#nb people are valid as fuck
Text
Idk what precisely to call it since honorifics aren't Pronouns but vertin using she/her while routinely being addressed as Lord, sir, etc is soooooooo 🥰 it's like mixed pronouns but not.
#beeep#i love reverse 1999#like shes not a he him lesbian but like yknow !!!#theres not a quick and easy shortcut for it but shes definitely sapphic and im leaning more lesbian hc than bi tbh !!!!#(which btw bi women can also be gnc and use he him in a wlw way)#(i just think vertin lesbian)#(but i KNOW shes sapphic)#AND HOW SHES USUALLY a my lord SPECIFICALLY when addressed by the girl so down bad for her???? gay as fuck#<- this isnt spoilers bc all the women wont her#well okay thats not precisely true. but a great deal of them do#anyway. i just hope that it isnt a translation error bc goes crazy ahhhh#shes a gentleman.....#and also i think vertin needs to meet a guy who isnt evil bc (possibly nb) lesbian and trans guy bestie duo is one of my favorite tropes#but so far she only interacts with evil people and or girls that wont her 😔😔😔#which is so valid but also 😔😔😔 vertin u need platonic friends too. friends that arent desperately hoping you will push them out of danger#and land on top of them and gaze into their eyes#(or just hoping to make out)#(there are both types of wonts her in this game)#(along with a secret third kind)#anyway#rhvjvdjgdjvbjdbkrbkdjb vertin#i have to. be a person. i have to be a person but instead my brain is just full of WOW GAME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#anyway vertin has like. fancy oldtimey gentleman gnc going on#not so gnc by modern standards that it would make Certain People mad but enough that it is making Me very happy#and i just !!!!! cannot get over how genius it is to combine sheher pronouns with traditionally masculine terms of address!!!!!!!#shes so gender. not my gender but she has so much gender#i love vertin and i love regulus and i love druvis and i love the fool and i love tooth fairy who isnt out yet but i saw her in that one vid#eo#i was expecting to play this so casually like stick it on my phone and then i can do it while waiting for class when im there a few minutes#early but i do Not feel casual about this at all!!!!!!!!!!!! <- i think i got hyperfixated lads
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
people really love to conveniently forget trans men exist when they talk about feminism. or if they dont they make us out as also part of the problem as if we somehow are able to have the same amount of privilege as cis men. absolutely wild
#“not all men” is a valid statement because its fucking true#like guys. seriously. not every single man is evil#feminism isnt about putting men down its about raising women up to be equal and getting rid of gender inequality#sorry im seeing a massive uptick in people hating on trans men for being men lately and its fucking stupid#like yall are doing a great job at making me feel ashamed to be a man who likes men. awesome thanks guys#i dont normally make posts like this but its been rattling around in my mind for a few days now#its always put out like. all men (trans or not) are Inherently Evil and all women (trans or not) are Inherently Victims#which is absolutely the stupidest shit ive ever seen#and they also leave out anyone who doesnt fit into the man/woman dichotomy. and if they dont its always seen as woman lite#which is also stupid as fuck#not every nb/agender/other person is feminine asshole#anways. case in point. can we stop demonizing masculinity while also discussing the effects of misogyny and the patriarchy please.#because both of those things are very real and very much do hurt people#but im sick of people lashing out at trans men as if the problem magically doesn't affect us anymore because we are men#because guess what! newsflash! it affects trans AND cis men too!!#i shouldnt have to explain it should be obvious but like. im tired man#sorry ill forever be annoyed at women who just hate every single man who dares breathe in their direction because they COULD be an asshole#if you hate someone because of their gender no matter what gender it is i Do Not Trust You#anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk. replies are off cause i dont want to argue with people i just want to express my opinion
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm so bored of being told I'm valid, I don't want to be valid I want to be adored.
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
based on my WHAT
#um#tumblr#how about#NO#just fyi#not my place to say how valid someones fucking gender identity is because at the end of the day its not my business but also#stfu enby people are the light of this world#and valid as Fuck#nb#lgbtq positivity
37 notes
·
View notes
Note
If your feminism reinforces gender roles and centers biological males, it isn't feminism. Intersectionality is not about men's rights you racist fool.
OH LOOK!!! I FOUND A TRANSPHOBE AND NB-PHOBE!!!
well, at least i have the guts to speak out with my username attached. at any rate,
✨get the fuck off my page and stop being transphobic and nb-phobic 🥰 ✨
#feminism#transphobia#lgbtqia+#nb phobia#intersectionality#let me spell this out for people:#1. trans people exist#2. nb people exist#3. intersex people exist#4. all these people are VALID in their gender identities#5. sex and gender are not the same thing#6. gender is a spectrum#7. accepting trans nb and intersex people isn’t racist#8. intersectionality is about the INTERSECTION of different kinds of oppression. it’s not just about one kind.#9. i may be a fool but i’m not a bigoted racist fool#hope that helps 🥰#asks#little lesson here#terfs fuck off
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
A useful realization recently: it’s not that I dislike trying to improve myself, but rather that I dislike being told to try to improve myself, and more specifically being told how to do that. Heaven forbid someone says there’s a “right” way to do it.
#I already knew this in terms of body-related stuff#like. I don't believe weight = health and I also don't believe health is a moral imperative#I want to live a long time with few difficulties and also I have less power over that than most people believe they do#so anyone saying 'you should be losing weight. because that is improving yourself in the Right Way Everyone Should Do' can sit on a cactus#but I've had a much harder time recognizing that dissonance in other areas or feeling like I'm justified in disagreeing#but you know what? I DO NOT need to agree with a single thing brendon fucking b*rchard says#and there's nothing wrong with me for thinking he's full of crap#I am not a lazy person putting no effort into improving myself. I just don't agree with the ways he (for example) says you should do that#I'm gonna keep working on the things *I* care about improving about myself. fuck the rest.#nb this does not mean I want to ignore valid criticism of my behavior#just that 'you MUST HAVE (ex) a meditation practice to be your best self which you have a moral imperative to become' is not valid#boring text posts
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
when are people going to accept that bisexual is basically an umbrella term now, like trans
i mean i know mspec as a thing, but pan and omni and all that basically stemmed off of bi because they didnt understand what it actually meant. and thats fine historically, but we need to understand that we're all fundamentally the same. better together than divided. at this point a lot more people in those communities understand that "bi" doesnt just mean "two" in this context and hasnt since at least 1990.
we are the same and need to bury the hatchet
#that said if you try to differentiate pan from bi in a way that sheds a bad light on bi-identifying people im gonna have to ask you#to reevaluate. there are bis who dont care about genetalia. there are bis who are nb and date nb people.#who are trans and who date trans people. for whom sex and gender do not factor in their attraction.#we are not different. we are the same. idc what label you use just understand that we are the same and stronger together.#kath shouts into the void#personal#not to be all 'i was there gandalf' but i remember way back when people were starting to identify as pan en masse so as to#not be called transphobic it was fucking stupid and awful and rooted in people misunderstanding the bi term both in and outside#the community. there was so much drama and discourse and as i understand it there still is.#i need my fellow bis to understand that for every pan who says 'im not bi cus i would date a trans person' theres like 10 who just say#'i just prefer the flag colours' which is a valid enough reason#but i also need pan people to understand the history of their label and reject those principles and to accept that we are the same#sorry i saw a panphobic post on my dash and it got me riled#cus its like;; as much as its true that pan as a label started off as bi- and transphobic realtalk; a majority of pans arent like that now#or at least none of the ones ive met are#obvs theres bad eggs in each community and the bad bis are arguing w the bad pans but the rest of us dont need to fall for that shit
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m so sick of the wallowing & constant self victimization surrounding any aspect of gender identity like “u guys hate masc people” or “it’s so hard to date as a (insert self identifier)” cuz it’s gender nonconformity people hate, not individual gender identities. it’s pushing against the status quo. rocking the gender boat. that’s what the culture hates, not cologne and button-ups. fuck sake look around any public space for 2 seconds and realize that it’s not this misandrist mommy domme hell scape that you all seem to be imagining. we are in an extremely misogynistic time. but individual relationships and physical chemistry is personal. no one is oppressing u cuz they don’t find u attractive or bc u suck at dating. it’s sexy to be andro/nb/gnc cuz it tends to mean ur too fucking swag to be held back by dumbass gender and presentation and because you’ve already accepted that no one likes you (or has to). don’t act like we’re more “popular” than trans women as a result of some greater axis of oppression or cuz “nb people tend to be afab” bc it’s not fucking true.
#also stop looking for validation from cis men#I feel like most nb/gender abolitionist friends of mine know this#but every time I see some post like#cis men never see trans women as people they just see us as something to fuck#it’s like wow babe welcome to womanhood#or should I say#welcome to being the OBJECT of male attraction#it’s not specific to ur identity tho so like… can we move along
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
i don’t understand why i’m getting so many tiktoks about fucking lgbt infighting shit. it is obnoxious and i do not care
#this may be the final push i need to delete it once and for all#everything i see is like. lesbians vs bisexuals!! femme trans people vs nb people!!!! who can say what slur???#heres why my identity is more valid and/or oppressed that this other identity!!!!!#shut up shut up shut UP#AND ITS ALL LIKE FUCKING TWENTY YEAR OLDS. YALL DONT KNOW SHIT!!!!!!
1 note
·
View note
Text
Hu5h
#as a nb person i deal with transphobia not irregularly but even so i often have a fear of identifying as trans#bc i don't want people to think i'm faking but also bc i v much can benefit from male privilege bc i'm misgendered/viewed as such a lot#and even though i put not an insignificant amount of effort into maintaining an androgynous appearance i don't have any desire#for either any kind of surgery or hrt to any degree#like i'm content with my body and the things i want to change aren't really based in dysphoria#but rather in just wanting to be happy and look the way that makes me feel that#i've had a dream where i was seen as a trans woman and it stressed me out enough to wake up bc all i could think was “that's not who i am”#there's also no real way to describe the feeling/emotion of rightness that comes with being called they/them and seen as essentially#having no gender whatsoever like gdi i just wanna be and be happy and fall in love you know?#Falling Apart And Coming Together#Edited#and ik you don't have to want or get surgery or hrt to be valid#and i don't think anyone who doesn't want those things is any less of their gender#i think i just have some internalized shit to work through and have to stop being so doubtful#bc tbh people are gonna assume wrong no matter what and that's their fucking problem not mine#but when you assume that makes an ass out of u which leaves me to deal with it#and whatever shitty problems you're having and projecting instead of taking a hard look at yourself in the mirror
0 notes
Note
O M G i just had a thought. like, you know how kuni is so desperate for validation. this leads me to believe he has a massive praise kink. like he just LOVES LOVES LOVESSS being praised for anything not just during sex but.. ahaha he loves being called your good boy, he's your good boy and he always wants to hear it 🥺
✿ 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 ✿
characters: scaramouche x nb!reader
warnings: fluff, light angst, domestic fluff, scara might be a bit OOC, takes place after scaramouche’s defeat
notes: oh yea def. i feel like him, xiao, heizou, childe, venti, kaeya and diluc would be super into praising. outside of the bedroom as well, since they grew up pretty touch and affection deprived, they would want to DROWN in that shit
‘growing up’ with the knowledge that the person you see as your mother only sees you as a puppet is going to fuck up one’s mind and mentality a lot
not only that but he also kept losing the people he opened his heart to so he just… gave up
joining the fatui and becoming one of their strongest has hardened him beyond any comprehension
every nice words or actions are taken as something with an ulterior motive behind
he can’t even go a day without thinking over what you meant by saying you like his hat
was it a threat? are you trying to get close to him? if so why? could you be a spy? better check on your background
however being defeated and getting a nice therapy session with mama nahida has made his mind place a bit better and healthier
doesn’t mean he would immediately let down his guard the moment you smile at him though
getting into a relationship with him would take a long time but it will all be worth it in the end
would always want to be praised or validated by you, his darling s/o
“mhh you made delicious pancakes love! mind teaching me your ways?”
“hmmp! of course i would. who do you think you’re talking to anyways?”
as if he didn’t had a mental breakdown while practicing to make the perfect pancakes for you every morning until he fully grasped it🙄
would go even far as buying a cook book and trying everything on the book while you’re away on work, so he can make you happy and get a praise or a smooch in return
but he will never in his 500 year old life admit it
a tsundere gremlin
when out in public, he would want to at least hold hands with you but he’s so nervous because what if you don’t like pda? what if you hate how clingy he gets sometimes? are there any fatui in the area?
and when scaramouche finally grows the courage and links your pinkies, he’s over the moon
literally giggling, kicking the air, shouting his victory, jumping around in his mind but he wouldn’t show it ‘cause he’s scaramouche😤
in private he will get clingy, don’t test him
would literally drag you back to bed when you’re getting ready for work just so you two can cuddle
will demand you to ask your boss to give you a break today so he keep cuddling with you
a spoiled brat smh🙄
would want to be praised 24/7 and is willing to do anything for it
cooking? as long as the kitchen isn’t burned down then it counts
sewing the rips and tears in your clothes? what are you, a kid?
getting more control over his vision, his new heart just so he can impress you with a new trick he learned and get a smooch as a reward? hmmph! he already mastered his vision now where’s his smooch [name]?
please praise him and call him cute cheesy nicknames, he will love and cherish it so very much
“hey, i didn’t threaten anyone today. where’s my kiss [name]?”
“but i don’t remember making a deal like this scara??”
“yes we did! now give me my reward kiss!”
spoiled baby🥹
#nobu.writes#scaramouche fluff#scaramouche angst#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader fluff#genshin impact scaramouche#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#no beta we die like rex lapis#nobu out🫡
971 notes
·
View notes
Text
Heartless, Chapter 5
🔞 Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader 🔞
Fake marriage/marriage of convenience, SMUT
-
You get into trouble and Ghost disciplines you for it.
CHECK TRIGGER WARNINGS/TAGS UNDER READ MORE
-
TRIGGER WARNINGS: in the first part of this chapter, homophobic slurs (fag, faggot) and insults are tossed around. From an inconsequential side character towards Soap.
I want to note that I myself am queer/nonbinary, and I have been harassed/attacked/bullied for being queer. Additionally, this scene is directly inspired by real events. A friend of mine, who is queer + nb AND is a veteran, got into a fight during their service with another Marine on their base for saying vile homophobic shit. My friend dropped the guy in an instant. My friend knows I am interpreting their story in this chapter, and they approve.
SMUT TAGS: degradation (a lot of it), humiliation, spanking, bondage, dumbification, edging, spit kink, dacryphilia, bratting/brat taming, choking, face slapping, praise kink, overstimulation, squirting, care taking (tbc next chapter!). Knife kink. All consensual. By degradation, I mean degradation in the context of the smut.
Everything goes wrong like this:
You’re out with Ghost and Johnny to explore the base.
They show you the fields where people like to play soccer. “It’s football,” your friend insists in his thick Scottish brogue. Ghost agrees with a grunt like the traitor he is.
Your heavy, exasperated sigh draws out chuckles from them both. “I’ll stop calling it soccer on the day you beat us at football.” And you don’t even like football. But fuck the British if they think they can get one over you. Well, the British and Scottish. Whatever.
The two of them start chattering- correction, Johnny chatters, and Ghost genuinely listens, you can tell, about sports and teams, and you regret bringing up the topic at all because you can barely follow.
What’s the difference between Manchester City and Manchester United? Isn’t that, like, the same thing?
As your husband discusses a recent game, a few guys kick around a ball, and some people smoke a few feet outside the designated smoking area. You watch a guy stub out his cigarette on the sign that says not to smoke elsewhere.
You’ve gotten too comfortable referring to Ghost as ‘your husband.’ Hm. You should check that impulse before it spirals into something that might validate Alejandro and Gaz’s conspiracy theories about love at first sight. Gross.
Do you know what else isn’t helping? Ghost’s refusal to let you be alone with them again. He doesn’t try to stop you or interfere, but you can’t ignore him lurking in the background like a little stalker whenever you socialize.
It’s… kind of cute.
Oh, and you finally encountered Roach in the wild. You spotted him in the mess a couple of days back, collecting the randomest assortment of snacks (Cool Ranch Doritos, a pre-workout drink for balance, you guess, a chocolate milk, and three lemon sugar cookie flavored energy bars).
He had on some interesting cat ear headphones, so you just waved and wordlessly gestured that you liked his headgear. He waved back, then shot you a thumbs up.
You tap back into your surroundings. Ghost has wandered into the smoking area to light up, and you might as well join him.
When you stretch out your hand, he plucks a smoke from his pack and places it delicately in your palm. He even lights it for you from a Zippo engraved with skulls, with one scarred hand cupped around the flame to keep it steady.
Johnny wrinkles his nose. “That’s gonna kill you in five years, you ken?” He stands on the other side of the painted smoking area line to hang while letting his disapproval be known.
You take a drag instead of laughing in his face. After all, he was the one who charmed every convenience store clerk at the young age of 17 into buying what he wanted without getting carded, smokes included.
“Since when have you been so health conscious?” You say as you blow the smoke away from Soap’s face.
Ghost does the same without thinking - like he’s stood somewhere and smoked while chatting with Soap enough times to make it a routine.
You envy the easy way they complement each other. You used to be like that with Johnny, and you wish… you want your own routines with your new husband, to know that he goes out into the world and does something different for the rest of his life because of you.
Distance is only natural, you tell yourself. You’re new to their friendship.
But Soap has been one of yours for so long, and Ghost is becoming yours faster than you thought possible. Like a rapacious strangler vine or fungal colony occupying a rotted tree, you find that you’re plotting all the ways you can twist yourself around and into Ghost.
Soap laughs. “Aye, well. You try getting shot a couple o’ times. Am not goin’ down over one of them cancer sticks.”
You hear it just as you tap some of the ash off the end of your cigarette.
“...can’t believe they let those fuckin’ fags…”
You bring the smoke to your mouth to conceal your grimace before turning ever-so-slowly. You’ve learned this lesson many times over; gathering further context is important— no need to bring a knife to a situation that does not call for knives.
The same guy you heard before continues with his little rant.
He’s a miserable-looking dude with a pasty milk face, no defined chin, a bad haircut, and a shitty name tag on his shitty uniform that says ‘Pvt. Langford.’
But somehow, despite lacking any discernible charisma, he holds rapt court with a bunch of other similarly-miserable peeons. “They’re a bunch of pussies, like, it’s pathetic, bro. Gonna give me fuckin’ AIDS or some shit if I gotta be in the same room. Criminal.” By now, he’s seen you watching him.
The corner of his thin-lipped mouth lifts as if he’s said something funny.
Eh. He’s maybe got half of a foot on you. At most. There are worse odds.
Then he slides his smarmy, revolting gaze from you to just over your shoulder, and his smirk grows. He’s looking at Soap.
You’ve seen this exact look before. You know what it means, what nerves motherfucking Langford is trying to trample on.
Before anyone can stop you, you’re across the smoking area and in Pvt. Langford’s face in about five seconds.
-
Soap thinks he’s about as level-headed and reasonable as the average man, but Langford has been getting on his nerves for way too fuckin’ long. For the whole time they’ve been stationed at this base, so, weeks.
Everyone knows Langford is a little shit. Everyone hates him and his bitch boys.
You’re just the first person willing to do something about it.
So while Johnny has never felt the urge to personally handle the Private’s homophobia because swatting flies is beneath him, he’s content to sit back and watch the show.
Naturally, Ghost tries to follow you. You’ve got the poor fellow whipped and wrapped firmly around your little finger.
He supposes he shouldn’t have expected any less.
Soap holds your husband back with an outstretched arm. “Let the lass do her thing,” He advises. You won’t appreciate it, and Soap has no intention of being on the receiving end of your wrath.
Ghost rolls his shoulders back. “Not gonna stop her?”
The Lt. doesn’t know, does he? “D’ya really think ya can?” Even more reason to let you go off. This will be fun and, frankly, a necessary introduction.
Ghost stills. “…” Not so new, then.
What a bloody buzzkill. Now look who’s fussing and clucking? Like a rooster.
Soap watches his teammate flex and crack his knuckles and decides that you owe him for what he’s about to say. “If she needs it, we’ll grab her before it goes too far,” He reassures Ghost before leaning against the ‘Smoking Area’ sign.
It’ll work out one way or another. No big deal.
The scowl on your face as you stare down Langford is somethin’ real ferocious. “What the fuck did you just say?” You demand, voice low and proud and loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in a ten-foot radius.
Langford laughs and tries to play it off. “That’s classified.” Oh, haha. Real fuckin’ original. Like half the girls in town haven’t heard soldiers try that line a million times.
The Army sure didn’t take Private Langford for his brain cells.
Next to him, Riley shifts from foot to foot. “She always like this?” He asks as if the words are throwing themselves against his mask and demanding to be let out.
“Mmm. Since we were wee mates.” From here, Soap can see how viciously you throw your cigarette to the ground and grind out the lit ember with your heel like the poor thing did something to you.
“No. Say it again,” You snap, cracking the sentiment over Langford’s thick head like you’re breaking a chalkboard in two.
Ghost stiffens up even further, and behind the mask, his eyes glint in the sunlight like that flame you just put out.
Is it possible that he’s… impressed by you? “Go on. I just want to make sure that I heard you correctly. That we all heard you correctly,” You say icily.
Global warming would be solved in a day if they could translate your tone into real ice.
Watching Langford take a small step back without realizing it is funny as hell. Even his minions have backed away as your aura of menace sets off their self-preservation instincts with the subtlety of a pulled fire alarm.
Lt. Riley’s eyes narrow as he memorizes your scowl and how you crowd Langford forward without letting up. “Spitfire.” Damn. That’s some bloody high praise coming from him.
Heh.
Riley’s hood can’t hide the shadowy hickies on his throat; one would think that Ghost has realized it by now.
Are those teeth marks he spots? “You sound surprised. Figured she was teachin’ ya that already,” Johnny leers.
Ah, the expression he can make out under the skull mask. He wishes he had a camera so he could show you later.
Ghost closes his eyes for a long moment. “Shut your face.”
Across the way, Langford musters up a little courage. “Aw, are you mad? Did I make you mad ‘cause I spoke the truth, snowflake? Did those faggots get to you already?”
In the aftermath, even the birds stop chirping.
“Fighting words. Surprised you’re not out there with her,” Ghost says.
Only a fool would think the Lieutenant is relaxed right now; Johnny can tell that his breathing has slowed, that he’s holding perfectly still with an unbreaking focus on his prey.
That’s part of how Ghost manages to disappear in broad daylight. When those subtle signs of life go away, it’s easy to overlook him, unsubtle mask and all.
He’d best save it for the field, but that’s none of Johnny’s business.
You two are so well-suited. “That’s the thing. About bein’ her friend. That bird- that bird’s a psycho.” If your marriage outlasts the bets everyone’s placed on an irrevocable breakdown, Soap figures he could make a killing on a matchmaking side hustle.
You take a deep breath. “I didn’t hear the truth. I heard a bunch of yapping from a little boy who a recruiter conned into signing his life away to lick the boots of his COs because he was a complete waste of resources otherwise.”
Yikes.
Occasionally, Johnny regrets quitting. He regrets quitting now, specifically; he could use the calming rush of nicotine. You’ve never ended fights in a good way, but this will end… spectacularly badly. He can see it already.
Ghost lets out a low whistle. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Then the Lieutenant looks around, and Soap realizes he’s checking for their Captain or any other superior officer.
Soap was planning on doing that anyway, and your new husband wins another point of approval in his book for thinking of it on his own.
“Pretty nice though, canny lie. Who else d’ya know that would fuck up a man for you without hesitatin’?” He says as he watches you open your mouth again.
“How does it feel to know you’re just that worthless?” Your voice rises and rises, acrid enough to melt paint, and it keeps Langford frozen in place.
“How long have you known her?” Lt. Riley asks.
“Eh… give or take sum’ ten years, prolly.”
“She like this the whole time?”
You go in for another round. “Thank God you’re not deployed anywhere important. It would be like the Bay of fucking Pigs all over again.” You’re close enough to spit on the Private, right fuckin’ close to his sallow face, and as your lip curls up, Johnny knows you’re definitely considering it.
Anger thrums in the air as bitter as gunpowder; it’s infecting Lt. Riley, churning in his posture, and it’s (unfortunately) starting to break through Langford’s shock.
“Aye. Never seen a law, or a rule, or a fuckin’ polis stop her. It’s nice not to fight alone, an’ if she had her way, I wouldn’t have lifted a finger in school.” He pauses, then looks at Ghost.
Johnny picks his following words with care. “Bet that one could carry the world on her shoulders if we’d let her. You know that she’s taken to you right quick?”
And then…
“Shut the fuck up, you dumb whore. Who even are you? Some slut whose only accomplishment is spreading your legs for a uniform? I’m not afraid to hit a little girl.”
Fucking Langford. Way to ruin a moment between mates, when Soap was just trying to help you.
God knows you need it; Lt. Riley is a piece of work.
The other man puts out his cigarette.
Now Soap has to think about how many soldiers he needs to threaten into silence after Ghost is through and how Soap will hide Langford’s body once he gets the final hit. “Lieutenant-“
They start moving in tandem, trying to get to you as fast as possible, like sharks circling after tasting blood in the water.
“Yeah, well, that’s funny ‘cause ‘little girl’ is what your mom calls me when we fuck,” You jeer before raising your hand.
Johnny loves you a lot, but man, do you make stupid choices sometimes.
-
Private Langford stumbles to the ground like a little bitch.
Damn. You didn’t backhand him that hard, and you’re not wearing any rings.
You can take a slap way better.
You stand over him as he clutches his face, practically cowering on the ground, and your knuckles are stinging, and all you feel is the adrenaline flash-flooding through your veins like cocaine or a really good fuck.
And then- strong, immovable arms clasp around your waist and yank you away.
Your hair’s in your eyes, and you can’t tell who’s holding you back, but whoever they are… you’re gonna make them regret it.
“Fuck you!” You howl at Langford, kicking and thrashing against the stranger’s grip.
You try to get an elbow in the side of whoever it is, but they evade it with ease. “Let go of me! I’m going to fucking kill you, you inbred motherfucker!” You scream as Langford gets to his feet.
The stranger carries you a few steps back and eliminates your chances of getting your nails in Langford’s face.
You redouble your efforts to free yourself. “Let me go! Let me at him! I’ll rip his fucking head off!”
The person shakes you like a rag doll. “Calm down. Calm the fuck down, lass. It’s me, Johnny. Stop your fucking fighting,” Soap hisses.
Oops. You stop moving all at once, causing Soap to almost drop you.
The adrenaline levels off, leaving you empty, and you drag breath after breath into your lungs to make up for it.
You shove your hair behind your ears just in time to watch Ghost put Langford in a headlock with beautiful, immaculate, careless ease.
It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him take anyone down, and it takes away the breath you just found. Like, your mouth goes dry, and you forget Soap is restraining you.
Just… holy shit. He moves like the hand of God, eyes flashing and skull mask fierce.
Langford blacks out the same second Ghost gets his arm around the other man’s neck, crumpling to the ground like a chewed-up paper doll.
Oh. Oh no.
Now you understand why Soap keeps you in place because Ghost tosses Langford’s unconscious body to the side without blinking twice and then beelines straight. towards. you.
Your hands push and hit Johnny’s arms. You need to- you need to run this time, get away, and get out of Ghost’s path.
Flee. You need to flee before he unpicks you with his teeth and eats your fucking bones like a fairy tale monster.
God fucking damn it, why won’t Soap let you go?
A rush, you can’t breathe, oof, your stomach hurts, have you been swept onto Ghost’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes?
The upside-down sight of his very well-formed ass in his jeans tells you that, yes, you are hanging from his shoulder as he takes you to a secondary location.
All the blood in your body surges to your head. “Ghost. Ghost, let me down,” You tell him, voice jostling with each step he takes.
No reaction.
If you could just breathe, an action obstructed by his stupid shoulder jabbing into your stomach, and clear the fuzz from your mind (thanks hanging upside down!), you’d make him regret this.
“Put me the fuck down. I’m not fucking kidding.” Again, nothing.
If anything, Ghost actually tightens the hold he has on your hips, accurately predicting that you’re seconds away from kicking him.
Fuuuuuck this. “PUT ME DOWN, YOU OAF. I AM YOUR WIFE, YOU CAN’T JUST-“ You try to be as loud as possible, so maybe someone will hear and save you? Or irritating enough to make him set you on the ground?
Ghost keeps walking. “No,” He tells you before digging fingers into the back of your thigh. It’s painful, and you inadvertently shut your mouth, teeth grinding together. For now.
“I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T SET ME DOWN THIS INSTANT-“
Once Ghost unlocks your front door, he shoves it open viciously with his boot and locks it behind you without letting you go.
You fully expect him to unceremoniously drop you on the bed, but he- he doesn’t.
He pulls you into his arms like a husband carries his wife on their wedding night and lays you down gently.
Then he backs away as if burned by your skin, backs all the way to the other side of the room.
Shit. Shit. You’re in trouble. You’re in so much trouble, Ghost leans against the wall and crosses his arms, and you can’t meet his gaze; you can only look at his shoes.
He sighs. “You know what’s gonna happen next. Nod if you know.”
You nod, still looking at the ground, and feel the humiliation and anticipation trying to strangle each other in your stomach.
“If you don’t want it, you need to get the fuck outta my sight. Right now. I can’t look at you,” Ghost tells you.
You’re not sure how to find the right words. Do you want to beg? Resist? Ask him if he’s proud of you? You end up shaking your head in a negative and propping yourself up on elbows planted firmly in the bed.
He doesn’t say or do anything for a few minutes. You know he can see you squirm, how your fingers flex and feet tap the ground.
You pick yourself off the bed and walk towards him like a moth drawn to a flame.
Ghost moves as soon as you cave. He plants his large hands on your shoulders and pushes you back, back, back, until your back slams into the wall with his body boxing you in.
Before your head can hit the wall, he slides his palm around the back of your skull to cushion you.
He braces that same arm on the wall as he speaks. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen some stupid shit.” You’re not really listening because his flexed bicep is right there, above your head, and he has to tap your cheek to get you to focus.
You look up into Ghost’s mask and his eyes- his eyes burn, greedily eating up your blush and your throat bobbing as you swallow your nerves.
His other hand trails along your neck and then wraps around it. “Thought you were s’posed to be smart. My smart, clever girl,” Ghost croons, all condescending like he’s talking to a misbehaving animal.
Then his voice deepens to a sound that’s just a touch inhuman. “You could’ve gotten hurt. That fuckin’ wanker almost laid a finger on you.”
Your heartbeat pounds fast, screaming in your chest. “I got him first,” You point out.
Ghost’s eyes crinkle at the ends. “That you did. You were brilliant there, love, won’t deny it.” Here’s where your flush brightens, where the praise makes you look away. “I see that went straight to your pretty little head.”
He falls silent when your tongue darts out to wet your lips.
“But oh my fuckin’ god. You can’t go ‘round gettin’ into fights like that.”
“It was for Johnny,” You protest weakly. You don’t regret a single thing, but you find yourself caving at the slightest pressure.
The hand on your throat tightens, not tight enough to do anything other than remind you that you’re his. “I don’t bloody care if it was for Jesus Christ himself. Nothing is more important than you. Than your safety,” Ghost amends.
But you heard him. Nothing is more important than you, he says.
Why does he care?
Ghost sees the fight flare up in your face. “Listen to me. Nothing. Not Soap, not me. You- you are…” He’s supposed to be scaring you right now. He’s meant to be reading you the Riot Act, and the part you play is the frightened doe he teaches a lesson to.
You’re scared for a whole different reason.
Ghost is looking at you, looking through you, and it’s like you’re a little girl again, learning that the only time people give a fuck is when you do something for them.
‘Nothing is more important than you’ plays over and over in your mind.
He lets go of your throat to grab your hand, the one you hit Langford with, and his gaze drops to your reddened, bruised knuckles.
When he talks, his voice sounds odd, like he’s shaking the rust off his vocal cords. “Fuck. I was so-“ Ghost cuts himself off.
His fingers are gentle with your fingers. He turns them over, runs his thumb along your palm. You’re not used to people touching you like that.
You find your words as fast as you can. “What? You were so what?” You challenge him.
You feel him drop your hand in favor of digging his fingers into your jaw. “You’ve talked a lot today, doll. The next thing you say better be a fuckin’ apology.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That’s how you wanna play this?” Ghost asks, eyes flat and unreadable.
You let him apply more pressure so your mouth lolls open, you let him think he’s got you. “Yep.” Then you poke your tongue out and lick the side of the finger pressed into the corner of your lips.
“Another stupid choice,” He tells you before letting go.
He wears holsters strapped on his back and jeans, and for the first time, you’ll get to meet what he keeps in them. “See, I was gonna be nice. Was gonna… fuckin’, I dunno, say some sappy shit, be real sweet, make sure you were okay…” Ghost says matter-of-factly as he finds a single-edged switchblade that is definitely illegal for civilian carry.
There are rules for that sort of thing. The blade is an inch too long, and that popping mechanism was outlawed in 1958.
You know that he keeps bigger knives on him, ones that look like they violate the Geneva Convention. In comparison, this is small fry.
Ghost deliberately pinches the collar of your shirt between his fingers. “But you’re gonna be a bitch about this, aren’t you? I’m gonna have to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull?” He asks, moving far slower than he’s capable of, slow enough that you can stop him if you want to.
You hear yourself pant desperately, you look at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, then hold perfectly still so that he won’t nick you.
The tip of the sharpened knife pokes a tiny hole in the fabric. “Hope you’re not too attached to these, doll,” Ghost tells you before slicing a clean line down the middle.
It’s cold in your bedroom, you had the air conditioner running earlier, and you blame your instinctual shivers on that instead of the need brewing under your skin (and between your legs).
When he pulls the tattered remnants of your shirt from your shoulders, you let him.
Your bra goes next. A swift rip and then your tits hang free and bare, nipples already beginning to harden.
He makes sure to click the blade back into the handle before reaching out to caress the heavy swell of your breasts, unable to resist stroking your soft skin even when he’s mad.
You picked a good day to wear a skirt that falls just past your ass with a hemline that dances teasingly around your thighs. To be clear, it’s not a good day for your skirt itself.
When the blade comes out again, Ghost cuts your skirt with steady fingers that brush your curved stomach.
Then he slips the knife between your underwear and your skin, carefully aiming the sharpened edge out so you feel the cool metal press into your heated skin without risking an accidental cut.
He doesn’t react to how your panties stick to your cunt when he takes them off you, most likely to deprive you of the satisfaction of any reaction at all.
You see part of his balaclava twitch, and after a moment, you realize he’s raising an eyebrow.
Right. Shoes. You kick them off with far too much eagerness.
He returns the closed knife to its designated holster. It’s very safe of him, very proper.
“I won’t go easily,” You remind Ghost.
He answers by covering your eyes with his hand and kissing you, his mask bunched over his nose and pressing awkwardly into your skin.
Each kiss makes you dizzier, hazier, you forget why you’re fighting, he ravages your mouth with his, and when you moan, it makes him even more feral.
He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, and you shout at the pain and try to curl away. But the hand over your eyes keeps you in place, and you shudder against him, naked and helpless.
The webbed straps of his chest holster grind into your breasts and leave rough streaks of chafe wherever they touch your skin.
His tongue slips against yours, Ghost tastes like smoke and something uniquely him, it feels like he’s pouring nicotine into your synapses, and your spine relaxes, your muscles soft and compliant.
When you try to bite his lip back, he pulls away without acknowledging your unhappy whine.
“Open your fucking mouth,” Ghost snaps.
You do that and even stick your tongue out for good measure. You might not be able to see him, but he can see the little tease of how good you can be.
You hear him spit before you feel the glob of his saliva land messy and hot on your outstretched tongue. Your legs shift, and you press them together, anything to help with the pressure beginning to build in your core and the arousal trickling down your thigh.
Cloth rustles, and then Ghost removes the hand covering your eyes. His mask is back in place like he never lifted it at all. “Step away. Hands behind your back.”
You turn around on unsteady legs, then put your wrists together behind your back as ordered.
Something unclicks behind you, and then he pulls it off his… pants? His belt - he’s cuffing you with his belt, deftly weaving the nylon strap between your wrists and securing it into place.
As you test the strength and make sure he’s restrained your hands in a way that doesn’t cut off circulation, Ghost gathers your hair and drapes it neatly over one shoulder so it won’t bother you.
He touches your back and neck with an almost unbearable fondness. Fuck.
You feel him kiss your shoulder through the mask, closed-mouthed and chaste. “This isn’t coming off until you’re ready to behave,” He murmurs into your skin before sliding an arm around your waist, pulling the mask down, and biting the place he just kissed.
You struggle and twist in his grasp, but he holds fast, and you slump into him with a pained moan. Is he trying to fucking brand you? It sure feels like it.
When Ghost releases you, he turns you around with a hand on your bound wrists and then walks backward faster than you can keep up.
Then he sits on the bed as proudly as a king on a throne and beckons for you.
Without your arms free to help you balance, you stumble a few times, and Ghost watches you with a pleased glint in his gaze. That may be the point.
By the time you get to him, you’re thoroughly unbalanced. “Come on. Yeah, over my lap.” You kneel without complaint, too busy avoiding eating shit to consider resisting.
He helps you lower your torso with an arm placed below your collarbones and a hand flat on your stomach so you don’t face plant into the sheets.
“Are you going to-“ You feel him guide your hips up, encouraging you to place most of your weight on your face and shoulders.
Conveniently leaving your ass exposed. And- and he can see your dripping folds, see proof that you crave him.
He goes on as casually as if he were describing the weather. “Spank you? Yes, I am. A slag like you can’t see reason, obviously. Got to train it in ya.” You practically jump out of your skin when you feel him drag a finger along the inside of your thigh, tracing the rivulets of slick trickling from your pussy.
You feel like a thing, like putty in his hands that he can bat about and talk to like you’re not even there.
“Don’t act like you don’t fucking get off on this. Be honest. Or are you too stupid to do that?” Ghost asks as if he’s just remembered that you can answer questions.
You clench around nothing and desperately wish he’d take that finger playing with the sensitive skin of your thighs, and do something useful with it. “…I do.”
“There’s my needy girl.” He neatly fists a hand in your hair, somehow mindful that you won’t appreciate losing a few strands without you telling him.
His free hand caresses your ass, then up and down the backs of your thighs. You feel him grab one cheek tightly, grinding down with his fingers so he can see red marks bloom under his touch.
You jerk forward with a cry when he hits you the first time, though the hand in your hair keeps you from going very far. Ghost doesn’t spank you hard, more of a warning tap than anything.
The shock smarts more than the blow did. But you’re determined to show that you can, in fact, take a hit better than Langford, so you dig your knees in and psych yourself up for the next spank.
“Fuck is wrong with you?” His voice cracks like thunder, then he follows it with another spank.
This one hurts. Hot, hot pain radiates from the spot he hit, but your body wrenches with a different sensation as your body processes that pain as… well… pleasure.
When he spanks you again, he takes the time to force your head further down into the blankets. “Hm? Running your dumb fucking mouth, talkin’ all that big shit?” Ghost snaps at you.
Each time he spanks you, you cry out, your eyes roll back, and it hurts, and he keeps hitting the same spots, so even when he isn’t touching you, you’re sore.
Another set of blows, each one harder than the last.
You gotta- you gotta tell him- you push back against his grip, and he lets you lift your head. “God, Ghost, please-“ Your voice is choked-up and pleading, mirroring your thighs trembling with want and your aroused, needy core that he’s fucking ignoring.
He slaps your ass again, this time right where your ass cheek meets your thigh, close but not close enough.
“Please, what? Please, what, doll? Come on. Dumb little doll doesn’t know how to talk?”
Your breaths are ragged, labored, you’re shivering and there’s so much pain that you can’t tell where it stops and where the want begins.
“Harder-“ You cut yourself off with a gasp when he does just that.
That one burns. That one feels like an open flame, like Ghost’s touch is burrowing into your muscles, down down down, like it will leave a lingering mark that you don’t want to fade.
He rubs over your heated skin, massaging away the worst of the soreness. “You’re welcome. Now listen to me,” Ghost speaks in a low, reassuring tone like he’s gentling a startled animal.
He notices the exact moment you get lost in the feeling, when you push back and fucking present yourself in the hopes that he’ll give you more.
Then he cracks his hand against your ass; the sound is louder than your answering shriek. “Listen. You are going to apologize for almost getting hurt. You’re going to mean it. You’re going to swear you’ll never get into a fight again.” Ghost tightens his hold on your hair and twists his wrist to push your face back into the bed, taking back the advantage he granted.
“Or what?” You won’t be able to sit comfortably for a week at least, the ache and the bruises forming have you strung out for the tiniest scrap of pleasure… but you did tell him you wouldn’t go easily.
“Or…” Ghost trails off slowly. Your scalp begins to tingle as his grip grows even tighter.
It’s so painful that you almost miss the two thick fingers he slips into your pussy. Almost.
“Fuck!” You keen, your mouth open as your nails dig into your palms.
He thrusts them into you slowly, lazily, totally unsympathetic to your pleading noises and your muscles quivering around his fingers as he drags them in and out of you.
Your cunt has to stretch to accommodate them, and he grinds into you each time he gets knuckle-deep. And then he holds your head down like you don’t get the privilege of looking at him… Your pussy clenches around him at the thought.
Eventually, Ghost stops moving at all, but you’re gone, you’ve been gone, and when you start fucking yourself on his hand, he lets you.
You can tell he’s rock hard, you can feel his dick through his jeans, but he has far more willpower than you could even imagine, and brushing up against it does nothing. “Oh- oh my god, fuck, that feels…” You pant as you chase the sweetness, chase the tension twisting up your guts that’s so close to boiling over, so close.
Your clit is aching, screaming for pressure, for stimulation, but he doesn’t grant it to you. You can only work your hips against his hand, over and over.
Your eyes close as you speed up, you’re whining, you’re gonna come any second, your cunt can’t stop twitching. “I’m so close, wait what-“
Ghost pulls his fingers out before you tip over the edge.
“Or you’re not coming tonight,” He informs you, and you can hear the stupid fucking grin in his stupid fucking voice.
When you try to protest, to get up and fucking bite him or some shit because that’s not fair, Ghost spanks you with the hand you soaked.
You’re sort of blissed-out, sort of pissed, and a lot horny. “I’m sorry-“ You start in the hopes that Ghost will fold and give you what you fucking want.
His mask rustles as he shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”
Then he slides you off his lap like you weigh nothing so he can stand.
Ghost keeps you in the same position, head down, ass up, and nudges your thighs open a bit wider.
You can’t see him through any of this. That seems to be something he’s taking full advantage of. You can’t touch him, you have no idea what’s happening next.
The only clue you have that he’s taken his mask off again is when he puts his tongue on your sensitive, aroused clit.
(He really should just take the damn thing off more regularly. This is inconvenient, and it’s not like there’s anything under there that could make him less attractive.)
He laps at your swollen folds with his hands on your hips to steady you, and the thoughts melt straight out of your head and drool from the corner of your mouth.
You struggle against the belt in earnest this time, maybe you can loosen it enough to slip your hands out and get away from Ghost and his planned torment. As much as your body pleads to stay put, as much as you want to push yourself back and let him consume you, let him fuck you stupid with his tongue, you know it will end soon.
And he’s going to be fucking mean about it.
Ghost takes his breathing break as an opportunity to taunt you. “You’re not goin’ anywhere,” He promises, leaving handprint bruises on your thighs.
Your stomach churns as he sucks on your clit, like there’s a knife slicing through you, and it’s the hot, burning pleasure pulsing through your body.
You’re not sure you can hold yourself up any longer, your knees waver like you’re a baby deer, and oh God, you’re going to come again, you can feel the spasms in your cunt grow stronger and stronger.
The beginnings of your orgasm tremble through your muscles, so close that you can taste it, you feel it throbbing with every beat of your heart.
He keeps sucking, his wet mouth relentless and dragging you painfully to the edge of the cliff. “Ghost, please, please let me- Fuck!” You wail as he backs off.
Tears well in your eyes as the tremors fade into nothing.
You get yourself upright before he can stop you. “Why are you being such a dick?” You blurt out, lurching forward on your knees like if you can get to him, you can do… something. You’re not sure what, other than that you want to kill him.
Ghost blinks a couple of times.
In the silence that follows, the deadly, threatening silence, you realize your mistake. “Just- just let me come, I’ll be good. I promise. Just wanna come.” You beg, you sit down and tilt your head up like a dog doing a trick, and you pray he gives you grace.
He gets his hand around your throat faster than a snake striking its prey. This time, Ghost squeezes the sides hard enough to make you see white lights. “I am being a dick,” He agrees congenially. “But that’s not what you need to say, is it?”
“…no,” You mumble.
The next thing you feel after he releases you is his palm meeting your cheek. Hard.
“Have I spoiled you that much? You think you can fuckin’ ignore me?” Ghost sounds so calm, so authoritative.
After the ringing in your ears clears, you’re proud to see that you’re still upright. “No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” You stretch your jaw a few times to release the ache from his slap.
He hunches over, puts his hands on his knees, and gets right in your face. “Oh, but you did,” Ghost whispers.
There’s something about the fogginess clinging to your eyelashes and the inside of your ears and the folds of your brain that makes his skull mask seem more than real.
A hovering specter of exposed bone, hollow eye sockets with no end, and a gaping, horrifying maw.
You’re starting to understand why people call him Ghost and mean it.
Your mouth goes dry. “Please, I’m begging you,” You whimper, eyes round with awe and flustered blood rising in your cheeks.
He nods, and you swear there must be hearts in your eyes at his approval. “Mm. I like that. Beg again.”
“Ghost. Husband. I’ll be so good. Anything. I’ll do anything. I can’t take it, I need to come so badly.” You lean forward to touch your forehead to his, making yourself as obedient as possible. For the most part.
“That’s not an apology.” Then he sighs, long and drawn-out and aggravated. “Anything, you say?” Ghost asks.
“Y-yeah.”
“Alright. You can come…. When you promise not to fight. And you’re gonna wait until you do,” He tells you as he slips his hand between your slick thighs.
“No…” You moan. He’s doing it again, torturing you again, you just want to give up, you feel him play with your throbbing clit, and it hurts so good.
Ghost clamps a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to roll your hips against his hand. “Sounds like you weren’t listening. Now that makes me think you don’t care.” Shit. Shiiiiit. He pushes a single finger into you, and you collapse into him as you start to ride it, hips jerking unconsciously.
He laughs when he hears you squeal. “You’re just a mindless whore who’d let half the fuckin’ base run through you, aren’t ya?” He’s found your g-spot, he rubs the patch of ridged flesh inside your cunt over and over.
Sweat beads on the back of your neck and drips down your spine, your fucked-out gaze can hardly focus on him, you feel like you’re burning alive in your skin.
“Don’t even need me at this point…” He circles your clit one more time and your mouth hangs open and you want to beg, but you can’t focus-
Tears fall down your cheeks when he wipes his fingers on your heaving breasts.
“No, no, no, Ghost, I need you. I want you. No-nobody else. I do care, please, you’re the only one,” You sob into his chest, pushing your nose into the fabric of his hoodie because it’s soft and smells like him, warm and like home.
“Yeah?”
You feel him rub your back, then slip a few fingers between the belt and your wrists to test your comfort.
You nod without lifting your head. “I- I was- I’m listening, promise, I can’t- you gotta make me come, don’t want anybody else.” You’re so tired, so worn out. There’s a patch of dampness on his jacket from your weeping, and you let out little high-pitched whimpers like a neglected kitten.
He frees your hands in an instant. “If I gotta repeat myself, I’m gonna leave you here,” Ghost tells you, though his voice isn’t as mean as before.
Your arms cling to his neck as you nuzzle your face into the space below his sharp jaw. “Ghost. Don’t go.” The edge of his balaclava muffles your words, but you don’t have the strength to say them to him straight.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so stupid,” You sniffle before bringing a hand to your nose to wipe a little snot.
Ghost gently knocks your fingers away and replaces them with the edge of his sleeve, delicately cleaning the mucus from your upper lip.
Next, he dries your cheeks with the shadow-black fabric.
You protest when he unhooks your arms from his neck, and your hands scrabble for purchase in the hood of his jacket.
One soft look, his fingers brush your chafed wrists, and you let him lay you down. “Took you long enough,” Ghost quips as he unbuttons his pants and pulls out his dick, mouthwateringly hard and long. He pumps his cock a few times.
You’re in a daze, hovering in that raw space on the other side of crying but wanting him anyways, needing him more than anything.
“Spread your legs, love.”
Ghost leans in like he’s about to kiss you. Then he remembers his mask and changes his mind, having lifted it enough today.
He taps your sensitive clit with the fat head of his cock, and you suppress your shudders, how your legs automatically try to close and get away from the feeling. “I won’t do it again,” You tell him, voice breathless and sweet.
Once he’s coated in enough of your arousal, he keeps one hand flat on your pelvis as he pushes in. “Fuck- fuck, I…” You groan. There’s never any room in your body left for air when he fucks you. Never.
He’s so large that it hurts a little when he’s bottomed out, you can hardly twitch or clamp down like you desperately want because of how fucking full you are.
You can feel every inch of him, you’re on the brink of crying again because all of those denied orgasms are tearing at your insides, and your painfully aroused cunt screams that you can’t take it, that it’s too much, too good, he’s too big.
You have to be good. “Uh, I won’t fight, aah-“ That’s the only thing that gets you to say the words he wants through numb lips, especially when Ghost starts to thrust, and your pussy convulses around him each time.
He moves slowly, really slowly, shallow at first, your tits bouncing in time, and you’re crying out underneath him, so used to all that edging that you subdue your pleasure on instinct.
The slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out are loud and profane, filling the room more than your weak, almost pathetic whines do.
The solid, imposing weight of his body settles you down so you can enjoy his faster, harder pace, and his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you open. “Promise?” Ghost pants, his hands pressing your knees almost to your chest.
He’s looking for something. He moves your legs every few thrusts, opens you up a little more, tilts your pelvis up and-
When his dick catches on your g-spot, your tears cover your cheeks and trickle into your hair in earnest. “Yes, yes, shit, hngh- I promise…” You’re so wet that you can feel it dripping down to the bed and pooling under you, you feel that familiar pressure building, except this time it’s stronger, it’s got a stranglehold on you.
Every time the fly of his pants brushes your engorged clit, your eyes go large and you hiccup, unable to moan properly because it’s like electricity is coursing down your spine.
He kisses the side of your face before nailing that sensitive spot with terrifying, mind-breaking accuracy.
“Come on. You can do it,” Ghost groans, cursing under his breath when you squeeze him so tightly that he almost loses his grip on your thighs.
Oh. Oh. He wants- he’s trying to make you…
“I can’t, I don’t know how, I, I-“ You sob, the pleasure is so intense that you feel nauseous, he’s rutting into your body furiously, and you’re stuck on a horrible knife’s edge of needing to come or you’ll die, but it’s not happening.
He nudges your knee until you wrap one leg around his hips. “It’s alright, love. Let me help you. That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Ghost shushes you before slowing down so he can place his hand on your throat and restrict the blood rushing to your head.
Everything goes sweet and hazy, and you give him a cock-drunk smile in return, eyes rolling back and drool stuck to the corner of your lips.
Once you’re suitably pliant, he slides that hand between you and finds your aching clit. “Just focus on me.” He’s pressing his forehead to yours, you look into his dark, fathomless eyes ringed with pale lashes.
The coil tightens, and you arch into him, gasping and biting down on your lip so hard that you draw blood.
“Ghost, fuck, can I-“ You beg, voice choked and strung out as his fingers move faster on your clit, circling it in tandem with his cock pounding you so deep that it feels like he never ends.
“Go on. Come for me. I know you can.” Ghost pinches your clit, and you come with a wail, thighs shaking, your cunt seizing and it fucking gushes out of you, you soak his jeans, you clamp down so tightly that he slips out.
He replaces his dick with three fingers slotted right on your g-spot, moving in quick, jerky thrusts to see you through it. “Holy fuck. Did you just…” He mutters as your eyes screw shut, and your nails snag his shoulders.
You feel like you’re dying, you can’t stop fucking squirting, the waves grow and grow-
Your hips jerk for the last time, and you’re left a whimpering, quivering mess of oversensitive nerves, the last of the aftershocks still simmering in your muscles.
Ghost kisses your forehead as he carefully withdraws his fingers. “You’re too good to me,” He tells you with something like awe in his rough voice.
You slump to the bed, boneless and empty, not even giving a fuck that the sheets are all messy with sweat and… squirt?
That’s new, you think blearily. That kind of shit only happens in porn? Right?
Your head lolls to the side so you can watch him through lidded eyes.
He moves you out of the wet patch with one arm under your back and the other under your knees, then tucks himself back into his boxers.
“Wait… you didn’t- you didn’t come…” Your voice is fucked up and hoarse, and maybe you should give in to the overwhelming urge to sleep, but…
Did he not want to? You did everything he asked.
He shakes his head. “Nah. Don’t need to. You were perfect, you learned your lesson.” He splays a hand out on your stomach, luxuriating in your squishiness.
Your brow furrows. “Ghost…” Then you rub the sweat and crusted tears from your eyes and set your mouth in a mulish, determined line.
He watches you like a hawk. “Yeah?”
“Please? Fuck me?” You ask as you touch his forearm with a weak hand.
A beat passes. “You’re crying. And you drenched me, the bed too,” He tries to reason with you. You see him swallow harshly, you know he’s shifting where he sits because he’s given himself blue balls.
Your eyes flutter when the exhaustion almost gets you, but you power through it. “It’s okay. I- I’m tough. I want you to come.”
“Yeah. Alright… Tough girl.” Then Ghost reaches for your hips with all kinds of enthusiasm that tells you the truth.
It was sweet of him to try and be gallant. You’d rather he break you open and fill you up.
To be extra nice, you even hold your knees apart so he can push back in.
You’re not going to come again, you’re too fried for that, but it still feels… incredible. You’re glad for all the extra lubrication and that you can make him feel good.
Ghost fucks you with abandon, and deep, animalistic groans echo from his throat. “Shit- I could fuck you forever, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, fuckin-“ He grunts, head tilted back the tiniest bit and composure gone.
Breathe, you tell yourself, breathe. Do it for him.
“God, you’re beautiful.” Your swollen pussy spasms from the praise, constricting him so tight that he cries out. You just can’t help yourself when he says shit like that, especially when he’s making you ache in such an addictive way.
His hips move faster. “You like that? You like it when I tell you how good this fuckin’ pussy feels?” Yeah. Yeah, you do.
“Fuck, fuck fuck-“ You feel him orgasm, he paints your walls with his cum, then grinds those last few thrusts so deep that you cry out.
His pelvis bumps the backs of your thighs like he’s trying fuck his cum in as deep as it will go.
Ghost catches his breath as he softens inside you, panting as raggedly as you are.
He pulls out before dropping his chest harness to the side and unzipping his hoodie so he can clean you up.
You can’t stand the thought of anything touching anywhere near your beat the fuck up pussy right now, so you shove his hands away and drag Ghost down to snuggle.
Of course, he obliges you and helps you rest your head on his shoulder as you curl into his muscular frame like a little bug.
“What happens if the fight comes to me?” You ask.
He’s running a hand up and down your spine, soft touches to bring you back to earth in a gentle, comforting way.
His hand stops until you kick his shin, gently, then he starts up again. “You run,” Ghost says.
“What happens if I can’t run?” You press your cheek into his t-shirt, so close that you can feel the heat of his skin through it. And a little rhythm that must be his heartbeat.
Next, Ghost threads his fingers through your sweaty, messy hair and attentively smooths it away from your face. “You call me. I’ll come get you. Every time.”
-
Hope y'all liked this one! Next chapter will be super soft/sweet/fluffy with lots of caretaking, I promise.
Tagging:
@abbiesxox @thedevillovesflowers @poohkie90 @averyyreads @lialacleaf @backupgal @kitty-satan1 @androgynoushellscape @555ilovecats @pinkwigonmytv @almightywdm @discowizard88 @castielsangelsx @jaymicrosoft @rengokulover96 @copiasratscheese @fluffysmiko @d3athtr4psworld @idesofarch @teenagegever2k22 @badame0224 @toilet-paper-headbands @itsrosebabe @bangirl134 @silverianni @nezukos-number1fan @deadpoetsandhoney @crowsjourney @vanevafu @xxghostyx @rafaelacallinybbay @akaotv @chibijusstuff @wasteland-babe @anubiseqq @lilpothoscuttings @soapyghost @maliceex59 @valdemarismynonbinarylove
#heartless#cod#call of duty#modern warfare#mw#modern warfare 2#mw2#cod mw#cod mw2#cod modern warfare#cod modern warfare 2#call of duty mw#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty mw2#call of duty modern warfare 2#simon riley#ghost#ghost riley#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost riley x reader#ghost riley x you#ghost x you#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#ghost mwii#ghost mw#lieutenant riley
318 notes
·
View notes
Text
my transmasc nonbinary ex said that they keep getting gendered as female when going out, especially now that they're off testosterone, and that they're not opposed to it per se but it just gets tiring to be called the same thing all the time and they wish people would switch it up every now and then (so they feel more validated as enby)
i remember what it was like when i had nonbinary dysphoria and it was almost like a game. like you want a good ratio of being gendered as male vs female. they were gendered as male for long enough for years that they got actually dysphoric from it, like they got miserable living 100% as male. so now they're in-between. they've had top surgery, they have stubble but always shave it and want to get laser for it (they don't enjoy anything they rly got from hrt afaik, they just "needed something to happen" and top surgery was taking a while to happen at the time). so they're androgynous, but they're hyperfixated on how others view them. it's obviously not what they always think about, but enough to notice and keep track. if they only get gendered as female that month they get uncomfortable. if they only get gendered as male another month they get uncomfortable. it must be so fucking annoying. it was for me, anyway. like never feeling satisfied w how others view you, bc what you want is basically impossible unless you were super dedicated every single day to curating your appearance to pass differently
sometimes i feel like telling them just be yourself, even cis ppl get misgendered, try to feel secure in yourself and all the other bullshit will fade away. strangers only take a quick glance at you and your sex characteristics. and if you have an afab-typical body outside of a flat chest, and you wear stylish clothes, and you're conventionally pretty... and have shaved your stubble... i mean yeah, ppl are gonna think you're afab, and they use the typical sex-based pronouns associated w that. it sucks though. nonbinary ppl, including me from back then, tend to daydream abt a world where ppl would just be able to tell they identified as nonbinary and used they/them or did the "oh miss... i mean sir! sorry" thing every time. they're seeking that rush of "omg i did the nb thing!!" even though they themselves will use she or he for others unless the person is alternative enough & androgynous enough where they cannot believe the person is at peace w their sex. they'll say all day long that nonbinary isn't a look or a behavior but they really go against that aaall the time!!! honestly often the word nonbinary is basically synonym with "androgynous" in how it's used, and other times as a nebulous identity based on the understanding that everyone has an inner womanly or manly feelings inside their head except for special enbies. some nonbinary ppl are androgynous, others genuinely for all intent and purposes are considered gender conforming in society. sometimes i think that's to the detriment of genuinely androgynous folks (nonbinary-identified or not) who face the blunt of anti-gnc hatred
honestly once i embraced being a female human life seemed kinda boring at first bc i didn't get those "omg i reached androgyny!!" rushes anymore. it's like the game was over bc i aligned w my sex as a neutral fact. and all that energy i had focused on gender stuff i now put towards just seeing myself as a human who happened to be female, and would be female no matter what, and no matter what ppl thought it doesn't change the body type i was born in. i'm just like any other female animal. it means absolutely nothing. ppl can think i'm a dude all the time and i just laugh it off bc i know what i am, it's like a funny little secret i have when i get misgendered. but trans ppl don't view it like that... i wonder, what if they desensitized themselves to misgendering and found security in themselves and confidence in their identity? even while still identifying as trans etc? what if they could learn to laugh too cuz they know what they are? i feel like that's what they should work on instead of changing the world around them and feeling bummed out everytime they don't win at gender
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
Dear Advisor,
I (M 21) have formed a tight-knit friend group in college. Yay! My closest college friends are the members of my ttrpg group, who we’ll call A, B, C, D, and E. A (F 21) and B (NB 22) have been dating for the whole time I’ve known them, about a year. Last year, A, B, and C lived in the same residence hall and were rarely apart. Now that B has graduated, the plan next year is for A and D to be roommates while C, E, and I live in a similar residence hall. I expect to see a lot of B, who plans to find a job and apartment in this town.
B is my friend, so this is *almost* fine. Except that while I like A, and I like B, it is painful to hang out with both of them at the same time. B is a fairly jealous person, and they get very upset and mean when A hangs out with friends without including them. When we get lunch together and the topic turns to an interest of A’s that B does not share, B usually ends up monologuing about how much they dislike the interest. These monologues often turn into teardowns of A as a person that the rest of us awkwardly sit through. A and B have a lot of their fights in public, and they’re mean to each other.
At this point, I’ve seen enough meanness that I don’t consider B a close friend anymore, and I’m wavering on A. I like both of them, but the way they’re willing to treat each other in public, especially the way B treats A, throws up a lot of red flags.
Any good options? I’m worried that if I tell A that I don’t like how B treats her, it’ll torpedo my friendships with both of them. C is A’s best friend, E is B’s best friend, and D is about to be A’s roommate, so it’s not like I can avoid either of them. And I do still like them, especially A. When it’s just the two of us, A is a good friend.
What do I do? I’m tempted to bring it up to our other friends, but I don’t like talking behind people’s backs.
Readers sometimes send Bad Advisor their real-ass questions to answer, so the Bad Advisor is periodically going to try her hand at answering them. If you’d like to submit a question for a Good Advice Interlude, use the “ask” form!
What a surprise it is, going on a decade-plus of Bad Advice, to finally have some TTRPG drama on the blog! ("Table-top role-playing games," for the uninitiated.) The Bad Advisor is all too familiar with the Darth Partner/Missing Stair dynamic (h/t Captain Awkward, the Pervocracy) in TTRPG scenarios and it's a real goddamned bummer, because you can mostly scoot away from the DP/MS at a party but when you're stuck at the gaming table with them, woof.
My first inclination, as an old-ass gamer lady, was to simply tell you that B will probably just move the fuck on from your group now that they're graduated and doing non-college things, but that doesn't help you in the moment, and they might not, and frankly DP/MS folks will show up for your entire fucking life if you're a game-type person in many and various modes, and it's good to figure out how you're going to handle them now and get some practice in with not tolerating nonsense in your circle. I'm gonna use some elaborate/belabored RPG metaphors in this response and want to emphasize that it doesn't mean your life is a game! (I also believe TTRPG life is real life, because it's my real life, too!) But you've given me a delightful tableau within which to work.
Your instincts for not just straight-up shit-talking and gossiping about A and B's deal are correct! You will never be able to keep those conversations totally private (nothing that starts in the TTRPG side-chat ever stays in the TTRPG side-chat), and for both A and B, it will suck to inevitably find out that their buds were engaged in such conversations. Is it possible you could safely feel out the other members of the group on the A/B relationship dynamic, as a fact-finding, temperature-taking mission? MAYBE. But it's a very risky maybe IMO, and if you don't love the dynamic, I don't necessarily think you need side-chat validation on this point. You have information the other players may or may not have; you are entitled to act upon it. I think we dispense with C, D, and E. You aren't them, and you can't control what they do or say or feel, and they aren't asking me for advice. But you can model behavior and steer your party!
So. What are you gonna do?
You start by describing B as a friend, but waffle on that some -- you've become less close because you dislike B's treatment of/behavior around A, which is fair! You're allowed to decide, with new information about how B behaves in particular situations, that you don't really like parts of a person, or maybe even that person at all! You don't have to set the whole motherfucker on fire to make your feelings known in a thoughtful, polite, and even kind way; if somebody else (B) blows that shit up, it's on them! They are a whole other person who will act a way in a game/life that you cannot control; the only thing you need to feel good about at the end of your turn is that you did something that was true to you/your character. Because for real, if there's one thing I know about people, it's that telling people to do a thing because you want them to do a thing (such as: "Y'all are miserable and you should split up!") will almost always result in the told-parties doubling down on the opposite of what the telling-party wants them to do. (This is what I do to torture my folks when I am the dungeon-master, because it is what people do!)
Assuming we're talking about garden variety shitty relationship behavior (which is what I think you've described here) and not full-scale abuse in public, I think you have a number of options depending on the situation. I don't mean to suggest that you should accommodate bad behavior; you already know that feels crappy and sows discord and confusion because you're doing it, now, by trying to side-step around the ick. You gotta choose your move depending on where you are on the board.
The next time A and B get into it in front of everybody (during a game, or at the bar, or the coffee shop, or the student union, or wherever), you pretend-roll a charisma check and imagine you got a 15+ and they rolled a combined 3 (because they have??? nobody likes this!!!!), and you say something to this effect: "Hey, A and B? These vibes are not great, can we table this tiff until later?" Repeat as needed! Passive voice/vague antecedents are great in these kinds of situations: "Can folks not get into this right now?"/"Moving on! Let's focus on XYZ!"/"Feels like we're getting off track — can we do ABC instead?"/"Wow! That's kind of awkward and private! Let's not do that here!" If it helps, imagine B is the obnoxious NPC you need to get the bare minimum of compliance out of to continue the game of not blowing up the entire situation. You already have a good bead on what people do when they feel attacked, because you're literally playing games wherein that make-believe happens! People fight back and get defensive! It's a bad scene!
Other people's bad relationships are theirs to solve, so you can treat interactions regarding those relationships as open-ended puzzle games that are not for you to finish. You are the Oracle, not the puzzlemaster. If you get A or B on their own in a safe space where you're not rushed to get somewhere or hungry or otherwise pissy or wanting, why not ask: How does it feel when A/B does that? What would you like to see happen instead when Bad interaction happens? What might you do about that irritating/annoying/weird thing A/B does? Despite what I said in the prior bullet points, your friends are not NPCs, and of course you know this or you wouldn't be asking — they are the main characters in their own lives, and you can neither save nor sink them.
It might be that A and B stay in this weird bad relationship! If it continues to cause bad vibes at the game nights/within your circle, I think you're well within your rights to say, either to one or both of them if they haven't gotten previous messages: "Hey, I like you both, I want to keep doing XYZ fun things with y'all, but this dynamic is actually really, legitimately killing the vibe, because I don't get to see the fun part where y'all make up and feel good about everything, I only see the bad arguing parts and it's just a real downer!" Don't let them off the hook about this! Stand your ground when they come back with "Oh, we're just joking" or "Ah, well, that's just how we are." Okay, they're joking and that's how they are, but it SUCKS TO BE AROUND and if it's not a big deal, they can cut that shit out!
The whole deal blows, and you're in a sorry position to have to navigate it. It just absolutely is a shit situation to have a friend-group whose dynamic is messed up in this way. But you're asking because your interest is in maintaining a collective good-feeling, and I can promise you that skipping the missing stair of A and B's bad vibes (and maybe specifically B's behavior) will absolutely in the long-term result in the precise kind of bad-feeling you're trying to avoid by skating past it today. Resentment, distrust, annoyance, back-channeling — all of the things we build and do to avoid being emotionally honest with people who care about because we think it'll hurt less in the moment, or get better later, or just change, somehow — are also 10000000% guaranteed ways to push us farther apart from the people we love, rather than keep us close and friendly.
Your people will always be your people. You have a wonderful and beloved friend group, and you will lose and add members of your party throughout your life, but you will never lose any people who were supposed to be your people if you commit to being kindly forthright while modeling your needs, boundaries, and appreciations for them. This isn't a skill you pick up once and do automatically forever; it takes work and commitment throughout your life and it's fucking annoying and awkward and so, so worth it.
#ttrpg#dnd#advice#bad advice#reader submission#college#college friends#friend advice#boundaries#awkward conversations#we've all been there
86 notes
·
View notes
Note
I saw you tentatively recommended Camlann a little while ago. Do you have any further thoughts on it, now that a few more episodes have released? I basically started listening to it based on the impact the sound design alone had on me (similar story for Midst), but I'm curious about your thoughts on the story, characters, or concept as it's unfolding.
This is interesting bc I actually have mixed feelings about Camlann's sound design; the parts over walkie-talkies/radio are often hard for me to discern easily and I have to go to the transcripts.
Plotwise I like it; the latest episode following the Welsh crew was fantastic and I must admit I was a tiny bit irritated that they did a view of another part of the world, even though I enjoy Greek Mythology, because I want to visit that fallout. I also really want to know what the deal is with Dai and which stories are true (on the one hand I respect the doylist choice to not fuck with bible stories but also, and I say this as someone who actively practices Judaism, it sort of weirdly places the Abrahamic religions in a position of increased validity to treat ancient pagan mythology as "real myths" and Bible stories as, well, not that.) Also I really like Gwen, I do ship her with Morgan, and I wonder how names work here bc the implication is that Gwen and Perry are both names the people chose for themselves (Gwen to anglicize a Chinese name and Perry as an nb person) so like...can you knowingly change your name to Arthur if you, post cataclysm, transition? I think it has to be a genuine change the individual wants but like, could a trans man just take over the British Isles? inquiring minds want to know.
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
Thank you so much for your BPD post. I've had people judge me irl for going from openly identifying as bisexual specifically to IDing as Lesbian (with a secret Bi- for Cool People)/Queer/It's Complicated. And while some of that is genuine shift in my identity, a lot is about seeking medical diagnosis rn and being scared of a BPD diagnosis and I can't explain that to people BC I'm worried they'll take that as manipulative, too. Seeing people talk about how it's genuinely dangerous and how bisexuality is such a factor in the diagnosis is really fucking validating.
i rarely see people talking about the biphobic aspect to how bpd gets diagnosed—one of the main diagnosis criteria is about "disordered/unhealthy sexual behaviors", which immediately pathologises bisexuality and any kind of non-normative sexual behaviour from non-monogamy to having kinks to just enjoying having sex with strangers (and again if you're bi this is included in the non-normative, disordered behaviour). i remember reading how bi/pan women tend to have higher bpd diagnosis rates than heterosexual women and even lesbians bc of the whole "oh you're bi you cant choose a side so i diagnose you with manipulative slut disorder" and i mean i experienced it myself, with a doctor trying to diagnose me despite not even fitting *any other criteria at the time* except that my anger at the abuse i saw in psych ward counted as a "manipulative ourburst" i guess and me being perceived as a bi woman sealed the deal lol. so i feel you entirely, as an nb dyke myself
as a whole id argue that bpd and most psychiatric diagnosises are only as useful as far as they provide you with a community who might share similar issues and in rare cases, being able to support each other. certainly i know friends who are antipsych but id with bpd in terms of being able to better understand specific symptoms of trauma and find tactics to handle said symptoms better, as well as support others with similar delibitating symptoms. but this is what a shared community does that can be good—the truth is, bod and most personality disorder diagnosis are not just fundamentally flawed but used to deny any kind of care or help to already traumatized and depressed people. ive heard cases of "misdiagnosis" of bpd, but id argue any official psychiatric diagnosis is a danger bc it puts a target on you and marks you indefinitely. you could fit the bpd criteria to a T and I'd still argue that a diagnosis is a danger and can actively impede your access to care, and be used as ammo against you by doctors, healthcare providers, family and even random acquaintances because frankly, no matter how nice an individual doctor is, most doctors treat a personality disorder diagnosis as a way to say "this person's shitty and hard to deal with and should be kept away from healthy society" and it's also how it's used by 90% of people (whether in healthcare or otherwise) who love to have a way to distance themselves from Irrevocably Broken People and put any instance of abuse or poor behaviour on them. there's a much wider argument to be had about the harm of psychiatry as a whole, but i have this particular issue at heart. i know so many traumatized and abused people whove been retraumatized and frankly destroyed by being marked with this kind of diagnosis, whose abuse has been justified by their peers bc they have the Broken Slut Disorder or the Has No Feelings Disorder or the Selfish Cunt Disorder. which are all apparently Real and Important medical tool that serve an important function and should never be criticized lol
15 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
woetoy
oh, woe!
matsu555
ma
chrisgabby221
Untitled
enjoythegay
enjoy the gay
yearighto
a chance encounter