisonment
〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰
Description - You wake up to find yourself alone in an interrogation room with Konig
〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰
You where hiding along the side of a burned out gray building, the remnants of the tall building casted a long shadow on you. In the distance you could hear the deafening sound of gun fire.
*boom!*
The ground shook as another bomb exploded near by.
“Fuck..” you whispered to yourself softly.
You arm yourself with your weapon and peer around the corner of the old building, sunlight flooding your eyes. As your vision started to adjust to the light and the sight before you started to unfold you felt a sharp *whack!* To the back of your head. Everything went dark.
Hours went by before you started to awaken. Softly groaning you start to open your eyes. You wince as you can feel the pounding of your head, it grows as your consciousness returns.
“Good morning der schatz” a raspy voice echoed against the walls
Your eyes dart the room scanning for the figure who broke the silence. You finally land on a towering man leaning against a cold steel table, his arms are crossed, face covered.
You weren’t sure what to make of the situation you found yourself in, what did he want? How did such a big man sneak up on you? The questions where endless. You try to move but you’re restricted.
The man signed “you can try all you want little taube, but I don’t think you’re going to get very far.”
You look down at your situation, all your protective gear was gone. You’re left in nothing but your black cargo pants and long sleeve shirt. You look back up at the man.
“Okay. Okay. You caught me…but I’m afraid you’re not going to get anything out of me.” You’re voice was calm, but this seemed to only rile him up. His eyes traveled your body from head to toe, they where ice cold and they where cutting through you like daggers. He stood up from his slouched position on the table and walked over to you. You’re eyes never left his, cold and dark he inches towards you. As he approached you he placed a finger on your shoulder, sliding it along your sitting frame and he circled you. Remaining silent the entire time.
A shiver ran down your spine as he came back into view. He was but a mere few inches from you, his large figure dwarfing yours. You peek up at him through your eyelashes.
“Like I said” you uttered out with a quivering smirk “you’re not getting a single thing outta m-.”
*SMACK*
With no hesitation the middle of his palm collided with your right cheek. Your head twisted to the side from the force.
“Agh….f-fucker.” You stammer out.
He gazed down at you while stroking your cheek with his thumb. Realization began to set in as you peer up at him. You’re fucked.
“Now look…” his voice was calm but firm. “I need to know where your camp is. That’s all.” He smirked and ran his hand under my chin forcing you to keep your gaze locked with his.
“Your base has already been compromised. We both know that, and considering you guys where out there in the field…well I’d have to assume a few of you Kakerlake got away.” He let’s go of your chin and steps off to the left of you.
You remain silent, not a single sound escapes your lips. You watch him walk around you until he’s out of sight, suddenly you feel his hands on both of your shoulders. Your breath hitches and you close your eyes bracing for another hard smack to your face, or worse a gun to your head. He squeezes your shoulders firmly and leans down next to your ear.
“You know…” he trails off, his left hand begins to trail down your body. “None of us here have seen a pretty face like yours in some time…” you can feel his breath against your ear and it sends electric shocks all throughout your body.
You whimper and turn your head away from him. Sure you haven’t been touched in months, but what he’s implying is just nonsense. One of his big hands begins to travel back down your body stopping at your breast. He begins to massage your breast while softly leaving a trail of kisses on your neck. How could he be so gentle and rough at the same time? Your body begins to heat up as his hand travels down to your thighs.
“S-stop” you manage to stammer out, but a part of you didn’t want him to stop. A part of you knew that you wanted him to continue using your body as he pleased.
〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰
#konig x reader#konig x you#konig smut#konig cod#fanfic#y’all idk if this is any good or not I’m just figuring this out but me tried
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
Be around me - Baseball!Wilbur
summary: just a hopeless romantic doing everything he can so you’ll be near him <3
warnings: swearing, lil bit of angsttt, fluff at the end <3
tags: @ax-y10 , @joviepog , @pheliiaa , @idontreallyexistyet , @rqvii , @vibestillaxxx , @lillylvjy , @ivvees-blog , @average-vibe , @haunted-headset , @toastyliltoasts41 (ask to be added!)
word count: 871
“Hey!” Wilbur suddenly appeared beside you, a wide smile on his lips as he looked down at you. “Hey..” You responded quietly, a slight look of annoyance on your face. “How was your day?” He was desperate to get a response from you for once, biting his bottom lip to try and hide the way his smile would widen when you looked at him. Sadly you walked away, not even bothering to respond.
He let out a soft sigh, turning on his heel as he made his way towards his class, at least he would see you at that night's practice.
“Hi.” He spoke up from behind you, an arm planted on the brick wall of the dugout as he peered down towards you. “Hi.” You glanced up at him, tucking your tongue behind your lip. “How was your night?” He raised a brow, a smirk toying at his lips. “I watched a bunch of sweaty guys run around for a ball.” You sighed and walked away, leaving him to stand all alone.
He nodded out of pure defeat and quickly walked over to his friend who watched the whole thing, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Did I fuck it up again? Are we destined to be friends? I wanna give them more than that!” He groaned as he stared at the ground, feeling embarrassed in the moment.
The next day he had slipped a letter into your bag, to which you found during lunch, curious as to who had put it in there. “You’re a smokey tenny-ten!” Is what the letter has read, and you almost immediately knew who put it there. Your gaze soon found his, seeing him wave and smile made you roll your eyes and look away.
As you left the cafeteria, you could hear his frantic footsteps behind you, an arm snaking around your shoulders. “Hey.” He smiled at you, a soft gaze meeting yours. “How was your day? Mine was fine, but I think about you all the time..” He lowered his voice and got closer to your ear, laughing softly to himself. “Mine was going great until you showed up.” You pushed his arm off you, quickly walking off to your class.
“Give it up, Wil. They don’t like you.” His friend Chris came up beside him, patting his shoulder with a frown. “They’ve gotta give me a chance eventually..”
As always, you heard his footsteps and saw his shadow above you after practice. “Hi..” His voice was a lot softer, waiting for you to look up at him before he continued. “How was your night? Mine was wack, but I thought about you and felt alright.” He attempted to be flirty, only to get a groan from you.
“When will you give up?” You sighed and continued to back up your dad’s bag. “When you go on a date with me.” He smiled towards you, offering a hand to see if you’d take it. “Fine. One date, and then you’ll leave me alone.” You raised a brow at him with a stern expression, watching his smile grow as he frantically nodded.
“Deal! I’ll see you later, we can plan tomorrow during lunch.” He sounded so excited, running off to Chris with a proud smile, earning a high five. You couldn’t help but slightly smile at his antics.
“Hey.” You looked over to your right, seeing him slide into the spot next to you at the table. “Hey.” You lightly spoke back, watching as he rested an elbow on the table, using his hand to hold his chin. “How was your day? Mine was fine, but I think about you all the time. Can’t you outta my mind.” He spoke proudly and nonchalantly, earning a chuckle from you as you looked away. “Is that what you’ve been trying to say for weeks now?” You raised a brow at him, earning a wide smile. “How’d you know?”
During your lunch the two of you planned out where you’d be having the date, settling on a local park near the baseball and softball fields. And of course, Wilbur was restless to see you there.
“Hi.” His voice startled you as he approached, a small flower in his hand as he sat down next to you. “Hi..” You smiled as he sat, watching as he handed the flower to you. “You do realize what today is, right?” He chuckled softly, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “Yes, Wil. It’s Valentine’s Day.” You smiled lightly at him, twirling the flower between your fingers.
You two had started talking about the most random stuff, eventually his arm found its way around your shoulders, and you couldn’t help but smile.
“So, baby, when do you need to get home?” He didn’t fully register what he had called you, not until he saw your face. “Did you call me baby?” Your voice was slightly confused and flustered, watching as he smiled awkwardly. “Maybe.. is that okay?” He looked down at his shoes, pursing his lips. “Yeah, it’s cool.. I liked it.”
The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, a smile on your lips, and one soon forming on his before he spoke again.
“Cool.”
#phxntomsdusk#phxntoms fics#wilbur soot#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot fluff#baseball!wilbur#wilbur soot angst
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
Realized I've been playing CN all the time, that I didn't get to listen to the EN VO for Tender Moments. Decided to give it a whirl.
So, erm... Kind Words Tender Moments spoilers ahead?
and, like with Xavier's "woot!"... His... chirp... caught me so off-guard, like it came outta left field.
Yes I know, the EN subs are like RIGHT THERE. And I do know how to read D: but it never registered in my brain that he'd actually say it... again (once bitten and twice shy, as they say...)
Edit, forgot to add: his CN VO had ZERO chirping btw 😂 only the EN VO did... Now I need to check the JP and KR ones too... For any more chirps. For research, yes.
The EN VO is a gold mine fr 🤣 I need to go back and listen to everything in EN just to hear all the differences
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Buggy x Reader Fic Part 3
Part 1 Part 2
--------------------------------------
A month had passed, and Crocodile and Mihawk kept true to their word. Outside of insults and cold remarks, they left their "leader" unscathed.
And it was driving Buggy absolutely bonkers.
He was so certain that they were planning something, that they were plotting his assassination.
It admittedly wasn't outside the realm of possibility, but you found it unlikely. While they were certainly more powerful, Buggy had more clout, and his followers were in the hundreds if not thousands. Killing him now would only result in a riot that would no doubt set whatever plans they had back considerably.
This combined with your leverage over the two made you certain that your paranoid boyfriend had nothing to fear.
Buggy was, unfortunately, not convinced.
Currently, he was pacing up and down your shared tent. His feet were disconnected from his body and they frantically shuffled after him as he floated in mid-air.
"I'm dead! I'm done for! They're planning something I just know it!"
"Buggy."
"Did you see the way that guy was looking at me?! He's working for them, I know he is! They somehow got one of my crew to spy on me!"
"Buggy."
"Gasp! What if they're spying on us right now?! They could've planted bugs all over this tent! Quick, help me look!"
"Red nose."
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SA-"
You grabbed Buggy by the nose and pulled him towards you, so he was looking you in the eye.
"You finished?"
"Uh-huh." came his nasally reply.
You let go of his nose and cupped his cheeks. "Buggy. Mihawk and Crocodile aren't trying to kill you."
"But how do you know that?!"
You smirked. "Trust me. They wouldn't dare. Not if they know what's good for them."
Buggy blinked in confusion.
You placed your hands on your hips. "Let's just say that those two underestimated just how loyal one your followers could be, and they were given an offer they couldn't refuse."
"R-really?"
"Really."
Buggy stared for a couple of minutes, then burst out into laughter.
"Gyahahahahaha! Serves you right, ya bastards! That's what you get for messing with the great and powerful Buggy-sama!"
He suddenly stopped, his eyes darting back and forth. "But uh, don't tell them I said that, ok?"
"Mum's the word, dear heart."
Buggy let out a great sigh, then plopped on the bed next to you. "Ya know, I really owe that guy a huge one. I outta pay'im back somehow. A feast? A bigger cut of treasure? Whatta you think?"
Your smirk turned into a sly grin. "Oh, I can think of one thing they'd appreciate."
"Yeah? What iMMMPH!"
Buggy's question was smothered by the sudden kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and you both fell backwards onto the bed.
And so, Cross Guild was flourishing.
Mihawk and Crocodile still ran things for the most part, but publicly, they kowtowed to Buggy. Well, as much as their pride would allow at any rate.
Buggy, for his part, was content to let them do as they pleased so long as they kept up appearances and didn't try to hurt him. Which you thought was wise - provoking them unnecessarily might cause them to throw caution to the wind and lash out.
Interestingly, Buggy's crew had begun sucking up to him again. They obviously saw a shift in dynamics between the three company heads and were trying to get back in his good graces.
You knew deep down that Buggy would forgive them...after he watched them squirm for a little bit first.
You, on the other hand, made it abundantly clear that they were all on very thin ice, Galdino especially. You told him, in no uncertain terms, that if he ever pulled a stunt like that again, he would be serving Crocodile, all right...as lunchmeat for his bananawani.
Overall, though, things were going well. Buggy had decided to pull you out of the field and keep you close to base. You suspected it was to keep Mihawk and Crocodile in line, though he claimed otherwise.
You didn't mind; this just meant you had more time to spend with your boyfriend. It had been a while since your last date, and you were looking forward to it.
You would occasionally cross paths with Buggy's "partners". They would glare at you with deadly intent, and you would sweetly smile back, knowing that you had their balls in a vice and there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it.
Honestly, they had no one to blame but themselves. After all, it was only natural for a pirate to try and protect their most precious treasure.
The end.
#hattafan2593#one piece#buggy the clown#sir crocodile#dracule mihawk#cross guild#reader insert#gender neutral reader#buggy x reader#buggy pirates#spoilers for chapter 1058#second person pov
86 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mid-year recalibration
It's been a year since Festa Dinner 2022. A LOT HAS HAPPENED SINCE THEN.
And on January 1, 2023, I posted my "predictions" for the year. "Predictions" in quotes because most everything I write is sort of slightly unserious, not to be taken TOO seriously, begs for you to please use your common sense... also I haz a little sarcasm dripping here and there when I express my thoughts. Drip, drip.
So let's see the status of my "predictions":
Solo albums... wellll, I sort of got that right, Jimin's FACE was released before Yoongi's D-Day. We're still waiting for Tae and Jungkook. RM keeps putting off enlistment to work on new music. I'm gonna have to drag him by the ear to training camp... get yer ass in there so you can come back sooner than later!! But we did get to see him for Festa and I'm thankful for that.
New prediction: Jungkook comes through with a chart topper that doesn't involve a collab.
Speaking of Tae, I said he'd do more acting before music and though it's not really acting, he's been in a few reality TV shows: "In the Soop: Friendcation" and "Jinny's Kitchen." There are rumors he was spotted on the set of a K-drama and now possibly he was in Spain for a movie...or was that for an upcoming solo MV? Surely he'll have at least a little bit of music before he enlists? Honestly, I wouldn't mind seeing him actually acting in a drama... we wait.
New prediction: Piano bar listening party for his solo release.
Military enlistment... wow so far I've struck out. Joon is still hanging around. Yoongi has extended his world tour (which I'm happy to say I've been to a concert). And HOBI IS ALREADY ENLISTED....
😭
So 3 strikes I'm out because obviously their enlistment timing is unpredictable. Right now I'm just hoping that by May 2024 (yes almost a year from now) they'll all be in so we can have a New Year group reunion on Dec. 31, 2025. Of course, I hope they go much sooner though it kills me to know we have to watch them enlist again and again.
My other predictions were hit and miss:
Yoongi did cut his hair so I was wrong about that. Also sad. I loved his long hair. And this NBA ambassadorship came outta left field. The D-Day world tour was the bomb he dropped on us, his big project. Oh well, guess there won't be any tangerine soju coming from his non-existent citrus orchards. Ha!
Hobi DID release more music, On the Street, and it WAS a collab with J. Cole. AND he became fashion ambassador for his fave: Louis Vuitton. God I miss him so much. Instagram is so quiet without him. Everything is so quiet without him.
We finally got PJM1 and it has a name now, FACE and Like Crazy has broken records. Jimin as an artist has broken records as we knew he would and he is still making music. And he's travelling the world being a Dior and Tiffany ambassador and snatching everyone's wig, eating everyone alive and just being Jimin. His constant happy smile has been the most meaningful thing to me this year. I'm so thrilled he is happy.
Jungkook... the Bunkoo has stumped me. The Calvin Klein contract is amazing. His spontaneous lives have been wonderful. Cooking for us has been awesome. None of that could have been predicted. He's the sweetest king of spoilers and support for Jimin's stuff. I also did not predict I would love him even more this year. But here we are.
NOT ON THE PREDICTION RADAR WHATSOEVER:
Jimin on a Fast & Furious franchise soundtrack collab. I NEED MORE JIMIN!
Tae and Jennie "soft" revealing their relationship publicly. Like WHAT? But they did that.
Also blonde Tae... I never thought we'd see a blonde Tannie again.
Attending a Suga/Agust D concert and meeting up with Army friends I met on the internet. HIGHLIGHT OF THE YEAR!
[I can't believe I saw Yoongi in real life. This close.]
2023 is already half way over. I have no idea what will happen this second half of 2023. It's a mystery.
As much as I am reveling in having so much to look forward to every day and every week, and as much as I wish this didn't have to happen...I (selfishly) really want them to get enlisted so they can be back together as soon as possible in 2025 (at any point in 2025). The first time I see them together in 2025, I am going to cry with relief. However I am always the first to say BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR so I know I shouldn't even been saying any of that...
Anyway...
I guess at the end of December, I will be looking back and saying "well, who would have thought THAT would happen?" More of "not on the prediction radar." By December, Jin will only have six months left. Time is flying faster than I thought it would when back on June 13, 2022. After that heartbreaking Festa dinner, we were staring down a bleak two and a half years of being Bangtan-less....well that didn't happen did it?
#bts festa 2023#bts military service#2023 predictions went off the rails a little#okay a lot#taennie soft reveal was the real bomb tho am i right?#like what? jaw drop
36 notes
·
View notes
Note
We all know that chocolate is intoxicating to Vulcans (literally), but do we know if they knew that prior to first contact with earth? I like to imagine they didn’t because there’s no cacao or anything similar to it on Vulcan. I also like to imagine Solkar, probably a few days into his mission on Earth, being handed a mug of hot chocolate on a rainy day, and then getting absolutely plastered on accident.
On the same train of thought (but mostly unrelated; just figured I’d tack it onto this ask to avoid spamming your inbox), imagine being Solkar’s first human woman 👀. We’ve already established the men of Spock’s family overall tend to gravitate more towards human mates, so i think it only makes sense that Solkar would have fallen into bed with one rather soon after first contact.
(New paragraph bc I feel like this could honestly apply to Sarek and Soval, or even Vreenak and Letant as well, not just Solkar) He just finds human women so much more vibrant, so much more lively and passionate than Vulcan women. And their scent….fuck, their scent! Vulcan women have pheromones and whatnot too, but they’re nowhere near as potent as that of human women. And humans can’t even smell it; They have no idea the divine aroma that’s right under their noses! It seems like he’s the only one in the entire room who can smell that the little human woman sitting at the bar is ovulating, practically begging to be bred, leaking pheromones like a sehlat in heat.
Anyway, sorry for the Solkar thirst that came outta left field; I just couldn’t hold it in anymore and it seems like I’m the only one who wants to climb him like a tree lmao
OH. MY. GOD.
Don't you DARE apologize for the Solkar thirst. Listen, that man is fine af, and I also wanna climb him like a tree. I mean??? Look at him???? How dare he be that pretty???
*Ahem*
Anyway, you had comments and questions and things. I should probably answer those lol.
As far as the hot chocolate question goes, I doubt the Vulcans would've known about it prior to their first contact. The only way I could see them possibly knowing about it is if we consider the trio of Vulcans that crash landed and spent time in Carbon Creek. There is the possibility that one of them would have tasted chocolate during their months on Earth, but given how poor that town was, they may not have had chocolate readily available in large enough quantities for the effects to be noticeable. So I'm going to assume that they had no idea, and that Solkar 10000000% got drunk off his ass on hot cocoa during that first contact.
On being Solkar's first Human woman: *feral growling and insistent grabby hands* I NEEEEEEEEEED IT.
I could totally see Solkar landing, doing the first contact official stuff, and then a Human woman catches his eye and he's all "It is only logical that I further relations between our planet by making her my mate. Forever. To use a local colloquialism... no 'take-backsies.'"
I...that whole third paragraph you wrote...just yes. YES. 10000000% ABSOLUTELY. Totally applicable to all of those characters, and I'm so fine about it.
*ahem* Feel free to send as many asks as you want anytime, anon! I thoroughly enjoy them, especially ones like this!! 💖🖖
14 notes
·
View notes
Note
(doin it right this time!)
Uhh Quatre and Ebony from fleetway just, hangin out maybe, honestly they're just the two that came to mind when thinkin of random characters who were outta left field lmao
Idk anything about either of them and I'm serving this as a reminder to read sonic the comic sometime
#zimothys doodles#ebony the cat#quatre the jackal#all i know about ebony is that shes magic and befriended fleetway super sonic or sometning
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi, saw ur smut prompt list. I have 2 request, which u don’t have to do.
1. Bob: 38, 45, 48, 50, 51, 75, 77, 86, 98. 💜👓
2. Rhett: 63, 39, 45, 46, 50, 51, 77, 89, 98. 💛🐂
TY! Can’t wait to see what ur beautiful mind comes up with! 💛💜
BAAAAAAAAABES!!!!!! I'm giggling like a naughty teenager who's just been caught by the nuns at school (lol).
Bob
You guys had gone to the ranch to help the family out
But when you had a minute alone, Bob took you out to the back field for an after-dinner walk
Pretty soon, you two started engaging into a kissing game which got heated pretty quick
You and Bob laid right down there in the field, lucky for you two, the grass was tall enough to hide in
Any exposed skin on either of you and he was all over it with the love bits and the nips, getting at your most sensitive spots and leaving dark little marks everywhere
You tugged on his hair just a little bit and he went absolutely feral......it was like he couldn't get you or himself outta those clothes fast enough
After which he thoroughly fucked you in that field
You could feel the heat in his face as he kissed your stomach, moving down to your core just slightly
And when he looked up you saw he was completely red in the face
"Oh my God, Bobby you're blushing!!"
He kissed you even as he fucked you in that field
"Baby I kissed you once and you took my breath away"
"Bobby......after all this time?" you asked.
"Always", he murmured before he kissed you deeply
The very next morning you woke up right in each other's arms
Bob reached for his jeans but found that his shirt was missing
And when he looked up, he saw you wearing it
"What?" you chuckled.
"Oh you have no idea how sexy you look, wearing my shirt like that" he purred
Rhett
It was kind of a shitty night down at the Handsome Gambler
You and Rhett had been debating on whether or not to go home just yet, seeing as it was gonna snow like a bitch through most of the night
You were right in the middle of a slow dance. Rhett had punched in the numbers on the jukebox and it had played "Joy of My Life" by Christ Stapleton, turns out that had been the first dance at your wedding
As the memories of that day came back, he couldn't help but kiss you
"Rhett we're in public," you giggled as you felt his stubble on your neck
"I can't help it baby," he purred. "I kissed you once and you took my breath away"
Sweet, sweet man.....you were happy that you had said "I do" to him those two years ago
He got a little more heated with the kissing
And pretty soon, you caved too
"Chevy.......NOW!" you hissed under your breath
You immediately raced him out to the parking lot out back
And the two of you jumped right into that truck
The windows steamed up pretty quick, obscuring any view that people might have had
The minute you tugged at Rhett's hair and ran your hands through it, oh he was complete putty in your hands!!!!!
The love bites and the nips he had left soon turned dark purple as he marked his territory
"Oh darlin' everybody's gonna know you're mine"
You had no fucking idea what happened after that, it was all pretty much a blur
At least until you felt Rhett jerking a little on top of you
"Did.....did you just come?"
When you saw that shit-eating grin and heard that laugh of his, you smacked his shoulder
"Rhett Abbott, you get down here and fuck me like you mean it!"
And oh did he ever.......
You hadn't even realized what time it was until you started to see snowflakes on the windows and against the light of the streetlamps
"Alright, lets go home darlin or we'll get snowed in"
As much as you wanted to lay there with him, you two had to get home
He hurried to get his jeans back on but when he saw you wearing nothing but his shirt and your lucky black lace underwear.......
"Rhett? Rhett what are you looking at?"
"Darlin ya'll have no idea how sexy you look in that right now"
"You want me to ride home in this?"
"YES PLEASE!!!!!"
"Ok but turn the heat up, it's freezing in here."
On the ride home, he couldn't keep his hands off of you
But you didn't mind
Because it was still the best night ever
And you always would be the joy of each other's lives
#top gun maverick#outer range#robert bob floyd#rhett abbott#bob floyd x reader#rhett abbott x reader#love and smut headcannons
74 notes
·
View notes
Note
tommy and eddie is a fantastic thought. especially if you go off the hc steve used to give tommy money and send him to buy their weed. (bonus points for trans tommy i'm a sucker for him)
Steve gave Tommy money for weed again, exact cash for the usual shit, but unfortunately the prices have seemed to go up.
“Inflation, economics, whatever you wanna call it, man, can’t be helped!” Eddie closed his lunchbox with sharp snap and click. “If your King can’t pay, not my problem. I bow to no crown on my prices, Hernandez.”
“Nobody calls me by my last name, Munson.” Tommy scoffed, wrinkling his nose and tossing the twenty on the table. “Stevie gave me a twenty for the usual. I don’t wanna waltz back to mooch and then set up another meeting with you. It’s like booking with a dentist, you wait forever just to get an appointment and then they rip you off!”
“My services are highly valued. I’m a busy man.” Eddie smirked. “Twenty fives the price, H. You can get your King to book with me again.” Eddie shrugged. “You could run real quick and be back in ten minutes tops - I know you’re a sporty guy - or cough up your own cash.”
Eddie leaned in close with a tight, mirthful smile.
“Though I will warn you, I don’t do coins and I don’t have change. I can mark it in my book though,” He gestured with a finger to his lunchbox, crinkling his nose with the fake smile you’d see off a pissing receptionist after bothering her nail filing time. “Take whatever extra you give outta your next transaction.”
“You’re pulling my leg. Seriously?” Tommy huffed. “You’re looking real punchable, Munson.”
“But you can’t. Cause then I won’t sell to you or your little squad. And Reefer Ricks doing time so…” Eddie looked positively gleeful.
“You’re such a dick.”
“Twenty five or nothing, H.” Eddie shrugged like he didn’t care, that whatever Tommy chose, he’d still walk out of this the winner. Tommy scowled.
“…You’re a queer, right?” Eddie blinked, looking affronted as he shook his head like he had been told the moon was pink.
“Little left field, Hernandez, amigo, wanna show me how you worked your way to that conclusion? Cause I’m not very good at math, man.”
“You’re failing everything but theatre, Munson, everyone knows that.”
“I make a highly attractive Juliet.” Eddie fluttered his lashes. “It’s the hair.” He flipped it and Tommy rolled his eyes.
“Are you gay?”
“I’d prefer to say…open to interpretation?” Eddie looked like he was trying not to laugh but it came out in a few short chuffs, snorting a little as he hid his mouth with the back of his head.
“Sorry, sorry, I just- why are you even asking? More dirt? Everyone already thinks I’m a freak, for more than just my hobbies. The gay rumour circled in freshman year when I got caught staring at the mole on Jimmy’s ass, the one that looks like a starfish, you’re a little late.”
Tommy stared at him a long moment. His shaggy hair, his dark brown eyes, his mesh of soft and angular features. He tongued his cheek and sighed in disappointment at his own standards.
“I’ll suck your dick if you give me the bag free.” Eddie’s eyes fluttered for a moment, taken aback as his lips fell open and then clamped together into a pout.
“I’m almost insulted that you think you can buy my weed with sexual flavours.” He placed his fingers on the table and leaned back like he was aghast by the very idea. “This is a respectable business, Mister Herna—“
“Are you really gonna get another chance though?” Tommy cut him off, quirking a brow. He was playing cool but his stomach was twisting itself in knots. “You get the chance to make a prep your bitch for a minute.”
“A minute?”
“For a virgin like you, that’s me being nice.”
“God, you’re bitch.” Eddie rolled his eyes and looked past Tommy at a tree, staring intently as he thought about it, rubbing his chin and tongue running along his upper lip. Finally, he let out a heavy breath and shook his head, throwing his hands aside. “Well, now I gotta do it. Okay, deal.” He offered his hand and Tommy gave him a deadpanned expression as he took it, the man shaking firm before reaching for his belt.
“Oh, but if we do this,” Eddie continued as he unbuckled his belt and Tommy’s stomach swooped at the sound, shifting in his seat before he made a show of begrudgingly standing up. “I gotta blow you back.”
“What?” Tommy paused, squinting at him from across the table. “Why would you blow me?”
“Look, I’m just saying, if we do this, I gotta reciprocate.” Eddie looked up at him with wide eyes, like Tommy was being unreasonable.
“You can’t blow me back.” Tommy drawled, not even wanting to get into the technicalities of it.
“My morals, yes I have those, include equal transactions. If you suck my dick, that’s worth like two ounces, and I’m not giving you two, you’re buying one, so I have to blow you back.”
“You’re not sucking my dick, Munson.” Tommy groaned, eyes threatening to roll into the back of his skull at the man’s eccentricity. He came around the table and dropped to his knees, shoving his ringed hands off his unbuckled belt and popping the button of his jeans, tugging the zipper down.
“Geez, someone’s in a mood.” Eddie grumbled, but didn’t push him away as Tommy tugged his jeans just a tad lower, the metalhead spreading his legs further to accomodate the freckled brunet. Tommy reached into his brief to pull out his cock and huffed as the flaccid length.
“Aren’t you gay or something?” Tommy grumbled, brows coming together in a scowl. He was a little offended, okay? He passed as a guy, so it’s not like Eddie’s dick would just magically know, alright? He should be hard at just the thought of Tommy sucking him off! Tommy was attractive, maybe not the way Steve was, but he was. Carol definitely thought so.
“Girls, guys, I don’t care, I can be into it.”
“Why aren’t you hard then?” Tommy hissed and Eddie laughed like he didn’t have his soft dick out in the open.
“I mean, you’re pretty and all, H, but usually I’m more in the lead in these encounters.”
“I thought you were a virgin.” Tommy muttered.
“I’m not, asshole. But usually when I’m…in the bedroom, in the mood, I take the reins, I usually…focus on my partner first, make sure they see sparks, and that’s usually what leads to me getting—“ Tommy rolled his eyes at his slow and vague explanation and spat on his hand, stroking Eddie from base to tip and back again.
“Oh, that’s work.” Eddie’s lips formed a small ‘o’, groaning softly. Tommy smirked, feeling him harden in his fist as he stripped his cock. Eddie’s hand gripped the edge of the table as he breathed through his nose, pushing his bangs back from his face but they just fell back into place.
Tommy wasn’t going to drag this out, so he opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the tip, ducking his head down the length in short, steady bobs. It’s not like it was his first time sucking dick. He drunkly gave a freshman his first blowjob when he was a sophomore, he sucked Steve’s dick more than once while they were high as shit, and Carol had plenty of fun teasing him with toys when they were dating. They were currently on break though over something dumb he said that got blown out of proportion, so he didn’t have to feel guilty about this.
He traced his tongue over the underside of his cock, swirling it around the tip and suckling, the way he knew looked good. Steve once said he had full lips made for being wrapped around a cock.
Eddie groaned and the sound tingled through his body, shifting on his knees to squeeze his thighs together as he worked two thirds of his cock into his mouth, nudging the back of his throat. A hand rested upon his head and he was half tempted to pull off and tell him to fuck off, but then Eddie’s fingers sunk into his hair, running through the stands and pulling back, petting him, and any thoughts of fighting the touch left his mind.
“God, you’re a lot prettier when you shut up, man.” Eddie cupped the back of his head, petting behind his ear as he guided Tommy’s head further down. Tommy resisted with a soft gag before he huffed out through his nose and relaxed his throat, eyes fluttering shut. Eddie was only getting this once, so he may as well let this guy have his moment.
If he was with Carol or Steve he would have touched himself by now, and it was driving him a little crazy how hot Eddie’s voice was when he felt good, deep and raspy. It was making him throb, the hand in his hair, the cock nestling in his throat, the moan Eddie gave as Tommy nuzzled his coarse dark curls. He smelt like musk and old spice, and it made Tommy dizzy when he was so close to it.
Eddie rolled his hips ever so slightly and Tommy moaned, soft and barely audible, but Eddie felt it. He paused for half of a second before he rolled his hips one more time. Tommy groaned lowly, grasping Eddie’s thighs.
“Oh shit,” Eddie laughed weakly. “That’s fuckin’ priceless, man, Jesus.”
His grip tightened in his hair and the prickles of pain zapped down his spine, turning into pleasure as his cunt ached, clenching around nothing. Eddie pulled him off his cock and Tommy gasped softly, sucking in a deep breath before Eddie slipped back past open lips, nailing the back of his throat with a guttural moan. Tommy choked, tears prickling the rim of his eyes on reflex, swallowing around the intrusion.
“Fuck, that’s really hot.” Eddie breathed out, fucking Tommy’s mouth onto his cock as the freckled boy grew misty eyed, moaning softly.
Eddie tipped his head back with a long, quiet groan, and Tommy used the moment to grind against his palm for a moment of relief, boxers sticky and damp. He whined low in his throat and Eddie stuttered, cursing softly as he moved his hips with Tommy’s mouth.
He had to be close. He was throbbing in his mouth, like a heartbeat in his throat, and the salty taste of pre was sharp on his tongue. A part of Tommy knew he shouldn’t let Eddie cum in his mouth, that that was kind of gay, but it’s not like anyone would know.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Eddie moaned, eyes screwed up tight as his hips bucked and shuddered, spilling deep in his throat. Tommy swallowed with only a moment to be caught off guard, Eddie panting out a curse as the brunet gulped down his hot cum.
He pulled out of the swollen, red lips and Tommy panted, coughing softly.
“Dick. Coulda asked.”
“My bad. I’ll be nice and swallow too.” Eddie grinned, looking far too pleased with himself as he floated in his post-orgasmic bliss. He tucked his dick away and buttoned his pants, even if he didn’t bother with the zipper or belt. “C’mon, up you get, I got shit knees genetically so you can sit up here.”
He patted the table and Tommy blinked a few time to get rid of the fuzziness in his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his head.
“No way, just gimme the ounce, man.”
“Come on, I’m good at it.” Eddie winked as Tommy stood.
“No, thanks.” Tommy crossed his arms, ignoring the throb of his neglected arousal. He would very much like to be eaten out right now, he probably deserved it, but Eddie wasn’t Carol or Steve. He didn’t know and Tommy was more than happy with him never knowing.
“Is this a ‘not gay’ thing? Sucking and getting sucked is both equally gay, sorry pal.”
“I’m not interested, okay? Just gimme the ounce, Munson.” Tommy reached for his lunchbox and Eddie snatched it, placing it behind him before he reached for Tommy’s hips. He inhaled sharply at the touch, wanting to lean into it.
“You really don’t wanna?” Eddie hummed knowingly, his thumb brushing under his polo to touch bare skin. Tommy shuddered. “You’re not even a little turned on?” He smirked and dipped his thumb beneath his waistband to tease dark trimmed hairs.
“You can’t suck my dick, okay?” He grumbled.
“Why not?”
“You just can’t.”
“…I could eat you out?” Tommy’s body perked to attention at the phrase and Eddie seemed to notice, grinning. “Ever had your ass ate? It’s pretty mind blowing.”
“…Fuck.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, you tell anyone about what I’m about to show you and I bury you, got it?” Eddie’s eyes sparkled as Tommy furiously undid his khakis. He kicked off his sneakers and his jeans, stepping between Eddie’s legs to hoist himself up onto the table, the guy flinching back to avoid his dick being crushed.
“Woah, somebody’s eager.” He purred, wriggling his brows as Tommy hooked his thumb into his boxers. He took a moment to breathe, anxiety festering in his chest before he tugged them down his thighs.
Eddie was silent, blinking. His brows climbed up to his hairline as he snapped his eyes up to Tommy’s. The brunet glared. Eddie flapped his lips like a dying pufferfish before clearing his throat.
“Where’s your dick?”
“Don’t have one.”
“…You’re a guy though, right?”
“Yes, and if you say otherwise, I’ll break your nose and steal your weed.” Tommy threatened and Eddie nodded quickly.
“Okay.” He looked back down and Tommy huffed, closing his thighs self-consciously. Eddie made a wounded sound and took his knees. “Hey, hey, don’t go closing shop, I’m browsing.”
“I should hit just for that awful comparison of a shop to my junk.” Tommy bit out and Eddie grinned shamelessly as he hooked his fingers in the edge of his boxers and dragged them down over his knees.
“Well, I’m gonna be real quiet soon, H. You’ll survive.” Tommy gritted his teeth as his boxers were tossed to the other end of the bench, ringed fingers caressing his knee and inching them apart.
His freckled thighs were already shiny from his previous arousal, and he throbbed as Eddie’s thumb drew circles into his sensitive inner thigh.
“Quit staring, Jesus fucking Christ.” Tommy groaned, tipping his head back in frustration. He was aching at the gentle touches, the callouses of his fingers scraping roughly against his skin.
“I’m savouring this, Hernandez.” Eddie chuckled. “You gonna deny a man that?”
“I’m gonna deny you this all together if you don’t hurry up and- oh fuck.” The threat seemed to work because there was a wet heat encompassing his cock. The long tongue Eddie liked to use to rile up jocks was trailing up his slit, swirling around his clit.
Tommy moaned loudly, bucking into his mouth as he fisted his hands against the table top. Hot fingers wrapped in warm metal curled up and around his thighs, keeping them spread apart as he buried his face in his pussy, licking broad, eager strokes over the soaked heat.
Tommy tried to keep his reactions minimal, breathing through the pleasure that coiled low in his gut. Fuck, the guy wasn’t half bad at it. It wasn’t hard to eat pussy, it wasn’t an intrusion like sucking dick, but Tommy had been fooling around with his friends for years to figure out what he liked, what Carol liked, what Steve liked.
Eddie didn’t have that information on hand, but god, his eagerness was working for Tommy regardless. He rolled his hips with a low moan as Eddie’s tongue slipped inside, his thighs jumping in his hands. The freak gripped his thighs tighter, pulling him closer to the edge so fast Tommy had to catch himself in order not to fall onto his back.
“I ain’t straining my neck for this, sorry, man.” Eddie laughed, licking his wet lips as he propped Tommy’s leg over his shoulder, Tommy forced to rest back on his elbows for the older.
“I thought I was promised quiet, Munson.” Tommy quipped and Eddie laughed, a tad hysterical, edging on a giggle.
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Hernandez.” Tommy was tempted to kick him for the words, but he was easily distracted by the mouth latching back onto his cock, sucking and licking, Eddie making so attempt to be neat or quiet about it.
Everything about Eddie Munson was messy.
Tommy gasped softly, flushed hot beneath his polo and jacket as his head tipped back to relish in it. Sure, he had one of the schools biggest freaks between his legs, but if he was good at what he was doing, he was good at what he was doing.
“Dios,” Tommy breathed, locking his ankles behind his head as his voice stuttered around a moan, Eddie echoing it as he buried his tongue as deep as it could go.
If anything got Tommy going, it was being filled; tongue, fingers, cock, his entrance was almost as sensitive as his clit and the first breach always drove him wild. He laid back and covered his flushed face with his hands, lips parted in pleasure as the dealer tongue-fucked his pussy, his nose nudging his clit as he messily sucked and kissed the treat bestowed upon him.
Tommy curled his legs tighter around his head as his pussy throbbed, the pleasure building low in his belly as he rocked against his hot tongue.
“Fuck,” He whined, reaching down to fist Eddie’s hair. He groaned loudly and Tommy echoed it as it vibrated through his cunt. “Don’t stop, shit, I’m so close.” He gasped out and he could feel Eddie’s amusement as he dragged his tongue up to suckle at his clit before dipping back to his slick hole.
“Shit, Eddie!” His voice cracked around his name, pulling on his hair and forcing him closer, if it was even possible, as he curled up with the intensity of his orgasm. He twitched and bucked, a pathetic whimper leaving his lips as his nose fell into Eddie’s hair, curled over the dark haired man as he trembled.
The table beneath him was stained with his release, the older boy’s face a mess as he continued to lick and suckle his sensitive cunt. Tommy pulled him back with a pained gasp, legs still trapped over Eddie’s shoulders. The older boy looked more debauched than he was over his own orgasm, eyes blown and cheeks red, licking the wetness from around his lips as he kneaded Tommy’s thighs.
“Fuck, good thing you blew me first, I totally would have busted otherwise.” Eddie laughed without shame and Tommy huffed amongst his panting, pulling his legs from Eddie’s grasp. The man made a wounded sound of betrayal and Tommy scoffed.
“Lunch will be over soon. Hand over the fuckin’ weed, Munson.”
The metalhead grumbled and rolled his eyes, wiping his face with the bandana in his back pocket. Tommy wrinkled his nose as he pushed it back into the same pocket, shining faintly with his slick. Gross.
Eddie grabbed his lunchbox and opened it up, passing him the usual ounce. Tommy reached for it, but before he could grab it, Eddie pulled his hand back and gripped his upper thigh, thumb digging into the soft plush just beneath his satisfied cunt.
“I won’t be accepting alternative payments in future. But if you ever need a willing mouth or cock…” He gave a sleazy grin as he squeezed. “Feel free to make an appointment. I’ll be real nice and move some times around for ya, Hernandez.”
Tommy snatched the baggie and put a foot to his chest, kicking him back. Eddie fell back and laughed, barely catching himself as Tommy stepped over his lap to grab his boxers. As he pulled them back on, he gave Eddie a glare, the older brushing leaves out of the ends of his curls.
“Remember, you spill and you’re six foot under.”
“I’m not ruining any future investments, H. I’m all about business, baby.” Eddie clicked his tongue with a wink and Tommy rolled his eyes, grabbing his khakis. He jumped back into them and buttoned them up.
“Call me baby, and I’ll knock your teeth out, freak.” Eddie laughed.
“Uh-huh. Tell your King the prices are going up, will you?”
“He can afford it.” Tommy assured and did up his zipper. “Until next time, Munson.”
“Until next time, T.” He purred back and Tommy didn’t register the change of letter until he was passing Steve the weed under the lunch table.
Whatever. He wasn’t gonna call that freak by his first name anytime soon. They weren’t that familiar, and never would be.
(Tommy forgot he already had. Eddie didn’t think he ever would.)
#eddie munson#trans tommy hagan#Tommy h#tommy hernandez#tommy hagan#Teddie#munagan#lemon#smut#tommy hagan x eddie munson#ftm!tommy hagan
88 notes
·
View notes
Note
will you tell us more about sad little miner Curtis? 🥺 was he born near the company town? generations of his family indebted to Wilford before he broke away or was he a migrant worker that found his way there?
Smoochin' you on the forehead for all your wonderful asks, Brandyyyy.
Curtis is one of my most mysterious, I think, his past is coated in coal dust and decay, but there's still plenty to tell. A born-and-raised West Virginian, he might've grown up a farmer raisin' chickens and maintaining the small apple orchard his great-granddaddy'd planted. The applewood's been long sold by now, and I wouldn't recommend eatin' any chickens raised on that mess of poisoned land. His story's wound in with Snowpiercer's, so you'll see more under the cut.
Read the First Chapter of 16 Tons Here
Come join the Valley Sleepover here!
Snowpiercer wasn't always a minin' town, you see. Was supposed to be a farmin' town, a little place for the locals to go when they weren't tendin' fields, or throwin' hay, or trying to keep the henhouses in good shape.
There'd been some smaller coal companies that tried buyin' out the mineral rights here an' there, but farmers are stubborn folk and the land's somethin' worth protectin'. No one really thought anything of it when the railroad showed up, until the train horn started scaring the chickens so much they wouldn't lay and the smoke started settling everywhere, creosote-covered rail workers comin' in town and causing trouble. 'Course, by the time the station opened up, it was already too late. Ever onward, ever forward.
Real easy to start givin' up mineral rights and selling land when there's no crop to harvest, you see. Pierce & Rumlow Railroad and Mining Combine came in like the specter of death, taking down farm after farm. Couple folks tried to hold out, like the Everetts, but that gets harder when you're buryin' family members — something in the water, the traveling doctor said when Curtis, left on his own by then, asked.
Selling the mineral rights would've let him keep the house if the ground underneath didn't start collapsing within months of Pierce Mineral Resources findin' a new coal seam underneath, and by then he didn't want to spend much more time surrounded by the ghosts of everyone he failed. The land's been repurposed into a ditch of a pond now, collectin' runoff when it rains, and he's been staying at the boarding house to keep outta town, mostly cuz he's liable to punch Minister Mason again. Mining's about the only way to make a living around town now, and while he's sure he could head off somewhere else and start anew, his roots run deep around here, and you never abandon family.
#shroombox#brandycranby#curtis everett headcanon#curtis everett x reader#curtis everett x you#curtis everett#curtis everett imagine#a family sleepover in the valley ⛰#thank youuuu i love you!!
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Making Briar’s playlist & of course it has me thinking about her. & it’s about time I give y’all the content you probably followed me for. This got away from me so putting it under a read more so I don’t clog your dash, thank me later
But yeah, Briar definitely has a tumblr account & she’s definitely a tk fic writer, but it is her most guarded secret. (Even more so than the fact she’s Spider-Goth)
The epitome of a bratty lee, while still being super shy about it. But she like never gets tickled sooo it’s not really something she like, has to worry about lol. But if she sees it happening to someone else around her she goes stiff as a board & looks away & tries to act like she’s paying attention to someone else. & if she hears The Word she perks up & you can practically see an exclamation mark pop up above her head lmao
Being the older sibling, she wasn’t on the receiving end very often & has a pretty mean ler streak. It comes with being the oldest. But she tries to act all bored & aloof if someone brings it up while she’s internally freaking out. If someone asks the dreaded question she just gives them a blank look & says something along the lines of “no” or “you’re kidding me, right?”
Her worst spots are her thighs, knees, underarms & tummy. Don’t ask me why, she just gives me those vibes, but she’s pretty sensitive everywhere
If you act like you’re gonna get her or even just threaten her with tickles she spits out the most violent sounding threats & insults, but she is all talk. Like once you get her she curls up & lets out the cutest giggles you ever did hear. No fight whatsoever. & if they point it out she insist it’s cause she doesn’t wanna hurt them. She tries to act all huffy & put out afterwards but she’s undeniably in a better mood
Her blog is p popular & she has a lot of fics on her blog, some flop but others do the fuckin’ numbers
1 time she was in the middle of a mission with Pavitr & Miguel & she was pulling a Miles typing on her phone while she was effortlessly beating up the bad guy. But of course that shit won’t fly with mr stick in his ass
He’s like “what’s so damn important that you’re not paying attention? Who are you texting?” & she just scoffs & is like “I’m not texting, I’m writing.”
“That’s even worse!” & Pavitr takes up for her like “well she’s still contributing so it’s fine. It’s nothing I haven’t done” & that makes Miguel chew both of them out while they’re rounding up the bad guys & Briar is ignoring everything he’s saying & just continues to type away at her phone
Miguel’s fed up & is all like “ok that’s it” & webs her phone out of her hand & is like “wtf is more important than a fight” but she fucking panics & makes a B-line straight for him & kicks him & snatches her phone ‘cause there’s no way in hell she’d EVER let him see what she writes
After the fight tho she gets an ear full ‘cause not only was she “not engaged in the fight” (she was, it was a super easy & lame fight) & how she “turned on her fellow team” (you fucking stole my phone, what do you expect?) & just making her feel bad & guilty
After they get back to HQ & they had some time to cool off Miguel tries to interrogate her like “for real, what the hell were you writing that you’d kick me square in the chest to prevent me from seeing? Was it porn?” She blushes sooo much ‘cause that came way outta left field & she’s like “NO?!?!”
“Come on, I won’t judge, it was porn, wasn’t it? Isn’t that all fanfiction is anyways?”
“Of course that’s what you’d think. & that’s exactly why I’d never let you see anything I write.” & Pavitr pipes up like “Could I read it?” all bright eyed & excited & she’s real hesitant like “mmmm idk if you’d like it” just cause she knows Pav has a blabbermouth & a half & she doesn’t want any of these cool superheroes knowing what kinda fics she writes lol
But Pav begs nonstop & she finally caves & swears him to secrecy. She lets him read what she was writing during the fight & he’s like “oh my gosh that was the cutest thing I’ve ever read! Why not just tell him?” & she’s like “are you fucking kidding me? He can never find out. & if you tell him I’ll kill you, got it?” & he agrees but he’s just like that smug cat meme. She should’ve never told him tho ‘cause now he nags her about when she’s gonna update an ongoing fic or post one she’s been talking about
But she was probably writing for something kinda niche & Pav is just like “I don’t know who these people are but I love it!” I just feel like he’d be the type to read fics for stuff he doesn’t even know to support his friends. Or I can say fuck that & say she was writing a supernatural fic since she’s a lil basic (in the best way) idk you decide: was she writing for supernatural, or something like ace attorney?
It still lowkey drives Miguel crazy if he lets himself dwell on it for too long. Curiosity killed the cat & at this point he doesn’t even care about what she was writing, he just wants to find out to spite her for being such a lil bitch. (She literally told him to his face that she’d sooner die than show him anything she posts)
#briar sparks#spider-goth#spidersona headcanons#is it a headcanon if it’s your oc?#idk anymore#spidersona#spiderverse spidersona#spiderman atsv#across the spiderverse#pavitr prabhakar#miguel o'hara#tickle headcanons#ticklish!briar
12 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Ever have something so atrocious said to you as a kid that it still haunts you?
Sometimes, you just gotta vent. This is one I’ve held onto for a long time, so I'll let it disperse into the universe and away from me.
I was 11. I offered to ride with my (step)grandma to pick up her car from the shop. I was happily talking to her on the way back and she just came out of left field with this. My brother made those choices. I did nothing wrong by merely coming into existence. It’s not my fault.
She never had kids of her own and she had some weird pseudo-mother thing with my brother due to that, and all the kindnesses to me were just messed up ways of trying to get my brother to “act right”, like buying me a Wii and a $3000 puppy. All I ever wanted was to spend time with her. I did genuinely love her as a kid, so this tore me apart. But, I sure am glad she disowned us for asking where a power socket was “wrong”. She is now going to die alone in the wreckage of her own making and she only has herself to blame. Granted, she probably wasn’t mentally sound, considering how she threw that at me outta nowhere, but still. FuCk yA GrAMs.
Also, just want to say, I was the “good child”. Good grades, never acted out, no drugs/alcohol/sex, etc. The worst punishment I got was being grounded for 2 weeks because I got home late because I can’t tell the time when I’m playing the woods, MOM. So for her to say that, to a kid who rarely did anything wrong, is beyond messed up.
Feel free to vent in the replies if you can’t do so openly.
34 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
onyx-captain-paul-dury
OnyxHellfire
rapunzeleyeswinchester
my old url
purplesong1028
Purplesong
eddiechrissy
Eddissy, etc.
niabird
Sin título