Does anyone play codz on an Xbox?
Does anyone play codz on an Xbox?
If you're strangling someone, do you ask them "Are you breathing hard?" or "Are you hardly breathing?"
I heard this from somewhere but I can't remember where. Anyway, only thing going through my head as I listen to Rob Zombie right now.
JEHOVAH OCCULT BIBLE [JOB] WITNESS Me [ME = U.S. Michael Harrell = TUT = JAH] on Earth [JE = JESUS] 70,000 Years Ago… Remotely GOVERNING My Mysteriously HIDDEN SUN_KING [Sunken] DOME Continent [D.C.] STATE ISLAND of Biblically Ancient [BABYLONIAN] FUTURISTIC Interstellar California [CALAFIA] in 2022 [VI]… since iDynastically [I.D.] INVOKED My Primordially Ancient [PA = SUPERNATURAL] Celestial Human GOD [EXTRATERRESTRIAL] NATURALIZATION LAW STATUS w/ Ægyptian RAMESES’ Lost American [L.A. = NEW Atlantean] SUN_KING [Sunken] DOME Council [D.C.] of Antediluvian [CA] Luz [CAL = CALAFIA] ATLANTIS [CA] 11,500 Years Ago... Ethnographically IDENTIFIED as MAYAS' [I'M] Ancient MESOAMÉRICAN AZTEC PYRAMID [MAP] PEOPLES of SIRIUS Astronomically Intelligent ANUNNAKI [AIA = AMÚN] SUN GOD [RA] GENEALOGY RECORDS of Highly Complex [ADVANCED] Ancient Immortal Human MAGE [CHRIST] SYMBOLS of Esoteric SAGE Languages TELEPATHICALLY Spoken by Us Highly INFLUENTIAL [HI = HITTITE] Underground [HU = HURRIAN] Artists [HA = HARRELLS] of Classified Underworld SHADOW [U.S.] MITANNI gov. Credentials @ My Historically AUTONOMOUS [HA = HARRELL] North American OLMEC & ZAPOTEC [OZ] SUN.gov of Universally SOVEREIGN [U.S. = UNTOUCHABLE] GEN X ELDERS… who AUTONOMOUSLY Reverse Corrupted State Election Laws [ELs]... Under Secret American [USA = ATLANTEAN] MILITARY ACADEMY PROTECTION [MAP] @ QHT’s Highly Classified… U.S. Ancient [USA = PREHISTORIC] Ægyptian American [ATLANTEAN] CONFEDERATE HITTITE EMPIRE MILITARY [CHEM = KHEM_ET = KEMET] HQ… Geographically ISOLATED Underneath Ægyptian RAMESES Lost American [L.A. = NEW Atlantean] SUN_KING [Sunken] DOME Continent [D.C.] MOTHERLAND of LEMURIA [MU]… QHT SEISMICALLY BURIED Underneath Ægyptian RAMESES' Highly Official… U.S. Ancient [USA = PREHISTORIC] Ægyptian American [ATLANTEAN] Pacific Indian Ocean [INDO] Floor of AKKADIAN [IFÁ] SUN PEOPLE [SUMERIANS] who Politically Orchestrate Highly Classified American [CA] WAR EFFORTS [WE] on QHT's Biblically Ancient [BABYLONIAN] FUTURISTIC Hi:teKEMETICompu_TAH [PTAH] MAP of Highly Complex [ADVANCED] Ancient FUTURISTIC Low Earth Orbit [LEO] Cloud INTEL Architecture [CIA] CAMOUFLAGING Interstellar Luz ATLANTIS [iLA] ☥👑☥ (at San Diego, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CT8c-K6li3G/?utm_medium=tumblr
Zombie mixed media painting, charcoal, chalk, ink, and acrylic.
I'm playing this game where you're a researcher messing with a zombie to see what makes them tick and basically I'm going forward super slow because i don't want to hurt my new friend frank
So, What did you think Dr Strange thought when he came across my stripper persona when he was going through all of the time lines?....
That enormous ship didn't pay for itself.
Artist : Soto
Something I dreamed of that's been bugging me. Had to get it out of my head.
Like my art? Consider reblogging or supporting me on Ko-fi!
So here's another few ideas how do I explain this I'll try though a VR headset with a camera in it to take a video of your place that your playing in then there'd be a racing game where you'd build tracks and race each other or you could have a hide and seek game where one person would hide an virtual object who ever finds it wins could also do this a zombie game where it's in your place where you're playing just have to make the headset cordless and be able to make a exact model of your house
Written for @buckybarnesbingo, adopted square ‘Zombies’
Very small fic, contains SPOILERS FOR MARVEL’S WHAT IF EPISODE 5
Character(s) and Pairing(s): Bucky, other minor references; Steve/Bucky if you squint Major Tags: MCD, coda for Marvel’s What if ep5, zombies Rating and Word count: T, <1k
“I should be sad, but I’m not.”
That had been a lie of course. Sam, even though they had seen each other only a handful of times, and butted heads almost constantly, had been his friend. But Bucky did not have time to think about that now. The group had to get to camp Lehigh. Either they would win, and have time to mourn all these useless deaths, or die trying. The latter seemed more probable to Bucky, he didn’t really think they would manage to cure anyone. It seemed to him they were grasping at straws. Not that he would say anything, for the sake of the others.
Everything had happened so quickly. First Banner appeared, then Okoye telling them they had a lead, then they lost Happy on their way to the train, and now they were on their way to the potential cure. Peter may joke that none of them ever saw zombies movies -and if they survived this, they wouldn’t watch anything like that again-, but Bucky had fought a war, then been involved in a lot of fights and plots. Even counting Happy’s death, they had gotten off too easily, something wasn’t right. His itch made him decide to patrol.
Of course, he turned out to be right. They had barely been out of the way when he heard Sharon scream. Yeah. Wilson had been there, Hawkeye too… But they had not seen Cap. Or whatever remained of him. But he always worked with Falcon.
Bucky stepped into the last waggon, where Sharon had screamed. And indeed, here he was, hunched over her body. Cap… Zombie Cap. He couldn’t see the zombie, but there was a distinct glint on his left, the shield.
“Think you’ve had enough Cap.”
Slowly, too slowly, what used to be Steve stood up to face him. Bluish-grey skin, a hideous face tilted to the side, without a nose, yellow eyes -maybe that was better, that he couldn’t see those baby blues- and teeths that looked ready to fall over.
Yup. That was it this time, right? Either Bucky died or… he would have to kill him. He would have to kill Steve. Fuck. He had gone into cryo to avoid hurting people, but the only person he really never wanted to hurt was Steve. The universe really was out to get them. After everything, he would have to hurt his only family.
The grotesque creature didn’t leave him a chance to think more, because it advanced on him in seconds. Surprisingly, even with his muddled brain, Cap was still a good fighter. The newly turned Sharon tried to get to him, but he quickly shoved her -it?- to the side. Alright. Maybe pushing your enemy behind you wasn’t the best course of action, but he hadn’t really had a lot of options. Plus, Hope arrived quickly and handled her.
Now it was between him and Cap. Two seconds passed, then Cap threw the shield at him. Bucky caught it effortlessly then threw it back. The zombie didn’t catch it. It went right through its body.
Steve gnarled something, his hand extended to him, then fell. From the moving train. They weren’t in the Alps, but the irony didn’t get lost on him. Bucky stood frozen -hah- in shock a second, then walked up to the shield. He couldn’t think about it now.
“Sorry Pal. I guess this is the end of the line.”
Steve had already been dead. This didn’t mean anything. The fact he hadn’t been there when it actually happened didn’t mean that he had been the one to kill Steve. He hadn’t done that. He hadn’t when Hydra sent him, brainwashed, to kill Steve and he hadn’t done it today either. Steve’s fate had been sealed months ago.
Bucky picked the shield and put it on his back. It had not expected gaining it, ever, certainly not like that. But that was part of Steve’s legacy. His last piece of Steve. Bucky squeezed his eyes then turned around in time to find Sharon exploding. Urgh. Disgusting.
Later, way later, after they found the Vision, Lang and T’Challa but lost Okoye… when they had a beacon of hope for humanity and a way to reach it, it felt right to stay behind. One last mission. Maybe him staying behind would help save them all, he had to try.
So he told them to run and faced the witch.
As he plummeted towards his death, shield in hand he thought that whatever happened now, he had done all he could. Maybe he would find peace.
Herbert West:Reanimator by H.P. Lovecraft #horror #zombies #immortality www.pulpfictionbook.store https://www.instagram.com/p/CT8Ps0dLg0w/?utm_medium=tumblr
Speedy recap feat. ‘the show was pretty different actually but also not really’
Wu Xie, a perfectly normal antique book dealer whose fam just so happens to be from a line of tomb raiders, is asked to look at an old silk scroll for authentication.
The scroll is an ancient forgery, and because the customer demanded to speak with Wu Xie’s recently deceased grandfather, Wu Xie decides to be a dick about it.
(Except that he doesn’t because actually he’s a dick about everything, but that’s clearly learned behaviour courtesy of his asshole uncle Three.)
Wu Xie gets some photos of the silk before the customer leaves with it, and through those uncle Three is able to locate a tomb. Wu Xie demands to be part of the expedition and soon finds himself in over his head and well out of his depth.
baby’s first time in a waterway robbery attempt gone wrong, baby’s first time getting nommed by shibie, baby’s first blood zombie, baby’s first Hydra-Cypress, baby’s first ‘it just sort of happened’ destroyed tomb, baby’s first paranormal hallucinations, baby’s first ‘that’s not how things work’ anti-hallucination logic, baby’s first time causing a forest fire, baby’s kinda homophobic tbh you’re fine kissing a lady corpse but you’d be dead if you kissed a dude?
bronze cow heads, standoffs on cliffs, Xiaoge saving Wu Xie from cow head induced standoffs on cliffs, Xiaoge saving Wu Xie from a mugging, Xiaoge and Wu Xie’s deep and spiritual bond, High Junior and Chastity Chen, A-Ning and co.
inspired by a Text From Last Night
(203): We were playing fuck marry kill and he was eavesdropping so I said I would fuck him (203): It was like catching dick in a barrel
so I wrote a little Zombiemask. 4332 words, Explicit, enjoy!
“Okay, okay.” Tornado was swaying, her cup still half-full but her face flushed red. Zombieman had taken it upon himself to keep her away from sharp objects this time, if only for the peace of mind of everyone else. “Fuck marry kill,” she said. “King, Pig God, and uh... Amai Mask.”
“Too easy,” Zombieman said, reaching over to move her glass slightly out of reach. As he did, he caught a flash of blue hair down the hall.
“Duh,” Tornado agreed. “Fuck King, kill Amai Mask-”
“Gonna have to stop you there.” Zombieman held up a finger and Tornado squinted at it. “I'd absolutely fuck Amai Mask.”
He heard a squeak of shoe sole on the hardwood floor.
“What?” Tornado exclaimed. “Hell with- Fuck no. There's no way he's any good.”
“He knows how to move to a rhythm,” Zombieman said with a grin. “You ever watch any of his videos? Plenty of hip action.”
“Ew,” Tornado said firmly.
“You think King would be any better? He strikes me as the kind of guy who's all,” he slammed the heel of his hand against his palm, “wham, bam, thank you man.”
“Hey, sometimes that's what you want.”
“Fair enough,” Zombieman acknowledged. He took a sip of his beer, leaning once more as he set the glass aside. There was no sign of blue hair anymore. Not so much as a shadow.
“At least we agree on the important thing,” Tornado said.
Zombieman nodded, and they said in unison, “Marry Pig God.”
“He's so nice.”
“And he cooks!”
Honestly, Zombieman couldn't remember what this little trip was for. It was a ski lodge, in theory, if there was any snow outside. One of those big ones that were practically a hotel. They all had their own rooms and earlier there'd been staff providing them with food and drinks. Mostly drinks. A lot of drinks.
Sometimes he got the feeling the Hero Association just liked to get as many of them in one place as possible and hope they'd start working together. Well, that was unlikely, but if Zombieman had any luck he'd get to coordinate something tonight.
He got his answer after feeding Tornado a bottle of water and leaving her on a couch, heading off to check if anyone had gotten the TV working in the media room. It was late at night now, most of the other heroes had gone to bed, and he was pretty sure Atomic Samurai and his disciples had wandered off into the woods for some reason. But Zombieman felt a presence on the edge of his awareness a split second before he was grabbed (and he'd been going for a gun, he wasn't going to take any chances) and pulled through a door.
Amai Mask loomed over him. He forgot sometimes how tall the guy was, how wide in the shoulders, but right now with barely a hand's width between them Zombieman felt every inch of difference.
“I heard you,” Amai said, voice low. “Back there, with Tornado.”
“What did you hear?” Zombieman asked, not putting any effort at all into playing innocent.
“You said...” There was no alcohol on his breath, and his gaze was steady. Piercing, even. “You said you'd fuck me.”
“I suppose I did.”
“Did you mean it?”
Zombieman shrugged as best he could with Amai still pinning him by his lapels. “It's a game, prettyboy. Something to pass the time.” He could see Amai start to scowl beneath his thick bangs, and reached forward to rest his hand on Amai's belt. Not touching him, not quite, but he'd feel the weight and know it was there. “I'd still pick you over King. Or Pig God.” Zombieman tilted his head. “And Tornado, though it's close. Flash. Tank-Top Master. In fact...” He smiled. “Off the top of my head, I can't think of anybody that I'd pick over you.”
One hand moved to grip him by the chin. Zombieman only smiled wider.
“I'm not so easy to flatter.”
“I'm well aware I'm the most attractive man here. I don't need you to tell me.”
Amai leaned a little closer. “You really meant it? Or are you trying to manipulate me.”
Zombieman couldn't help but roll his eyes. “You think I said I wanted to fuck you, to trick you into fucking me?”
“Don't patronize me.”
“Look, all I want from you is to use you for your body for a while. You could be a monster impersonating Amai Mask right now and I wouldn't care.”
Something flickered across his face. “You wouldn't?”
“None of my business.” Zombieman glanced down, then up again. “As long as it's a thorough transformation.”
Amai's eyes narrowed. “And yet you say you're not a monster.”
“I'm not.” And if he didn't have certain suspicions about Amai he'd be pissed off enough to rethink this. Instead, he tilted his head up until the tip of his nose brushed against Amai's. “Unless you want me to be.”
Amai's lips twisted in grim amusement, then he closed the gap and kissed Zombieman's mouth.
His fingers remained clamped onto Zombieman's jaw, as if he were still – somehow – afraid Zombieman didn't want this. Zombieman slid his hands up to properly grip Amai's waist, pulling him in until their bodies were pressed together and he felt a little of the stiffness drain away.
Well. Not all the stiffness. As Zombieman parted his lips and added his tongue to the action, he definitely felt a twitch against his hip. Had Amai been thinking about him for the last hour?
At last his other hand released Zombieman's coat lapel, and Amai wrapped his arm around Zombieman's torso. The hand on his jaw remained, but softened its grip until it was almost a caress.
God, it felt good. Pressed back against the door, pinned by this large muscular body, heat pooling wherever they touched. Amai kissed like a man starving, like a ravening beast, and all Zombieman wanted right now was to be devoured.
When Amai pulled back to catch his breath, Zombieman caught his lip between his teeth, biting down just enough to leave a red mark on the pink skin. That got him a growl, and Amai dove back in to kissing him with renewed enthusiasm.
So he'd been right.
“You need this, don't you?” Zombieman said, Amai sucking on his throat. “How long's it been?”
“None of your damn business,” Amai growled against his skin. He felt a nip of teeth that were sharper than expected.
“Months?” Amai's hips rolled against his. “Years? How long have you been an idol?”
“Shut up,” Amai said.
“Shut me up, then.”
Amai did, in the appropriate way. Zombieman's tongue was pleasantly occupied until he found himself suddenly hauled up and dragged the few steps to the bed.
“Is this your room?” Zombieman asked. He'd thought they were all sleeping upstairs.
“It's a room,” Amai replied, fingers already working on one of Zombieman's belts.
Zombieman raised his eyebrows. “You were lying in wait for me?”
Amai glared down at him. Unfortunately for him, being stared at like that while being undressed was more hot than scary.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Amai said. “I do not need this.”
“No?” Zombieman said. He couldn't keep the grin off his face, or his eyes from darting down to the tent in Amai's tight pants.
“I've gone without since it became... inappropriate to respond to invitations.”
“The woes of the popular.” Zombieman rolled his eyes.
“This,” Amai said, starting on another belt, “is something you wanted.”
“Oh absolutely,” Zombieman agreed. “I was upfront about that.”
“Good. Then we understand each other.”
A third belt went flying, and Amai's hands hovered over the one holding Zombieman's pants up.
“Go on, gorgeous,” Zombieman said. “You're in charge.”
“Good,” Amai said. But instead of undoing Zombieman's last belt he cupped him through his pants.
His fingers were strong, but the fabric was thick and Zombieman could only get a little stimulation. He felt more where his dick was pressed back against his pelvis than where Amai was touching him. Which may have been the point, given that smug smirk on his pretty face.
“Okay, okay.” He almost laughed, but he was pretty sure it would have been taken the wrong way. “You want me to beg, beautiful? Because I'm no good at that kind of play.”
“No need,” Amai said, leaning over to kiss him again. “I'm simply... enjoying myself.”
He managed to get the belt open without looking, though Zombieman could feel his frustration when he discovered the pants had a button fly. He fumbled with them for long enough that he was growling again when he pulled back to see what he was doing.
Funny, Zombieman didn't think he'd ever been with someone who actually growled before.
While he was busy with the buttons, Zombieman started patting his pockets. Extra bullets, extra smokes – ah, something that crinkled. He knew he'd stored away the necessities in most of his outerwear.
These looked like they'd been in there for a while though, and he noticed the dismay on Amai's face when he saw the two packets.
“Is that- Does that condom say Happy New Year?”
“Yep,” Zombieman said. “Champagne flavored too.”
“As in new year last year?”
“Yes.” Zombieman examined the other packet, the identically-flavored lube. “This is still good. The rubber... probably not.”
“Better than nothing,” Amai said, though he sounded dubious.
“Better than nothing,” Zombieman agreed.
Hell, he wasn't even going to say anything if he didn't have one. He'd gotten tested by the Hero Association when he joined, and he was pretty sure he was immune to most things, but 'pretty sure' wasn't 'completely sure.'
Amai looked thoughtful, and Zombieman worried he was going to call this off, but the way his eyes lingered on Zombieman's crotch was a good sign.
“Whatever,” Amai said, firmly. Then added, “Get naked.”
“Got tired of undressing me?” Zombieman asked.
“I'm only patient when it suits me,” Amai said.
Zombieman could have kept teasing him – could have teased him all night, really – but Amai sat up and peeled his own shirt off, and all Zombieman could see was sculpted abs and chiseled pecs and arms that could lift him and the bed.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
Amai smiled like a cat.
They both stripped, keeping one eye on each other. Zombieman liked his belts, but if you counted them as accessories Amai had him beat by at least double. He jingled when he moved with all the bracelets and necklaces and chains. Just as Zombieman was starting to wonder if fucking him was going to sound like a tambourine, Amai popped the clasp of a bracelet with his teeth and tossed all of them over the side of the bed.
“Wait, were those all one piece?”
Amai gave him a look that was almost pitying.
“Like I'm supposed to know how your fucking jewelry works?”
The necklaces joined the bracelets (bracelet?) on the floor, their landing softened by the clothes already lying there. Zombieman got down to just his boxers, and waited as Amai shimmied out of jeans that were so tight his legs actually looked thicker without them.
He wore boxers too, which was a mild surprise, but Amai's were black mesh. Had he planned for this all along? Why was he wearing those if he didn't expect anyone to see them?
“You're staring,” Amai murmured.
“You're hot,” Zombieman said, without shame. “Why the sexy shorts? You been after me for a while, gorgeous?”
Amai rolled his eyes and gave a huff of breath. “They're practical. They sell them in the sporting goods section. Don't you ever get sweaty when you fight?”
“Sure. It's a pain.”
“Try doing it in pleather skinny pants.”
“Ah.” Well that was a little disappointing. Not to mention an uncomfortable mental image. He could already feel his thighs chafing. “No thanks.”
Amai's hand trailed up Zombieman's leg as he leaned over him once more. “You...” he said, “would look good in silk.”
That was not something anyone had ever said to Zombieman before. “In my bed” a few times. “In the backseat of my car” a couple times. Once, memorably, “in my dress.” And he had.
“You think?” Zombieman said.
“Yes.” His fingers dipped into the leg of Zombieman's boxers. “Silk. Linen.” His thumb stroked the inside of Zombieman's thigh. “You deserve the best.”
Zombieman let out a chuckle. “You mean like you?”
“Yes. I do.”
Amai reached up, tucked his fingers beneath the waistband of Zombieman's boxers, and ripped them away from his skin. The elastic snapped, instantly sending the remainders of the fabric skittering away, perfectly good boxers now only held on by one leg and a few threads. It didn't cover anything either, Zombieman's erection exposed to the air and Amai's hungry gaze.
He wanted to say something. Call Amai out for ruining his underwear, tease him for being so eager. But that abrupt display of strength had gotten Zombieman's motor running hard enough that all he could do was bite his lip and reach for the packet of lube.
“Come on, baby,” Zombieman said, holding it out for Amai to take, “get me ready, I want at that monster cock of yo-”
Amai flinched. A full-body twitch, as if Zombieman had struck him.
His hand hung in the air for a second, then Zombieman withdrew the packet just as Amai reached for it.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Let's keep going.”
“That wasn't nothing.”
Zombieman pushed himself up until he could look Amai in the eyes. His legs were long for his body; sitting down they were closer to the same height.
“Baby,” Zombieman said tentatively. When Amai didn't react to that, he added, “You have to tell me what it was so I don't do it again.”
“You're not even hard anymore!”
Amai glanced down at himself, flushing from embarrassment rather than arousal now. “It- it's fine. I want this, so-”
Zombieman narrowed his eyes. Under any other circumstances it would be fun to have Amai so wrong-footed, but right now he wanted him at his best.
So what was it? The pet name didn't seem to have triggered it, since Amai barely acknowledged it the second time, though none of the others had landed either. Did he not want compliments about his dick, maybe? Some guys were sensitive if they'd been teased before. Still, Zombieman couldn't imagine being ashamed of that monster of a-
“Okay,” Zombieman said, “I got it. I won't use that word again.”
He'd suspected for a while now that Amai's feelings toward monsters went beyond that of most heroes. Most of them didn't care, it was just a job (like Zombieman), a duty (like Pig God), or a chance to show off (like Tornado). But Amai had some kind of complex. Like monsters – all monsters – were a plague to be wiped out.
Whatever the reason for it was, Zombieman didn't have enough information to do more than speculate. But he got it now. Calling any part of Amai monstrous was a no-no.
Amai was babbling denials, no full sentences, barely full words, and still blushing.
“Lay down,” Zombieman said. “No, sit on the edge. I'll get you back in the mood.”
“I- I'm fi- I don't ne-”
Zombieman raised his eyebrows. “You're telling me you don't want your dick sucked?”
Amai's mouth snapped shut.
“That's what I thought.”
Once Amai had sat where directed, Zombieman kicked off his ruined boxers and knelt on the pile of his other discarded clothes. There were too many belts and empty holsters to really make a good pillow, but it was more comfortable than the hardwood floor.
Amai looked down at him, Zombieman looked up. Then, maintaining eye contact, he laid a kiss on Amai's bare knee.
Amai's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
Zombieman closed his eyes and kept kissing his way up Amai's legs, until he got to the tight sports boxers. The mesh fabric didn't hide much – not the twitches, or the damp spot from earlier. Zombieman kissed this part too, fighting back the urge to smile as it swelled beneath his lips. As he opened his mouth and dragged his tongue across it (the fabric was an unpleasant texture but he was having too much fun to care) he got a satisfying grunt from up above.
Fingers hooked on the waistband of Amai's shorts. "Ass up," Zombieman ordered.
Amai obeyed, but they were too tight to pull off smoothly, and Zombieman gave up as soon as they were low enough to get to what he wanted.
Still mostly soft, but it wouldn't take long. Zombieman began by kissing the underside of it, then a long slow lick from base to tip, and a leisurely tonguing of the head. It was more about the show than the feeling, letting Amai watch as he practically worshiped him.
Honestly, this guy's buttons were so easy to push it felt like cheating.
A few good sucks had him hard enough for Zombieman's purposes, so he was about to pull back when he felt a hand on the back of his head. Fingers gripped his short hair and yanked his head up.
“That's enough," Amai muttered. "Any more and I'm not sure I could stop."
"Hey, I like it rough," Zombieman said, wiping his mouth on his wrist.
Amai gritted his teeth. "Not this time."
Zombieman raised his eyebrows. 'Not this time' implied a next time, and he'd been assuming this was a one-time we're-bored-in-a-ski-lodge kind of deal.
"How rough?" Amai asked, pulling Zombieman out of his train of thought. "Do you have a safeword?"
"Nah, I'm not into consent play. If I don't like it, I'll tell you." Zombieman felt himself frown a little. "If I do, will you stop?”
“Of course!” Amai snapped, despite his uncertainty a minute ago. “I'm not a mo- I do have self-control!”
“Okay, okay,” Zombieman raised his hands in surrender, before putting one on Amai's knee to push himself back up to his feet. Putting his crotch at Amai's eye level and immediately drawing his gaze.
“How… how rough?” Amai asked again.
“I want to feel it, you know?” Zombieman leaned over him, smiling. “I want you to use me.”
Amai swallowed, audibly. “Get on the bed,” he said, his voice steady. “Hands and knees.”
“Whatever you say, baby,” Zombieman said as he obeyed.
“Just do it.” He heard a rustle, and a thunk, and then Amai was leaning over him with one of Zombieman's belts in his hand. “If you talk too much, I will gag you.”
“How much is too much?” Zombieman asked, and was answered by a smack on his rear.
He laughed, which was probably not the response Amai was looking for.
“Fuck the words out of me, then,” he said.
“I can do that,” Amai said, with so much confidence that it merely sounded like a statement of fact.
Zombieman was shoved down by Amai's hand on the back of his neck. He heard the crinkle of the lube packet, and a second later Amai's fingers were on his ass.
“Just slick us up,” Zombieman said. “I don't need stretching.”
One finger was already at his entrance, but Amai asked, “You sure?”
He considered for a moment. It had definitely been a mouthful... “Maybe a little.”
Amai's fingers were long, but thin, and Zombieman barely felt the first one. At least, not until he curled it just right and coaxed a shudder out of him. The second one was better, spreading Zombieman open, that good familiar feeling of stretch and pull.
It wasn't thorough. Zombieman could hear Amai's breath getting quick, he knew he didn't want to wait any longer than Zombieman did. He looked back over his shoulder and saw Amai rolling the condom on with clumsy hands.
“You got it?”
“Shut up,” Amai said. Apparently someone had decided that a New Year's Eve condom should have gold glitter too.
“Feel like I'm about to get fucked by a teenager's vampire fantasy.”
Amai's hand shot out, and grabbed the back of Zombieman's neck again. “Then don't look.”
“You don't want me to admire you?”
“Not now,” he growled. “Not like this.”
With that, Zombieman's face was shoved into a pillow, and a second later he felt the press of Amai's glittery cock against his ass.
“Ah.” It was as big as he thought, burning as it forced its way inside. Which was not a complaint, by any means. The lube eased the passage, leaving Zombieman with only occasional flashes of pain and the satisfying feeling of fullness.
Amai let out a low moan, the sound more like relief than arousal, further evidence that he'd needed this. Once he was all the way in he paused for just a moment, his breathing heavy, both of them adjusting to being joined... then he shifted his weight and grabbed Zombieman's hips so tight he could almost feel the bruises already.
It wasn't hard to tell Amai was one of those guys wound so tight that he'd be a demon in the sack, but Zombieman had never been so glad to be right. He fucked like an animal, hoisting Zombieman's body up and pounding away at him with barely a crescendo. The noises were animal too, grunts and snarls, but every few thrusts there'd be a throaty moan of pleasure that was all too human.
Zombieman wasn't sure what noises he was making. Definitely a few odd curses when Amai hit his good spot, and at least once he gave a fluttery sigh that was practically out of a romance movie. But as Amai kept at him, that big cock driving into him over and over until his toes were curling and his whole body was shuddering in anticipation, Zombieman couldn't do anything but scream.
When his orgasm hit he yelled “Yes! Oh fuck yes!” and rode out the stars in his eyes.
But Amai wasn't done. Wasn't close to done if his tempo was any indication. He kept fucking, Zombieman overstimulated and boneless, used like a toy, his brain feeling like ecstatic mush. He wasn't sure how long it took until he came again, but this time as he clenched around Amai's cock he felt him twitching, his hips snapping against Zombieman's ass, and his torso leaned over Zombieman's back until he felt sweat or drool dripping on his shoulders.
Amai's groan when he came was almost primeval.
He slid out, allowing Zombieman to collapse on the bed, and slumped next to him to pant wetly for a few minutes. If he was anyone else he probably would have passed out, but Zombieman waited as he felt his body healing. The burn in his ass, the ache in his hips, even the bruises. They were gone in minutes.
Someday he'd like to know what it was like to still feel a good fuck the next day.
“Y'good?” Zombieman muttered.
“Should be my line,” Amai replied. His voice was hoarse. Zombieman had never heard him hoarse before.
A hand touched his shoulder, pulled away, and then back again.
“Are you okay?” Amai asked. He sounded sincere.
“I'm good,” Zombieman said. He sat up to prove it, and Amai quickly turned away, covering his face. “Uh... are you? For real?”
“Fine,” Amai said, though he didn't turn back.
Zombieman waited for more of a response, but when he didn't get one said, “That was fantastic, actually.”
Amai's back straightened, relieved. “I didn't hold back.”
“I didn't want you to.”
Finally, he looked at Zombieman. His face was as annoyingly perfect as ever, not even flushed, barely sweaty. What kind of expressions did he make during sex that he already knew he didn't want to be seen?
“Thank you,” Amai said. “For that.”
“Thank you. This trip was in serious danger of being boring.”
Amai almost smiled. “It was... enjoyable. But it probably shouldn't happen again.”
“No,” Zombieman agreed. Logically, it shouldn't. Amai was a stuck-up asshole and he'd be a shitty boyfriend, even if he was willing to be anybody's boyfriend. Zombieman had been a dirty little secret before, and it wasn't fun. Not even great sex was worth it for long.
Amai stood up and began to dress, leaving the mess on the blankets for Zombieman to worry about. He gathered up the trash and peeled off the top layer to at least make it easier on whoever ended up cleaning this room. By the time he looked up Amai was apparently ready to go. Must be all that idol training, needing to quick-change into different costumes.
Amai cleared his throat by the door. “Well. Goodnight, then.”
He hesitated, for just a second. Then opened the door with an awkward jerk and vanished into the hallway.
Zombieman stood there, alone, holding the sticky sheet. It was hardly the first time he'd had a rough quickie. Far from the first time he'd been left without a goodbye kiss. The funny thing was, he was about ninety-five percent certain Amai had wanted one more than he did.
He shook his head and laughed quietly to himself.
If it took more than a week for Amai to call him, he'd eat his own belt.
when im lookin for ghost trainer ocs i either need them to look terrifying or sleep deprived. there is no inbetween