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terastarst0rm · 1 month

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THEY REALLY MADE AN OGERPON BLINGEE ON THE OFFICIAL POKEMON YOUTUBE CHANNEL THATS SO AWESOME

#OGERPON #POKEMON #03/16/2024 #CAN THEY MAKE ONE FOR TERAPAGOS TOO #SORRY IM GREEDY

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astonmartingf · 29 days

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DEATH OF A BACHELOR ; F1 DILFS

the grid's most handsome and eligible bachelors— now taken? exactly this is that. i don't have time to think of a good punchline so it'll have to wait.

started: 03/01/24 ended: 03/23/24

amfg 8.6k words total. smau + written. contains angst, fluff, implied smut(?), crack(?), drama, controversy, and conspiracies. reader is faceless. can be read in any order. enjoy reading (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

ADORE YOU ; KR7

. . . your relationship with kimi was always civil, not too close like friends, but not too far apart like strangers. somehow you got stuck in a situation leaving both of you confronting your feelings for each other.

HAVEN'T MET YOU YET ; JB22

. . . slowing down as the high life of the party, jenson turns a new leaf and thinks optimistically about his plans in the future concerning his love life.

MISERY ; MW2

. . . fuck sebastian vettel and fuck his goddamn race engineer who he can't help but think about all the time. he's bitter, jealous and in misery.

GREEDY ; SV5

. . . at the height of his career all vettel wants is to win. with four world championships on his back, his ego- out of the world, surely that's enough for a room in your life.

VOODOO DOLL ; LH44

. . . hamilton is a penchant for opposing teammates, and after the previous one he somehow got stuck with another, but after years of dominance new emotions develop between the two.

NEW PERSPECTIVE ; FA14

. . . twenty years into his career, alonso faced a lot of changes. but it was all because of you, that he looked forward to at the end of everything.

amfg yay! to my first series ever finished... here's to more series and writing. i hope you enjoyed reading these as much as i wrote them 🫶

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dollfaceksj · 11 months

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schemin’ | myg (m) MASTERLIST

➥ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: Your dream comes true when world renowned music producer and CEO of D-Town Records, Agust D, discovers you in the underground rap scene and wants to sign you to his label. It all goes well for a few months and you can’t believe you’re actually living your dream. However, things start to shift when Agust D offers to do something for you and you can’t stop thinking about it for weeks to come. Your boyfriend doesn’t like it one bit.

➥ GENRE: angst ⋆ smut ⋆ slow-burn

➥ CATEGORY: series

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, infidelity, boss/employee, sexual tension (a lot of it), slowburn, ethically questionable, strong language, (kinda) fake!romance, y/n inner dialogue, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, cocky!yoongi, reader is v impulsive and v dumb at times, dark themes, mentions of misogyny, gonna add more later, minors DNI

➥ TOTAL WORDCOUNT: 70.2k

➥ STATUS: completed

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

CONCEPT VIDEO:

©dollfaceksj // edited by me

song: legacy of new boyz – schemin’

— i n d e x ↓

♢ 00 – teaser ; 796

♢ 01 – i’d do anything ; 4.3k

♢ 02 – peeping tom ; 4.8k

♢ 03 – make the most of it ; 5.3k

♢ 04 – talk about professional ; 6.7k

♢ 05 – busted ; 7.1k

♢ 06 – greedy ; 6.9k

♢ 07 – bait taken ; 7.7k

♢ 08 – do you want it? ; 9.5k

♢ 09 – cat got your tongue? ; 8.7k

♢ 10 – schemer ; 8.2k

— d r a b b l e s ↓

♢ ✄…

➸ cross-posted to ao3.

➸ support me by buying me some coffee if you can☕︎♡

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decayical · 7 months

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@ — you might be a sinner . . . !

❛ being wriothesley's assistant ❜

01 notes: 💥💥💥

02 tws/tags: vibrator, oral (m receiving), pet names (dear, darling, love), wriothesley is lowkey a little shit, afab reader

03 mdni blogs do not interact!

you sat on the ground uncomfortably, your hands digging into his thighs as you moved your hips against nothing.

"sir... i don't see how this is supposed to help you with your work."

ever since you moved to fontaine, you were mesmerized by how much technology had advanced in the county compared to others. even the fortress of meropide, which was buried under the sea, had technology you had never seen before. it was brimming to the edge with potential, every single machine catching your attention before you were whisked away to your duties again.

"well you'll have to trust me darling, because it will."

even this small thing, located inside of your pussy, was something you had never considered before.

a whimper escaped from your mouth as wriothesley turned up the settings just a smidge, you heard him scoff as you gasped and teared up.

he chuckles. "my my, can my pet not even handle a bit of pleasure? seems we might have to stop now before it gets too much," he hummed, resting his head on his knuckles.

"mister wriothesley," you whine. you press your lips together in an attempt to stay quiet as you struggle to keep your eyes open and your head up.

the tent in his pants moved and caught your eye. nervously, you brought up your hands to his hips, looking up at him as you bit your trembling lip.

he stares down at you with a blank expression, only leaning down to wipe a tear—or maybe a drop of sweat—off your cheek. "are you enjoying yourself?" he asks simply, his thumb rolling up the settings of the thing inside of you even higher.

you gasp and jolt, rocking your hips into thin air as you throw your head back. "ahh—mister wriothesley—y-your turn."

his voice is slightly mocking. "hmm? what was that? i can't hear you." he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your forehead, watching carefully as you lost your composure.

it was only when you managed to lift a shaky hand to his bulge did he suck in a breath, his grip on his chair and the remote getting tighter. you felt his dick jump in its confines, and tugged on his zipper as much as you could while your brain struggled to think about anything but the sweet feeling inside your walls.

"wriothesley, wriothesley, wriothesley—ahn!" your vision momentarily blurred out and you could barely make out the expression on wriothesley's face—one that seemed bored. or at least, he would seem unaffected if it weren't for the drops of sweat falling from his temple and the way he tried so hard to control his labored breathing.

he stared as your cum fell down from your sticky thighs and onto the floor and he frowned. he'd have to get a human janitor to clean this mess up; surely monsieur neuvillette wouldn't appreciate it if his dear melusines discovered what he was doing with all this time in the prison.

your nails dug into his thigh as you bunched up your shirt in your other hand, breathing heavily as you came down from your high.

with half lidded eyes you look up and smile clumsily when wriothesley finally unzips his pants and lets his cock spring out. greedy hands make their way to the base of it and despite your delirium, you can't wait to choke on it just like you did the last time you were here.

wriothesley lets out a low groan as you lick a stripe up his dick, a gloved hand falling on top of your head with a thump.

"fuck, yeah just like that—"

he doesn't mean to, and you know he doesn't, but he thrusts his hips and the tip of his dick reaches the back of your mouth. you jolt, sucking in air through your nose as the tip nudges your throat.

despite his boring and simple exterior, despite his one word answers to questions and the way he goes about his day with no complexities, somehow when he's with you he loses his entire demeanor and turns into a puddle of mush. every word he doesn't say out suddenly spills out of his lips as soon as he manages to get his dick inside of you—why, you must be magic.

his hand leaves your hair to caress your cheek, the back of his finger lingering on your cheekbone. "shit—shit. sorry, love, i…" he runs his hand across his face as he sighs. hurting his plaything wouldn't be good at all, now would it?

you take the opportunity to envelop his dick in your mouth again, taking as much as you can before moving to leave only his thick tip in your mouth. with a pop, you look up at him with fluttering eyes.

carding a hand through your hair, he asks breathlessly, "what a good toy you are… everything about you, from your mouth to your holes were made for me, weren't they?" you bend down to continue sucking him off and he moans loudly. he groans, throwing his head back. "fuck… you're amazing."

he hides his bleary eyes with an arm, allowing himself to become fully vulnerable towards you as he lets out pretty moans and soft breaths. somehow his free hand wanders back to the control of your (your) vibrator, even as he thrusts weakly into your warm and wet mouth.

your overeager hands and mouth make him nearly drop it, but he gets to turn the vibrator back on and get back to fixing on your pretty face.

as you feel the toy turn on again, you gasp and whine around his dick. a hand that had wandered to one of his balls drags its nails across his thigh, and you have to force yourself to focus on the length in your mouth to stop yourself from becoming weak as jelly again.

wriothesley, of course, notices your struggling. "don't—don't tell me i'll have to pull you jo by your… your um, hair to get you to suck me off properly," he jokes weakly, tugging on your hair lightly. his words got sloppy and rough as his brain began fogging up.

your lips glaze over his tip again, your tongue following right behind it. you rub small circles into his inner thigh as you start sucking on small, specific parts of his cock to make his hips jerk up into you.

a hand races up to your head. "ah, haah, ahhn—love, please, i'm so close, fuck, please, please, i—"

he gasps, and at the last second you swallow his dick again and he's pushed over the edge, his load spilling into your mouth and just a bit falling off your lips.

you catch the drop of cum before it falls onto the floor and stick your finger into your mouth happily. "you taste good," you hum, closing your eyes and smiling.

wriothesley sighs and rests his head on his knuckles again, looking down at your disheveled form. his expression has returned to serious, stoic, and unreadable.

seems like you won't be getting demoted anytime soon.

#gender neutral reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley smut #pick up the phone . . . !?

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seungiepop · 5 months

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𝑵𝒐 𝑵𝒖𝒕 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓

partayyy pt 2

pairing: enha x best friend reader

characters: all enha members, Shin Yuna (itzy), Choi Beomgyu (TXT), and Mark lee (NCT)

caution: sexual context (only implied on the legal line), cursing, the reader is an 03’ line with sunoo and yuna

genre: social media au and one shots

wc: 0.6k

part 1

Masterlist | previous | next

ⓝⓝⓝ

“Jake?”

The male peeped his head out, seeing Y/n looking around the room for him. “In here doll”

With a faint smile she made her way over to him, he was crouched down looking through his closet shelves. “What are you doing?” she asked, trying to see what he was looking for.

“I’ve hid some jane in here for this specific reason but i can’t seem to find it!” his voice slightly muffled as he dug even deeper.

From the corner of her eyes she could see the plastic bag in between the edge of the drawer in between his underwear. Leaning down she picked the baggy and swung in between his face “looking for this?”

Jake smiled, standing up and cradling her face placing a kiss on her cheek “I fucking love you!” about to take the baggie from her hands but she pulled it away

“aren’t you going to share?” she teased, slightly shaking the bag.

Jake chuckled “You know I’m not greedy baby”

Nodding her she handed him the bag “are you going let me give you your birthday present?” she asked, standing on her tippy toes to lean closer to his ear “i think you’ll enjoy it very much…” she hummed against his skin, spending shivers down his spine.

Jake felt the goosebumps crawling on his skin “you didn’t have to get me anything doll!” he chuckled, the nerves slowly crawling through his veins.

oh jakey

Y/n kissed down the exposed skin of his chest, slowly making her way down to his happy trail “you sure jake?” she looked up at him with slight widen eyes, the bottom of her lips slightly

pulled in between her teeth.

how am I going to resist with those eyes

fuck why isn’t beomgyu here interrupt again

Jake nodded his head

Fuck this shit

i’m the birthday boy

I deserve this

Nodding his head he grabbed a fisful of her hair, directing her to his aching hard on.

God these boys make it so easy

Y/n took the base cock, giving him a few strokes before slowly taking him in her mouth. The heavy warm feeling of his cock on her tongue made her hum, just loving the slight stretch around her lips. He was a bit more girthier than Heeseung but she didn’t mind, it made her mouth water slight more.

Are all cocks as pretty as there’s?

Dragging her tongue up and down the prominent vein of his leaky cock before taking him all in. Jake cursed, throwing his head back. The view of her watery eyes looking at him with his cock in her mouth almost sent him over the edge. “fuck just like that doll!” he moaned out, the feeling of hee tight warm throat just sucking him in was all too much.

“I'm gonna cum!”

Pulling away with pop she stock his cock at a quick pace, biting her lip as he leaned forwards and flexed his abs. A hand slamming on the closet wall to prevent him from falling over.

“Cum for me jakey!”

That’s all it took for him to let go. White ropes of cum squirting out of his swollen tip, he let out a staggering breath, his mind felt fuzzy and his body felt tingly.

Fucking hell

Jake had to stay still, the powerful orgasm almost getting to him “you okay?” she softly asked.

Her fingers combing back his sweaty hairs.

He nodded, taking a deep breath before looking at her “I’m fucked…”

Y/n bit her lip trying to contain her laugh but it was all too much, “oh baby you have no idea..” she cooed before placing a small kiss on his lips and walking out.

what the fuck just happened?

∙ ₒ✰. ∙✧. ∘ ₒ® ✦. ✰∙ ★ ∘ₒ © ∙ ₒ ✰ ∙ ✧ ∘ₒ ® ✦ ✰

taglist- @ilovecheese09 @namdeyuoi @moonshoon @xrr-s4sha @yannew @cup1dton @eternallyreid @heewonenthusiast @rikisly @parkhonnie @wvnkoi @slugism @yizhoutv @jakewife @bahngchatsfx @kangseulgithegreat @jinnisbaby @heeseungshim @wonswondrland @underneaththestarlight @theskzvibe @enhaz1 @kkaelie @firstclassjaylee @wonniie3 @lol6sposts @deobitifull

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ponkwan · 2 years

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⌗ ⸰ ₊⠀SVT HEADCANONS ! (03)

random boyfriend gestures i associate each seventeen member with.

p.s. this is a repost from another previous blog of mine !

✩ SEUNGCHEOL.

the type to send you money to buy food or instead have food delivered to wherever you are when you send him a message saying you’re craving for a certain meal or is really just plain hungry. i think we’re all pretty much aware that seungcheol is 100% sugar daddy material lmao, so i feel like he’s totally not one to be greedy in making sure that you get what you want at times you need it (though this mostly applies to just food and practical things as he isn’t going to let you be too spoiled either). i see him always doing this as a surprise too, like in moments when you least expect it or sometimes when you don’t even ask for it at all.

✩ JEONGHAN.

the type to call you frequently. i don’t mean this in a clingy way though, but it’s more like he prefers calling you than texting you whenever the both of you aren’t together and are at your own businesses for the time being. i see him being the kind to do this at random hours of the week too, sometimes when you’re not counting on it to happen, or he’ll send you a quick text as a warning if he knows you’re busy, and as you answer your phone, you’ll always be greeted with his loving tone, asking how you are and if you could meet up soon because he misses you.

✩ JOSHUA.

the type to do things for you without being asked to. i see him as a domestic man, and i also see him just quietly helping you with your chores whenever he’s visiting your apartment—cleaning the dishes when he sees that you were too busy to do them yourself, fold your laundry, fix the bed, change the light bulb, assemble that table you’ve been postponing to do—and to even more intimate and domestic things like combing your hair, slicing food and putting it on your plate, readjusting your clothes when it gets disheveled outdoors, and giving you his jacket without hesitation when he sees you’re cold. all of that with a soft smile on his face while he’s doing so.

✩ JUNHUI.

the type to keep little notes about you (mental notes or literally paper notes on anywhere he likes). he strikes me as the kind of guy who has a record on when your first and last day of period is; the kind of guy who remembers what your favorite childhood meal was or what your favorite song was in high school that you only mentioned to him once or twice. i just think he’s someone who pays attention to you a lot yet as unintentionally quiet as he can too, perhaps either somewhat shy to be obvious or he just doesn’t feel the need to have it broadcasted that he does, trusting that he doesn’t have to be grand in his actions for you to understand what you mean to him.

✩ SOONYOUNG.

the type to see through you even when you try hard not to show anything too much, especially when it comes to matters like weakness or being tired. he can look at you and notice that you might be acting a little different because of working too hard from your job or your studies, and will subtly try to lift your mood up by suggesting something that he knows will inevitably make you relax. he might ask if you want to order take-out from that one fast food chain you love, insisting that it’ll be his treat, or maybe prompting to do a hobby that you love just to take your mind off stressful matters.

✩ WONWOO.

the type to go all out when it comes to helping you. i see him being the kind of person who can willingly do something against his nature just to make his significant other happy as well. for example, you might let it slip that you have to pick up a relative at a certain time that you’re already busy with, and he’ll straight up volunteer to do it for you instead just so you can rest more on that day (even if he’s quite introverted for the task lmao). i also think he’s someone who may watch an entire movie franchise or read a book series you told him you liked before just so you can talk about it with him—plus, share a possible similar interest with too—and he’ll be more than happy to feed into your enthusiasm and give the same energy back.

✩ JIHOON.

the type to do random declarations of love or affection. i imagine him being the kind of guy who often doesn’t speak of how much you mean to him, but when he does, you’ll really feel his sincerity through his words and the way he’s saying them to you in that instance. he’ll say them out of the blue, like when you’re watching a movie together and he finds himself more invested in you than to the film—or maybe you’re cooking something for him or just praising him because of the new song he just made—sweet words spilling out of his mouth without warning and then you’re looking at him intently, smiling and blushing in acknowledgment.

✩ SEOKMIN.

the type to give you updates of his day by sending tons of pictures and videos. this might be a common thing for boyfriends lmao but you can’t deny that he seems to be the kind who really does this in real life. he’d be sending you photos of what he’s eating for breakfast, of his outfit before he leaves for work, might send a video of the buildings that passes by as he rides a car to go to a schedule—just literally everything he deems as something he wants to share to you. there might be instances too wherein he sneaks a voice message in if he’s too bored to type or he’s plainly bored and wants some of your attention.

✩ MINGYU.

the type to ask you out for impromptu dates. when a schedule gets canceled or he finds out he’s apparently free for the day, his first thought will be hitting you up and asking if you wanted to go out on a date with him. if you say yes, he’ll be thrilled and will be quick in sending you the details, like what time he will be picking you up and where the both of you will be joining together for the date, making it obvious that he put some thought on this before actually asking you. sometimes, he might not even ask you, he’ll just surprise you by picking you up from where you are and declaring that he’s planning to take you out for a date right there.

✩ MINGHAO.

the type to always know what you want or need to hear at the right time. i always sense a calming and wisdom-filled vibe from him, so i feel like he’d be that kind of guy who’s really good at making you feel better, motivated, or just validated with his words. i see him being very gentle and thoughtful when it comes to speaking his mind as well—and the type to send you quotes from the books he once read that he knows might help you with your current situation. i think he’s someone who also sends long messages whenever you’re venting through chat. basically, the personification of comfort and a warm hug i think.

✩ SEUNGKWAN.

the type to be your human alarm clock or just someone who likes to remind you of things. i imagine him calling you in the morning after texting a message that you haven’t replied as fast as you usually would, or would call in the evening as he’s eating his dinner just to ask if you’ve eaten yourself. oftentimes, he might leave homemade food or side dishes in your apartment and would put sticky notes on them, reminding you when they are best eaten and what they are best partnered with. his caring nature too would give you vitamins and have your phone’s clock set to when you should take them since he knows how forgetful you can be, wanting you to take care of your health just as he’s trying to take care of you.

✩ VERNON.

the type to randomly send you music just because it reminded him of you. this is pretty predictable and kind of cliche but doesn’t he really give off that kind of energy? like making a playlist of songs that reminds him of you or your relationship, or recommending tracks that he knows you’ll like. he might even buy concert tickets one day for an artist that the two of you like, but i have a feeling that once there, the both of you wouldn’t be able to fully concentrate on the artist, but perhaps on the songs and just each other instead (bonus: i see him doing that thing wherein he hugs you from behind during a ballad and sings the lyrics to your ear).

✩ CHAN.

the type to share a lot of inside jokes with you. it’s no question how he’s a funny guy, so i think he’d be someone you’d be sharing a lot of inside jokes with as he makes every other situation out there funny whenever appropriate enough. furthermore, he’s just someone who knows how to make you laugh the hardest, gives you the reactions you want when you’re delivering your own joke, and someone who knows how to play along to your dumb and funny tactics too just to please you. he always has a way with his lines and actions that guarantees a smile on your face every single time.

thank you for reading ! feedback is always appreciated ☻

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steddie-fanfic-recs · 3 months

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Eat Your Heart Out

by queerofthedagger

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, The Party (Stranger Things) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Season/Series 04, Unresolved Sexual Tension, so much UST, Eventually Resolved Sexual Tension, Falling In Love, Mutual Pining, Bad Flirting, Idiots in Love, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Once again this isn't plot relevant but relevant to me so, Explicit Sexual Content, Angry Kissing, Hand Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Light Angst, Fluff, Don't copy to another site Words: 10,500 Chapters: 1/1

Summary

And the thing is, Eddie knows that this is a one-time anomaly. That Harrington is going to get into his car and drive his gaggle of unlikely kids home, and somewhere along that trajectory, the world will stumble back on its axis, one where Steve Harrington does not flirt with Eddie Munson, creating inside jokes and smiling smiles edged with affection. The thing is, Eddie has never learned restraint when it comes to the things he’s greedy for. --- Eddie knows that Steve's into him. He knows that Steve knows that Eddie is into him, too. Now it's only a question of who will give in first. Fortunately, Eddie's the most stubborn bastard in Hawkins, so it's not going to be him. Unfortunately, it might not actually be that simple.

#steddie #steddie fic rec #oneshot #10-25k #mutual pining #fluff

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butterbabyflapjack · 11 months

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BRAT

Ghost x fem!reader x Soap

[ Badjhur NSFW audio of chapter 2 ]

You’ve been acting like a brat, and Ghost has had enough of it.

“You can consider this punishment. Can consider it me spoiling your bratty behavior. But you wanted my attention, and you’ve gotten it. So tell me now if you don’t want me to bend you over this desk and fuck you until it breaks, otherwise I’m taking what I want from you, and you’ll accept everything I give like the greedy fucking whore you’re pretending so hard not to be.”

ೃ[ TAGS ] sexual content, sexual tension, dominant Ghost, cheeky Soap, power dynamics, messy feelings, voice kink, mask kink, glove kink, dom/sub, indirect daddy kink, biting, rough sex, begging, brat breaking, voyeurism, just a dash of possessive choking, forced eye contact, oral fixation, tactical gear kink, desk sex, possessive Ghost, love triangle, jealousy

ೃ[ TAGLIST ] @ahoycaptainautumn @your-highnessmarvel @wolfgalsniper @confuseddipshit @prettynalilgay @merzkihstuff @alfie2401 @emberwolfgames @willowbrookesblog @meujias @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @magicgal @verios @flrwpwr @jewelsisurmom @imjusthereforghostsmutt @circuskatt @darkstars-14 @maxksc-blog @lillianastuff @assia123-green @collarwhiskers @divergent-llamas-03 @voidinfernal

ೃ[ CHAPTERS ] chapter.1 - chapter.2 - chapter.3 - chapter.4

::chapter 4::

[ SUMMARY ] You try your best to avoid temptation, but Soap has other plans, ones your lieutenant might not appreciate.

[ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] If you started reading this when it first came out, there’s a nsfw audio of it now that’s super steamy thanks to badjhur and @urfavsunkissedleo~♡ it was a lot of fun to hear my work in a different format (not to mention badjhur’s voice is ummmmmmkhlkgjhj) and if you want to you should check it out! (with headphones!! trust me on this one)

Also, ♡!dubcon warning!♡ Also also, sorry about my poetry loving ass I could not help myself.

Also (it’s my last also I swear), I maybe forgot to say what your teammates look like, so here are their muses in case you’re interested.

You stare on in rising horror at the sexy little number Ghost is holding out on one far-too-casual, fully gloved finger; a stark contrast to just how overdressed he is yet how underdressed he wants you to be. Fighting not to feel the weight of everyone’s attention passing between it – that champagne-hued monstrosity – and you; the woman expected to wear it.

You.

You’re supposed to wear that.

For a mission.

This is not a joke. There is no punchline. Where’s a fucking punchline when you need one?!

And ‘dress’ really is a generous term for whatever that silky, clingy thing is he’s offering you in front of everyone, with all the silent expectance that you walk right over and take it.

And you should. You should just follow orders, especially since everyone is watching you.

“I am not wearing that,” you tell him firmly, instead; digging your heels in from across the room.

Even smeared black and shadowed by his hood, you can see the subtle flex in how he barely raises a single brow. And even from across the room, a room full of people staring at you, the darkened depths of Ghost’s eyes has its way of making you forget about everyone but him.

“It isn’t a request,” is his response, like gravel in his throat. Gruff. Succinct. “So stop being a brat. Come over here, and take it.”

But alright, we are jumping ahead of ourselves a little bit here. So let’s rewind about twenty minutes, to before your morning was ruined by shrink-wrap disguised as a dress. Back to when the only thing sabotaging your morning was one Johnny “Soap” MacTavish; and he was sabotaging it, and you, and everything.

The morning started out tolerably enough, about twenty minutes prior; heavy on the ‘started’.

Your eyes blink open, and though your cramped little room doesn’t have a window, you still get the sense that it’s dawn. And you sit up, rubbing your eyes awake upon the haphazard bed you’re still half-tangled in.

Getting the sense that its dawn is part of the reason you don’t like hanging out in your hovel of a room, even with its safety of a door to hide from the rest of your team behind. For all its supposed privacy, its lack of windows makes it feel like a cave with a lamp left perpetually on (because you don’t ever feel quite safe on missions, especially not in windowless dark, and especially not on this mission). Yet even with the lack of sunlight to tell you that it's dawn, to make you feel more human for a single second, life is good. Life is warm. Because when you first wake up, you don't remember anything.

And then that second passes.

And then you remember all the stupid things you’ve done.

Like letting your lieutenant fuck you over his desk, more-or-less in front of an audience.

And like you – vividly imagining sucking off Johnny’s calloused, spaghetti-sauced fingers at the exact same moment you’re batting eyelashes at him in the kitchen – also in front of an audience.

You really like making a fool of yourself on stage, don’t you?

Lord, what is this safehouse doing to you? To any of you? Nothing was this complicated before you all got trapped in this shoebox, before this mission began, and you blame this shoebox-sized apartment for everything.

So, yeah.

The morning started off tolerably, but this is where it starts to fall apart.

But don’t worry, it gets better – and by ‘better’ I of course mean worse. (And we're not even talking about the dress yet, but we’ll get to that. Believe it or not, there are worse things than that horrid little dress).

Lost in your frustration for this apartment and whatever mind games it's playing with you, a gruff knock at your door makes you jump so sharply you reel back in bed, thwacking your head against the headboard.

“Living room in twenty, Hush.”

It's Soap. You can tell by that husky voice you're beginning to loathe, because like Pavlov's dog, you salivate when you hear it.

Rubbing the ache from the back of your skull, you exhale a stifled groan, which apparently these paper-thin walls allow Johnny in on.

“You all good in there, lass?” he asks, sounding a bit too amused for your liking.

“M’fine,” you call back through your teeth, glad he can’t see you wincing, and maybe you should hide out in here all day even if it’s as suffocating as a submarine.

“Sounds like you took a tumble.”

You frown at your door, at where Soap must stand behind it, hand dropping. “Mind your own business, Soap.”

You hear his chuckle, like a rockslide breathed against the door, and suddenly you're blinking far too quickly at how the mere sound of laughter sinks like honey in your veins.

“Right now you are my business…” he murmurs, and why does something so seemingly innocuous make your gut clench?

You shake the flustering sensation away, forcing a scowl at the door. “Just – go! I’ll be out in a minute!”

Again, his lowered, breathy laugh does horrible things to you.

It’s the apartment – this stupid fucking apartment – it’s messing with you.

“If you say so, Hush,” Soap muses, before the heavy sound of his boot steps carries him further away down the hall.

Crisis averted.

For now.

It’s hard to be relieved when you know you’ll just come face-to-face with him again almost instantly, such is the size of this place. And when you do, who knows what you'll end up doing - it's like you and everyone else has lost their heads in here. And though you’re tempted to lock yourself away in your room, you refuse to hide in bed all day over two guys and a hundred possible bad decisions you’ve yet to make.

Mistakes have definitely been made during your unfortunate stint in this shoebox-sized purgatory, but that doesn’t mean you’ll entertain any more dumb ideas. And you’re fully resolved not to, just as you’re hellbent on pretending that nothing at all has happened already, that nothing at all has changed – not between you and Ghost, not between you and Soap, and definitely not between all three of you.

…

All three of you?

What’s that phenomenon called? That one where you tell yourself not to think about something, and then you just think about it ten times harder even more than you would have?

Cause that’s what’s happening now.

You and Ghost and Soap. It slips across your mind, and, oh, god, that’s officially the last thing you need right now, but like a viscid bad dream, you can't wake up, can’t scrape the image once it’s there.

And you have a vivid fucking imagination.

You can see it. Can feel it. A fever-wall of heat on either side of you, yourself a meal torn between two wolves; rough, greedy. Twin lips mapping your skin, your chest, your nape, your neck, marking every inch of you until everything is theirs. Gruff hands, wanting hands, possessive, tearing through your clothes, charting the smoothness of your skin. Calloused, wood-hewn hands that mold to you, mold you to them, between them, till every exhale is their groans or your gasps and you don’t know where you end and they begin.

And in this dream, this fever, Ghost’s mouth finds your ear from behind, rough voice warm against your skin.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, like he already knows. “Greedy fucking thing.” Grabbing your waist, jerking your ass back into him; a puzzle piece that fits so snugly between himself and Soap.

You try to gasp something, maybe to deny it, but he only laughs; a purring, deadly cadence.

“Your little shivers don’t lie.”

We have officially lost cabin pressure.

And for a moment, you forget you're even awake. That fever-dream of them consuming you. But then you fall back into orbit, blinking hard enough to realize what you're actually imagining right now, and nearly hit your head against the headboard again just to make it fucking stop.

What are you– Jesus, get your head on straight, you are not – and I repeat, not – anywhere even close to the realm of fucking…

Even thinking their names makes your mind spin, or maybe that's something else.

This mission…!

Just… focus on the mission!

And let us reiterate: this tiny awful place is just fucking with all of your heads (especially yours, apparently). Making smoke of boundaries, muddying whatever lines should exist. That’s all. That’s it. And as soon as you’re out of here everything will go back to normal, it'll all be mercifully the same. Ghost and Soap won't hold these invisible strings around your heart and mind anymore, you won't still envision horrible things about them as you lie still-awake in bed.

But for now, with all of you locked up in here…

You just have to focus and avoid them.

Just. Don’t. Think. About. Them. Either of them.

The mission. Focus on the mission. (Of which you currently have little detail, as apparently you’re on the short end of a need-to-know basis, but god do you hope it ends soon).

Your morning, horny fever-dreams aside, starts with a goal as simple as that. Just don’t think about them, and for the love of god avoid being alone with either of them. Even when some part of you knows it won't be that simple, but hey, denial is a thing, a great thing, so you cling to denial and keep on chugging.

You avoid leaving your fish-tank of a room for as long as anxiety allows, only vaguely aware of how you’re chipping away at the ‘living room in twenty’ wake-up call Soap gave you, before eventually sleuthing your way out into the narrow hall, relieved to see Johnny isn't still there, as if waiting to ambush you, even though you knew he wasn't there, you can usually hear that man like a muscle-dense freight train from at least a mile away, but this place is making you more paranoid than you should be.

Still, you're relieved to find the hallway empty, and you sneak your way with all the stealth 141 has ingrained into your every sinew toward the kitchen, as if getting there in silence is a matter of life or death. Peeking your little head in to ensure neither of your gravel-toned, fever-dream apparitions are in there, before slinking in to pour cereal like a mad-woman and shovel it in your face at Mach 10 speed, and damn you should probably slow down before you chip a tooth or something.

Ash gives you a weird look, being the only person in the immediate vicinity of your apparent starvation.

"'Mornin'," he says, though his eyes question your sanity – to which you mumble something around a mouthful that might have been "hello," flashing a 'nervous?-I'm-not-nervous', chipmunk-cheeked smile (read: grimace) and stuffing your mouth even fuller to avoid speaking.

And hey, you haven't seen Ghost, you haven't actually seen Soap, and you haven't choked on your cereal – somehow. So as far as your plan of avoiding them goes, you're doing great so far! Just keep this up and this mission will be over in no time (ha!).

Tossing back the rest of your cereal, you leave your bowl in the sink as Ash nags after you to wash your dishes and you insist back that you will, later (under the safe cover of night, preferably), but right now you need to hide (the brave kind of hiding – you’re not a coward, I swear). Not in your submarine cave, because you're like a plant, you crave the sunlight. Your room is a last resort. Right now, you head toward the next best thing – your usual reading nook. You know, the one Ghost found you in yesterday, before… well, we won’t get into that. The point is, it’s the perfect place to waste hours at a time spilling over whatever old books and dog-eared magazines the one-shelf excuse of a library has to offer.

But it's here that your feet grind to a sudden halt, rooting you to the ground. Here, just outside the doorway of said reading nook. Because it's here that you see Soap.

Soap, lounging lackadaisically, without a seeming care in the world. Dark tee and dark jeans that somehow cling to his ridges in all the right places. Dust-wrapped boots already kicked up on the arm of the room's moth-bitten armchair, as he dangles a book before his face, obstructing all but his scruffy, chiseled jawline and corded neck from view.

He’s just lounging around on that armchair.

Your armchair.

Because you've been reading in here since day one, the day you all got trapped here; you saw it first.

So what is he doing in here?

He’s never in here.

And what is he reading? Does he even know how to read? He’s never reading.

You’re caught in fight-or-flight, still puzzling when alarm bells in your head start ringing – warning, warning, abort, abort, this is not a drill get the hell out of there – and you haven’t made it this far in your career not listening to your instincts when you're sound enough to have them.

You turn, you bolt, you scatter, before Soap can even glance around whatever book he’s dangling across that stupidly handsome face of his. And no, it's not exactly a graceful exit, but if you don’t heed your instincts now you may not get to later. Soap's roguish, sapphire gaze has a way of drowning out instinct and reason, as you’ve learned the hard way last night, and right now reason's telling you not to stick around and find out why the hell he's lying around pretending to read on your futon.

Nu-uh.

Nope.

Not dumb enough to slide into that one.

Best to avoid it.

Okay. So. No reading nook, then (thanks for nothing, Soap). And though you briefly consider foregoing sunlight altogether and just hiding away in your room, you instead scurry back down the hall, toward the charmingly constricted living room/kitchenette combo, supposing you'll find safety in numbers by using the safer members of your task force as a shield against those two others that plague you.

Ash, Fuze, and Blight are all crowded around the tiny box TV in the living room that only gets clear reception on three stations, like three gorillas sprawled on a toy couch, one that barely fits three guys the size of linebackers (you might’ve poked fun at how cozy they look were you not so currently twisted). And seeing that Ghost's not in the room solidifies this as your current safe haven, your preferred hiding place (or, hiding in plain sight behind a shield of tv-glued gorillas place).

And speaking of Ghost…

You clear your throat of any lingering nerves, attempting nonchalance as you make your way toward the bay window at the furthest edge of the room, a ways behind where the group of guys are sitting; settling in to sit upon its windowsill, your back against the wall.

“Where’s L.T.?” you ask with all that supposed nonchalance.

None of your team bother to glance back, too enthralled with whatever nonsense is on screen, though you know they heard you.

“Out,” Blight says. And okay, thanks for all the detail, Blight.

Still, that one word's enough to leave your brows slowly furrowing. Its potential, unstated meaning sinking in.

“He left the safehouse?” you ask, staring at the back of Blight’s head. "As in…” Dare you cling to hope? “We might be getting actual orders that get us out of here?"

Ash speaks up before Blight does.

“Hopefully,” he says, eyes still glued to the screen. “But at least some wheels are turning.”

“What kind of wheels?” you ask, not sure why you’re brushed by a fleeting edge of nerves.

“Dunno,” Ash says. “Him’n Gaz were pretty tight-lipped about it, but they’re due back in ten, hopefully with good news.”

“And a few six-packs,” Blight adds, without much enthusiasm.

"And a fucking steak would be nice," Fuze supplies, one arm sprawled along the back of the couch from where he sits, locked onto the screen. "I'm pretty sure Gaz's trying to kill us with what he thinks is cooking – I've eaten better stranded and starved on rations."

As the other boys weigh in about what a shit chef Gaz is (and they're not exactly wrong, though you don't chime in), you turn away from the group of them, staring down at the far-below streets of Amsterdam beside you, though in actuality you hardly see a thing, caught in your mind as you suddenly are.

You feel like you should be far more relieved by this than you actually end up being. And it makes no sense how this news – good news – that you might finally be unshackled from this shoebox purgatory… how it doesn’t alleviate some ache inside you, doesn’t fill you with some sweetly warm ease.

Maybe this place has given you Stockholm, because something about leaving now eats at you, like there’s something started and unfinished, and though you’re not sure what that something is you’re somehow raked by nervous claws, torn by wanting to know and never wanting to find out.

You’re being silly. You’re relieved, you’ve just forgotten what relief feels like. You’re more than ready to leave this place, you’re praying every second while trapped within this hellscape that you’ll finally be released.

This is a good thing. Finally, you’ll all be free, and you’ll never take a mission in Amsterdam again.

Whatever that annoying, gnawing feeling near your ribs is, you shove it away. And for some reason you think of Ghost, you think of Soap, and that ache comes back again.

How are you so tangled up in them?

Sure, you’re all close, closer than close, with everything you’ve been through. It’s impossible not to feel attached, not to feel somewhat vulnerable around people who’ve brushed by hell and back with you. The things you’ve all done, what you’ve all seen – it strips away layers of you, all of you, and what’s behind, what’s bared…

There’s nothing like it. It’s indescribable, what you share. You care about them more than you’d ever admit.

But that doesn’t excuse how you’re suddenly, perpetually haunted, unable to peel them from your head.

You care about all of your team, not just them – it's not supposed to be so personal, yet somehow it is. It’s tangled and raw and messy and you nearly have to laugh at that, because at least you know that Soap’s name is really Johnny – you don't even know Ghost's name, haven’t even seen his face, and yet somehow you can't stop thinking about him, like he's carved himself inside your mind, taken residence there, claiming a piece of you that you can’t get back, a piece you don’t want back, a piece that's only his.

How did your feelings evolve into whatever nightmare this is?

And speaking of nightmares.

"You're not as stealthy as you usually are this morning, love.”

A husky, familiar voice wavers in through your tangled thoughts from somewhere right in front of you, and you blink, suddenly seeing as it cheekily adds, "You might wanna work on that."

For the second time today, Soap has you startling back into hitting your head, skull thunking against the wall of the windowsill you’re perched upon, almost like he wants you to suffer a head-wound whenever he shows up out of the blue. And he definitely looks amused at whatever your face is doing right now as your owlish eyes shoot up to him.

He regards you from just beside the window, dense arms folded across the expanse of his chest. And he exhales his watchful amusement as all you can seem to do for a moment is gawk up at his magical appearance out of nowhere – ta da! – leaning one heavy shoulder against the wall the longer you go on about it.

“Someone’s jumpy,” he observes with a subtly curling grin, azure glints beneath his lashes. One corner of his lips edging wider the longer you fail to say anything, all while you resist the dire urge to just push off the windowsill and run from the potential danger of yourself around him.

"You gonna say hello, or…?" he wonders, idly. Smile too devilish to be charming, and yet he still looks charming and you hate him for it. “Ah, I see,” he muses after a time, with a sage expression of knowing. “Tongue-tied. I tend to have that effect on people. I'll give you a minute."

If anything, your dour expression only further fuels his amusement.

"What do you want, Soap?” you ask at last, doing your best not to showcase the uncomfortable flare you feel in your gut just by looking at him.

“To bother you,” he says, hiking a mischievous brow. "Is it working?"

The part of you that enjoys what were your usual back-and-forths wants to crack a smile, while all the rest of you holds back, knowing he’s bad news in a place like this, that maybe you can’t trust yourself, that the last thing you need is to encourage him.

“Yup," you say, dully. "It’s working.”

He grins. “Great,” he says, his infuriating nonchalance unaffected; gaze a slash of blue as you muster up a scowl at him.

"Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you're in a bad mood?” he asks, eyes creasing as you once again resist the temptation to bolt. “You can't really blame me for wanting to bother you. It’s hard not to play with fire when the burn’s so appealing.”

That cheeky fucking smile of his lengthens at whatever your contorted, silent reaction to that is.

“Aye – there it is. That’s the look,” he muses, smirking as annoyance fizzles off your back. “Adorable. You look like you might wanna slap me.”

“I kinda do, actually,” you say – only half-joking. "Though maybe I'll just punch you in the face again like I did the last time you annoyed me."

“Zero to ten, just like that?” he wonders with his charming, crooked grin. “I haven’t even said ‘hello’ yet.”

You feel yourself smile before you can stop it – quickly biting your lips flat whilst turning away, staring hard out the window in the decided effort to ignore his presence.

“So say ‘hello’ and leave, then,” you mutter at the glass. “I’m kinda busy.”

"Huh. You don’t look all that busy."

"I'm people watching, not that it's any of your business."

"And that's more interesting than talking to me?"

"Is that rhetorical, or…?"

His little chuff teases warmth down your neck.

“Ah,” he lowly broods, as if in discovery of something. And you can’t help from glancing up at him again, seeing one dark brow archly lifted. “So you are avoiding me…”

You blink, thickly – trying to stem your panic, because you do not need him knowing that. If he thinks you’re avoiding him – which you very much are but that’s beside the point – he might ask the seemingly innocuous question of “why?”, and you are not answering that right now, especially when you're not even sure you know the answer yourself.

And thus, you panic (discreetly), you balk (in your head), insisting, “I’m not avoiding you.”

He doesn't necessarily look convinced.

“That’s odd,” he says, Scottish accent threaded in his words. “I could’ve sworn you tip-toed past that little reading nook you like so much just a few minutes ago.” His brow’s further lifted, that insufferable half-smirk still scrawled across his scruffy face. “Are you telling me that had nothing to do with avoiding?”

You bite your lower lip into a scowl, avoiding even his questions. “What were you doing in there, anyway? That’s my reading nook.”

“I know it is.” His blue gaze sheens. “What do you think I was doing in there?”

Your eyebrows tug into a crease, as slowly your eyes narrow up at him – all those instinctual alarm bells from earlier starting to make a helluva lot more sense.

“So you were lying in wait for me…” you accuse as much aloud.

He shrugs; boyish, adorable. “Had to get you all to myself somehow.”

His eyes warm like heated sea glass, seeming to sense that flush creeping up your neck as, for a moment, you can't seem to look away from him. And before you can look away, or make up some excuse to leave or actually slap him, he’s already pushing off from his casual, one-shouldered slouch against the wall, settling down upon the windowsill beside you.

“Guess you have a thing for audiences, though,” he murmurs, with a glance at the gorillas on the couch, glued to their screen.

When he looks back at you, he's far too close for his eyes not to capture yours.

Those alarm bells make a desperate reappearance in your head again, but you can hardly think with him watching you like that, let alone heed them. Some flicker of heat teased low in the base of your spine as his playful gaze dances over yours.

“Maybe my utter lack of enthusiasm wasn’t obvious enough,” you murmur, distracted; trying not to let the gorillas overhear whatever's happening between the two of you, especially since you don’t need their gossip playing telephone back to Ghost about something that’s actually nothing– ”but me telling you I’m busy was my unsubtle queue for you to leave.”

“Oh, I got it,” he says; attention skating across your features. Your lashes, your jaw, your eyes, your lips. “Crystal fuckin’ clear.”

And okay, maybe he actually is a little bit charming underneath how insufferably annoying he can be, because you certainly feel charmed, like you can’t look away from him.

"So you can pick up on subtle nuances,” you muse.

He smiles. "I can pick up on lots of things."

Your pulse catches as his words feel to dig inside a place you won't acknowledge, won't allow him or anyone to see, and you’re forced to swallow against a sudden knot within your throat.

"So is there a reason you're still over here harassing me then?" you wonder, folding your arms against him. “Besides you wanting me to slap you, that is? Because I’m not much in the mood for fueling your kinky fantasies this morning, though I see your last bruise’s healed nicely.”

He exhales a bearish laugh, though his mirth is slowly fading. Something more serious, like a shadow, creeping in to take its place. Timber-carved, reserved, unlike him.

“Maybe you can indulge my fantasy of you not avoiding me, then,” he suggests, gaze passing over yours, as though searching. “At least for, let's say… five minutes? Think you can handle that?"

Why do you actually gulp – god you hope he didn’t actually hear that.

"Do you always have to challenge women into spending time with you?"

One corner of his lips curls; a fox with sapphire heat for eyes. “Only the ones I’m interested in, apparently.”

It’s like he somehow strips away more and more of that now tiny voice warning you away – like he can see it happening. And he leans in just a fraction more close, his voice by your cheek, his words a gruff murmur that lures you closer just to hear them, those words meant just for you.

“I get it,” he says. “Why you’re so abrasive right now. Why you’re twisted up, lashing out. Avoiding.”

He’s so close the warmth of his body radiates into yours, like the tease of a touch you inexplicably long for.

At least, until he keeps talking.

“Whatever happened between you and L.T.–”

And just like that – the mere mention of Ghost’s name and all your feelings tied to it – the spells broken, torn from whatever trance he’s somehow spun you into.

"I don't – you don't know what–" you start to stammer, though his hand as it wraps around your forearm stills you, succeeds in pulling your anxiety-bitten gaze back to his for at least a moment more.

His touch is gentle, as if to ease you from fleeing, and yet he still seems unable not to tease you about it all the same.

"The details of which shall remain, at the lady's insistence, a badly kept secret,” he softly smirks. Chuckling as your face threatens to expel actual, embarrassed steam.

When you turn away, you’re not sure if it’s in readiment to get the hell away from him or in trying to ensure that anyone else in the room isn’t listening, though his thumb and forefinger finding your chin wipes whatever your intentions away, a warm jolt springing down your middle as he turns your uncertain gaze back to him.

“Whatever happened,” he breathes, a graveled hush as his eyes reclaim yours, “it’s got you twisted.”

A subtle smirk plays his lips at how utterly he seems to hold your attention, at how his touch makes you glass, makes you fragile before him. And even now he teases.

“And for good reason, too. L.T.’s not exactly the kinda guy I’d wanna get locked in a room with.”

You're forced to bite the inside of your cheek not to call him every insult you’ve ever heard of, so loudly everyone in the room starts tuning in.

“Please, God, make this conversation end,” you mutter instead, to which his jeweled-eyes sparkle, an added coil to his grin.

For a man his size, he somehow moves like fluid – shifting still closer, so close you’re boxed in against the wall of the windowsill behind you. So close that unthinking panic has your head dully thumping in a wavering bid to create distance, and you’re really starting to think he’s inspiring head-wounds on purpose.

His only reaction is the low laugh tucked inside his chest, one you feel vibrating through him, skittering across your bones, making your gut clench. And you can feel his voice, right beside you. You could push him away, though you don't. Somehow frozen against his warmth. Frozen, but for the shiver that travels through your spine as his whispered words graze against your ear.

“But here’s the thing, sweetheart,” he breathes, his rockslide warmth dragging all those sticky little knots inside you up into your throat. “Whatever’s twisted you up, whatever games L.T. might be playing… I’m not playing. I'm not twisted up in anything.”

The bridge of his nose skims across the delicate curve of your ear; a hum catching low in his throat as he seems to drink down the scent of you, the warmth of your nearness, those unwanted shivers he sends trickling down your nape as he murmurs, “I know exactly what I want…”

You’re not entirely sure what kind of stifled little sound wants to claw its way out of you as you hear him breathe you in again, as his hand finds your knee, but you’re not sure you want to find out; managing to bite back on it; biting still more harshly as his hand circles around your knee, squeezing, an iron grip that travels possessively upward, up along your thigh, firm fingers digging at your plushness, like he can’t contain some animal that longs to tear you open, to slip inside. And so much for your plans to avoid him, when now it feels there's nowhere you could hide.

You should say something, anything, but you can’t – especially as his fingers bite into you more harshly, as you feel a shudder travel through him, hear him stifle a coarsened breath.

“Hearing you moan someone else's name through these paper-fucking-walls…” His words sink to a growl that scrapes across your skin, pulls your insides tight, so constricted you can barely breathe. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?” he wonders, satin sawtooth heat against your ear. “What you do to me?”

You’re not sure if he’s actually asking – your throat constricting with the lack of knowing what to say.

“Johnny…”

He hums his approval, the sound like thunder in him, exhaled against your ear as his lips brush your skin.

“Aye, lass,” he says, his hand smoothing up around your waist, taking hold as though you belong to him; calloused thumb spilling up beneath your shirt, down below the waistband of your jeans, tracing along the ridge of your hip. “That’s the only name I want on your lips.”

You fail to choke back a gasp as his tongue finds your earlobe, sucking it in between his hungry teeth, and it's both exquisite and torturous how the heat of his mouth spears straight down between your legs, lapping between how tightly your thighs twist together, as though your body’s betraying how much you need him there; a white-hot ache that pulls a whimper from your throat, crackling across all your glass-hewn pieces.

“S-Soap,” you stammer, as if his codename will save you where his given name could not – somehow still present enough not to waver above a trembled hush, even with his tongue and teeth against your skin, traveling down your throat, marking and making a meal of you. And though you grab his wrist as if to push him away, you don't succeed in actually tearing his touch from you, even as you choke out desperately, “Stop…!”

He doesn’t listen. Instead taking the back of your neck, dragging you in to kiss him.

Rough fingers coil in your hair, twisting, tangled in you as you exhale a small, startled noise against his lips, before, before…

Everything’s hot. Everything’s melting. You can’t think.

He licks inside your mouth, and with another breathy sound against his lips, you kiss him back, desperate for his warmth, his taste; as though lost in a storm that rises and consumes, that would see you torn to pieces but for the anchor of him you cling to.

You’re lost, and you're hopeless, and you're senseless and you need him.

You grab his shirt as he swallows down that little sound you make, tongue sinking inside your warmth, and suddenly you’re his. His to possess, his to do what he wants with.

Your heart nearly shatters through your ribs at the granite-coarse sound he makes against your tongue, before he’s kissing you more fiercely, gruff fingers twisting at your roots.

He pauses only long enough to tease you, because of course he does.

“Stop, she says,” he murmurs at your lips. “Slap me, and maybe I will.” Not waiting before his tongue draws yours back out to play, to belong to him.

And some vicious part of you wants to slap him, if only to disrupt how fucking cocky he is, but the wet, eager heat of his mouth erases all your thoughts until it feels like you can’t even breathe unless you’re breathing him.

This is when the front door of this dingy little Amsterdam apartment unlocks; a distant, metallic scratching.

This is when the front door of this dingy little Amsterdam apartment opens; itself thrown casually ajar.

Right now. With your and Johnny’s tongues wrapped halfway down each other’s throats. Because of course it does – you love an audience, right?

Twenty minutes are up.

“Fucking finally…!”

You somehow hear Blight's voice clamor through the fog surrounding your thoughts, like a ship horn far from shore; carving through the mist, growing louder, more clear, more jarring as he adds, “Please tell me we’re getting out of here, Ghost – I'm one Gaz-cooked meal away from blowing my own brains out.”

And then it hits you – reality punching you in the chest, all your nerves upended, and still it takes a single second – a single, time-defying second – to actually register, to react, to realize what the fuck you’re actually doing right now, making out with Soap in the fucking living room what the hell are you thinking–!

A single second. And then you tear yourself away, twist your kiss-plushed lips from Soap’s – jerking back, shooting to your feet, edging out a shaky step against the wall as though you’ll crumble without it supporting you. Eyes overwide as apprehension tears your heart out, and even then some ache pushes through your chest, pushing through your ribs, like it wants to climb right out of you, climb anywhere where it might at last be tended, at last be soothed, and you shove it violently away, just as you do all those tangled feelings inside you.

You see Blight shifting up off the couch, sauntering toward the door just a few feet ahead of him. And you don’t know why you’re panicking, but you're panicking, it seizes through you like a ricocheting round as you see Ghost and Gaz standing there. Gaz’s lips moving, saying something you can’t even hear as he shuts the door behind them.

Blight’s talking too, you think. Saying something to Ghost. And it feels like it’s been so long since you’ve actually seen your lieutenant, even when it’s only been a day.

Ghost isn’t looking at Blight.

He’s a shadow-carved monolith. A black smudge against a silver eclipse. A hooded omen with kohl-bruised eyes and a skull’s broad, pallid jawline sewn to the lower half of his face.

Tall. Imposing.

Rigid.

He’s a mountain of unknown intention. And he’s looking right at you.

Something about him snares you from all the way across the room. Grips your very bones, snatching them and you into his possession. There is no escape from the way he’s watching you. His eyes are chasmic, labyrinthian; dark, unreadable voids above his skeletal mask.

Those eyes suck you in, fill your chest and heart and lungs with their darkness. They slide against your marrow, inscribing words you’ll never see unless you tear yourself open.

And then those eyes fall to Johnny.

Ghost can transcend humanity when he wants to. You’ve seen it before, in the field. A rare and dangerous occurrence where he’s more beast than man. But you never thought whatever monster lie in him would ever direct itself at Soap. Would ever watch him like he’s watching him right now.

It’s a look that could bend iron around you. Could hollow your insides out, leave you a rib-caged cavity. A jackal look. A beast that bares its blood-stained teeth as the other jackals stalk near.

That look could stop your very heart from beating, and for a moment you swear it does, even when it’s not directed at you. Just being in its presence is stifling. Those eyes of Ghost’s a noose, a cattle-gun, a guillotine.

If people are still talking, you can no longer hear anything beyond the thud of your own heart restarting. Can no longer see anything else at all in that room. All you can see is Ghost, and all you can feel is that darkness radiating off him.

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

[ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] I think Ghost might be mildly pissed off.

Thanks for reading!

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pe0ple3ater · 2 months

Text

@qsmutslut posted something that made me so hard to I had to write it immediately. It's currently 9:03 am. I feel like I'm going insane. This was so hot to write. Anyway! I hope you enjoy :)) I hope it's what you wanted

It's been a while since they've done this.

Pac would call it "clearing dungeons," but he's really not doing much on his end, Etoiles is ripping through the hoards of mobs and stepping back to let Pac get the loot. It's adorable how Etoiles is just here for the fight. Pac finds it sweet that Etoiles chooses him to spoil.

They're nearing the end, but Pac can tell that the adrenaline is unbearably buzzing under Etoiles' skin. Pac knows because he feels it often enough himself. Etoiles finishes off the boss in the final room and turns to Pac with a proud grin, nodding towards the chest.

"You take?" he asks, putting his sword away as Pac approaches him. Pac nods and giggles, opening the chest and digging through it. The loot is excellent; since the server reset, it's been a bitch to get materials. Pac is honestly really thankful that Etoiles is doing this with- for -him.

"Thank you so much, Etoiles, really, you're too generous," Pac says, looking up at the man from under his lashes. Etoiles smiles at him, pulling his hood off to clear his vision entirely.

Pac won't lie and say that his crush on Etoiles ever disappeared. He can't be blamed. Etoiles is a beautiful man. He's powerful, he's generous, he's funny. Watching him tear through the mobs, hearing his wild laugh bouncing off the walls, Pac is reminded why he fell for him in the first place. Etoiles is a shaken soda bottle, full of too much energy and pressure and ready to explode at any moment. Pac adores his power and the way he throws himself into everything full-heartedly.

Someone so kind, so wonderful, shouldn't go unthanked.

"Will you come to my house? Let me thank you?" Pac asks softly, reaching out to rest his hand on Etoiles' waist, making the man under him jolt. Pac watches the way his eyes widen and his lips part. It's not the first time they've slept together. Stories of how Etoiles acts in bed are enticing, and Pac is as greedy as Etoiles is giving.

"My bro, it's not necessary. Only if-" his voice trails off as Pac's hand slips under the edge of his armor, pressing against the thin shirt underneath "-only if you want," he finishes, voice dropping an octave and sending a shiver through Pac's spine.

"I do. You have been so helpful. I can't just let you leave after doing all this for me," Pac mumbles, smiling at Etoiles and pulling away. "Warp to my house, okay?" Pac says, and before Etoiles can argue, he pulls out his stone and warps away.

Pac goes inside, his house is shitty, but Etoiles isn't here to judge his decorating abilities. He's here to get fucked. Pac digs through his things until he finds his strap and harness. He hears the door open and smiles.

"Take your armor off, sit on the bed," Pac commands; he doesn't have to look to know that Etoiles is doing precisely what he said. Pac can hear the sound of removing armor, shuffling, and shifting clothes. Etoiles is so good; he's going to make him feel amazing. Pac steps into the next room to put the harness on and then grabs a length of rope. He returns to Etoiles and is pleased to see him sitting in just his undershirt and boxers, hands in his lap. He's so good.

Pac coos softly and walks over, straddling Etoiles' lap and pulling him in for a kiss. Etoiles' hands go to Pac's waist and run up and down his sides, affectionate even with Pac's tongue halfway down his throat. Pac likes that he doesn't try to fight for dominance; he follows Pac's lead. He tastes sweet, like healing potions and golden apples. Pac groans softly and rests his hands on Etoiles' chest. He pulls away from the kiss, and Etoiles is panting under him. Pac can feel the hardness of his dick pressed against his ass, and Pac thinks it's so fucking cute how worked up he gets just from kissing.

"Take your shirt off and lay back; I'm going to tie your hands," Pac mumbles, nipping at Etoiles' jaw. Etoiles nods and does as he's told. When Pac has him how he wants him, laid out on his knees, chest pressed against the bed, hands tied in front of him, naked, he takes a few minutes to admire. After all, Etoiles works so hard on his body. Pac's hands drag up his thighs, digging his nails in and scratching down the sensitive skin. Etoiles whines softly, dick twitching between his legs. Pac coos and leans forward, dragging his tongue against his hole in a broad swipe before pulling away and standing to get lube. The choked sound Etoiles makes his music to Pac's ears. He giggles and digs through his chest until he finds the well-used bottle of lube. He slicks up his fingers and returns to Etoiles.

Pac takes his time stretching Etoiles and listens to his little whimpers and groans, the way he moans Pac's name. Pac feels so powerful to have someone seen as the most powerful man on the server, squirming and whimpering with his hands. The idea makes heat curl in his stomach and dampen the space between his legs. He feels Mike's presence fill his head and laughs a little; of course, Mike is here. Etoiles is his favorite toy. He can take so much and still beg for more. Neither of them speaks as Pac pulls away and attaches the dildo to the harness, pressing it inside of himself and gasping softly.

Pac pushes inside of Etoiles in one mean thrust, and Etoiles chokes on his moan. He pulls at the binds around his wrists, and Pac feels a little hot at the way his muscles flex.

"You're so pretty, Etoiles, so good. You're so good to everyone. You need to be rewarded. Maybe I should call everyone here and let them say thank you," Pac purrs, fucking him hard and fast. Etoiles is already a mess under him, Pac's words making his moans kick up in pitch.

Pac manages to wring three orgasms out of Etoiles. The final one has him yelping Pac's name and pressing his face into the bed. He's got tears streaming down his cheeks, and when Pac looks, he sees there's nothing coming from his dick. A dry, painful orgasm. Etoiles is still gasping and shivering when Pac cums, nails digging into Etoiles hips and shivers wracking his spine. Etoiles is perfect through the whole thing, whining and crying but still and pliant.

Pac pulls out, unties Etoiles' hands, and pulls him against his chest.

"Thank you," Etoiles rasps out, pressing his face against Pac's chest and breathing through the pleasure rolling through his body.

#qsmpnsfw #eto!les #p@c #they're a ship I never understood but I GET IT NOW #eto!les and his whiny service sub self #entices me #sorry I will never write him as a top it's against my religion

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saintmeghanmarkle · 6 days

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ELI5 please- their finances by u/ocean_swims

ELI5 please- their finances Why do I keep seeing comments speculating on how broke they are? They're not broke. He is a blood prince, he will never be broke. He inherited from the Queen Mother, The Queen, his own mother, and they're signing deals worth hundreds of millions of dollars. They live in a mansion, they travel all the freaking time, they stay in swanky hotels, she's dressed in tens of thousands in clothing and jewellery. He even still rides horses and plays polo, not looking like he's lost a day of practice. These are not the pursuits of the skint. They're loaded and will always be loaded. And while I understand he's lost money pursuing lawsuits, the only reason they keep going is because they can easily afford to. And I'm sure she accepts freebies from brands but, that's not because she can't afford her own stuff, it's because she's greedy and entitled as a "celebrity".Why is everyone convinced there's no money? They're hustling for more, yes, but I think that's because they're obsessed with wealth and status. It's all just a flex to show they will never stop getting speaking engagements, tv shows, book deals, etc. They never have to worry about money and it's bugging me to see comments acting like they do. It's the rest of us who are living paycheque to paycheque, choosing heat or eat, wondering what to do if we get ill. These grifters are swimming in £££s, unfortunately. Not a single penny of it earned. So, ELI5...what am I missing about their financial situation because the rest of the sub seems convinced they're about to start busking?! 😂 post link: https://ift.tt/DJegirV author: ocean_swims submitted: April 13, 2024 at 03:31PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

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screamsortega · 1 year

Text

smut prompts;

01. “i’ve been thinking about you all day.”

02. “how badly do you want me?”

03. “i just cannot get enough of you.”

04. “looks like someone is jealous.”

05. “better keep quiet, there’s people just outside the door.”

06. “just say you want me, and i’m all yours.”

07. “show me just how much you’ve missed me.”

08. “you know you love me.”

09. “it’s hot when you talk back”

10. “if you called just to get off at my voice, i’m hanging up.”

11. “you look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

12. “bend over the desk, baby.”

13. “i haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already this wet?”

14. “stop distracting me.”

15. “take it off, slowly.”

16. “what do you think your punishment should be?”

17. “do that again, i dare you.”

18. “sit on my face.”

19. “i love it when you moan my name.”

20. “let me give you a reason to stay in bed.”

21. “prove to me that you deserve my tongue.”

22. “no panties? you dirty girl”

23. “you can get louder, if you want.”

24. “if you want to cum then you better start begging.”

25. “you don’t know how much i want to fuck you against that window just so people would see who you belong too.”

26. “my thoughts about you aren’t really appropriate.”

27. “i thought i told you to stay still?”

28. “come one, be a good girl and spread your legs.”

29. “focus, only on me.”

30. “who do you belong to?”

31. “show me how you pleasure yourself.”

32. “you know, it’s really distracting when you do that.”

33. “you look so good on your knees.”

34. “well, what do we have here? someone must’ve gotten impatient and decided to touch theirselves.”

35. “i’m not going to let you cum, i don’t care how much you beg.”

36. “i promise you this, when we get home i’m going to tear off those clothes of yours and fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to function tomorrow.”

37. “i want to fuck you in front of a mirror so you’ll see how good you take it.”

38. “does it feel good when i touch you like this?”

39. “you talk too much, maybe if i shove my dick in your mouth maybe you’ll shut up.

40. “oh, i’m not done with you, get back here.”

41. “you wanna cum? have you earned it yet?”

42. “aw, out of breath already? did i go too fast, baby?”

43. “don’t be shy, come and taste me.”

44. “be a good girl and take it.”

45. “you heard me, take it off.”

46. “i wasn’t expecting you to be this tight.”

47. “i’m gonna fuck you so good that you’ll forget your own name.”

48. “like what you see?”

49. “i don’t care how good it feels, you better not cum until i tell you to.”

50. “i love the sounds you make once you come undone.”

51. “just relax, let me do all the work.”

52. “touch yourself, i want to watch.”

53. “need some help?”

54. “i know it hurts, but be a good girl and take it.”

55. “do you have any toys?”

56. “better watch that mouth of yours if you want to cum.”

57. “where do you want it?”

58. “i didn’t know someone could cum that fast just from a few fingers.”

59. “that’s right baby, scream my name, let everyone know who this pussy belongs to.”

60. “you’re so needy.”

61. “swallow, all of it.”

62. “you wanna act like a slut? then you’ll get treated like a slut.”

63. “i’ve barely touched you and you’re already shaking.”

64. “i love it when you beg.”

65. “come sit on my lap.”

66. “don’t even think about cumming yet.”

67. “so, i hear that you’re into pain?”

68. “be a good girl and swallow for me.”

69. “you better keep the volume down or i’ll go even harder.”

70. “i’m feeling a bit greedy today.”

71. “clothes off, now.”

72. “your boyfriend/girlfriend doesn’t need to know about this, okay?”

73. “you better not touch yourself while i’m gone.”

74. “i’m gonna fuck you so good that you’ll forget about him/her.”

75. “i never knew you liked to be spanked.”

76. “use your words, baby.”

77. “i bet i can make you cum without even touching you.”

78. “i want to kiss every square inch of your body.”

79. “is that gonna fit?” | “i’ll make it fit.”

80. “all day i’ve been thinking about how good it would feel to have your head between my thighs.”

81. “but there’s people-” | “i don’t care, let them watch.”

82. “you look so pretty when you cry.”

authors note;

send a request with a character + smut prompt number (if you want to use a prompt)

also, i will probably add more prompts here and there.

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clearbun · 4 months

Note

your blog is so cool!!! can i ask if you have any special greed + devils nest gang headcanons to share for this humble anon's rewatch session?

aw tysm <3 I definitely have way too many thoughts about them rotating in my head constantly, let's see what we can grab today

one of the things that I actually really like from 03 is Greed busting out the chimeras when he's breaking himself out of the lab, so even though it doesn't exactly line up with what we're given in mangahood canon i like to hc something similar having happened anyways! (gonna be a lil vague because this loops back to a fic I'm writing a bit) "guy who's been locked up for who knows how long and isn't all there mentally's first instinct being to save people when all he can think about is needing to get out" does something to me yk

the chimeras having different sorts of chronic pain issues from being experimented on is so real to me that I forget it's not canon. I will die on the hill that Dolcetto's arm bands are actually braces to support his wrists. Greed catches any of them overdoing it when they're having a bad pain day and he will personally drag them off to bed whether they're in the middle of a conversation or work or anything. This is regular taking care of your possessions behaviour and not him being worried about his friends thank you very much

Roa just has the Vibes that he does most of the cooking for their group, but Greed definitely does quite a bit too (mostly when he can use excuses like "I'm the only one who can't get sick so I might as well be the one to make food" when there's something going around, or "Well I made this for Me because I need to eat all the finest things but I happened to make enough for everyone and being greedy means not letting things go to waste so you better have some" -guy who won't admit to himself or anyone else that everything he wants for himself is for them too)

Dolcetto being the main bouncer! most people would probably expect it to be Roa or Ulchi but he's a damn good guard dog thank you (being able to smoke more because he's outside the entrance is a bonus too) I don't have too specific hc's for what most of the others do during working hours other than Martel working the bar, but I kinda see Ulchi as dealing with fights that break out inside when he's not part of them himself (Roa helps with those ones it's ok)

#THIS IS KINDA LONG THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I'M ASKED ABOUT THEM. I HOPE THAT'S WHAT YOU WERE LOOKING FOR LOL #the devil's nest #greed fma #greed the avaricious #fma #dolcetto #roa #martel #ulchi #just tagging them separately because they get specifically named #anon #ENJOY YOUR REWATCH <3

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targaryen-dynasty · 9 months

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This is how it goes:

Sinful Revenge (Aemond x Aegon II x litte sister!Reader) -> coming 07/29/23, 8pm CET

Greedy (Daemon Targaryen) initially written for @ewanmitchellcrumbs -> coming 07/30/23, 6pm CET

Playing with a Dragon (Aemond Targaryen) -> coming 07/31/23, 6pm CET

A Fine Line (between Love and Hate) (Daemon Targaryen) -> coming 08/01/23, 6pm CET

Lechery (Aemond Targaryen) -> coming 08/02/23, 6pm CET

Stress Relief (Daemon Targaryen) -> coming 08/03/23, 6pm CET

Forbidden Delights (Daemon Targaryen) -> coming 08/04/23, 6pm CET

Under the Eyes of the Seven (Aegon II Targaryen) initially written for @valeskafics -> coming 08/05/23, 6pm CET

Comfort (Daemon Targaryen) -> 06/08/23, 6pm CET

As for Do You Dare Say No to Me? (x Aemond), Ask Me Nicely and Discipline (x Aegon) and the rest of my lactation kink series with Aemond and Aegon, I'm not sure when I'll have the time to reedit them. But you'll hear from me at some point again.

#laura talks 🐉

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woncon · 8 months

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03:26 - 03:27 pm

❥ heeseung x fem!reader

➳ warnings: making out, breast grabbing, a detailed centipede, killing the centipede

➳ thanks to @wonsheep for helping me fix my grammar mistakes and for giving me advice how to convert a whole story into another language precisely ❣

➳ enhypen masterlist | main masterlist

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

heeseung's kisses slowly make you go insane. the way he fondles your mouth with greedy leisure and declares his love in the language of love while holding your hips and crumpling your t-shirt: madness is the most reasonable reaction.

"i'm gonna go crazy, hee" you whisper when his kisses touch your face and then brush your neck. heeseung gives a sweet-sexy giggle at these words, then continues the pleasant work, his fingers finding their way under your shirt to your bare skin. the air is pushed out of your lungs, you helplessly spread your legs, as his fingers fight their way up to your bra and teasefully grab at your hidden breast. "you drive me crazy."

you sigh, throwing your head back, eagerly running your fingers through heeseung's hair to keep him there without losing the warmth that his breath gives you.

you make the mistake of opening your eyes and it really does make you look like you're going crazy.

"oh my god! heeseung!" you squeal, desperately shoving the boy’s shoulder away, who inexplicably crawls out of your neck and pulls his probing hands from under the t-shirt. he would break free and apologize for doing something you didn't like, but then he sees it too and cries out in disbelieving horror.

"fucking huge!"

a centipede squirms on the wall opposite the bed. its rust-brown body moves like a snake, as it puts a lot of articulated legs one after the other. its ciliated body shines disgustingly in the light.

"do something!" you elbow him.

"it'll eat me!" heeseung climbs off you and pulls you into his arms.

"it'll eat you for sure if we don't catch it. it returns in the evening."

heeseung shivers and shakes his head, as if to banish the horror-movie image.

"i dare not. i don't want to touch it."

he looks defenseless and tiny. you can't believe that he just grabbed your breast sexily and tickled your neck with his tongue. anyway, you don't want the centipede to do similar things to you later, so you calmly prepare for the fight.

you reach for your slippers next to the bed. you climb down to the ground, pull your slipped shirt back into place, and then walk to the wall. the legs of the insect resemble many strands of hair, they just walk and wave. nature is sometimes very ugly. you shove your palm into the slipper and slam down hard.

when you lift the weapon, you're greeted by a flattened remnant. you sigh. it has happened before that the centipede didn't get killed, it just fell down and continued its journey on the ground, and its potential killer freaked out.

you drop the slipper, you'll deal with it later. now you climb back onto the bed where heeseung greets you with a kiss, a grateful hug, and cuddles you like a baby.

"you're a hero. thank you! i'm so proud of you for putting on the gloves, in this case the slippers. it was epic!" he looks deeply into your eyes. "i love you!"

"i love you too, hee!"

the appearance of the centipede has changed the mood, but you don't mind, you fall together between the pillows and hold on to each other lovingly.

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courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme · 1 month

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The Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997, Steven Spielberg)

19/03/2024

The Lost World: Jurassic Park is a 1997 film directed by Steven Spielberg, sequel to Jurassic Park and inspired by the novel The Lost World by Michael Crichton.

The franchise continued with Jurassic Park III (2001), Jurassic World (2015), Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (2018) and Jurassic World Dominion (2022).

Four years have passed since the dramatic events at Jurassic Park. Professor Ian Malcolm, one of the survivors, is contacted again by the now ex-head of InGen, John Hammond, and informed that Isla Nublar, the place where the park stood, was in reality just a showcase for tourists. In fact, the prehistoric creatures were actually created on nearby Isla Sorna, the so-called "Site B" where, following the destruction of the fences caused by the hurricane called Clarissa, they were able to escape from their cages and live undisturbed without the whole world knowing, but now the target of her greedy and corrupt nephew, Peter Ludlow, eager to plunder her to recreate a "city Jurassic Park" in San Diego. At first Malcolm, knowing the very high risks, declines the proposal but, discovering that his girlfriend, the paleontologist Sarah Harding, has already gone to the place, he decides to leave immediately to bring her back, aided by the photographer Nick Van Owen and the engineer Eddie Carr.

Not long after Peter Ludlow, together with a team of hunters led by Roland Tembo, arrives on Isla Sorna to begin the capture of some dinosaurs and in particular, an adult male specimen of Tyrannosaurus rex.

After a day's march, Dieter Stark, Tembo's deputy, loses his life in the jungle, devoured alive by the small Compsognathus and that same night the camp is attacked by T-Rexes, attracted by the smell of the puppy's blood left impregnated on the jacket by Sarah. In the general escape, the hunting team crosses an expanse of tall grass falling victim to an ambush by seven Velociraptors; despite this, Ian, Sarah, Nick and Kelly manage to reach the communications center, where Nick requests reinforcements from the mainland while the others have to deal with the Raptors.

Jeff Goldblum is Professor Ian Malcolm: a mathematician expert in chaos theory. He is, together with Hammond (and with the exception of the children, who only appear in a brief cameo), the only main character from the first chapter to also reappear in the sequel. At the end of the first film, Malcolm managed to escape from Isla Nublar, and during these four years he revealed the facts of Jurassic Park to the public.

Julianne Moore is Dr. Sarah Harding, Ian Malcolm's girlfriend.

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scaraberri · 1 month

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Celestial Symphony

[03: A Reunion to come?]

[scaramouche x Fem!reader]

Word count: 1k

Note: SO IM BACK ;)

srry if this seems rushed (T.T)

Eula , Noelle , Kazuha , Aphria(?) , Scaramouche , Elliot

There were rumors since his birth, on how he was cursed. Blessed by the devil himself. That he was going to deprive the nation of all its glory if he ever took the throne, it was all…

Bullshit…

I mean to be fair, what did he ever do? He was just born and the world seemed to already hate him…

Sure he’s rude and narcissistic, but that the world fault for making him that way..

If only he were to have a beacon of light

To guide him

So he doesn’t end up as a self-fulfilling prophecy…

“your grace…”

“your grace-!” Noelle yell’s, while eula stands next to her.

“Huh…what happened”

“ooh your alright! I was so worried when you passed out, I thought I did something wrong when I couldn’t wake up up-” her word halt when she feels a hand on her shoulder

“calm down Noelle” eula speaks

“Ah! My apologies…i didn’t mean to-” she stutters as she lets go of you. “are you alright your grace”

“I'm okay…more importantly what happened..?” you ask as you rise from laying on your bed

“you tell me, not even a minute into the carriage you collapsed, do have kind of condition or…”

“I-..no I just had a weird dream that’s all… but what are you doing here I thought you left with miss kujou sara ”

“I did, and after finished my business there, I came home to a very alarmed Noelle banging on my door”

“I may have over stepped” Noelle sweats “but for good reason! It was unexpected and you didn’t seem like you simply fainted from exhaustion, so I got worried…my apologies”

“no no…its fine...I’m glad to have friends like you…who always come to my rescue…thank you” You smile” you both are the best thing that could happen to me” the two went quiet

“Well! You should get ready now, you were out most of the day, And its almost time for your classes…so get prepared” Eula says crossing her arms and looking away so that they cant spot the evident blush on her face.

“lady Eula you cant be serious she just woke up” Noelle negotiates

“Its fine I’ll go easy”

You just stare at the two’s interaction, smiling to yourself… but what was that dream…?

○•♡•○•♡•○•♡•○•♡•○•♡•○

Elliot was well known in the castle, holding nicknames like the princes loyal dog ever since he was little, He had originally been the princes playmate but had become the princes personal butler or adviser.

Did he like his job? Of course there couldn’t be a better one out there

Really? Of course

Reeealllyy? …

“your highness please reconsider…” Elliot pleads

“No”

“Please your highness you cant miss this! If you do the nobles will be pointing there guns at me for not doing anything”

“well your doing plenty so no.”

“what do I have to do? Should I beg? I’ll beg! Just please please please please please please pleaseeeeee” he kneels onto the floor

Scaramouche sighs “get up, im not changing my mind…”

“your highness” Elliot sobs “the prince leave the future of the kingdom to his butler in exchange for some tea time with his friends…I can already see the newspaper circling through the commoners like wild fire”

“Your overthinking it, think of it this way. The prince ignores the nobles cries for help in exploiting their workers for their greedy plans. Come on what’s the big deal you’ve done this before” he looks down at his butler who holds back tears

“I’ve done it before and ALMOST DIED!”

“they didn’t try to kill you”

“those glares said otherwise”

“pretty please Elliot just this once~” Scaramouche asks sweetly….for once…

“oh well how am I to refuse” Elliot blushes smiling to himself

“oh thanks you’re an angel Elli~” He walks out and into the carriage at lighting speed

“oh its nothing have a safe trip-…” …

…

“Curse your naive little heart Elliot even the rats can tell that you’ve been fooled again”

○•♡•○•♡•○•♡•○•♡•○•♡•○

“Sooooo…why?”

“Don’t ask he hasn’t answered since he got here”

The two stare at the prince, The future glory of the empire sitting in front of then crushing every biscuit he could get his hands on…

…

“I feel bad for Elliot”

“God pray for his soul”

…

“I need help”

“like mentally, yeah I can get you a place in the asylum”

“No- like you know…with her, I…I had a great idea on how I can make the perfect scenario for us to meet again but when I asked that damn woman for help, she refused! Kitsune are just so annoying and … and cunning”

“oh I got a great idea” the other two look at him “how about you..”

…

“-talk to her”

SMACK

“Eh-..SCARA!”

“I’m serious, I really need help…please…” his voice quiets down

“UGH- FINE, we’ll help” Aphria answer’s crossing her arms

“really” he looks up

They nod in unison

“but you need to put in the effort and NOT run away”

“thanks i guess”

She only hums sinking back into her seat “actually I have a question”

“about what”

“About this uh…whats his face- oh Shin”

…

“what about him?”

“He passed recently didn’t he?”

…Both Kazuha and Scara remain quiet

“what are you going on about”

“Nothing I just none of it makes sense…I saw my father stressing over his case a few weeks ago, I got curious so I decided to have a little read my self and well…none of it makes sense.”

She sigh’s as she begins to list her reasons

“They said he died in a carriage accident but there was no sign of a crashed carriage and I doubt there even was a body because from the reports his accident wasn’t so severe that they had to have a closed casket funeral”

“maybe the Dutchess just wanted that, you know its hard to come to piece with the fact that her only son died”

“wait does Lady (y/n) know?”

“I doubt it” Scara finally speaks after awhile

“They wouldn’t bother with it, since she’s considered illegitimate”

“it pisses me off”

…

“lets stop there for now, I’m sure Elliot’s waiting for you to be back”

○•♡•○•♡•○•♡•○•♡•○•♡•○

“sir Elliot respectfully, These matters are something that we need to personally speak to the crown prince about”

“I’m truly sorry but the only form admiration you’ll be meeting is me” Elliot feines a smile

“Understand that our stock have been receding we must speak with the crown prince-”

“The only thing receding is your hairline”