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fatasmagoria · 5 months

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Coming back from the dead to propose a s@w-themed rapid fattening prompt.

Imagine a lithe and slim individual, probably a personal trainer or fitness influencer, who takes pleasure in mocking and bullying their larger clients and any fat person they see on the street. One night, they go to sleep and wake up in a dirty room, their hands bound above their head and a trap door under their feet (although the trap door seems a little stiff.)

A TV in the corner switches on, revealing a creepy puppet with a garbled voice.

“I’d like to play a game. For years, you have ridiculed those larger than yourself. As a fitness coach, you should be inspiring and uplifting, but your mere presence brings shame and embarrassment to so many. You seem more than eager to prescribe fad diets to people and shill your services, so why don’t you give a demonstration?

Under your feet is a trap door that will only open once a weight limit has been reached. You must reach the target weight of 300 pounds in ten minutes. Your progress will be shown via the scale in front of you. If you fail to hit this goal, even by a single pound, the walls will collapse inwards and you will be crushed to death.

A funnel will drop from the ceiling once this recording has finished. It will provide you with the necessary calories to grow.

Live or die. Make your choice.”

Sure enough, a plastic tube emerges from above the influencer and a timer starts on the wall. The scale shows a small figure: 130lbs. A perfect weight for their size. At first, they try screaming, thrashing around and tugging at the restraints to no avail. They try jumping on the trap door. Nothing. Staring at the tube in disgust, they knew they had to bite the bullet.

Oh well. Their metabolism would deal with all this, wouldn’t it? It’s not like they would just magically digest hundreds of pounds of food instantly.

Food, as it turned out, was an overstatement. It was more akin to sweet, fatty slop. They grumbled at the taste, but their fear of death kept them focused. Their belly rapidly expanded to hold all of the liquid, popping out of their tight tank top as if they were pregnant. But strangely, the bloating subsided almost instantly. Instead, their belly started to feel warm, before softness overwhelmed their middle in two small rolls, growing larger with every gulp.

They closed their eyes, despite their horror and anguish, but that didn’t stop them from feeling the effects of the liquid. Their body felt warm all over as it expanded like bread dough in the oven. Their slender figure evaporated, swaddled with layers of softness. Stick-like thighs melted into jiggling slabs of meat, and their cheeks started to rise, squishing their mouth together over the nozzle of the feeding tube. Their ass become two powerful globes of flab, wobbling as they guzzled relentlessly. Their pubic area swallowed their genitals with ease.

At that point, their clothes gave up the fight, seams popping and ripping. Holes in their clothing gave room for even more growth. And the crown jewel of their body was their newly grown belly that was already beginning to sag with the excess weight. Flabby tits rested lazily on top of it, already burst free from the confines of their tiny shirt.

The numbers on the scale were almost tipping 300. Almost. The trap door was creaking under their feet, unable to take the pressure.

280…

281…

A sudden rush of gas flooded their guts, and they leaned back from the tube to belch. At the same time, their legs were getting tired. Gone were the days where they could easily run a marathon. Fully nude, save for the underwear wedged tightly in between their ass cheeks, the former fitness trainer began to feast from the tube again, weeping as their once-skinny body was destroyed.

294…

295…

Almost done…

As the scale hit 300, lots of things happened at once.

Exhausted, their knees gave out, and they thundered ungracefully to the floor, shockwaves rippling in their gelatinous fat. The restraints that were once holding their wrists exploded from the sudden pull of weight, and they noted how puffy said wrists had become, alongside their thick, sausage digits.

The trap door sprang open, and they fell heavily into a pit below. Another juicy burp pushed its way out of them. They looked up to see the room above collapsing, the walls pressed together. Dazed, the newly-formed fatty watches dumbly as the mastermind of the trap strides towards them.

“Congratulations. You are still alive. I would say that you should appreciate life more now, but, ah…”

The mastermind rubbed his face exhaustedly.

“We might need a forklift to get you out of here.”

#fatty #feedisn #female wg #male wg #wg teasing #wg text #wg story #rapid weight gain

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rookthorne · 8 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭

While saving lives was Bucky’s passion and calling, you couldn’t help but have the need to be there to save him. And one day, you came up with the idea of how to stay with the guardian angel all through his shift.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☤ Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☤ 1.0k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☤ Tooth rotting fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☤ I want the love of my life to always have me with them, and I thought the same for Bucky.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ☤ Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron & Wine

𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Babe!” Bucky called into the apartment while his heavy boots thumped over the tiled floors in his search for you. “Baby, c’mon, where’s my bag?”

“In here,” you replied. You hastened in your mission and just as the footfalls came closer to the bedroom, you turned and faced the door, Bucky’s work duffle held out by both your hands.

Bucky appeared in the doorway, his uniform jacket undone to reveal a tight black undershirt, and the swishing sound of his pants over his thighs came to a stop – just as your heart did. His hair was in a half-up, half-down style, and the tattoos that lined his neck stood out in relief against the rough, dark fabric of his collar.

It was enough to make your heart thunder against your ribs.

“What are you doing, Peanut?” Bucky asked, raising a suspicious brow and looking between you and his outstretched duffel. “Why do you have my bag–no, don’t look all cute ‘n innocent on me, I know that’s a lie.”

“Oh, come on,” you laughed, shaking your head. “So little faith in me, huh?”

Bucky flattened his expression. “Ha, ha, very funny. Seriously, what will happen when I open this?”

You considered it for a moment, but your thoughts must have flashed across your expression because Bucky’s lips curled into a smirk. “No, get your mind out of the gutter.” The pout on his lips made you grin. “Just… I packed someone for you.”

“Someone–?”

“Yeah,” you replied. There was a moment of silence where you stared at Bucky, and he stared back, unblinking and determined in his mission for you to break first.

Naturally, you didn’t.

Bucky sighed. “Fine,” he drawled, and he walked towards the bed and placed the duffle on the comforter. “I’m gonna open this and it better not be a prank.”

“Would I do that?” you asked innocently, battering your eyelashes for an added effect.

“Do I have to answer that?” he retorted as he unzipped the bag. You slapped his shoulder in retaliation and sat on the side of the bed, watching as he dug through the contents and searching for anything amiss, when he paused.

The normally at ease slump of his shoulders tightened minutely – it would have been unnoticeable under his bulky uniform, but you knew his tells. His brow had furrowed and he licked his lips. “Baby, is this–what is this?”

“I thought- Well, I thought you might, um–like someone with you on shift that’s not Stevie,” you explained, watching his expression morph from confusion to bewilderment. “And I saw this lil’ guy, and you know I love them, so…”

Bucky stood up straight, and by doing so, he revealed what you had hidden amongst the instruments of his work bag. It was a small, soft stuffie – the shape of a round marshmallow, only a thousand times cuter. “So this is one of your favourite stuffies?” he mused, a soft smile on his lips. “You got me my own, huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I thought they could be me… Y’know, to keep you safe–to keep you company.”

“Oh, baby girl,” Bucky breathed, and he stepped closer. “You’re always with me–keeping me safe, alright?”

His lips were soft on yours, and you smiled into the kiss before he pulled away.

The loss of his lips made a pang of sadness course through you; missing him already, even when you were in arms reach. “She’s gonna be a fine recruit to the misfits,” Bucky chuckled, turning the stuffie over in his hands. “So damn soft too. I reckon the kids that see her will love her to bits.” He paused, and then smirked. “Well, this little baby is gonna sit on the dash of my truck. Thank you, sweetheart.”

You giggled shyly and hid your face. “I’m glad.”

Bucky grinned at you and put the stuffie on the top of his bag. “Now, c’mere–I wanna love on my Peanut before the madness that is night shift.”

You laughed and launched yourself into his arms, giggling like a lovestruck fool at his exaggerated grunt of effort.

“You be safe out there, Buck,” you whispered finally, letting him rock you side to side. “My stuffie will be watching out for you and Stevie, okay?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hummed, and he kissed your head. “Got my own little guardian stuffie–so damn cute, jus’ like you.”

After kissing Bucky goodbye, you settled onto the couch with a blanket and one of your own stuffies to watch a movie. The sense of familiar unease that came with the loss of his company an age old tell you’d lived with for years now, only this time – since you had started to date the oaf, it was different.

No matter how many times Bucky had assured you that he loved his job and wouldn’t trade it for the world, there was always a niggling feeling of worry every time he walked out that front door to face the horrors and the wholesomeness of the population.

The sun had set a few moments ago when your phone chimed – it was Bucky, and he had sent an image.

Pinks and yellows and oranges painted the side of his truck a mosaic of colours, and he was holding the stuffie up to the light. And in typical Stevie fashion, the blond idiot had poked his head around the toy and given the camera the goofiest expression.

The next photo was in the truck – Bucky was sitting in the driver’s seat, evident by the steering wheel at the bottom of the photo, while the stuffie you had given him was sitting proudly on the dash with a pen and the radio propped up against it.

The last photo made your heart swoop in your chest, however. It was a selfie Bucky had taken – the stuffie was sitting in his breast pocket, the blinding smile Bucky bestowed the camera brighter than any sunny day.

And when you read the caption, you couldn’t help but sniffle.

My Peanut, the love of my life, watching over me – just as I do her.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #rookthorne's works

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spookyscarydemonbabe · 9 months

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🕯️📺🎸 for eddie <33

yay!! another request 🥰 keep them coming you guys! i love getting to write little things like this 🖤

(and i got a little carried away with this one 😂 definitely a bit longer than a blurb but i did my best)

Eddie managed to find one of his spare lighters lying around on the coffee table, flicking it on as the room illuminated around you from another loud crash of thunder and lightning. You giggled at your situation, though you weren’t quite sure of what else to do.

Wayne never had a problem with you being over, you and Eddie were both adults after all, and he knew you were responsible. Oftentimes when you’d been over before, you and Eddie would be confined to his room to give Wayne some well deserved space to relax after work. However, as soon as Eddie got a call from him around an hour earlier, a devious idea came to his mind.

The storm was going to last a lot longer than he thought, and he’d probably be stuck in traffic on his way back, but he promised to be safe. Just home later is all. And Eddie knew exactly what that meant.

A quickie on the couch. An idea that you’d never be able to turn down. Eddie just didn’t plan on the storm being this bad either.

The set up had been perfect.

Eddie had the lights dimmed, soft music playing for a little background noise with the rain hitting the glass of the windows to help make the night a little more romantic, and the fluffiest blanket he could find was draped over the couch to give you just a little xtra cushion.

Your clothes had been scattered across the trailer, thrown off in random directions as you couldn’t help but be all over each other as you wandered from Eddie’s bedroom into the living room.

There you were laying beneath him on the couch, one leg hanging over the side as the other was hooked over Eddie’s shoulder. Your head tilted back and your fingers gently massaging his scalp as he slowly moved his tongue through your folds, his eyes looking up to your face to watch it contort in pleasure each time he head another moan from your lips. It was so difficult to keep from grinding up into him.

You looked down towards him and as soon as he heard his name pour from your lips he wanted you more than ever. He needed you.

He caught his breath as he lifted his face from between your legs, kissing over your thighs as you came down from your high.

“Baby? You ready?” He was on his knees between your legs, towering over you with the sweetest smile on his lips.

You smiled back up to him and nodded eagerly, watching as he places one hand on the back of the couch to keep himself steady, his other hand slowly stroking his length as he positioned himself between your legs.

“Wait!” You said, sitting up quickly on the couch, “Condom?”

“Oh, shit, that’s right. Let me grab one baby, you stay here-“

Another loud crash of thunder came from outside, and before you knew it you were surrounded in complete darkness. Save for the bright lightening pouring through the windows. The room was silent and pitch black, and Eddie nearly tripped over the coffee table as the lights went out.

He grabbed his lighter and flicked it, the little flame illuminating his face,

“Fuck, something must’ve happened with the power lines…” He looked around the room for a flashlight or another lighter, spotting his underwear on the living room floor. He quickly changed into them just in case and wandered around the room, lighting the few candles that were scattered around. As he walked around the back of the couch he draped the blanket over you, “Cover up babe, i don’t want you to get cold,” He wrapped you up into the soft blanket and you got onto your feet, one hand holding the blanket together around your body and the other was holding onto his arm, “I’ll walk you to my room, just wait in there for me ok?”

You nodded, slowly stepping with him down the hall, smiling to yourself as you walked past Eddie’s shirt and your pajama shorts lying on the kitchen floor.

Eddie led you to his bed, getting you comfortable before lighting the few candles on his dressers,

“I’ll go clean up, and then we’ll finish in here,” You could just hear the way he was smirking from his tone, “you just stay in bed and look pretty until i get back.”

You giggled,

“It’s what i’m best at.”

Eddie found one of his spare flashlights in his nightstand drawer and swapped it for the flimsy lighter in his hand, stepping out of his room to go and collect your clothes and clean up whatever mess you had left behind before Wayne got home. He shined the light onto the kitchen clock, stopped at 8:23 pm. Wayne was typically home by 8, so he should hopefully be back-

Eddie’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the headlights of Wayne’s truck pulling into the gravel spot in front of the trailer. He was home earlier than expected.

Eddie looked around the floor and tried his best to collect all of your clothes as quickly as he could, not wanting to leave any indication that the two of you were about to do the dirty right there on his living room couch. He was halfway down the hall when the lights suddenly flickered back on, your clothes all bunched up in his hands and the music and TV suddenly starting back up again.

Eddie started to panic as he heard Wayne’s keys jingling in the door.

He quickly ran back into his room, leaving the music and TV on without a second thought before tossing your clothes onto his bed and slamming his door shut.

You were still there on his bed, naked, all rolled up in the soft blanket when you looked at him with shock, worried that something had happened.

“What? What’s wrong?” You asked him.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, it’s just-“

“Eddie!” You could hear Wayne’s voice calling out from the living room, no doubt it was about the loud music and the TV blaring with him nowhere in sight.

“You think if we’re quiet enough he’ll forget about it?” Eddie whispered to you quietly before carefully opening his door a crack, peeking outside. Only to be met with Wayne’s eyes as soon as he opened it.

“No. I won’t. Put your clothes on and clean up.”

Eddie was red in the face, knowing that Wayne knew exactly what had been going on between you two right before he had gotten home. He reached over and sighed, picking up his shirt from the pile of clothes on his bed and slipped it over his head, readying himself for whatever Wayne had coming for him.

You were just happy it wasn’t you he was upset at. Thank god.

tags: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @esme-viridian

if you’d like to participate in the event just check out the details here 🥰

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson blurb

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marvelmusing · 1 year

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Aleksander Morozova NSFW Alphabet

(Featuring Fem!Reader)

A/N: there are so many different versions of Aleksander in my head, so for this alphabet I’ve decided to base it on having an established relationship with S1!Aleksander (who has some extra Book!Darkling features).

[18+ content under the cut]

My Masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He enjoys soaking up the moment, letting the pleasure linger as you both come down from your highs. Whether he’s draped over the foot of the bed, or lying with you tucked against his chest, no matter what, his eyes are always on you, drinking in the sight of your pleasure flushed skin and the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to settle your breathing. Slowly, he will trace his fingers over each and every inch of you, assessing for any damage and admiring your body.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your hands. When you cradle his face between them he all but melts into a puddle at your feet, ready to worship you. He likes to watch your hands whenever you undress him, whether that be a delicate teasing as you slowly unclasp his belt or a frantic tug at his shirt, he loves it all.

He knows you love his neck and nothing makes him shiver like feeling your mouth against the hollow of his throat before you nose your way upwards, pressing kisses along his thundering pulse until you reach his jawline, taking the edge of it between your teeth.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

He likes making a mess of you. If you don’t enjoy it as much, then he will save this indulgence for only special occasions. If you also enjoy it, then he will thoroughly delight in smearing his release over your chest, down your stomach, and particularly over your thighs. After that, he will watch you lick his hands and fingers clean.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He is a bit of an exhibitionist. But just for subtle things. It’s not about people seeing you during intimate moments, it’s more that he enjoys other people seeing a glimpse of how disheveled and blissful he can make you, which acts as a casual reminder to everyone that you’re his.

He likes it when messengers call on him during the morning, and they see you wearing one of his shirts with kiss swollen lips and a certain glow about you. He likes it when the servants find his clothes in your room, or yours in his. He likes it when people do their best to ignore the marks down your throat and over your collarbones.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Aleksander knows what he’s doing, but his experience has only been gained because he’s lived so long. He loses his virginity in his mid-twenties because he’s never settled in one place long enough to feel comfortable being intimate.

At that point in his life, he avoids sleeping with Grisha because the skin to skin contact would reveal that he is an amplifier (putting himself in danger) and he doesn’t trust otkazatsya enough to be comfortable around them.

As the centuries go on, and he gains a more elevated status, he finds himself able to enjoy a few partners, mostly to take his mind off everything else. There are a few that he genuinely cares for, despite his best efforts since he knows he will outlive them.

He’s very perceptive, so he quickly learns what you like and commits it to memory. His commanding aura also gives you an impression of his experience.

F = Favourite Position (this goes without saying)

Anything that keeps you close and allows him to run his hands all over your body. He likes sitting with his back against the headboard, you in his lap while he grasps at your hips, guiding you with each move of your hips.

When you’re on your back, he usually ends up pinning your legs into whatever position he desires with his shadows so that his hands are free to roam over your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers as well as cupping your face or gripping your throat as he kisses you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Mostly serious during the act but he can definitely be soft and playful at times. He’s more teasing during these moments. Sometimes there’s a flirtatious back and forth between the two of you during the lead up, before you decide to abandon the teasing and take what you want from each other.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc)

He keeps himself pretty well maintained. There’s a small trace of hair over his lower stomach that begins just above his waistband and trails downwards into a small bundle of dark curls.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Aleksander is putting all of his focus on you, ensuring that you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself. In day to day life, he’s well attuned to your needs and that’s no different during sex.

To Aleksander, real intimacy is the combination of physical touch and trust. He trusts that your touch will not hurt him, and vice versa. You know what his hands are capable of, but you trust him to touch you. As a result, every touch been the two of you is intimate, but especially during something sexual.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Before the two of you were together, he would find himself fantasising about you, though it took him a long time give in and actually think about you whilst touching himself.

The first time he did it, he locked his doors and settled under the covers of his bed with flushed cheeks at the thought of what he was doing. It took a matter of minutes, thinking of your hand on his cock or your face between his thighs, before he neared his climax.

As his mind drifted, distracted by the pleasure, he thought of thrusting into your cunt, of how tight and wet you would be, so perfect. In seconds, he spilled over his hand and his sheets, blinking in surprise at the speed of his climax before the bliss settled into his bones.

From that moment onwards, he knew he had to have you, at least once in his life.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Loves overstimulating you, partially because it ties into making a mess of you, but also because of the trust you place in him to know your limits. He loves giving you total pleasure, wringing countless orgasms from your body, until you’re writhing beneath him and he needs to use his shadows to pin you down so that he can continue.

He likes putting his hand around your throat, not necessarily to choke you but just to remind you that he’s the one in control, also he likes directing your attention - telling you to look at his face or watch your reflection if you’re facing the mirror opposite his bed.

Mirror sex with Aleksander is quite an intense experience, with him edging you while ensuring that you watch yourself become more and more desperate. Throughout this, he murmurs in your ear about how beautiful you are, and everything else he adores about you. The whole thing usually brings tears to your eyes and Aleksander makes sure to look after you attentively for the rest of the night.

He also enjoys cockwarming. Having you as close as physically possible, constantly feeling the point where the two of you are connected as he runs his hands over your body. If you’re facing him then he can kiss you leisurely until you’re breathless and then he can move downwards over your throat and along your shoulders.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

The comfort of your private suite is Aleksander’s favourite place, usually the bed, although you've tried plenty of other spots - the bath, the sofa, his desk, even the rug by the fireplace.

Of course, that isn’t to say he won’t drag you into a small nook somewhere in the palace, shielding you both from sight with his shadows. But that means you have to be quiet, and Aleksander loves hearing you, so the two of you prefer somewhere private.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kissing you always unlocks something inside him, making his hands wander as he seeks more of you. If your hands are in his hair, or if your fingers curl around his neck, Aleksander is fully prepared to fuck.

Seeing you wearing black - his colour - makes him want to steal you away for himself and show you off to everyone simultaneously. When the two of you look like a matching pair, he preens the whole time, and can’t help but think of how beautiful you look naked, grasping at black bed sheets.

Saying his name is a guaranteed way of getting his attention and depending on the tone you use can have him inside you almost instantly. He doesn’t allow many people to know his name and hearing you say it always sends a thrill through him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Fearplay and bloodplay. He’s seen too much fear and blood from people he cares about to find it enjoyable. He won’t mind chasing you or trying to capture you, as long as you’re enthusiastic about it, as well as it being playful and lighthearted.

He doesn’t mind being a little mean to you (in a teasing manner) but Aleksander has to be stern and demanding every day, so it’s nice to put that persona away when he’s with you. He knows he’s capable of being cruel and would never want to say something that has the potential to hurt you, even when you both know deep down that he would never mean it.

Aleksander doesn’t like being on the receiving side of bondage. Having his hands tied up or being restrained in any way brings back bad memories for him and makes him feel out of control.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

As much as he loves the sight of you kneeling in front of him with your face between his thighs and your mouth on his cock, he could spend hours with his tongue lapping against your cunt.

He has actually spent hours, suckling your clit, mouth moving leisurely over your entrance to swallow down your wetness, moaning lowly.

He loves when you grasp at his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as you thread your fingers through his dark locks, tender with him despite the pleasure that has you crying out for him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc)

Aleksander enjoys going slow, taking his time to remove every coherent thought from your mind.

But there’s also times when you can feel the tension in his body and you urge him to go harder, assuring him that you can handle the worst of him - the parts that want to leave marks on you, claiming you as his. Then he’s rough, holding onto you like you might slip away if he doesn’t grip tight enough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

Not very often. Sometimes when he’s particularly stressed you visit him between meetings, and either kneel under his desk to take his cock into your mouth or staddle his lap to encourage him inside you.

He prefers to take his time with you, and his infamous patience and restraint means that he rarely indulges in something quick when he can just wait until he has you for as long as he wants.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

Aleksander is always willing to talk things through with you about something you want to try. He has his own ideas and fantasies, which he enjoys explaining to you casually while you sit in his lap and try not to show him how needy his words are making you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)

It depends. Some nights, when you’ve both had a tiring day, one round is enough to have you both collapsing into one another’s arms and sleeping once you’ve cleaned yourselves up.

Other nights, when you can’t get enough of one another, there’s countless rounds with the occasional small break between where you simply touch each other lovingly. By the end of the night, your entire body is light with pleasure and you sink into a blissful sleep with Aleksander’s arms around you.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He might have a few plugs with a black gem at the base to make you needy and remind you of who you belong to. But he prefers to touch you himself, liking the contact and feeling firsthand how your body responds to him.

If he wants to feign detachment from your pleasure, he’ll make you grind against his pillow or a cushion, so he can sit nearby, ignoring you whining his name and pretending to read just to rile you up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Aleksander is ridiculously patient, it’s a skill he has mastered over the years, so if he wants to make you beg he is more than capable of such a thing.

He knows your body better than his own. He knows exactly what to do to make you succumb to pleasure. He knows how to drive every thought from your mind until the only word you’re capable of saying is his name.

If he wants to tease, you can guarantee that you will be a dripping mess before he even touches you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Sometimes he quietens himself, an old habit that is hard for him to shake, although you know all the spots that give him the most pleasure, deploying your lips and touch which allows him to relax enough to hardly realise what sounds he’s making. Each moan and curse and cry of your name is a victory that thrums through your body.

Aleksander is a smooth talker and could most definitely make you cum just by sitting you in his lap and murmuring sweet nothings and filthy promises to you. But when he’s inside you, his perfectly crafted compliments and remarks are dialed up to a hundred.

Aleksander doesn’t swear that often, the only exception is when you’re fucking or when he’s trying to rile you up. His Old Ravkan accent thickens whenever he curses, reverting back to the time before he was a nobleman.

W = Wild Card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He is definitely down to blindfold you and drip candle wax over your naked body, teasing you every time you squirm or jump at the sensations he’s providing. Kissing and biting over your thighs, before he leaves a trail of hot wax there, relishing in the sound of your whimpers.

With the blindfold on, he’s free to watch you as intently as he likes without you getting self conscious, allowing you to focus on nothing but what he’s willing to give you. It also means he can be fully aware of your comfort level, only giving what you are capable of handling.

Bonus Wildcard

Imagine going skinny dipping in the lake with Aleksander one summer night when no one else is around.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Average length with a thick girth. He usually likes to ease you open with his fingers first, typically giving you an orgasm before he actually fucks you, so that you don’t struggle with his size.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Quite high, he always wants you, but he can ignore it very successfully when he wants to. This is a source of frustration for you when you try to coax him away from his work with teasing, as it usually ends up with you feeling more desperate than he does.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not until you fall asleep. He likes to hold you and make sure you’re safe and comfortable before he can allow himself to rest fully. It’s during these moments that he feels most at peace, so he likes soak it up until he sinks into slumber.

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire @dhampiravidi

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @housekeeperjjswife

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

#aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #the darkling au #the darkling smut #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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venusxstars · 10 months

Text

𝐋𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐈 𝐋𝐀 ⸻ nsfw.

mikage reo x fem!reader

reo finds his life approaching perfection through your existence.

keynotes ⸻ soft dom!reo mikage, implied reader body insecurities, body worship, fingering, breast fondling, squirting.

venus' note ⸻ i don't typically write body appearances so they're pretty much always ambiguous. but i would like to slowly start incorporating features such as stretch marks, discoloration, different breast shapes, etc. they won't be specifically stated, but they may be implied in future works, so keep an open mind.

MANY THINGS IN LIFE APPEARED to be fickle through the lenses of one who constantly looked forward to the unknown future. Reo knows this much too well. The way the leaves changed color over time and releases its hold onto a small twig, or how clouds move forward and slowly disperses to be replaced with new ones.

Changes are inevitable, and Reo finds himself wistful over how the development of individual things typically required independence—independence from things that hindered their natural evolution.

See, viewing life forward has always been the norm for Reo. The past and the present are merely building blocks for what is to come next no matter how significant they may be. It’s a subconscious response—his typical way of viewing life. Because every single day of his life as a child was painfully monotonous and boring. There is nothing particularly exciting about things you know will be handed down to you each day. The past and the present weren’t anything that was too interesting.

Well, usually, until he finds you.

Every single second that trickles down the hourglass, imprints itself onto his mind the picture-perfect pleasure that runs deep and hot across connected bodies. The way you were splayed over the bed, face contorted to one of pleasure as he presses kisses all over your warm skin.

He loves the way you catch you bottom lip down under the top row your teeth before letting them go to moan, leaving an imprint of what had just occurred. He loves the way your tits move and lift a little as you arch your spine; their own unique shape moving along to your body’s rhythm as he pumps his long and thick fingers in and out of you. He loves the little colors and lines that are painted across your skin that you seemed to hate so much—the little light streaks that mimicked the image of thunder-strikes running across your inner thighs, your belly, your breasts, your arms, and anywhere else they may be; the darker spots filled with stories you’ve yet to tell him about; the scars and small indentations that marked your skin. He loves to kiss them; to worship every single part of your body as if you were his saving grace.

And he finds that he doesn’t mind living in the present nor looking into the past so long as he gets to see you, you, and you.

“Ah, fuck, sweetheart…” He groans, deep and raspy as it rolls out of his tongue with warm air catching between his throat. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he keeps his violet irises pinned on you. It moves everywhere you are, trying to capture every little feature and action. But he thinks that he likes looking at your face the most along with the expressions you make. “So, so beautiful for me…”

He curls his middle and ring finger slightly; the rough pads touching the fuzzy and spongey spot inside you that causes you to gasp. He presses the part repeatedly, sucking his breath and muttering in fixation when he hears you moan breathlessly. “So that’s the spot, hm?”

He brings his other hand up and presses a thumb onto your clit, rubbing slow circles as two fingers thrust and curl in and out of you rhythmically. He turns his gaze momentarily from your wet pussy up to your breasts then your face, lips curling up in delight. He requests gently. “Play with with your tits for me, sweetheart? Yeah, just like that. Circle your fingers around your nipples. Don’t— don’t pinch them unless I tell you to.”

He watches you do just that. You circle your index fingers around your nipples and you feel pleasure to increase along with his simultaneous movement along your pussy. Your belly feels warm and as if it was surrounded by a thousand butterflies as the seconds tick by along with the continuous ministrations. You bite your lip, wanting the pleasure to elevate even more that what you were already getting.

“R-Reo—“ You furrow your brows, closing your eyes shut tightly. “More...”

“Oh, you want more?” His voice curls upwards teasingly and he suddenly begins to thrust his fingers a little faster inside of you. He rubs his thumb up and down your clit, causing a shock of pleasure to suddenly shoot across your belly. He grins a little, looking up at you touching your breasts the way he had told you to. He chuckles. “Pinch your cute nipples for me, would you, sweetheart? Uhuh, yeah, fuck— look at you…”

He thrusts his finger fasters before adding his index finger in. He watches you jolt at the sudden addition, laughing at the way you cry out a little in pleasure. “Pinch them harder, sweetheart. Roll them between your fingers just like how I do it all the time… That’s right, good girl.”

“A-Ah— Reo!”

His eyes widens at the way you suddenly twitch, hips trembling and mindlessly thrusting up repeatedly when you cum. Your liquid shooting out transparent and slick, dripping down across his rough palms and down his forearms. He watches the entire thing in wild fascination, admiring the way your cries left your lips much louder than a few seconds earlier and the way your body shuddered.

The air seems to be knocked out of his lungs as he tries to speak, words coming out a half groan and half a whisper as he rides out your high with thrusts that slows down to a halt. “Shit, yeah, that’s a good fucking girl, sweetheart.”

He pulls his fingers out, gently grasping your hips as he leans forward to press a soft kiss onto your inner thigh. He moves up slowly, halting each time to press kiss onto your skin—his lips landing above your clit, below your belly, up your abdomen, your chest, and neck—before capturing your lips in a kiss. His cock feels so painfully hard under his boxers, yet still, all he could think about was you.

“Did so great for me, sweetheart.” He whispers with a gently smile, pecking your lips gently before playfully laying on top of you and burying his face against the crook of your neck.

You wheeze a little at the sudden weight. “You’re heavy, Reo.”

“Mmm…” He whines softly, refusing to get up as he presses his lips against your neck. “Let me stay here for now.”

You chuckle, settling down as you slowly get used to his weight. You pat his back. “Fine, but my boobs kind of hurt with your chest pressing on them, you know?”

“Oh!” He gets up and lays beside you instead. He smiles at you apologetically, bringing his hand up to gently massage one of your breasts. “Sorry about that.”

You press your lips against his cheek quickly.

His cheekbones turn pink at the action before he’s pressing his cheek against the top of your head. He mumbles under his breath with his eyes closed, listening to your breathing.

“Being with you is like being in paradise. I never want to leave. I never will leave.”

#venusxstars!#blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock #female reader #blue lock oneshots #blue lock smut #blue lock thirst #blue lock x female reader #mikage reo #reo mikage #mikage reo x y/n #reo x you #mikage reo x reader #reo x reader #mikage reo x you #reo x y/n #mikage reo smut

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kaisett · 2 years

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pretty-puppy-princess · 6 months

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who likes my Halloween costume?♡

#big thighs #tiffany #bride of chucky #thick thighs save lives #thunder thighs #fat girl #bd/sm blog #pretty puppy princess

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regretfulcorrine · 2 months

Note

how do you feel abt Draco with thunder thighs™️…specially how does Harry feel abt Draco with thunder thighs™️….

I am a firm believer of thick thighs save lives, and that Draco gains that healthy 'happy relationship' weight. Lemme make clear that I am an avid thunder thighs™️ Draco drawer 😌

And Harry could quite literally die happy between those pillows

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fanart #draco x harry #harry x draco #fanart #my art

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galaxyshine24-7 · 14 days

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The Silver Bullet🥂

Chapter 7 White Wine

Tw: Blood, Violence, Child abuse

Thunder cracks overhead as the wind kicks up around them. Riddle’s bangs hide his eyes as a red spot appears on his cheek it with a wave of his specter he sends Ace flying back into rose bushes.

“Ace!” Deuce and Yuu yell as a gust of wind causes them to fall back.

“Riddle!” Trey yells his final plea to get everyone to stop.

“I am, I am absolutely possibility right!” Black tears stream down his face as a pool of ink surrounds him.

Is this… an overblot? Yuu have only heard about it in stories, seen pictures yes, but never the real thing. The rose bushes around them blackenn as thorns burst out creating large thorny vines. A sharp pain shots through Yuu’s ankle as a vine wraps around their leg. Yuu acts fast taking out the dagger they have concealed on their thigh. The stab at the vines just enough until they can release themselves. Yuu takes a look around to see many other Heartslaybul members getting pinned by the vines dragging them into the foliage of the bushes.

“None shall dare defy me!” Riddle’s form gets covered in dark ink as his skin and outfit change in front of everyone’s eyes.

“Riddle stop this now!” Trey holds out his wand.

“I am the King and all should bow down to me!” Riddle raises his hand as they all watch in horror as a giant creature forms behind him. The creature follows Riddle’s command slamming the ground beneath it and cracking the earth towards the group.

Trey doesn’t waste any time using his magic to block the attack.

“I thought you’re unique magic was only for food!?” Ace yells.

“I can use it to override whatever I want,” Trey explains.

“What? How can you?” Riddle steps back, but soon grows redder by the second. “Are you saying that this whole time you’ve been hiding your power from me?! You can not be stronger them me Trey, nobody can!” Riddle releases another attack to quick for Trey to counter as it sends them flying back. Yuu expects a heavy fall but is wrapped in the arms of Cater, and so is everyone else. “Thanks for the save Caters.” Cater let’s out a smirk as his clones give him a thumbs up.

“Quick we need to knock Riddle out before his magic completely runs dry!” Trey yells as any available Heartslaybul members rally to his cry. Ace and Deuce compose themselves once again.

“Oh, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” Ace grins.

“Me too.” Deuce cracks his knuckles.

Yuu gets into a fighting stance, might as well give it all they got.

“Ace, Deuce he’s about to attack watch out!” Yuu yells just in time for the two to dodge out of the way.

“Good call Yuu!” Deuce pants.

“Keep doing that!” Ace launches some wind magic at Riddle managing to stun him.

Yuu’s eyes dart around searching for any dangers for the others to watch out for.

“Trey watch from above!” Yuu shouts as rose bushes fall from the sky.

Trey manages to dodge the attacks as Riddle readies himself for a more powerful strike. This can’t go on for long, Riddle is on a time limit they need to get closer and knock him out. Yuu ventures forward as Cater’s double watches in surprise.

“We need to get closer!” Yuu yells pushing through the harsh wind that kicks up.

“Yuu stay back!” Deuce yells.

Riddle’s eyes turn to Yuu as they advance closer a wicked grin adorens his face.

“Riddle! You need to calm down! You’ll die if you keep this up!” Yuu pleads.

“So what?! If all that I’ve suffered meant nothing then what’s the point?” He lets out a laugh black tears streaming down his face. “If I’m not right then what good am I!” He unleashes a large blast of energy causing Yuu to fall to their knees. Hopefully, the others can find an opening with Yuu distracting him.

“You can't live like that Riddle!” Yuu yells over the thunder and wind. Rain starts to fall as everything gets drenched around them.

“I have to be! I have to be…” Riddle’s voice dies down as he sways his body going to give out.

Yuu doesn’t waste a second to catch him as the creature lets out a bellowing roar.

“Now!” Yuu yells as the boys gather up their magic to cast one final blow.

Yuu closes their eyes as a white light blinds them and their world goes black.

“Mama…”

Yuu’s eyes flutter awake as they look up at a grey sky. The sound of a child crying causes them to turn their head. The child is in a field with everything black, white, and grey. The only color is the child's bright red hair in the center crying into his hands.

“Mama why isn’t it working.” The boy wipes his tears.

Yuu slowly rises from their spot approaching the child with caution.

“Hello there.” Yuu gets down on one knee raising their hands to not startle them. “What’s wrong?”

The child just cries louder making Yuu get closer.

“It’s going to be okay.” Yuu slowly brings the child into a hug.

“I don’t know what to do, I did everything Mom said.” The child cries into Yuu’s shoulder.

“I followed all the rules and I studied hard, but the pain isn’t going away!” Small fist bang on Yuu’s chest. “I did everything, and I’m still not right!” Big eyes full of tears look up at Yuu as they can finally see the little ones face. Striking red hair and big eyes all point to this being Riddle. Memories of the battle flash through Yuu’s mind. Is this Riddles mind? Maybe the root of the overblot? Yuu looks back at Riddle taking a deep breath.

“You must have went through so much trying to follow every rule.” Yuu brushes a a tear with their thumb. “But it’s clear those rules did more harm then good, you shouldn’t live your life by someone else’s rules.” Yuu explains, as little Riddle goes silent.

“I’m scared, what if I make a mistake.” He sniffles.

“Well it’s apart of life, but you can always learn and do better.” Yuu ruffles his hair.

“Riddle!” The voice of Trey echoes throughout the field.

“Wake up dude.” Cater’s voice comes in next.

“Who’s that?” Riddle tilts his head.

“Your friends.” Yuu smiles.

“Mommy didn’t let me have friends.” Riddles looks down at the ground.

“And how did that make you feel?”

“S-sad, and angry they always played with me and even brought me an amazing strawberry tart. Something I wanted more than anything in the world. I wanted to spend more time with them, but Mommy got mad and I never saw them again.” Riddle rests on Yuu’s shoulder. Yuu rubs his back bringing him into another hug.

“You still can they are waiting for you to wake up. You can always make things right.” Riddle gives Yuu a nod as he takes a deep breath. As the world around them glows a bright white.

Yuu feels a rain drop on their cheek as they open their eyes to a cloudy sky. Ace and Deuce hover over them, their bodies full of scratches and bruises. Yuu looks over to the side to see Trey holding Riddle in his arms, the housewarden stirs awake with tears streaming down his face. Yuu takes a deep breath glade its over. Their body aches as they sit up with the help of Deuce and Ace.

“I’m sorry!” Riddle’s cries break through the atmosphere as the fearsome leader is reduced to a crying child.

Ace rolls his eyes getting up from Yuu’s side and flicking Riddle in the forehead. Which only makes the leader cry more.

“Stop your crying, your crocodile tears won’t sway me. It’s going to take a lot more to make up for the bullshit you pulled.” Ace puts his hands on his hips.

“W-what do I need to do?” Riddle sniffles.

Ace begins to list off all the things Riddle needs to make up for as his voice starts to drown out in the background.

“Are you okay Yuu.” Deuce still holds them his voice full of concern.

Now that Yuu thought about it they did feel tired resting their head on Deuce’s shoulder.

“A-ah Yuu!” He stutters.

Yuu takes in the smell of roses and rain closing their eyes for a deserved sleep.

#twisted wonderland #twst silver bullet au #silver bullet au #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #my writing #twisted wonderlandxreader

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

hands

simon ghost riley x reader (f!) word count: 1.7k summary: no one look at you, never mind hurts you—not on his watch. warning: smut. blood. touch o’ violence. helen isn’t readers name. an: to the anon who wanted ghost to throws hands for helen, I hope you love it (written on phone, forgive thy)

simon ghost riley masterlist

+++

They need Tarver alive.

It’s the mission. The focus. The goal.

Ghost hasn’t been sweating balls, chasing whispers to not get something more concrete from this bastard.

It’s why he keeps reminding himself to breathe as he stares through the mirrored glass.

Tarver cannot die. Yet.

He’s sure his fingers are white from how tight he’s balled his fist watching you treat him. Despising that those delicate, kind hands are stitching wounds Ghost’s fists has caused.

Even if it’s your job.

Something Ghost is very much aware of it, but hates all the same.

Your job shouldn’t be to stitch up enemies and ensure blood remains in their bodies. Your talent and skill should be saved for them, their team… him.

But he knows it’s the job.

Knows that tomorrow it’ll be the same. He’ll rip the world apart and you’ll sew it back together again. Two opposites which work far better together than apart.

He’s already lived through being apart. He hates that more than this—and by this, he means watching you through the thin glass as you stitch a man half-tied to a chair.

It was darker, more difficult, tinged with loneliness that comradery couldn’t fix when he didn’t have you.

Now, he wouldn’t let you go. Not when he’d grown used to the moments alone in your office. Not when he has felt your thighs slick with sweat, watching you roll your hips over him, hearing you whisper his name over, and over, and over.

Because he’s lived through what being apart feels like. It’s darker. More difficult. Tinged with loneliness the comradely doesn’t fix.

But, this is fucking difficult.

He knows you can handle yourself. He’s seen it first-hand. You might be good with a scalpel, but you’re mean with a knife too.

It doesn’t stop him from being annoyed that Tarver says nothing as his fists connected with his face. Reveals nothing to him. To Price.

As soon as you’re alone with him, he has been nothing but vocal. Not about what they need. Just how little he thinks of you. What he’d do to you if he wasn’t tied down like a dog.

Unflexing his fingers, he bites the hiss back from his cracked knuckles. The blood likely dried, healing against the gloves—reopening as he moves them.

He has no problem causing pain. It’s what he’s been made into, a weapon, a fucking good one at that.

Because he is methodical. The mission goes above all else, always coming first. He doesn’t think about what this will do to him later on, not when he lands the first punch, the second or the third. It’s detached, but direct.

For this, each had to land to injure, but not kill. Knowing the mission, knowing the importance of the man still being able to talk. He just didn’t do it with much ease. He didn’t think he needed both lungs, both eyes and all of the bones in his body together. He hadn’t considered the fact Price would send you in.

So, he’s watching.

Half-wishing you’d say something back to Tarver as he insults you, as he belittles you. Instead, you take it, alternating from leaning up to stitch him to standing.

Your words are direct, and clear. Does it hurt here? Breathe in for me.

He almost turns his head. Almost.

If he had done it, he wouldn’t have seen Tarver wait for you to rummage in your bag. Wouldn’t have wound his head back and connected it with your skull.

Ghost wouldn’t have been at the door in time, kicking it almost off its hinges as Tarver swings his arm, your scalpel in his hand, only nicking you—nothing worse.

But, that fucking bastard still made you fucking bleed.

His pulse thunders, fist clenching Tarver’s bloodied shirt—hearing the clatter, but still letting his fist connect with bone.

It’s like a mist comes down.

It blinds him. Burns him. He can’t see through it, think through it. His arm reeled back, one time after the next, his mind fracturing, his handle on the mission sliding.

“Ghost.”

It’s sharp, the way you say his name. Still tainted with sweetness, a warning.

It makes his fist halt. Pausing mid-air. It hovers, head tilting, eyes shifting, slowly turning till he lands on you.

You with your jaw tight, head tilted, a pleading look spreading over your features. But, it's the blood from your split lip, the nick on your cheek, and the bump he can already see which stops him.

The lump growing on the same forehead he’d kissed this morning. The same cheek he’d touched before he left your office to deal with this sonofabitch.

It should have been the look.

Cause the look fucking stings. It twists something inside of him.

It’s then Tarver decides to spit, blood spraying across the floor. A call-out, a reminder of his presence—as if the two of you had forgotten about him.

So he drops him. Purposefully.

His gloved fingers releasing him, letting him land with a thud and a hiss. He sees you flinch when he does, eyes dropping to the floor. He doesn’t move, waiting for you to give him a sign, anything.

Because he’s not sure whether to cross the room and shield you or kill the man who insulted you. The same one who caught you by surprise when you were tending to him—who reeled his head back and connected it with yours before carnage all but ensued.

Blinking, he flexed his fingers, the cracked skin raw under his gloves. It’s rubbing, chafing. Guaranteed to be far worse than the simple bruises he’d had yesterday.

And you say nothing. Not a word.

Slowly, you remove the blue glove from your hand before letting your delicate fingers brush over your lip. The wince, the hiss—it’s like nails down a chalkboard to him.

It makes him want to tear, rip and scorch the earth. Most of all, he wants to rip the man spluttering on the floor—tear him limb from limb.

Because you’re silent. Too silent.

Your lips are tight as you walk over to the open the bag, your hand disappearing inside before you’re holding a pot. The noise of the lid snapping from the container fills the space, almost silencing the coughs and splutters, the shakes of the tablets inside almost dousing the thundering sounds of his pulse in his ears as he watches you throw two pills at the man still breathing on the floor.

No instruction. No words.

A silent threat in your eyes as you stand over him before grabbing your bag and leaving.

The door squeaks and groans as you do, the metal meeting metal before he’s alone with him.

Alone with him—the man who dares breathe the same air as you.

The one who made you fucking bleed.

“I’m not surpris’d. ‘Course she’s your whor—“

His boot comes down on his jaw before he finishes the sentence, thankful for a bit of fucking silence again.

They need him alive, after all. It’s the only reason he still has a pulse.

++++++++++++++

He doesn’t follow.

Not immediately. He waits. Gets chewed out by Price. Removes his blood-soaked gloves. Washing the skin as easy as he can. Ticking off the list until he finds himself leaning against the doorframe.

The one to your small office.

The one which barely fits a desk in, and yet somehow has fit you and him both inside of it. Albeit then, you weren’t pissed at him. You willingly wrapped your arms around his neck, let him put your spine against the door, let his hips connect with yours as he drove his cock into your cunt.

Fuck, you made the prettiest noises that day. Mouth so close to his hairline, breath along his ear.

He suspects he won’t have that pleasure today.

Won’t get to taste you. Won’t get to hear the pretty noises you make.

Not from the way you cast a glance his way. Cold. And still very fucking silent.

Normally, it would be the sweetest sound. But when it’s shrouded in bitterness, and anger, it’s torture.

“We need to talk.”

You shift some files. “No we don’t. I’m busy.”

“I’m hurt.”

He doesn’t tell you that you’re fucking beautiful enough.

Even if he thinks it. All the time.

When you’ve just woken up and at the end of the day; he thinks it when you’re off duty and when you’re covered in someone else’s blood. When you’re stressed, when you’re sad; when you’re happy, when you’re laughing.

Now, when you’re mad… you’re something else.

He’d drown in you. He’d let your eyes suffocate him.

Hell. He wants your eyes to be the last fucking thing he ever sees. That and your smile.

“Oh. You are? I can’t imagine how you’ve gotten yourself hurt...”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, thankful he’s hidden behind his mask. Stepping inside your office, closing the door—thankful the beds behind him are all empty.

No chance of gossip. Murmurs.

The door shuts with ease, even if he’s almost pressed against you to do so. You tossing him a bandage and some tape, before crossing your arms—trying to keep your distance, even in a room no bigger than 6 by bloody 9.

Insolent, difficult, fucking bitch.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m not apologising.”

You scoff. “Ghost, you wouldn’t know how to articulate an apology if your life fucking depended on it.”

Ghost.

Not Simon.

Ghost.

Cold. Direct.

Sighing, you turn on your chair, twisting your body until you’re fully facing him. “Still, I don’t need one. You’ve just made my job harder, is all. Now I have more to stitch back together the next time Price orders me in there.”

“You’re not going back in there.”

Your brow arches, chin raising. “Oh. Funny. I don’t remember asking you.”

“Helen.”

You stand, quickly. Almost pouncing. “That. Earlier. Is my fucking job. I don’t tell you how to shoot someone.” Your finger poking him—all bony finger against his vest. “That’s not my fucking name, and you know it. You said it enough last night, didn’t you?”

“Why’re you shouting—“

“—because you infuriate me!” you snap, poking him again, nostrils flared. “You… fucking… nobhead.”

You poke again.

And then you ball your fist, and it hits him.

Soft. Clearly not aiming to injure him, but needing to do something all the same.

It does so again. And again—

But he grasps it. Stopping it. Stopping you. Your wrist easily fitting in his grip, your eyes molten fucking lava as they connect with his.

Silence.

A different kind, though.

And he realises you’re not mad. You’re furious. It knotting and bubbling inside of you—needing a release.

And you can’t hit Tarver. Only able to do so in self-defence. You don’t want him to hit him, because you know he won’t stop.

Suddenly, he knows how he can apologise—and it isn’t with words.

No. It’s something he can do well. Because he knows you. Every fucking inch of you.

He rips his mask off, pulling you close by your wrist as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. The groan vibrating through him, thankfully married with the feeling of your nails in his scalp.

The sound of the back of your thighs connecting with your desk, the perfect ruiner of silence.

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