#and the opposite will just piss him off on the full line

[spotsupstuff]

If hypothetically HYPOTHETICALLY Boreas did get a partner, what kind of person would mix well with him? This is all hypothetical of course

THAT'S THE THING I CAN'T IMAGINE *ANY* SORT OF PERSON MIXING WELL WITH HIM. HE'S SOLO. THAT'S IT. HE'S SOLO. it's fucking snipped right at the bud to me. it's hard to imagine him finding a Friend group outside of his family (the Anemoi SPECIFICALLY not even the Eo group at Large as would be usual!!!), not to mention a partner??

[wonderlandrry]

hi, this is my first ever attempt at writing on tumblr!! the story could be more than one part if you like it (maybe three or four parts). this is also my first time not writing in first person pov so hopefully it doesn’t suck complete ass. (not really edited and idk how to format either so GREAT first impression, friends.)

pov: best friend! harry x you (aka i tried my best lmao)

blurb: you and harry have been best friends your whole life and one night changes everything.

contains: friends to lovers, bad girl x good boy if you squint, smoking green 🍃, smut, cussing, oral (giving and receiving for both characters), praise kink, and size kink if you squint really hard again and read between the lines lmao.

word count: 5k

• NOT RAMADAN FRIENDLY •

just friends

“You sure you don’t want me to come up?” Rylan’s honey eyes flick from your dorm bulging back to yours. The tension from tonight’s argument is fresh in those crinkles next to his eyes that you used to love. Fucking adore.

Parting your lips, you sigh, “See you around.”

“Don’t be like that,” A ringless hand runs through his dark hair. You’re not exactly sure why you’re focusing on that but here we are. “It was a joke, come on.”

Your hand rests on the door handle, silently contemplating on freaking the fuck out again. This isn’t the first time he’s made jokes, very public jokes about your best friend. The very first time you let it slide with a warning because some people don’t understand that you can be just friends with the opposite gender. They can’t wrap their heads around that not every relationship revolves around sex. You understood but tonight? He went too far.

“Saying Harry follows me like a stray dog,” You have to take a deep breath because Rylan doesn’t know what Harry’s been through. That only pisses you off more. “Was too far.”

“He doesn’t have any friends, Lil, just you.”

“Because he’s smart, he doesn’t have friends because he’s fucking brilliant.” It was true, Harry focused more on school and baseball than friendships. He got a full ride to Calloway University reliant on grades and his pure, raw talent. Some would stop there but he took it a step further by studying physics. Now it’s your turn to run a hand through your hair because this is the fourth fight over your best friend. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Do you not see how fucked that is?” He hisses, making your head snap in his direction. “You’re supposed to be dating me, not him.”

You scoff, “So that’s what this is?”

Rylan’s hold tightened on the steering wheel, so tight that his knuckles were almost white. “Look, I don’t care that you’re friends with him but you spend too much time-”

That confirmed everything for you. Your long friendship with Harry wasn’t the problem. Rylan knew how much Harry meant to you and how your friendship was all you had sometimes. He knew yet the fact that he didn’t have your full attention every waking moment of the day was the source of cruel jokes.

“You’re threatened, huh?” His knuckles blanched even more as the words left your mouth. “Listen to the words coming out of my mouth, Ry. Harry’s been my best friend since I was seven. Nothing has and will never happen between us. I would never sleep with him and ruin our friendship.”

“I see how you guys look at each other.”

Your whole face heats, it’s literally on fire. “You’re seeing things because we’re just friends.”

“You’re in denial.” Fuck. This.

Those three words were enough to push you. Push you to fling open the car door and launch yourself onto the pavement. They were enough to heat your whole body to the point that chilly winter air wasn’t enough to simmer down your anger. You don’t even bother slamming the door shut because that asshole can get out and shut it himself. That’s what he gets for constantly trying to pry a confession out of you. A confession that doesn’t exist but he still won’t accept it. The security guard gives a weary smile as you pass him, an obvious witness of the whole shit show. You look over your shoulder just in time to watch Rylan peel out.

He doesn’t follow you, shocker. Not that you wanted him to but you also didn’t expect him to. He acts like he cares but when push comes to shove, actions don’t match the words constantly flying out of that stupid mouth.

Unlocking and relocking the door with a soft click, your dorm is oddly dark and quiet. It looks like no one has been here all day. This is a possibility since Ellie spends most nights with her boyfriend. You slide off your black vans and place your bag on the hooks by the door. Seniors get a common room and separate bedrooms in student housing and you love the privacy. Honestly? It’s hard as fuck to hook up sharing a room with someone. El never cared who you brought home but felt weird as hell, yano?

From: ball boy (11:35 pm)

you home?

To: ball boy (11:36 pm)

yeah

You loosen your claw clip and honey-blond waves tumble. Walking into your room, you slip out of the cute-ass outfit you spent an hour perfecting and into some random band shirt with no bra and spandex shorts. Such a shame because you looked hot, too bad the night didn’t end with Ry ripping this lacy, black corset off you. Sucks for him.

From: ball boy (11:42 pm)

open the window before Mack catches my ass.

Your eyes snap toward the only windows in your room. The sheer, black curtains were closed but they did a shit job keeping the sunlight out so, honestly, how good were they for privacy? Your heart hammers thinking about Harry seeing you. How he could’ve seen all of you, not just what you choose to show off. The thought made your heart hammer.

From: ball boy (12:46 am)

don’t tell me you’re fucking someone right now

From: ball boy (12:47 am)

fuckin’ sick, lil

Annoyed, you rip open the curtains to find Harry’s cocky expression staring straight at you. It’s too dark to make out his full face but you can tell by the smirk tipping the left side that he’s amused. Making your favorite dimple dent even deeper. In one swift motion, the latch unlocks letting him in. He’s done this a million times, yano? Sneaking in your room for late-night study sessions, movie nights, or sleepovers. You’ve shared a bed countless times but never crossed that line, he’s your best friend. There are rules in place to save your friendship. He means more to you than one night of pleasure. Always has.

“Nice shirt, been looking for that everywhere.” Evergreen eyes bounce across your face, “Thought you had a date.”

You blow out a breath, “Not anymore.”

He smirks, dimple popping, “Obviously.”

“Thought you had plans.” You counter because Harry may not have many friends but that didn’t mean anything when it came to his sex life. He had trouble talking to girls but that didn’t seem to matter because they flocked to him. There was just something about him that drew people in, you included especially you. Maybe it was his ability to make anyone in the room feel special; wanted by having his undivided attention.

His lips purse, “Nah, not tonight.”

“Why?”

He gives you a pointed look giving away that he knows, “You know why.”

Guilt settles into your stomach, that stupid sinking feeling of being caught hit full force. He had the same argument with Grace that you did with Rylan tonight. They seem to argue more though and it kills you seeing him upset. You know he cares about her but he loves you. Maybe not romantically but definitely platonically and that means something to him. Every time they have this conversation, you know you should walk away. It's always your first instinct to protect people you love and you love your best friend. But, you’d rather die than let him go and that’s selfish as fuck but true. You sigh, “Harry-”

“I’m good,” He closes the distance and wraps you into a hug and it feels like home. Your favorite type of hug. “Worried about you.”

You smile against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart hitting your cheek, “Nothing a Star Wars marathon won’t cure, Stud.”

His face lights up, “God, I could kiss you, Lil.”

“Whatever you say, ball boy.” Your heart flutters violently but you ignore the feeling. He always jokes like this in secret and maybe that’s the reason no one believes you’re just friends. But, they’re just jokes, yano.

“Ball boy?” He scoffs, making you tilt your chin to meet his gaze. When your eyes finally focus, Harry’s staring at you with his stupid, dimpled smile. Just because he’s your best friend doesn’t mean you’re completely immune. He’s handsome and you’d be dumb to deny that because, well, you have eyes. Currently, he looks even better from this angle. His hair’s tousled as neat as those chestnut curls will allow and dimples seem more prominent. Deep, inviting indents. The black, backwards hat only adds to the contrast of those evergreen eyes. Your favorite shade of green. A sliver of metal trapped between perfect teeth as he cocks his head. He chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “That’s fucked up.”

Pulling back, you shrug, “You’re the one who plays with them all day.”

His tongue clicks, cheeks hollowing, “Baseball, I play baseball.”

You dismiss him with a wave, walking into the common room. “Whatever helps you hit balls with your bat, Ball boy.”

“Better watch that pretty mouth of yours,” He warns in a low tone, so low that everything tingles. Reaching into his hoodie, he pulls out a bag of weed before plopping on the couch, “because I don’t share with bad girls.”

“Watching Star Wars high?” You grin as he nods. “Man of my dreams.”

Harry smirks, all boyish and full dimples, “Don’t tease.”

After pressing play and settling into the couch, you glance over at him just as the credits begin to roll. He’s lighting a joint, brows set in concentration, pink lips puckered around the paper inhaling slowly before passing it to you.

The next forty minutes fly by in the best, blissfully buzzed way. Time doesn’t have an exact science. We’re happy and having a good time. All the anger from earlier dissipated from you and Harry just being together. His nose found its way under your jaw, right next to your pulse point, some time after fifteen or so minutes. He’s always been affectionate when buzzed but holy fuck, was he toning it down before. You don’t know what changed but his hands haven’t left your waist and he keeps hugging closer to your chest with little sighs and hums of contentment. He smells so fucking good like peppermint, fresh laundry, and smoke.

Your breathing is slow and steady. Completely wrapped in him. Fingers twisting the curls at the nape of his neck until your fingertips tingle to touch him elsewhere. You don’t allow them to go lower than his throat, feeling how harsh each swallow was each time you’d get below the hinge of his jaw. He hums against your neck, nuzzling deeper into the column dangerously like he can’t get enough, “Feeling better?”

“Yes.” You breathe as he hugs tighter, not stopping your feather-like movement through his soft curls. “You?”

“Yeah, that feels good.” His words come out sleepy and deep and gravelly. “Your t-touch always feels good.” Warm evergreen holds all your attention as he kisses your cheek, “Thank you for being here with me. You make everything better, always have.”

Your face tilts, noses inches apart, and whisper. “You make everything better for me too.”

Harry’s the type of man that goes from beautiful to devastating with a change of facial expression. Your hazy brain can’t stop taking him in for some reason. It’s involuntary. That beautiful, sculpted face is hidden at nightfall but you allow yourself to appreciate how much time someone put into crafting him. It’s like you spent the last fifteen years with blinders on and can finally see.

Sage burns into evergreen as his lips roll a few times like he’s trying to come up with a safe response. The irrational part of my brain wants to feel his mouth on you again so bad that you almost crave him. Your lips part at the same time waiting for the other to make a move or do something drastic. Three heartbeats of your mouths seconds apart. Three heartbeats in your own hazy, happy world. His nose nudges yours once before dropping back to your throat. His arms wrapped around you tighter and your breathing synced again. Instead of calm and steady, now it’s erratic and fast.

Fuck, you have to be high, right? Best friends don’t look at each other like this. Especially you guys.

He leans closer, left hand planted on your thigh as we just stare at each other. Almost like he feels it too. Your fingertips ache to touch the stubble dusting his jawline so bad they tingle but you can’t seem to move. Completely lost in the hypnotic desire clouding the calm green of his irises.

Not wanting to put pressure on Harry to make the first move, you close the distance. Not sure why you did that but your mouths part at the same time. His in surprise and yours in want, yet in perfect sync. Pressing your lips to his, he immediately kisses back, cupping your jaw. One second everything’s moving slowly and the next, he’s lifting his shirt over your head. Touching every inch of exposed skin like he can’t get enough. His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts as yours find his jeans. The kiss breaks as he leans back just enough to look at you. You’re looking at each other in silence but it’s so fucking loud.

“We should-” He swallows harshly, columns of his throat tense, “Don’t wanna finally have you if you’ll regret-”

“Won’t ever regret you, H,” Your voice is hushed yet full of so much want and sincerity. “Don’t stop, we’re okay.”

“Yeah?” He breathes out in relief pressing another kiss to your lips that sends trace currents through your body full force. Finally giving into the sweetest temptation you’ve ever tasted. Forbidden and delicious. This was like an avalanche of feelings and lust in motion, couldn’t stop the cascade if you tried. The aftermath would eventually come but everything would be okay. It had to be.

“Yeah, just friends,” Your lips move with his again but lazier, a slow pace that makes everything come to life. “This doesn’t change anything.”

You lied because this meant everything but you can’t stop.

He blinks like he can see right through your bullshit.

You blink back hoping he doesn’t.

“Just friends.” He repeats only the first half of your lie between kisses, pressing your body further into the couch with his hips.

The words come out breathless.

The words come out easily.

The words come out in cool peppermint.

He starts to drag your shorts off at the same pace the kiss and you lift a little to help. Being this vulnerable, letting the other fully see the other is something you can’t put into words. Your eyes rake his body as his lustful, dark gaze mirrors yours. There aren’t enough fucking words to describe how beautiful he is. Taking in every single detail from his tattoos to his cock pressed between your open thighs. The desperation; everything fucking aches for him. He leans forward, lips parting, eyes darkening by the minute, leaving open-mouth kisses along your jaw until they meet your mouth. The warm metal of his tongue ring claiming every inch of your mouth. He tasted like charged temptation in the best way, like something you didn’t know you craved until now.

Harry whimpers as your legs wrap around his waist. His cock throbs between your thighs and he groans against your lips. The sound vibrating with need; so fucking desperate. Strong hands grip your ass as the kiss deepens. He’s kissing you like you’re oxygen and he’s hungry for air. Almost like he can’t breathe without tasting you. Without having you like this. Staggered, harsh breaths hit the left side of your as his lips descended. Sucking and biting gently at your throat until they reach your chest and wrap around your nipple piercings. Metal clanking salaciously as his tongue swirls, toying with each little bar. His cock throbs again and your head falls back into the throw pillows with a loud moan. The arrogant smirk against your already heated skin only sends fire dancing.

Crackling and humming with each touch. They say fire needs oxygen to grow and Harry was yours. Always has been, he ignites all your fires.

Pulling back slightly, salacious evergreen meets thunderous oceans as he speaks, “So fucking pretty.” His words come out as a rasp, full of raw desperation. “Wanna taste you so fucking bad.” Kisses pepper your face, “Wanna make you feel so good, please? ”

“Y-yes,” You breathe, unable to finish the sentence as his kiss-bruised lips meet yours again and again, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin of your already open thighs, while yours run through his soft curls. Tangling and twisting as your lips move hungrily, desperately. Your teeth trap his tongue ring gently tasting and the sound that escapes his throat is feral. His body pushes against yours as you devour each other. Urgent, hungry, and like you might run out of time or change your mind. Hot, open-mouth kisses descend from your lips to your jaw then stop at the base of your throat.

“Fuck,” The word’s rushed, nearly a pant, as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head. The view of his gorgeous, toned body sends a shiver down your spine. The butterfly on his chest fluttered with each rapid breath. His abs jutting and rippling like it took everything in him not to lose it right then and there. Rough yet gentle hands feather your ribs, gliding effortlessly until they pause at your hips, leaving trace currents branding me with each tortuous touch. The rings on his fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your hips despite how gentle he’s being. A surprised gasp leaves my lips in a whimper as his grip tightens holding you into place. Your hips tilt, wanting to feel him and he groans, nostrils flaring like he’s in pain, “Want you so bad,” His nose runs against your jaw, “Not gonna last if you keep moving, Lil.”

“Sorry,” You breathe letting your head fall back as it swims with every effortless emotion you feel for him.

“Shh, you’re perfect, so fucking perfect, look at you.” He whispers, the gravelly tone of his voice sending vibrations between your thighs making you ache. A completely desperate ache for him that would be embarrassing if it was anyone but your Harry. Suddenly, he’s kissing you but lazily this time. His lips moved so painfully slow and tender against yours. Kissing like you have all the time in the world. As soon as you match his pace, he breaks the kiss sighing deeply against your parted lips. He studies your face, evergreen locked on blue, as he slowly drifts between your thighs. His hands follow him, traveling down your inked body with ease, until they lock around your upper legs.

“What’re you doing?” You ask breathlessly, trying to keep up with his pace. He ignores you, placing drawn-out kisses trailing from your left hip to inner thigh. Soft moans leave your parted lips each and every time his mouth touches your skin. His kisses are getting closer and closer, nipping and sucking, teasing and torturing. It’s too fucking much. “Harry-”

“Need something, Lil?” He sucks harder on your hip, leaving a purplish bruise on porcelain skin, tilting his head up to meet your gaze with a lazy smirk. So effortlessly sexy.

“Please-” Desperateness clings to the word as your head falls back, unable to handle seeing him between your legs.

“Please what?” Harry smirks against heated skin as your hips move forward, “Use your words, pretty girl.”

“I want-” The sentence pauses at the tip of your tongue. No one’s ever asked what you wanted before. “I’ve never-” Your brows push together trying to find the right word but he reaches up, fingers smoothing the line between them like he understands.

“It’s okay,” He runs the flat of his tongue against your clit and your knees almost push together from pleasure, the round of his tongue ring hitting perfectly. Like he knows exactly what you need. Burning evergreen disappears into the back of his head as he moans against you, fingernails digging into your skin. “Taste so fucking good, Lil. Knew you would, so fucking sweet.”

“Fuck,” The whimper that comes out of you is pathetic as he lifts your leg, draping your right knee over his shoulder, tongue circling with no mercy. Flicking and sucking and teasing as he changes pace. Your head falls back feeling his piercing tease your entrance with each flick of his perfect tongue. Your fingers laced into his wet curls, tugging as he pulled back, eyes meeting yours. Bringing his left middle and ring fingers to your lips, manually parts them until his fingers push past your bottom teeth. The cold metal of his rings hits your warm mouth. Evergreen dances darkly as they glide across your tongue until you gag around them. He exhales roughly, head cocking, “Mmm, suck. Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

Your lips wrap around his fingers as your eyes lock. He moves them in and out a few times before withdrawing. Never breaking eye contact, pink lips puckering around my clit as his fingers tease your entrance. He watches you intensely, so fucking intensely as his fingers match the pace of his tongue. Your eyes flutter in pure fucking bliss as your grip on his hair returns. Pulling and tugging, making him groan so deeply, “Lil.”

Your name came out of his mouth with the same electricity that courses through your veins whenever he’s around. Hot, entrancing, unfuckingdeniable, and your undoing. White, hot pleasure hits so hard that you try to close your legs but his hands wrap around your thighs, keeping them open, easing you through it. Your breathing evens out as Harry watches you between your open thighs. His head tilted upward, lips parted in amazement, evergreen bouncing around your face like he’s committing every muscle movement to memory.

“For fucks sake.” He exhales, blinking in complete astonishment.

“Hmm?” The word comes out lazily, so fucking easy like your smile.

He hovers, face inches from yours, hazy eyes blazing with lust. The end of his cross necklace bounces off your bottom lip a few times. “So pretty when you cum, Angel.”

Fuck, in one swift movement, you push his chest backward completely straddling him as his back hits the couch. Long, ring-clad fingers grip your jaw as he presses his lips to yours, kissing slowly, tongues tangling lazily. He tastes like you and it makes your head spin. His fingers tangle into your hair, blond waves fall, as he collects them wrapping the strands around his wrist. Breaking the kiss, your hands glide across his skin, feeling every harsh breath and ridge before settling between his legs. Every flutter of his butterfly as he breathes, how his abs constrict with each breath like he wants you so badly that it’s painful, and the vein resting next to the perfect v-line of his left hip. Taking a deep breath, your head tilts, meeting his hungry, beautiful gaze as your lips wrap around his head.

He lets out a loud moan, abs jutting, as your tongue twirls and teases. His head lolls back, lips parting while the moans come out so fucking feral; desperate. The grip on your hair loosens as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks with each suck. Honey curls fall you around like a curtain as he cups the back of your head, pushing you to take him deeper, never breaking eye contact. You almost wanna shut yours seeing how much adoration and attention and lust swims in his pretty irises. He starts moving his hips slowly, testing, and relaxing your jaw. His jaw tightens with each thrust, moaning so fucking loud, lips puckering around a needy exhale, “I-fuck-I’m not gonna last.”

Flattening your tongue, a hum in appreciation and that makes him break. The soft green of his eyes darkened as control slips with each thrust. “God, look at how pretty you look wrapped around my cock.” He groans even louder and you gag around him. His hips slow, “You can take it, just like that, so fucking good.”

Your cheeks hollow as his movements grow more frantic. More fucking desperate. Twirling your tongue, he pulls out, cupping your jaw again as he cums. Painting your chest in the most filthy way. Head tilted back, eyes shut, pumping his cock as he whimpers. Blush spreads up his throat, neck vein popping in the sexiest way, and perfect lips parted in pure ecstasy; pure bliss. He’s the most devastating man you’ve ever seen. The minute your gazes meet, your breathing halts. So many emotions battle to come to the surface as lush forests meet raging oceans. The push and pull that is us. This is a moment where you just stare at each other in understanding. Letting your eyes say what you’re afraid to admit out loud.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Harry’s voice is gentle and soothing while his fingers trace your jaw before disappearing. You count his footsteps but don’t respond. The weight of what happened crashed into you like a freight train. Your breathing accelerates instead of steading as everything plays out. You don’t want to lose him when this doesn’t work out. The thought comes quickly and like a bucket of ice water. Panic setting in because you can’t lose him. You can’t lose him over one night of weakness. Shit, the uncertainty feels heavy on your chest, heavier than it should because there’s no one you trust more. He’s your best friend.

“Lil?” Hesitantly, your eyes snap to your favorite shade of green. Allowing them to travel his peaceful features, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. Everything about him is relaxed and unguarded as he starts cleaning you up with a warm washcloth. The light stubble on his sharp jaw to pink parted lips to the freckles on the bridge of his nose that you wouldn’t see unless you were close enough. Your fingertips ache to trace the path, feel each little freckle and plane of his face, until they’re touching his pink lips. Sometimes, you wish memories worked like photographs or something so you could accurately remember how being in his arms feels. How finally being his feels until unrelenting reality hits. You’re not his, Grace is, and that hurts worse than you thought. His lips tip into a left-sided smile, “There she is.”

“Here I am,” You smile back, cheekbone gently compressed by his long fingers.

Dark curls sticking up in different directions, evergreen eyes following every detail of your face, a red hue dusting across his cheeks, and his once parted lips tugging into a sleepy smirk, “You still with me, Lil?”

“Always.” The word came out fast because you were with him. Maybe too with him. “Gonna get dressed real quick.” A giggle escapes your lips, “Don’t have the money for Ellie’s therapy bill if she walks in.”

“Fuck,” He chuckles, running a hand through long curls, “She’d probably ask to join.”

Your phone buzzes two times and something inside you freezes. You know it’s Rylan, no one else but him and Harry text you this late. The playful expression on Harry’s face slowly drains into something that resembles pain as he hands it to me. The sudden change makes your stomach turn in the worst way.

From: Ry (2:30 am)

Sorry about tonight.

From: Ry (2:31 am)

Can’t lose you over a stupid argument, Lil. I know you and Styles are just friends and you wouldn’t touch him. Sorry for being a jealous prick.

That stomach-sinking guilt comes back full force and causes your mouth to flood with saliva. You pull the Nirvana shirt over your head and turn to explain but he’s already looking at the wall. His jaw tense, so tense that the hinges are bulging, but expression is stoic. He swallows, the columns in his throat tense then relax showing just how hard the salvia was to get down. You linger on his side profile for a second, appreciating the beautiful yet masculine planes of his face, before clearing your throat. He blinks a few times before turning slowly to meet your eyes. The words rush out of your mouth, “Harry-”

Playful evergreen darkened to forest green, “I better go.”

You jump to your feet, following behind him quickly, desperate to explain. His back to you, broad shoulders sagging, as he works to unlatch your window. The glass opens with a thud and you expect him to leave but he doesn’t. Ring-clad fingers grasp the ledge, knuckles blanch, as he just breathes. You count to fifteen waiting for him to look at you but he doesn’t. 240 long, excruciating seconds pass. Exhaling harshly, his voice is hoarse, “We need to tal-“

“Friends?” You blurt, not letting him finish. Needing to know you’re okay, eyes volleying between him and the notification on your phone.

He pauses, hand resting on the windowsill, so much pain in those evergreen eyes you love so much. There he was, always taking care of you. Even if it means hurting him.

“Yeah, Lil.”

Your attention stays on the window as he slips out without giving you a chance to respond. Everything smells like him, a mouthwatering mixture of fresh laundry, peppermint, and something earthy like the wind. Even your skin has traces of him that you don’t think you’d be able to wash off. The memory of tonight permanently embedded into you and there is no denying it. How his mouth felt, his hands on you, the sound of his raspy voice slowly ruining you for anyone else.

What the fuck did you just do?

[toxicanonymity]

The Wall (stepdad drabble)

1.5k | stepdad!Joel x f!reader | stepdad au SUMMARY: This ask about being at the pool. WARNINGS: I8+ drugs, possessive!joel, sexual tension, baiting, shotgunning, dirty talk, very risky touching in public, blue balls, hair pulling, mild manhandling?, mild degradation?, taunting use of "daddy" twice. A/N: Title is an album by Pink Floyd. Loose fit flashback before the holidays (old school SD). The latest present day is ✨It's Hard.

Joel hasn’t given in yet. So far, he’s fingered you in his office, but nothing more than that. Now both of you are going with your Mom on a work trip.  The trip is in driving distance, and Joel doesn’t realize you’re going until you show up at their house packed and ready to go that morning. He’s flustered, and overall none too pleased. You’re wearing him down. You can tell.  

You’re wearing a hoodie and short shorts. When you stop at a rest stop, your Mom goes to the bathroom and you and Joel get out of the car to stretch. You take your hoodie off, revealing a thin, low-cut tank top and no bra, then stretch with your hands behind your back. Joel tilts his head, watching you, eyes glued to your chest. 

He takes a deep breath and doesn’t even bother looking up at your face as he complains, “Havin’ fun with all this?”

“What are you talking about?” you smile. 

He scoffs. “You’re gonna be a pain in my ass all week, aren’t ya?” 

You cross your arms under your boobs, pushing them together. 

He adjusts himself and shakes his head. 

—

During your Mom’s first work event, Joel disappears. He walks off somewhere to get away from you and remove temptation. Meanwhile, there’s a group of skater guys at the hotel. Probably college students, a little younger than you. You find them in the lobby and they smell like weed. They offer you some and you tell them maybe later, but out of boredom you stick around with them and go to the hotel bar. While you’re there, they flirt with you and give you a joint. 

Joel gets back to the hotel and finds you in the bar with these guys all hitting on you. He can’t stand it. When he walks up, the scowl on his face delights you and offsets his festive Hawaiian shirt. 

“Let’s go,” he commands, nodding toward the exit. 

“Daddy,” you complain. His jaw clenches and his face blotches pink. Something comes over his eyes, and you can’t tell if the word has turned him on or just pissed him off. He steps forward and pushes through two of the guys. He grabs your arm, physically pulling you toward the exit. It makes you flutter between the legs. His grip doesn't loosen until you cross the lobby.

“What was that about?” he asks as he walks you down the hall, “Hmm?”

“What was what about?”

“You tryin’ to get gang banged, or what?” he grumbles. 

“You trying to turn me on?” you ask. “It’s working.” 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath. 

When you’re close to the hotel room, your mom rounds the corner and you look at him to watch his face fall. 

“I’m going to the pool,” you announce, turning around to head the other direction. 

—---

It’s just after dusk and you’re in a pool chair scrolling your phone when Joel comes out. You’re wearing a bikini top and daisy dukes. You put your phone down and check him out. He’s in red swim trunks that are a little shorter than standard, and a gray shirt with a black line drawing on it. He takes off the shirt. 

“Okay, Hasselhoff,” you tease, checking out how his meaty thighs stretch the bright red shorts. “His suit was longer though.”

You pull out the joint and a lighter. 

“Hey,” he cautions nervously, looking around. “That better not be what it looks like.” 

You light it and he huffs. 

“I know you do it too,” you tell him. 

“You’re full of it,” he says. 

“Am I? You keep your stash in the drawer with my panties you stole.” 

That shuts him up. Wow, lucky guess. He’s silently flustered, and it turns you on. You take the joint with you and slip into the pool, feeling his eyes on you even as you’re turned the opposite direction. 

“Gettin’ in, Daddy?” you ask as you put your arms on the ledge and rest your chin on your hand. 

He warns, “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” You laugh and he doubles down. “Don’t.” Sounds like you actually pissed him off. He takes his glasses off, then adjusts himself before he stands up, and it makes you tingle. You look around the deck as he gets into the pool. It’s just a few couples, and they’re wrapped up in each other. 

You’re both facing the wall of the pool with your arms on the ledge, faces turned toward each other. He’s to your left. You try to hand him the joint and he shakes his head no. 

“Worried we’ll get grounded?” you ask and he just barely smirks. “That’d be fun,” you add saucily.

“You are real fuckin’ trouble,” he murmurs, slow and loaded. It almost sounds like he’s daring you. You reach your foot over to brush the inside of his ankle, and he doesn’t scold you or pull away. 

He looks at the joint in your hand. You take a chance and bring it to his mouth. He briefly meets your eyes as he takes a puff and you can’t suppress your smile. Your eyes must have gone wide with joy. As he holds the smoke in his mouth, he looks like he's trying not to laugh, then it fades. His eyes fall to your mouth, then your bodies turn toward each other and he gets a little closer. His hand grazes your waist. You lean in, a few inches from his face. He leans ever so slightly toward you as he releases the smoke. Your mouths come closer and closer as you suck the smoke from his mouth. Your lips almost brush, and he abruptly pulls away as he finishes exhaling. “Fuck,” he mutters, then clears his throat. 

You close your eyes as you finish inhaling, and when you open them, he’s watching you, brow furrowed. It's silent for a few seconds and you hear the tiki bar closing up.  

You bring the arch of your foot back to his ankle and he lets you rub it. You're still facing each other. You come a little higher on his calf.  “If I didn’t know any better I'd think you almost kissed me,” you say. 

“No,” he chuckles. “You know better.”

“You wanted to,” you note. 

“‘Course I–” he stops himself and swallows. He lowers his voice. “--that’s not what I wanna do to ya.” 

“Yeah?” Your foot works up to his knee. 

He shakes his head. “I wanna stuff your mouth full’a cock like it should be.” 

“Mm,” you encourage.

“Shut you up for a few minutes while I fuck your face.” 

Your eyes drift to his pecs. 

“That’s not what ya want though, is it?” he asks. 

“It’s a good start,” you whisper, sliding your foot up to mid thigh. 

“You’re dyin’ to have your cunt stuffed.” 

You bite your lip and play coy. You take another drag of the joint but he declines. He palms himself under the water and your chest flutters. Your nipples get hard, and you feel yourself gushing. 

“I know how wet you are right now,” he says. 

“Feel for yourself,” you whisper. 

He reaches for your crotch but you pull back at the last second, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. He shakes his head, plucks the joint out of your fingers and takes a short drag. He puts it down, and as he inhales the smoke in his mouth, he gets so close you can reach down and feel the thick silhouette in his shorts. When you squeeze his cock, it makes you twitch. You need him so bad. He pulls your hair, tilting your head so you’re looking up. His face hovers over yours for a moment with smoke slowly billowing out of his mouth. Then he blows it away to the side and lets go of your hair. 

“Oughta bend you over and fuck the brat outta you.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper and give his cock another squeeze against his thigh. “Maybe later?” You take your hand away and say, “I’m gonna order something to eat.” 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he mutters. 

“I have an extra room key,” you offer as you push yourself out of the pool. It’s an empty offer, mostly. The rooms connect. Too risky. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Fuck no.” He’s slowly palming himself under the water, and you’re glad you brought a vibrator, because as soon as you get back to your room, you have some things to think about. Like the exact size and shape of his cock under your palm. 

“s’just talk, sweetheart.” He looks at your tits as you adjust your suit. “You know I’m not really gonna fuck you, right?” he asks, still slowly rubbing himself. 

“Keep telling yourself that,” you smile, hoping it’s not true. 

-----

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging 🖤 Love you guys. I still have another stepdad one shot planned back in present day, too.

These are normally night walks moves, so maybe check out the original night walks if you like this. In my header.

[jeongheart]

super shy

summary: he's been receiving these letters for the past year but, he doesn't know your name, does he?

w.c: 7.1k.

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life.

a.n: this is the longest fic i ever written omg, i've been playing new jeans latest comeback for a few days and this is the result lol. as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. leave your thoughts if you liked it, means a lot!

It was there again.

Sitting immaculately on top of his messy folders, the envelope was white without any type of decoration, the owner of the cursive handwriting wouldn't even risk placing a sticker since it could give a clue, even minimal, about who was behind it.

The classroom was almost empty, since recess ended a few minutes ago and the students were still lazily getting up from the grass where they were lying, not wanting to lock themselves in a room again for hours while the day was shining beautifully outside the building.

However, Chan looked around him, narrowing his eyes as he scanned his classmates for the smallest trace of uneasiness as he took the envelope in his hands. But he didn't find any, unless the author had a master's degree in poker face no one around him seemed interested in what he was doing.

After the failed scrutiny, he sat down again with no care on the wooden bench, eager to read what that person had to say today. This excited feeling was new for him, the letters had been arriving about a year ago, right at the beginning of the new semester and at first, Chan found it funny. Surely one of his friends (he bet his life on either Seungmin or Minho, those two were always up to something no matter how much they said they weren't) found it fun to piss him off this year, after all, it has been a long time since his last relationship and sometimes he felt the need of affection, so the "joke" made perfect sense in his head.

He didn't read them the first few months, he just crumpled them up and kept them in a hidden place in his backpack, to let whoever was behind them know that he wasn't interested. But they kept coming even after that vile act against someone's real feelings; and that was when Chan began to question if there really was a person genuinely interested in him, interested enough to send him handwritten letters as if they were living in a classic romance novel. The person had a beautiful vocabulary, and it was clear that they paid attention to details that he didn't even noticed about himself.

The notes weren't very long since they didn't exceed ten lines, but each word was full of admiration and affection. They always reminded him to eat and take care of his health, in addition to telling him day by day one of the qualities why his mysterious person had fallen in love with him. Chan blushed every time he read those reasons, it was no secret (to himself, since he didn't like others to know) that he didn't think very highly of himself; from his point of view there was nothing nice or admirable about his existence. But this person believed just the opposite, and they had made their life's mission to let him know that every day.

Today was no exception, the lined sheets were a pastel color (pink? orange?) and had small animal decorations at the bottom and top (he noticed that these came in "groups", the representative animal of these last ten notes was a smiling giraffe). It was incredibly adorable, and Chan found himself laughing softly every time he took out the contents of the envelope.

'Mondays are always hard! Especially this time of year (can't the professors trust in me and my knowledge of things? I don't see the need for them to take a test).

Anyway, Channie, this weekend I found myself thinking a lot about you, every time I start writing my reasons I feel like I'm going to be left speechless but then I remember that it's not difficult at all to love you. So here is another one:

Your resilience, I greatly admire your ability to always get up no matter how many blows life throws at you. The vast majority of us feel discouraged by the slightest inconvenience, but not you. And that is something incredible.

I hope you have a beautiful start to the week, remember to eat your meals and feel the sun.

Fondly,'

And that's how all the letters ended, the author seemed to hesitate every time they traced the last line, he could feel the uncertainty even on the paper. Chan knew that they were shy and always wondered when they were going to stop being to finally sign with their name and be able to meet that person who stole his heart with every word.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

He was reading the note, hunched over his things, almost shielding the contents of the paper from the prying eyes of anyone who passed by him. You knew he was going to do it (he always did) but you couldn't stop your heart from racing like it was the first time it happened. You watched him from the hallway, hiding behind one of your textbooks while a silly smile appeared on your face, nothing made you happier than making him happy with your words, it's true what people say about "butterflies in the stomach" because that was what you were feeling right now.

His eyes crinkled in the most adorable way possible every time he smiled and from your spot in the hallway you could almost hear the sigh he let out after finishing reading the letter. After scanning his surroundings one last time, Chan placed the paper back into the envelope, and carefully placed it inside his notebook.

"You and your Shakespeare complex again" The sudden voice of your best friend so close made you jump in your place and drop the book you had in your hands. It hit the ground with a dull sound due to the thickness of its contents, and when you picked up the book again you turned around to face the figure of the perpetrator. He just laughed at you and your reaction, which earned him a closed-fist blow directly to his shoulder.

"You deserve it" You didn't even bother to return his reproachful gaze since he clearly felt like fighting, and instead, you returned your focus to Chan's classroom and his figure. He was no longer in his seat and you didn't want to look weird by leaning out the window door to look for him. So you sighed heavily and leaned your body against the wall while closing your eyes.

Until you felt Jeongin's presence come to your side "Are you going to tell him sometime?"

You didn't answer him.

Well, actually you did, with a growl that could mean either 'I'll do it today, stop bothering' or 'not even dead'. However, the blonde wasn't satisfied with your interpretation of an animal as a response and he began poking your ribs with his long fingers, drawing high-pitched sounds of protest from your lips.

"Stop it, Innie" You moved his hands away from your figure and stood firmly looking him in the eyes like a mother who is trying to discipline her misbehaving son. He crossed his arms with a satisfied smile crossing his face with foxlike features and, with a movement of his head, he invited you to speak.

"What do you want me to say? 'Hello Chan! It's me, the person who has been sending you letters like a fifteen-year-old for a year now. I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you at my best friend's house. Do you want to be my boyfriend?" You rolled your eyes tiredly and didn't wait for Jeongin to tell you what he thought, and so you started walking towards your classroom, with an exasperated five foot seven boy following closely behind you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

You still remembered the first time you'd seen him, and how couldn't you. His presence could illuminate even the darkest corner, and his personality attracted anyone around him.

It was the summer, and you'd gone to Jeongin's house to spend an afternoon together. The air conditioning in your apartment had broken two days ago, and you couldn't stand being in your room for another second, which was already beginning to feel like an industrial oven. When you arrived at your best friend's residence, you weren't surprised by the fact that there were more people than just the two of you. Jeongin was taking singing lessons at a nearby academy and had hit it off with some of his classmates; so while you didn't know them as well as he did, you had the chance to hang out with some of them a couple of times and you could say that they were the funniest guys you'd ever come across. Especially Hyunjin, who seemed to be like a glove with your best friend.

Jeongin's house felt cold, as if winter had come only for the Yang family and, although you shivered with every step you took towards the kitchen where voices could be heard, this felt like paradise compared to the hell you lived in your house (and you even thought it was cooler in hell).

Reaching the kitchen, you heard Hyunjin's melodious voice followed by his nasal, boisterous laughter at a comment Jeongin made. You shook your head laughing inwardly as you pushed the wooden door open to enter the space, the boys turning their heads in your direction as they heard the hinges snapping back into place.

Your best friend gave you his characteristic smile as he got up from his seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island to give you a small hug "I thought you weren't coming anymore!"

From Jeongin's shoulder you saw how Hyunjin gave you a smile and a wave, you tried to return the gesture as best you could considering that you were trapped in the arms of a boy who flatly stated that he didn't like hugs. It was getting long in your opinion, so you patted Jeongin on the back, letting him know that yes, you loved him very much, but you were still sticky with sweat from the walk in the sun and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable when he was so cool. When Jeongin let go of you, he opened his palm to introduce you to a person you hadn't seen before, "I hope you don't mind, that's Chan over there. He also goes to our academy, and he goes to university with us! Although he is a year ahead"

You smiled at Jeongin as you walked further into the kitchen to greet the new guest and in front of you stood one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen in your entire life. He wasn't very tall (you could tell even if he was sitting) but his broad shoulders gave him an intimidating presence, his hair looked messy in a swirl of brown curls, and although he was dressed from head to toe in black (you were sure his nails were painted that color too) on his face was a dimpled smile that took your breath away.

From one moment to the next you forgot how to articulate words and you felt like a fish opening and closing its mouth trying to find something to say, but your brain didn't seem to want to work.

You felt a small push on your right shoulder that took your body forward, towards the table, and towards Chan.

"How rude you are" Jeongin rolled his eyes, and although deep down you knew he was doing it to tease you, your cheeks turned red. You felt your tongue heavy in your mouth as the seconds passed and you were unable to utter a single word.

"Leave her alone, Innie. It's pretty hot outside, isn't it?" Chan's deep voice brought you out of your trance and forced you to look him in the eyes. He had a sincere smile on his face and was watching you with raised eyebrows, letting you know that he was going to listen to you when you wanted to respond.

Your heart did a complete turn in your chest, you were surprised in the best of ways at how friendly he was, the vast majority of boys with his attractiveness made that their only personality trait but he was attentive and considerate of all the people around him, even with complete strangers who hadn't stopped looking or saying anything to him in three minutes.

"Yes...yes, it's horrible! And the air conditioning in my house is broken and you can't imagine how hot it is! I feel like I'm going to die one of these days" The words came tumbling out of your mouth, since you hadn't had the time to stop and think about what exactly you wanted to say, and your nerves were playing the worst trick of your entire life.

Chan laughed again (even his laugh was pretty) and he nodded his head, not at all scared or surprised with the lexical vomit you just made.

"It must be like torture, really. You must be tired from the walk under the sun, why don't you sit down for a bit? The boys and I were planning to watch a movie" The brunette softly kicked one of the stools that were stored under the table in your direction.

You nodded shyly and took the seat he offered you, right in front of him. You left your phone on the cold marble of the table and looked around the kitchen for your best friend, you'd been surprised by the fact that he hadn't gotten into the conversation for five minutes and to be honest you desperately needed to focus on something other than Chan's penetrating gaze you felt on your face.

"Innie?" You called out to him with a small shout, loud enough for him to hear you even if he'd gone into the garden.

After a few seconds, your friend's blonde head peeked out of the left door that led to the living room, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face. "I'm sorry! Since you two were talking, we decided to go prepare things for the movie."

Jeongin paused and looked at you evilly, a look that you knew very well and that didn't give you a good feeling at all "Chan, why don't you prepare something to eat? I bought some snacks today, come when you have everything ready~" And before you could protest, he disappeared from your sight again while laughing and yelling something at Hyunjin.

You immediately tensed up and cursed Jeongin in your mind, how dare he leave you alone with your newfound crush. If he was getting revenge for the time you tried to play matchmaker and failed then he was being very childish, that'd been years ago!

While the insulting thoughts against your best friend and all his ancestors accumulated in your brain, from the corner of your eye you watched as Chan got up from his seat and went to the counter where the mentioned snacks and bowls of colors were located, apparently the prankster you called your best friend had already prepared the trap before you even arrived.

You didn't want to look weirder than you already felt so with your limbs shaking and making even the slightest of movements difficult; you also got up from your seat and slowly approached where Chan was, you stood next to him (close enough for him to know that you were willing to help but far enough not to invade his personal space).

He looked at you briefly and smiled sideways, and didn't say anything as he gently pushed a bowl towards you. The task wasn't very complicated per se, but it did become extremely difficult when the only thing you could focus on were the large, veiny hands of the boy next to you, you hadn't realized how attractive it was to see a man opening packets of potato chips and arranging them in a small container until now.

"Jeongin said we go to the same university, do you study the same as him?" You were startled by the sudden interruption of silence, you turned to look at Chan after finishing preparing the bowl with the nachos.

"Yes, I mean, no. We share some classes because some subjects are correlative in each one's career but I could never do the same as Innie" You smiled shyly and shook your head.

"I study psychology," You finally said and looked at your companion, who had his eyes open and bright like a puppy's (how could it be possible for a person to be incredibly attractive and adorable at the same time? It would have to be illegal), and you wondered what it was that'd amazed him so much, there were millions of other people studying the same thing as you.

Without meaning to, you raised an eyebrow; studying his reaction. He laughed again (it was something he loved to do, apparently) and turned his entire body towards you, resting his left hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's incredible, the human mind is fascinating. I understand why you study that, for my part, I wouldn't read everything you have to read even if someone paid me."

You laughed loudly, infecting Chan as well. He was doing so with his whole body, his shoulders were shaking to the rhythm of his giggles and you could notice that, from time to time, a small squeak would appear in the sound of his laughter.

When the laughter died down, you looked at him again as you put the last bag of snacks in the cupboard in front of you.

"Yes, I mean, it's a lot to read but it's like you say. I'm interested in knowing the reason for behavior, and I would like to help people in the future. Mental health is something important" This last part came out in a whisper, you weren't used to revealing the reason for your career choice, most people told you that you should have chosen something that would make you rich in twenty years.

"That's incredible, I admire you a lot" Chan said in a soft voice, and you hadn't realized how close he'd gotten until you noticed the small touch of his fingers on your arm, the color quickly rose to your cheeks again and panic took over you, making you choke up when you spoke.

"Y-yes, thank you... not many think that way" And you moved your body away from his space; maybe a little abruptly but you were sure that if you continued in that position you were going to do or say something ridiculous, you couldn't trust your ability to reason at the moment.

Chan cleared his throat at your reaction and took two bowls in his hands, starting to walk towards the living room. You hadn't realized how loudly the other two boys were talking, were you so immersed in the situation to forget the outside world? Apparently yes.

"Are you done yet? The boys must be waiting" He stopped right in front of the door, waiting for you to take what you'd prepared.

You nodded softly, and after grabbing your preparations, you followed him into the living room.

You don't really remember what happened after that, you assume you watched the movies that the boys had already chosen before you arrived. You also don't remember if you had even paid attention, probably not, because you were very focused on keeping your breathing as normal as you could since unfortunately Hyunjin and Jeongin decided to each sit in an individual chair and by coincidence the only place left to sit was in the two-seat chair that your best friend's grandmother had given to his mother at her wedding, and conveniently Chan sat there too. So as the movie played on the screen, your heart raced with every accidental brush of your arms or legs against Chan's.

The only thing you remember clearly from that moment is that you couldn't help but look at his profile, trying to memorize every detail and every peculiarity of his expressions.

The rest of the summer felt like a haze, every time you made plans with Jeongin you knew Chan was going to be there. And that did nothing to dispel the feelings that were beginning to become more present with every minute you spent in his presence.

You liked him a little too much.

His kind nature and the way he treated everyone made you dizzy every time, but you were too shy to act on your feelings and unfortunately you weren't the only one who thought Chan was a good catch. Every now and then different girls approached him to ask him out, and although he always rejected them; you couldn't help but feel a little insecure about the situation. And there was also the small problem that he confessed to you one night in Hyunjin's garden: his last relationship had been somewhat toxic, and although it ended years ago, he was deeply hurt and didn't feel ready yet to fall for someone again.

That confession left a sour taste in your mouth, so you decided not to actively act on your feelings, you really didn't want to make Chan uncomfortable or force him into something he didn't want to do, let alone ruin the friendship you were building. But something as strong as love cannot be contained, and one sleepless night you found yourself scribbling in your notebook the things you wanted to say to him, the things you liked about him, and how he made you feel when you looked at him.

You weren't thinking when you left the first envelope on his desk, it was a completely impulsive decision that you regretted the moment you left his classroom. But when you turned around to go back and throw the letter into the trash, he already found it.

At first he didn't read them, you knew because you'd overheard when he mentioned it to Hyunjin during an outing the three of you made, Chan believed that one of his friends was playing a prank on him.

And that was the last straw that broke the camel's back, although you told yourself that you weren't going to write anymore letters for the sake of your friendship and your own feelings you had to let him know (even if anonymously) that he was someone worthy of love and that he wasn't what the people in his past made him believe he was.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

Once you arrived at the classroom (miraculously before the professor, you didn't think you could endure another lecture and there were still three more hours before leaving the university) you sat down in your respective seat by the window. The day was really beautiful, and from your place you could see the large patio where the entire student body went to relax between classes, it was your favorite place in the entire building and at this moment you wanted nothing more than to be leaning against a tree feeling the warm sunlight on your face.

"I'm not saying you have to tell him that but don't you think it's been too long already?" Jeongin didn't seem to want to drop the topic for today, he'd gotten up from his seat taking advantage of the fact that there was still no sign of the teacher and sat at your table, almost knocking all the things that were on top of it to the floor. You rested your head on the bench and waved a hand in the air, brushing it off in an attempt to say 'leave me alone already'.

Your best friend snorted exasperatedly, "You really are a special case, you've been in love with him for a year, for God's sake."

At the boy's aggressive tone of voice, you took your head off the table and looked at him with a frown. He looked back at you like he always did: challenging and forcing you to speak for yourself.

"It's not as easy as you say, Jeongin" You spat angrily.

"For all I know, if he finds out, he could throw my stupid letters in the trash and confessing would not only make me look weird but it would also ruin the friendship we have" You lowered your face, feeling a little sad "And the last thing I would like to do is lose him"

Jeongin’s expression softened as he realized the depth of your anxiety, and he reached out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I get it, I really do. You don't want to jeopardize what you have but you deserve happiness too, you know? Maybe it's time to take a risk."

“I don’t even think I have a chance” You sighed, feeling defeated.

Jeongin moved closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "You may have more possibilities than you think, but sometimes you have to give destiny a little push."

You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words and just as you were about to question him further, the professor made an appearance in the classroom ordering everyone to take their respective seats and apologizing for the delay. Your best friend flashed you a bright smile with his trademark dimples and snuck over to his table, effectively ending the conversation and leaving you wondering what he meant for the rest of the day.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

If Jeongin's plan was for you to not sleep for a week, then he'd achieved it. His words had been spinning through your head like a whirlpool that seemed to have no end. You knew that he'd been friends with the brunette for a longer time than you, but were they close enough that the youngest knew the secrets inside Chan's heart?

Or was he giving you the advice that all friends gave to their other friends desperate to believe in the illusion that the person they like reciprocates their feelings? No, Jeongin wouldn't do that, he was too honest for his own good and besides you'd known each other longer (your mothers said you were born to be friends). So did that mean there really was a chance?

No, of course not, that was ridiculous.

You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of those thoughts as you rang the doorbell at Hyunjin's house. Your group had agreed to meet to study and you needed to have a clear mind, the exams were around the corner and you couldn't afford to keep your brain preoccupied thinking about something that would never happen.

The minutes passed slowly as you waited for the homeowner, and while you were thinking about ringing the doorbell again fearing that the boys inside hadn't heard you, the door suddenly opened, and nothing could have prepared you to see the person who has been living rent free in your mind, you knew he would be there, but you didn't expect to face him so quickly.

"Hey, you arrived just in time, Hyunjin's mom just brought us some drinks" Chan was his usual self, with his beautiful smile plastered on his face and his relaxed attitude.

You blinked once, twice, three times before you managed a small forced smile and responded, "Oh, great, thanks," and you stood there in silence, unable to look him in the eyes.

Chan tilted his head in silent question at your attitude, "Is everything okay?"

His concern for your well-being was evident in his voice and he struck a chord in your heart. You looked at him briefly, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment and nodded, still struggling to find your voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You finally responded, trying to sound casual despite the jumble of emotions inside you.

Chan's friendly demeanor never wavered as he led you into the house, you followed him with a notable distance between your bodies and so when you arrived at the living room where the boys were already seated with open textbooks and a monstrous amount of things to eat you almost ran to sit next to Jeongin, an attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde, who looked at you with his eyebrows raised in a telepathic question.

Meanwhile, Chan didn't take his eyes off you as he sat next to Hyunjin on the couch in front of where you and your best friend were.

The afternoon went by slowly, too slowly for your liking, you'd gone with all the desire to study and get your mind out of the anxiety that was consuming you, but that attempt had been futile.

Although your gaze remained glued to your notes and your blue highlighter (which hadn't highlighted anything in the last hour, you'd read the same paragraph five times without getting a clue of what it was trying to say) you felt how two eyes were burning holes in your figure. The room was suffocatingly silent, and you were sure that your irregular breathing was evident to the entire group; your nerves were so on edge that when your best friend's voice filled the void you almost jumped in your place.

"I'm tired, how about we take a break?"Jeongin raised his arms towards the ceiling, stretching his back and then collapsing gracelessly against the soft cushions of the sofa.

Hyunjin nodded while massaging his neck, stiff after so many hours of looking down at his notes and reading "I thought no one was going to say it, I was going crazy."

Chan didn't say anything, he just closed his notebooks and imitated Jeongin in his relaxed pose against the couch. You felt out of place when the boys started chatting about meaningless things to lighten the atmosphere.

You only nodded when you felt your input was necessary, or laughed when you thought that was the reaction you should have but you didn't speak, because in fact, you weren't sure you were going to say anything coherent or at least make your voice louder than a whisper, so you decided that the best course of action was to stay quiet.

If the boys noticed it, they didn't say anything, and you couldn't be more grateful for it.

"You know" Chan interrupted the laughter of the other two boys after a not-so-funny story told by Hyunjin.

Everyone focused their attention on him, the tone of voice he'd used was more serious than his usual; so serious that it forced you to look up for the first time since the recess began and you found Chan's brown eyes looking directly at you, doing it so intensely that you thought he was staring right into your soul.

You held your breath, but you weren't prepared for what he said next.

"My secret admirer hasn't written to me in a few days" He was still looking at you, but there was something strange hidden in his irises, something you couldn't decipher.

Silence once again took over Hyunjin's living room, and the tension could be cut with a knife, it almost seemed like time had stopped when the brunette pronounced the last syllable. Your mouth felt dry, and your palms began to sweat. The weight of his words floated in the air and a thousand thoughts passed through your mind, each one more disconcerting than the last.

Hyunjin snorted, and looked maliciously at Chan "Maybe they are tired of you."

His mocking comment broke the heavy silence like thunder. Jeongin joined in with a playful smile, taking the opportunity to tease Chan mercilessly. “Maybe your secret admirer found someone else,” he joked, his tone light and teasing, “Or maybe they are just playing hard to get.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, wanting to burst while the boys laughed at Chan's expense while he, in response, rolled his eyes and smiled sarcastically at the jokes that his friends kept saying, he also looked at you from time to time making your discomfort even more evident.

You desperately searched for words to contribute to the conversation, your voice choked by the rising anxiety. But as Jeongin and Hyunjin's playful teasing continued, you remained silent, feeling like a bystander in a conversation that was becoming more cryptic by the second. Chan's gaze never left you, and despite the teasing, there was something in his eyes that betrayed a deeper understanding. His comment felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, yet you couldn't put your finger on what he truly knew.

As the laughter subsided, the room descended into an awkward silence once more, and then Chan finally spoke up, his tone more subdued than before. "Well, whoever it is," he began, his eyes still locked on yours, "I hope they know they've brightened my days with their letters."

The comment hung in the air, carrying a weight that seemed to pull everyone into its gravity. Jeongin and Hyunjin exchanged glances, their playful demeanor suddenly giving way to something more conspiracy.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming mix of emotions. The anxiety that'd been building throughout the day reached a crescendo. You wanted to say something, to respond in some way, but the words caught in your throat.

Hyunjin broke the silence once more, this time with a touch of sincerity in his voice. "Whoever they are," he said, "they must really care about you, man." Jeongin nodded in agreement, and the room seemed to shift, it was a subtle transformation, but one that you couldn't help but notice.

Chan smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, "They do mean a lot to me."

You desperately needed a moment to collect your thoughts and emotions after that serious conversation, so you mumbled something about getting a drink from the kitchen, excusing yourself with a weak smile and slowly, you retreated from the living room, the voices of the boys fading as you put some distance between you and the group.

In the dimly lit kitchen, you leaned against the countertop, your heart still racing from the tension in the room. The realization that Chan cherished those anonymous letters hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd never imagined how much they meant to him.

Just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps behind you made you jump. You turned to find Chan standing there, a serious yet gentle expression on his face. His presence seemed to fill the room with warmth, and your anxiety ratcheted up another notch.

"Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

You nodded, unable to form words an he took a step closer, his gaze never left yours.

Chan's brown eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had frozen around you. You couldn't contain the thoughts racing through your mind any longer. With a trembling voice, you finally asked the question that'd been gnawing at you.

"Do you know who's been sending those letters?"

Chan's expression remained calm, but you could see a glimmer of something in his eyes, a hint of knowing. He didn't answer immediately, instead, he stepped closer, narrowing the distance between you.

His voice was soft as he replied, "I have a feeling I might have a clue."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched his face for more hints. What did he mean by 'a clue'? It was clear he was being deliberately vague, and it only added to your curiosity.

"But," he continued, "I'd like to hear it from you. Tell me, do you know who it is?"

You hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. The walls between you and Chan seemed to dissolve, and the vulnerability in his eyes was mirrored in your own. With a shaky breath, you summoned the courage to speak, your voice quivering with fear and anticipation.

"It's me."

The admission hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes locked on the floor as you waited for his reaction. The seconds felt like hours as you replayed all the letters, and the emotions you'd poured into them.

Chan's silence stretched, and the tension in the room became palpable. Your heart raced, and you feared the worst — rejection, awkwardness, or even laughter.

Then, he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. The warmth and kindness in his gaze melted away your fears.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "I've cherished every single one."

As tears welled up in your eyes, Chan reached out to gently wipe them away with his thumb. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, holding you close as your emotions overwhelmed you. You couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely as you nestled into his embrace. He whispered soothing words, his voice a balm to your soul, reassuring you that everything would be okay.

After a moment of shared comfort, you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. "But how did you know it was me?" you finally asked, your voice still trembling.

Chan smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, a knowing twinkle in his eye, and replied, "I had my suspicions, especially after some of the things you wrote. But what really gave it away was your handwriting."

You blinked in surprise.

Handwriting? You hadn't considered that, no, haven't even thought about it when you started this a year ago, and to be honest you felt a little dumb.

Chan continued, "I recognized your handwriting from a birthday card you gave me a while back. It was similar to the writing in the letters. And then, well, I saw you looking at me during our hangouts, and it all just started to make sense."

You blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. It seemed like you'd left more clues than you thought. But instead of feeling exposed, you felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that he'd noticed your feelings all along.

With a shy smile, you said, "I guess I'm not very good at hiding my feelings, am I?"

Chan chuckled softly. "No, but that's okay. I'm glad you told me."

As you gazed into Chan's eyes, you noticed something change in his expression. The initial surprise and curiosity gave way to a more tender, understanding look. He cupped your face gently, his touch warm and reassuring.

"You know," he began softly, "I've always appreciated those letters. They made me feel special, like someone out there truly understood me. And I never wanted to pressure you into revealing yourself," Chan continued. "I wanted you to do it when you were ready."

"I was just afraid," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of what you might think, of how it might change things between us."

Chan's thumb traced small circles on your cheek as he reassured you, "Don't be. This doesn't change how I feel about what we have. If anything, it makes it even more special."

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but this time, it wasn't a tear of anxiety or fear. It was a tear of relief, of happiness. You leaned into Chan's touch, and he leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours, and before you knew it, his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seemed to melt away as your lips met his, you felt the warmth of his body against yours, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. His hands cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

The taste of his lips was sweet and comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold winter's day, you could feel the steady beat of Chan's heart, matching the rhythm of your own. The world around you disappeared, and there was only the two of you.

And just as you were lost in that sweet moment, the kitchen door burst open, and in walked your friends, their playful banter filling the room while wearing grins so wide they threatened to split their faces. Jeongin couldn't help but tease you, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "Well, well, looks like someone finally got the courage to make a move!"

Hyunjin joined in with a mock-sympathetic tone. "And here we thought we'd have to wait another century for this to happen!"

You blushed furiously, pulling away from Chan who chuckled in amusement, still holding you close. "You guys have impeccable timing," he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Jeongin winked at you, "Hey! We're just glad we won't have to hear you two mooning over each other anymore."

[princesssmars]

practical magick

a stiles stilinski x witch!reader

plot : just when stiles thought he had gotten used to the dramatics of the supernatual, he happens across you performing magic in the forest. when you fail to wipe his memory, his thursday afternoon gets a whole lot weirder.

wc : 4.678

contains : sfw. kissing at the end. the picture for look inspo is fair-skinned but the reader's skin color is not described! reader has hair! google translated latin sorry 😞i like my men loserish and obsessed sorry.

a/n : yasss a little halloween special. rewatching teen wolf for the third time bc idfk. is it obvious i love witch!reader's yet.

for the first time in over a decade, stiles stilinksi was bored out of his mind.

he had previously thought that given his adhd gave him a deep desire to be doing literally anything all the time that the word bored wouldn't enter his daily vocabulary until he died.

yet here he is, kicking his feet at the dead leaves on the ground as he searched for any hidden traces of wolfsbane. the only reasons this had even happened was because he had opened his big mouth too many times and was sent on a busy quest by deaton, to "make sure the surrounding areas were safe for werewolves."

just reminding himself of what led him here was enough to tick him off again. it wasn't like the past two years have been easy, being under the constant threat of werewolves, werewolf hunters, kanimas, etcetera etcetera. it was enough to stress out the most stable of adults, and stiles was the direct opposite of that, so of course he got nervous and started talking over people and pissing them off.

"stupid wolfsbane, stupid werewolves," he mumbles, kicking at more of the dead brown leaves on the forest floor, tearing a line of the familiar purple plant up from the ground and stuffing it into the brown sack in his other hand. once he was done it was likely it would either be tucked in jars in deaton's stash or burned. he wouldn't mind seeing the latter.

its another twenty moments of grumbling and scavenging before a sound in the distance stops him in his tracks. he stands still, making sure that he barely breathes before he relaxes, figuring his anger and memories are making him paranoid of the woods.

a minute later he wishes his mind was playing tricks on him, because he nears the noise again, but this this its louder.

"its closer," he thinks.

he barely even registers when his legs start running. he may have a bag full of wolfsbane, but there was no guarantee the threat was something the plant could harm. and he didn't feel like tempting fate today.

at this point he's slightly lost his direction, but when he passes the stunted redwood stump he and scott carved their names into during the fifth grade he starts to understand where he is, and as his heart beats in his hears he knows if he turns right here he'll come up onto the old willow tree-

in the span of ten seconds he smacks head on into a hard object, falling on his ass and gasping as the air is knocked from his lungs. he blinks quickly to try to rid of the black spots in his vision, and before he can comprehend it he's making eye contact with you.

he's slightly embarrassed that the first thought that races across his mind is how pretty you are. he knows he should be wary of you, but he can't help it. your hair is a rich (h/c), seeming to almost shine despite the sun being blocked by clouds. your skin is smooth and your eyes are gorgeous and big and still staring straight at him.

you both rush to stand up. he holds his hands out in a way that you would calm a wild animal, hoping it doesn't piss you off.

you continue to stare at him. which isn't helping calm down his racing pulse.

"uh, alright. look, i'm not gonna hurt you, alright? i'm just...looking for something..."

before he can finish his sentence, you raise your hands to cup the sides of his face. his words die in his mouth and he feels his cheeks warm up to the point he's surprised they haven't burned your palms. you look determined, and for a second he feels like he's gone to heaven

"convertere et perge quid agas. oblivisceris quid hic vidisti."

turn around and continue what you're doing. you will forget what you saw here.

his mouth opens and his brows scrunch in shock. he never thought those latin lessons he took online and with lydia would pay off, but he's really glad he did them now.

he considers doing what you said, just turning around and forgetting all about this encounter. but unfortunately his curiosity is getting the better of him, and if his suspicions are correct he needs to know more about you.

"i'm gonna guess you just tried to put a spell on me, right?"

your eyes widen so largely he's afraid they're going to pop out of your skull.

"i..i don't understand, that should have worked. are you a warlock? druid?"

"no, no. i'm just stiles." he tells. his guess that you were something supernatural is partially confirmed, since you know about druids and the whole tried to put a spell on him thing.

"well, stiles, unless you tell me why my spell didn't work on you i'm most likely going to have to kill you." you deadpan.

he thinks you're kidding so he eta out a strained laugh. you don't even twitch.

he wracks his brain for a good enough excuse that will save his life before his arm moves without command and thrusts the bag in your direction.

"well, i have a uh, a bag full of wolfsbane, if that matters at all. pretty sure it does since…yeah…wolfsbane”

yours eyes dart from him to the bag, most likely not trusting that their isn’t some insta-death powder that will pop out as soon as you open it, so he looses his thumbs grip and steps closer so you can see the purple herbs inside.

“hate to admit it but you’re right,” you sigh, pushing back some hair from your face. his eyes follow the movement before darting back to yours.“ that much wolfsbane would make most supernatural or magical doings wonky.”

"yes, yes! exactly. that makes sense. im sorry about that-"

"why would you even have that much wolfsbane anyway? are you a hunter?"

"what? no, no! im not, i swear to you im not a hunter. i can explain this, really i can." he nearly chokes on his words at the speed he speaks.

you stare at him for a few seconds more before crossing your arms over your chest, hopefully about to let him explain why he has a bag filled to the brim with a dangerous plant on a random afternoon.

when you start to walk directly past him into the forest he doesn’t think he’s ever been more confused.

"fine. you can explain it on the way back.”

he’s as still as a statue as he process your words. you just accused him of being a hunter and now you want him to follow you to whatever mysterious place your going? even for him this is weird, and he’s ten seconds from refusing-

“hurry up.”

he rushes to catch up behind you.

after around twenty minutes of stiles repeatedly asking where you were going followed by silence on your end, you finally reach a clearing in the woods filled by a large victorian-era house, fully black with large looming windows lit up by warm golden lighting coming from inside. there's a nearly fully glass sunroom/greenhouse on the right side, and he can see from here the varying flowers and plants that fill the room. he wants to ask how a house like this could be kept under wraps from the rest of the town, but then he remembers.

magic, duh.

you lead him through the threshold of the home and down a hallway until you arrive in what must be your living room, not giving him a chance to admire the room before you're pushing on his shoulders so he sits in a loveseat, taking your own seat across from him. your legs spread and you rest your elbows on your knees as you glare at him, causing him to shift in his seat.

"why are you carrying a bag full of wolfsbane?"

"my friend's boss, deaton. he asked me to pick up any wolfsbane in the woods to make it safer for them when they do the whole wolfing out thing."

"deaton's working with werewolves again? does he have a death wish?" your brow raises in confusion, he notes how the fingers on your right-hand scratch at the skin on your right.

"i'll be honest, you're kind of creeping me out."

"thank you. why is he doing it?"

"my friend, scott. he's a werewolf. and so are our friends erica and boyd. and derek and his weird uncle peter-"

"the fucking hale's are back? are you kidding?" a scoff leaves you and you get up out of your chair, starting to pace back and forth in front of his chair.

"yeah, it was this whole thing with peter being evil and killing his niece, and he turned scott but scott thought it was derek who turned him. it was a whole thing. not to mention how peter came back from the dead-"

you continue to walk around the room while occasionally pausing to pay attention as the boy details the events that have happened in the past year. despite you being a stranger it felt oddly cathartic to vent about everything that had happened to him. admitting to the countless times he felt scared out of his mind but had to stay strong lest his enemies take advantage of it.

"that's a lot for a normal human to go through in just a year with no prior knowledge of the supernatural. i'm surprised your brain didn't implode from the stress."

he blinks. "thanks. i guess."

"you're welcome. i'm going to make some tea. stay here," you say, moving from standing across from him to heading to a room near the side of the room, able to faintly see some dark counters and pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling, "not like you'd be able to leave anyway."

that's reassuring, stiles thinks to himself, bouncing his leg up and down where he sits. after a minute he figures you won’t kill him horrendously if hes looks around a bit, so he gets up and starts observing the countless pictures on the walls. some are old, like the people in them are wearing outfits from a few hundred years ago, while some are colored and recent. in most of the recent ones, you’re with three older women who look just as dark but ethereal as you do.

he continues looking at some pictures and hung-up trinkets when you come back into the room with two cups of tea, handing one with a smile to the wary boy with a halfhearted promise that it’s “totally not poisoned.”

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, sipping at his tea after he discovers it’s not poisoned and actually really good. he was never really fond of tea, always preferring coffee or energy drinks when he was in a low-energy period. he remembers his mom liked chamomile tea.

“you just did. but go ahead.”

“why would you let me in here? you could have just questioned me at the willow tree, you didn’t have to let me into your house. not that i don’t like your house. i like the whole victorian gothic vibe.”

you don’t answer for a solid minute, slowly drinking from your cup as you stare into the lite fireplace.

“witches pride ourselves on our knowledge. to be aware of our abilities and surroundings at all times to best stimulate our growth. and as much as i’d like to be this powerhouse who could take down any threat, i know i’m not. if you actually were powerful and i tried to take you on myself? who knows what would happen.”

“and i’m guessing that magical barrier around the house would protect you in case i really did try anything?” he gently asks, not wanting to talk too loudly to distract you from opening up to him.

“exactly. plus if you tried anything my aunts probably would have put a curse on you and your loved ones. something not too flashy to attract attention, but enough to cause great suffering.” he notices your soft sigh when you stop talking, almost like you’re disappointed you won’t get to see this suffering play out.

“plus it’s better to know where your talents excel,” you continue, setting your cup down on a skull patterned coaster on the coffee table in front of you. “i’ve always been better at using my magic to investigate my surroundings. helps to find materials or signs of psychos roaming around.”

something you two have in common. it makes his mouth quirk up.

“so, the werewolves and all the other things being back in town, that’s a problem for you and your aunts, right?”

“yup. if it was just werewolves it’d be normal for beacon hills, but kanimas and a whole pack of alphas? who knows how much that can disrupt the natural balance and what more they’ll bring.”

he thinks over his next words carefully. scott would likely be upset at first at him for trusting you, but he was also the nicest person stiles had ever met. if you could help them then it was worth the risk.

“then how about a trade. you help us with this alpha problem, and you get the experience you need to become a great and all powerful witch. pretty soon you'll be riding your broom to your heart's content."

you can’t help but scoff a laugh as you think it over. he starts to think you’re about to reject the offer as you stare him down before you get up and offer him a hand.

“you’ve got a deal.”

after shaking on it, you send the boy back with his bag of wolfsbane and a few more helpful weeds from your greenhouse, giving him a note to give to deaton so he won’t ask too many questions.

when he returns to the vets office he dumps the materials on the operating table, ignoring isaacs joke about how if he took any longer they’d all be alpha chow by now. he can tell deaton is concerned about where he got the vials of strange red and yellow herbs, but when he reads the note his eyes widen and he lets out a mix between a laugh and a sigh. scott asked insistently what was on the note but his boss refused to tell him what it said.

before he left to drive home, deaton pulled stiles to a corner and told him that he had been in close contact with one of your aunts before something happened a few years after the hale fire that caused them to go into hiding and cut contact with all supernaturals they had previously been helping, including him as the emissary of the hale family.

as he lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling, all he could think about was you. you were a welcome distraction from the chaos of his current life, a pretty distraction at that. if not a bit scary. which he didn't mind all that much.

the both of you spent more time together in the following weeks. at first, it was just simple conversations by the willow tree talking about the werewolf situations and checking what materials deaton needed from your family. as time went on his curiosity got the best of him and he started to ask you more questions about your life.

"so hit me if this is stupid but did you have any family in salem? or can you like make a potion ina cauldron to see if I did because I could use that as massive bargaining power in fights with issac-ow! why'd you hit me?"

"you said i could."

"yeah but not so hard. jeez, ever thought of quitting this witch thing and trying boxing."

"never thought of it. maybe i should start now. with your face."

"really funny."

(your threats kind of reminded him of derek, but had less of an 'i'm about to rip your throat out and eat your esophagus vibe.' slightly.)

but as time went on it got deeper. as he told him more about himself you started to do the same, once even apologizing for "giving off psycho killer bitch vibes" and chalking it up to being so isolated from people for most of your life. he told you he didn't mind the vibes, assuring you he liked it maybe a little too excitedly.

he could really feel the shift when one day he came up to the willow tree and he saw you, standing with a frame photo in your hands and nearly on the brink of tears. he was so shocked at seeing you show such intense emotion he wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on a branch, alarming you as your head whipped to him like a deer in headlights.

"i...im sorry. i can leave if you want."

"no no, it's," you shook your head, looking down at the photo once again. "it's fine. it doesn't matter."

"well if it's enough to make you cry id say its world ending-"

"could you just shut up? for once in your life?"

it's quiet for a minute, the only sound in the air being the gentle breeze. even thought the comment stings stiles knows all too well you're just lashing out in anger and hurt.

"im sorry."

"don't apologize. i get it, i do." he moves closer until he's standing beside you, walking slowly so he doesn't make you lash out again.

he looks down at the photo and he gets it. its you, about six or seven with a bright smile on your face and standing with two people he can tell are your parents. he can see the resemblance. you have one of their smiles and hair color, the other's nose, and by their clothes, the same dark style.

"its been over ten years. since i lost them," you whisper, your voice sounding more weak than he's ever heard it. "itd be nice if I was staying with my aunts for some sabrina the teenage witch reason but no. i don't have a choice."

he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "i get it, i do. i lost my mom. every day i remember things about her in things i do. it hurts but its better than forgetting."

you sniff and hes about to back up when you put your hand over his on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. it hurts a bit. he doesn't really care.

"its not fair."

"its not."

"...thank you."

"don't mention it."

you give him with the materials and he's about to leave when you stop him, your hand grasping his wrist. he wants to ask whats wrong but he stops. you're staring right at him, into his soul he thinks, and all he wants is to hold you and tell you any pain he's suffered the past few years is worth it because it led him to you, that even if you asked him to sacrifice himself on an alter for a spell that would make you happy for a minute he would do it-

"this bracelet. i want you to wear it and don't take it off no matter what, all right?"

hey, that works for him.

as soon as the bracelet was clasped around his wrist he felt different. like his nerves were tingling and his brain was warm. he felt like he was going to get the most powerful migraine in existence and reached to take it off when you took his hand again.

"please. just give it a minute."

and so he did.

only thirty seconds of dull pain later and he felt normal, if not better. like when you're a kid and have the best day of your life and return home to a good meal. a nice bath, and a great night's rest. he feels almost powerful.

"hey what is this thing? did you just give me powers? is this gonna make me your servant or something?"

"bye stiles."

he gives deaton the materials after telling scott where he was ignoring the weird look on his face before the boy goes back to examining an adorable beagle on the operating table.

deaton takes the bag and bottles with an appreciative smile, his eyebrows scrunching up when he notices the jewelry on stiles wrist.

"where'd you get that bracelet?"

"uhh, i found it. at a thrift shop. thought it looked cool. why?"

deaton clearly doesn't believe him but decides to entertain stiles anyway. "the band is a normal bracelet but the charms are what makes it special. they're pagan."

"could you explain them to me? just because you know."

the vet just shakes his head and laughs before pointing to each one.

"this one, the witchs knot. standard symbol for warding off evil. its mostly used as a protection charm."

stiles admires the charm, the metal silver with the symbol burned into it. it looks like a circle with a line roped in and out of four points of it.

"this, hecates wheel. a goddess of magic, as you probably already know. symbolizes the power of knowledge and life."

this charm is a bit heavier, the stone looking weathered with a scratched labyrinth engraved on it, a distinct 'x' in the middle of it.

"and this one is..." deaton starts before his words trail off. stiles looks at it. it looks like four combined circles, each with symbols inside them. the two across from each other on the side looking like two crescent moons, the one on the top holding a basic pentagram. but he doesn't recognize the one on the bottom-two perpendicular lines forming an 'x' with little swirly lines coming from the middle on the top and bottom.

"what? what does it mean? is it bad?"

"no, it's not bad at all, stiles. the crescents and pentagram are used in another basic protection spell. more protection for the user."

"and the one on the bottom?"

"well, i don't honestly know what it is. its most likely a personal sigil made by the person who made it. but by my guess, based on others I've seen before, it might mean whoever made it has a deep love and affection for whoever they gifted the bracelet to."

stiles thought he was keeping his cool, but scott made extra sure to remind him the following days and the dumbass look on his face when deaton explained the symbol to him.

he didnt know what to do. this had to mean you felt the same way he did about you, right? why else would you gift him a love sigil on a bracelet you insisted he wear? for a second he considered it was a love spell you tried to put on him, but he was feeling iffy about that. mostly about how he wouldn't care that much.

(he apparently admitted that in a sleepy haze when he was sleeping over at scotts, and he's never wanted to die more than when he woke up and realized issac of all people heard him.)

the next time he saw you he tried as hard as he could to act casual. you asked him about ten times if he was okay, and he eventually came up with a good enough 'just a slight stomach bug' lie and regretted it immensely when you invited him back to your house, telling him you'd been practicing making simple health remedies and you had the perfect thing to fix him.

the whole walk to your house he was on edge, his palms feeling sweaty for the first time in his life as he repeatedly wiped them off on his pants. just like the first meeting, you tell him to wait on the couch and he lets out a shaky breath when you leave into the kitchen.

what does he do? does he confess? does he need to? he was so scared that he was being too obvious and maybe that's why you put the sigil on the bracelet, to let him know you returned his affections. but what is he wasn't obvious? and he was basically telling you he only liked you because you liked him? what if-

"stop staring into space and drink this tea, dummy."

he laughs awkwardly and takes the ornate cup from your hand, sniffing the tea before he drinks it. it's sweet but savory, smelling like nutmeg and milk. he can see little flakes and leaves floating on the top. he takes a sip and hums at the taste.

"screw boxing, you should be a professional chef. i'm gonna need you to give me this recipe."

"yeah right. a witch never reveals her secrets." you scoff before sitting down next to him on the couch. you put your arm up on the back and rest your head on your wrist as you cross your legs, your foot brushing against his leg. he nearly spills the tea over his lap.

he can't help but admire you. he had given you a few magazines he'd gotten from stores and stuff to better show you how people were dressing these days, and while you'd hated most of it you took to some trends, wearing a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a pair of combat boots. he tried to focus on the rips in your jeans as to not let his eyes wander up, where you were wearing a leather halter camisole with nothing underneath. he can't help but laugh in his head when he thinks of the word camisole. maybe he was spending too much time around lydia.

"stiles? seriously are you possessed or something? normally you'd be talking my ear off trying to guess exactly what ingredients i used for the tea."

he sets the cup down after taking another long sip and turns his body to you, your eyebrows raising in what he can tell is amusement. most people could easily get annoyed by his theatrics, but after your near trauma bonding at the willow tree, you had always made sure to welcome them with a smile.

"look, i have something to say. which you probably already know, but i need to say it to you anyway to make sure you really know, y'know?"

you blink. "go ahead."

he breathes in and out a few times, his previous confidence suddenly disappearing.

"let me guess, you saw the sigil and now you're going to confess your love to me?"

he goes into a near coughing fit.

"how, well thanks because now i dont have to actually say it, but if you had given me a minute-"

before he knows it you're scooting closer, your faces just a few inches apart. you're staring at him with that same look you had when you gave him the bracelet. his breath is picking up and he bites his bottom lip, your eyes darting to the motion.

"can i kiss you?"

"yes, god yes-"

your hand grips his chin and brings his lips to yours, the intensity and plushness of it nearly driving him insane. he doesn't really know what to do with his hands, settling to just keep them on his lap before your other hand brings them to your waist and squeezes them in place. at this point you're nearly on his lap and that combined with the kiss and the fact he swears he just felt your tongue poke his lip is going to be the death of him.

he pulls away from the kiss and kneads his hands on your hips, able to feel the softness of your skin on the places where the camisole lifts up.

"wow. i mean just...arent you a recluse? where'd you learn to kiss like that? have you like, conjured up clones to practice with or something."

"stiles?"

"yeah?"

"shut up and kiss me again."

"whatever you say, babe."

for the first time in his life, stiles stilinksi thinks everything is gonna work out.

ty for reading! had to tell myself to get up off my ass and write at 3am and wrote about half of this so sorry for any dialogue inconsistencies. love you bye bye.

[mykneeshurt]

Wrath

Title picture by @loneghostwolf

Soap x AFAB!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, p in v, m oral receiving, f oral receiving, unprotected sex, rough sex, breath play, praise kink, spit kink, hate sex, allusions to cock warming

I apologise for cheesey lines in this lmfao again not proofread because I’m so tired

John McTavish.

Johnny.

Fucking Soap.

An absolute thorn in your side since your first day with 141. Fast forward 8 months and the team had grown tired of your constant bickering and arguing. Every little situation, every single thing you did he had to make a comment. The bickering normally ended with you shouting ‘suck my dick Soap!’

Then came the constant comments. The constant jokes, it wore you down so fast. There were times when you did actually get on but they were few and far between. Gaz and Ghost often joked you needed to fuck to release the tension. They were met with middle fingers from each of you, both telling them to ‘fuck off’ in unison. Which naturally spurred them on further. They compared you to an old married couple.

It came to a head after a sparring session one day, you’d been paired with Soap to your utter dismay. ‘Knew you didn’t have it in you to hit me princess’ he chided, a stupid fucking smirk on his face. ‘Don’t call me princess’ you spat, eyes glaring straight through him. ‘Why? You fuckin act like one.’

‘I’m fuckin warning you John.’ He put his hands up in a fake surrender ‘oooh, usin my full name are we hen? Must be in trouble.’

You saw red.

Leaping across the mats your shoulder connected with his chest in an almighty thud. It knocked him to the floor, winding him. You scrambled to your feet and managed to get a lucky kick into his abdomen. He swiped at your legs and sent you flying backwards, you landed straight in your arse letting out a yelp as you landed.

That’s when Price and Ghost intervened. ‘I’ve had a fuckin tit full of you two’ Ghost shouted, he gripped Soap by the scruff of his collar as he pulled him up. Price was more gentle with you but still pissed. ‘In the meeting room. Now.’ Price ordered as he matched you both out of the gym.

They shoved you into the room and Price stared you both down. ‘Now. I don’t care how you resolve this, but fuckin sort it out! You’re both doin my Swede in and I’ve had a fuck full. I don’t wanna see you again till it’s done. Am I understood?’ His face was stern and unforgiving. He meant business.

You both looked at him, feeling like children who’d been scolded by their father. ‘Yes sir’ you replied together, egos bruised, frustrations near boiling point. ‘Good’ he replied simply before shutting the door.

You sat on one of the tables, eyes fixed on the floor refusing to look at him. He stood opposite, leant against the wall, arms crossed, brow furrowed as he glared at you. ‘What’s your fuckin problem?’ He scowled. You shot your head up to look at him ‘my problem?! My fucking problem?! All you do is wind me up and take the piss out of me. How do you think I’m gonna react? By kissing your boots and thanking you? Fuck off.’ Your face was tight, pure unfiltered rage seeping from your skin.

‘Just banter hen’ he shrugged. Dismissive prick. ‘Don’t piss on me and tell me it’s raining John. You’re a dick.’

‘I’m a dick? Talkin some right ol shit there lass. We’re only in here cause o’you!’

‘Because you wouldn’t stop calling me princess, you know I hate it!’

He walked over to you, his feeble attempt to intimidate you. He stood in front of you, arms still crossed, biceps bulging as he lingered there. You glared up at him, mouth pressed into a firm line. ‘Your intimidation tactics don’t work here John. Grow up. You’re nothing but a jumped up nobody from the fuckin slums who got lucky.’ You voice was full of venom, poison seeped from every word.

Gripping your shirt he slammed you backwards onto the desk, panting beneath him you smiled up at him. ‘What’s the matter John? Hit a nerve have I? You know I’m right. You play the jester well, but we all know you’re a pathetic excuse of a man.’ You gripped his hand that was wound within your shirt, you knew you’d gone too far. You knew damn well he was a good solider and one who always had your back on the field. But you were so done with his shit you wanted to hurt him.

He lowered his face to within an inch of yours, his blue eyes a deep void of rage and contempt. His breath fanned over your lips as he desperately tried to regain all control. You offered up a smug grin, chest still heaving, waiting for him to make the next move. He was stood over you, his free hand in a tight fist as he chewed his jaw. Your thighs clenched together ever so gently.

‘What’s the matter Johnny? You look like you wanna hit me or fuck me. Which is it?’

You knew what you wanted.

‘You’re such a fuckin bitch.’

With that his lips came crashing to yours as you flung your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper. You nails raked the surface of his scalp as he groaned into your mouth. It was a frenzy of lips, tongue and teeth as you both battled for dominance. Finally letting go of your shirt he cupped your jaw, his calloused thumb pulled at your lips. Wrapping your legs around his waist you could feel his hard cock press against your cunt.

Adrenaline surged through you as your heart collided with your ribs. He dropped a hand and pawed at your breast through your shirt. His rough grip pulled a moan from deep within your chest, causing you to dig you nails into the sensitive part of his neck. He hissed slightly as he moved away from your mouth and nipped your ear, ‘knew you wanted t’fuck me’ he smirked as he bit into your neck.

You jolted your hips up at the sudden pain that radiated along your neck, as you bit your lip. He kissed along your collar bone digging his finger tips into your flesh. He’d wanted this for a long time but was too stubborn to admit it. You pissed him off to no end, your perfect voice and body, your natural intelligence, your beauty riled him up something rotten. But my god now he had you, he was going to make you feel just how much he fucking hated you.

You were going to feel his wrath.

‘Off’ he ordered pulling at your top, sitting up you pulled it over your head causing your breasts to bounce. He watched in awe as your body was revealed to him. You soft supple skin, plump breasts, you were positively glowing. ‘So bossy’ you muttered under your breath. Hoping he hadn’t heard. But he did.

He gripped your waist band and pulled you full force to your knees, you let out a hiss of pain as he freed his cock from his shorts. Your breath hitched in your throat as you finally saw what he was hiding in there. It was slightly bigger than average, a thick vein wrapped its self around the thick shaft. The tip already painfully swollen, pre-cum glistening in the dull light of the room.

Without any warning he forced his cock to the back of your throat, you gripped his thighs trying desperately to breathe through your nose. He placed a hand just underneath your jaw as he fucked your throat, ‘knew I’d find a way to shut you up’ he smirked. Eyes screwed shut as he whimpered against the texture of your mouth. Warm and inviting. You looked up at him from your knees, tears threatening to fall as your throat constricted around him.

Salvia gathered around your lips as you let him brutally bury his cock within you. Slight gagging noises bubbled from within you as you reached up and slid your nails down his abdomen. Leaving pretty pink claw marks against his skin. He finally pulled out allowed you to take in a huge inhale, saliva clung to your chin, warm and thick, mixed with his arousal. You swiped it onto your thumb before licking it back into your mouth. He watched open mouthed and panting.

And just like that? You spat it back onto his cock, working his shaft with your hand. Twisting his hand into your hair he pulled you back to your feet ‘too good sweetheart, haven’t finished with you yet.’ Smirking you pulled him back into a wet kiss, he guided you back to the table as he pulled your shorts down. A rough finger swiped along your clothed slit, your panties saturated with your juices. ‘This wet already? Didn’t know you were such a dirty little bitch.’

Pushing him backwards you slid your own fingers into your pants, the sound of your arousal was music to his ears. ‘You gonna talk all day? Or you gonna eat my pussy Johnny?’ You cocked an eyebrow as you bit your lower lip. Within seconds his face was buried in your cunt, his piercing blue eyes strained as he worked his tongue along your clit. Muffled moans of pleasure vibrated against you as he tried to taste every part of you. Rolling your hips against his face only made him hungrier.

He pushed two fingers into you, stretching your hole as he payed extra attention to your clit. Nibbling, sucking, nipping at the bundle of nerves. Sweet sweet moans filled his ears as you desperately tried to cum, the burn from the stretch adding another layer pure pleasure. He felt you start to clench against his fingers, your moans became more breathless and frequent. Not one to cut this time short he pulled out, eliciting a groan of annoyance from you.

‘Not till I say so’ he chided as he pushed his fingers into your mouth. You hummed as you tasted yourself, ‘I fucking hate you’ you hissed as he removed them. He lined himself up and pushed himself all the way in as he lowered his face to yours. ‘If hatin’ me feels this good then I’m your fucking villain.’

You would have rolled your eyes, but his cock felt so good as the tip dragged along your walls. He gripped your jaw forcing it open as he spat a perfect ball of saliva into your mouth.

You swallowed it eagerly dragging your nails along his back, digging them in, desperate to draw blood. His pace was brutal, there was no regard in his movements. He drove his cock as deep as he could into you, wanting to force every single ounce of pleasure from you. Your back arched off the table as he sucked your neck, desperate to mark you. To claim you. There was only one person who could fuck you like this, and that was him.

‘Fuck, Johnny, don’t stop, please’ you begged. He grunted into the crux of your neck, his breath burning into your skin. Your moans had been replaced by desperate gasps for air. Your bodies rubbed together, slick with sweat, pure unfiltered hate and desire.

With that he pulled out and forcefully slammed you face down onto the table, kicking your legs apart. He pushed back into your cunt, the stretch again taking your by surprise. A wide hand made contact with your ass, a satisfying smack rung out in the meeting room. This time he clawed at your back, you gasped as the sudden pain radiated along your spine. Pushing your hips back into him he let out a low chuckle, ‘woulda fucked you months ago if it knew you were this desperate for it.’

‘Fuck, Johnny’ you moaned as he let a ribbon of spit fall onto your tight hole. He watched as your cunt eagerly took his cock before he pushed his thumb into your ass. The extra hole being filled made you feel deliciously full, reaching between your legs your ran your fingers in small circles. He grunted and sighed behind you, his voice gravelly and low as he chased his orgasm. Peering over your shoulder you flashed him a grin that would make the devil blush.

Snaking his free hand around your neck he pulled you back into him, your head arched onto his broad shoulder. He watched you intently, mouth open, eyes fluttering as you tried your hardest to maintain eye contact. His firm hand wrapped easily around your delicate neck, pressing firmly on your pressure points heightening the already dizzying pleasure. His thrusts became slower, more methodical as he neared his climax.

‘You gonna cum for me?’ He whispered above your lips, grip tightening on your throat. ‘Yesyesyesyesyes’ you said, voice quiet and strained. ‘Atta girl … cum on this cock.’ Your pussy clenched around his cock as you came, a powerful wave of pleasure punched you in the stomach. Your moans muffled. Caught against the pressure in your throat. He placed a strangely tender kiss on your lips as you panted into his mouth.

It was then his face twisted, brows furrowed together as a slight whimper burst from his chest. You felt his cock paint your pussy with his cum, pulsating within you. You stood there for a minute, both too euphoric to come down. You smiled against his lips as he dropped his hand to your waist, pulling you in tighter. ‘Mmm could keep my cock in there all day’ he sighed. Nipping his bottom lip ‘we’ll keep makin me hate you and I might just let you.’

———-

Taglist - @griffmors @luminousbeings-crudematter

My little soap gremlins - @brewed-pangolin @deadbranch @dustlandfairytail

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hii! so i read ur dating tom k hcs and i loved them, could i pls request dating bill hcs as well? hope u have a good day/night <3

(hello! Thank you for requesting and sorry if this is a bit messy but enjoy! Thank you for loving my Tom headcannons, and have a good night/day!)

Dating Bill Headcannons

He is probably the best choice to even be with

He's so amazing man

I feel like he would rather have a private and intimate relationship

He wouldn't want paparazzi and fans all in your guys' business

But paparazzi has gotten a couple pictures of you guys

And Lord

He looks so in love, when he looks at you it looks like he's full on smitten

When he is in a relationship, he will do his best to make it last and be happy

He doesn't want to lose any chance he has to be with you for as long as he can

When people flirt with you, either in front of him or just in general

He feels a little bad

Just a bit

There is a lot of bickering in the relationship

Playful banter

You guys play wrestle a lot probably just because to piss the other off

There are mistakes on both sides of the relationship as it probably is his and your first one

So get over those hurdles and it's all good

Switches from German to English on you a lor

So if you know German, amazing!

If you dont, pray someone can translate

Would love if you learned German for him if you didn't know before

Because since he is pretty popular he is busy, and he feels bad because he doesn't have much extra time even if he does he spends it with you

After people flirt with you he'll try his best to spend as much time as possible with you

Is the embodiment of the kid who you're parents dream about you bringing home only for him to turn around and be the complete opposite

He's Bill, he can be flirty, shy and anything at any given time

He's not all that blatant about affection in public

Mostly hand holding and small kisses or kisses on the cheek or holding your waist

But in private is a whole other story

Mans is not letting go

It feels like he is glued to you

He loves doing your makeup to match his

Just you like straddling his lap as you just let him do your makeup

It's perfect

You guys are a pretty popular couple

Lots of rumors about you guys but you both ignore them

He gets asked about you a lot interviews

He is happy to answer and and all given questions as long as they don't cross a line

He is proud to say out loud he is dating you

He is down bad man

Matching outfits all the way

You guys probably have whole fan pages about you guys

You inspire some songs, some are just for you two and one or two he has released to the public

"Yeah, that one is about (Name)."

He says it with the biggest smile on his face

Tom teases his brother so much

Bill denies being totally smitten until you come into the room

He likes sitting next to you no matter where

Will have a hand on your thigh just because

His hands are sometimes cold so don't be alarmed when it's freezing

You guys go shopping and he's full on making outfits for you to show him

Full on show and spending hours in a shop

He does not care

You guys get lost a lot when you guys wander off

Gustav has found you both in multiple parks in the middle of the night

He will pull you up on stage when he wants

If your style is similar to his, he is full on in love

Even if it isn't, he likes how your style would contrast with his

He lets you do his makeup

Like Tom, is not threatened by his bandmates or brother if you get close to them

Would actually prefer if you were friends with them so you can come along and spend more time with him

If you're in the band, he is having the time of his life on stage

And if you're not, he's still gonna spot you out in the crowd

Always wants to make you proud of dating him when he is performing

He likes the fans, but would prefer just hugs and not kisses from them since he is dating you

If you're okay with it, he's fine with it, but if you're not he would ask them to please not kiss him

He doesn't want to risk your relationship

He is an asshole a lot of times

Idk if it's on purpose or he's joking around

He can be an asshole

Of you play an instrument or sing, he thinks it is legit a match made in heaven

Likes laying in bed with his head on your chest instead of the other way around

He would be devastated if you guys ever broke up or went on a break

Is trying his hardest to make up with you even in arguments

He is not letting the relationship go easily

[gatorbites-imagines]

ghost x reader w/ knifeplay

Simon “Ghost” Riley x male reader

headcanons

Reader is based off an oc of mine and their callsign is Jolly. Reader is also around Ghosts height and build, cuz I like muscular men 🤤

Blood warning, cuz knife play lmao.

-          Ghost was the type of person to have developed an acquired taste during all his years in the military. The way his life has been consumed with pain, torture and the likes have mixed over into his other wants and needs.

-          This means he needs a little or a lot of pain with his pleasure to really get him going. Most partners couldn’t give him what he wanted, or Ghost never felt close enough to anyone to really express what he wanted.

-          Then you came along, Jolly, they called you. When Price introduced you to the team, they hadn’t truly understood the meaning of your callsign until they had spent some time with you.

-          You never stopped smiling and laughing, even the time you had been stabbed three times in the side you were still laughing and joking.

-          When you joined up Soap had joked about you being another Ghost as you wore a black full cover balaclava, only really revealing your eyes and eyebrows to the world. He couldn’t have been any more wrong, you were like Ghosts opposite.

 -          Ghost hated you in the beginning, you were too excited, too loud, too… smiley. He could tell from the curve of your eyes that there always was a smile on your lips, and it pissed him off.

-          Reading your files you had a similar background to Ghost, in the military at least, even all the way down to the capture and torture in hopes of controlling you. You had gotten out in the end, having to kill your own brainwashed allies before you were free.

-          Your backgrounds were too similar yet here you were, a stark reflection of Ghost, like some sick joke sent by the universe.

-          There was one thing that was in common between the two of you though. It was that neither of you ever removed your balaclavas and never changed around the rest of the team. Even if it meant walking around in your dirty sweaty clothes for days, neither ever got naked or even semi undressed around anyone.

-          Something that pissed Ghost off even more was how you seemed to just befriend everyone, even when you weren’t trying. You wormed your way into people’s good graces just by existing, by being a little bright light in the dark world that was the military.

-          Even Ghost was somewhat affected by your brightness, though he hated to admit it.

 -          You weren’t friends but the two of you had each other’s backs on the battlefield, and your ways of fighting seemed to go together like bread and butter, since Price kept putting the two of you on missions’ side by side.

-          It was during one of these missions Ghost learned a secret about dear ol Jolly. It was just the two of you, your job was clearing out a building and gathering information without being spotted, so it was a lot of sneaking and stabbing.

-          Ghost had just watched you sneak up behind the last living member of the enemy team, arm keeping his hands still as the other held a knife to his throat, the same knife you had used to kill multiple men throughout the mission.

-          You had held this man in your arms at knifepoint as Ghost did the information gathering, and when the man had served his purpose, you ended his life as you did the others.

-          As the two of you got ready to leave Ghost noticed how your stance was slightly off, and with a glance down it became obvious why from the tent in your pants. The sight did something to Simon, like flipping a switch.

-          Seeing you covered in blood and panting slightly to yourself, cleaning the bloody knife with your sleeve before tucking it away. It sent a line of heat down Simon’s spine, which he was quick to stomp out as you glanced his way.

 -          Things continued as usual for a while, though Ghost became a little more curt with you in passing. He couldn’t get the image out of his head from that night, the thought of him being the man in your arms with the knife to his throat causing Ghost to throb in the confines of his pants.

-          You couldn’t understand why Ghost was growing more distant as you were sure you had slowly been wriggling your way into his good graces. Asking around the other members of the team didn’t have an answer for you as to why the mask wearing man was acting this way.

-          It all came to a head one night when you both had seemed to have the same idea, walking into the base’s workout area. The place mainly used to practice hand on hand combat or knife combat. There were mats on the floor and some placed up against the walls for throws or if anyone was shoved just a little too hard.

-          You both were dressed down, in your own ways at least. The standard military outfit of boots, baggy pants, and a tight t-shirt, and of course your balaclavas.

-          You couldn’t keep your eyes from wandering along Ghosts tattooed arms, taking in the sight of the raised skin that meant scars or the ink that crawled across the muscle. When you didn’t notice was Simon taking in your appearance as well, heat bubbling under his skin at the thought of your muscular arms around his throat.

 -          It took some jabbing from you, but you finally convinced Ghost to spar with you, but he finally agreed. To Ghosts horror you went and grabbed onto one of the fake knives used for practicing fighting someone coming at you with a knife.

-          Before he could stop himself, Simon made a comment about how you could just grab the real thing, since Ghost knew what he was doing and had a lot of experience with knives.

-          He internally kicked himself as you grabbed onto a knife, the same knife from that night he noted, and wandered over.

-          And so began your sparring, you came at Ghost with all you had because you knew he could take it, and Ghost giving as good as he got. The brit tried his very best to ignore the growing heat in his abdomen or the way he could feel himself growing hard, praying the bagginess of his pants hid the bulge.

-          At some point you had gotten Ghost to the floor on his back, sat on his lower stomach as you held the knife above his face, the other mans hands wrapped around your wrists to stop you from reaching him with the sharp blade.

-          There was a shuffle as you kept trying to press the knife down, the muscles of your arms bulging as they worked against the other man’s impressive arms.

 -          During this you had slowly shuffled down Ghosts torso until you ended up sitting on his hips, freezing as you felt the hard length pressing against the length of your behind.

-          The two of you stopped struggling with the knife as you turned to stare down at Simon, whose eyes had widened and had quickly turned his head to the side.

-          Simon tried to throw himself over so he could flee, his face growing warm under his mask as he got onto his stomach and tried to crawl out from the space between your thighs.

-          That was until you grabbed onto him, pushing him down as you changed your position enough to press your hips against his ass, placing your hands on either side of him, still clutching the shiny knife in one.

-          Ghost couldn’t help the shaky breath that left him as he felt your own hardness drag against him, the want to run away immediately leaving him as he pressed back against you, his hands gripping onto the mats beneath you.

-          The two stayed like that for a while, your hips grinding together as you both panted and groaned, the temperature in the room growing even hotter than it had been during your sparring.

 -          At some point you both didn’t care about how you normally didn’t want anyone to see you without clothes on, and Ghost soon found himself on his back as you sat above him, ripping your shirt off and throwing it to the side.

-          You grabbed onto the bottom of Simons shirt, knife still held in your hand as you glanced up at him as if asking if you could take it off. The Brit rolled his eyes and growled at you to get too it, Jolly, or he would just leave.

-          Huffing out a breath you ripped off his shirt, nicking him with the knife in your haste to get it off. You hissed as you saw the line you had dragged up his torso, blood already pebbling across the thin scratch.

-          Panic flared in your chest as you tried to stutter out an apology, glancing up at Ghost to see if he was alright, only to see his blown pupils and his chest rising and falling as he panted.

-          You were speechless as heat flashed through you, hotter than before as you saw him reach up to thumb at the cut, pressing at the edges as it to press out more drops of blood and draw out the pain.

-          If you weren’t hard before you surely were now, to an almost painful degree. “Do that again Jolly, cut me” he growled, voice thick with lust as he looked up at you, his other hand reaching up to pinch and twist at his nipple.

 -          Starting out slowly, you pushed his thighs apart and slotted your crotches together, pressing the knife against the side of his pec, eyes locked with the other man to check if this was truly okay.

-          His breathing only seemed to hasten in excitement, Ghosts hips jolting up into your own as the sharp knife drew another line against his skin, just deep enough to call forth a drop of blood.

-          The drop of blood seemed to be your last straw as you roughly ground his hips down against his, your mutual hardness dragging against one another as you drew more bloody lines against his torso, blood pooling up and running down his sides and onto the mats underneath you.

-          At some point Simon reached up and grabbed your shoulders, pulling you down until your masked mouths were pressed against one another, the two of you panting into one another’s mouths through the fabric.

-          Your eyes almost rolled back into your head as you could feel and smell Simon’s blood smearing over your own naked torso, hips grinding rougher against the Brits as spit gathered in your mouth.

-          Reaching up Ghost shoved up his balaclava, shoving it just above his nose before reaching up to do it to your own. The two of you stayed close, panting into each other’s open mouth, until you pulled back just enough to give you space to work.

 -          Pressing the blood knife against the Brits lips, Ghost groaned, his jaw dropping open as he stuck his tongue out, running it over the sharp metal. He moaned at the taste of his own blood, mouthing at the blade when he pulled his tongue back into his mouth.

-          Twisting the blade just slightly, it caught onto his lip and cut it, a noise leaving the both of you as blood ran down the side of Ghosts mouth. It finally become too much and you chucked the knife off to the side, shoving your lips against Simons and forcing your tongue into his mouth.

-          The grind of your hips grew almost painful with how hard the two of you were humping each other. Simons arms were thrown over your neck, his hand grabbing onto the back of your balaclava as you grabbed onto his face.

-          Your hips grew less even as you both grew closer, the noises you both let out getting louder and filthier as the heat grew.

-          As you came you bit down into Simons cut lip, groaning loudly as you spilled in your boxers. You kept on moving your hips, until Ghosts jaw dropped open and he cried out loudly, his hips twitching as he came.

 -          You both laid there for a while, mouths pressed together and trying to catch your breaths as your hips moved slowly, almost lazily, against one another.

-          Finally pulling back, you pushed yourself up so you could look down at the man underneath you, groaning softly at the bloody sight of his torso and the mat under him.

-          Grinning brightly down at Ghost you made some comment about how you’d need a good cleaner to get the bloodstains out, to which Simon just rolled his eyes.

-          Before you could begin on another joke or jolly comment, Simon pulled you back down to kiss you, silencing you. Your kissing was softer this time, less filled with love and more filled with something else.

-          You could deal with the blood later, now all you wanted to do was stay in each other’s arms and kiss, if either of you were ever asked about the amount of blood, you’d just say you got a little too into sparring or something.

-          But that didn’t matter right now, the only thing that mattered was the man underneath you, who was starting to roll his hips up into your own searching for another round.

[cannonsoupforthesoul]

Sing For Me Lovely

By Cannonsoupforthesoul

This is my first time ever posting my own work, it’s 100% brainrot smut. These characters are mine and have no relation whatsoever to any other character or person living or dead 🩷🖤 I do not own the graphic art you see below, if you are the owner and would like it taken down please send me a dm🩷🖤

Content Warnings: TW-NonCon, TW- Kidnapping,TW- Dubcon, TW- Bondage, Oral (f receiving), Fingering, D/S vibes, Yandere vibes, Obsession, Cuss Words Are Used, Masochist Vibes, Blood/Minor Gore(?)

Word Count - 1678

Copyright @Cannonsoupforthesoul aka me, Aava 2023. Any illegal reproduction of this content will result in immediate legal action.

🌙

Her toes twitched and flexed, legs flung over his shoulders with his broad hands shackled around her thighs. She couldn’t bear to look down and see his dark eyes peering up at her, never once stopping his pointed assault on her pussy.

He’d taken her somewhere, but there were no clues in the dimly lit room. The dark oppressive curtains were drawn shut and the bay window was too far away from the bed. Of course, that was ignoring the fact that she was handcuffed to the headboard. But thinking about that was too stressful, too frightening.

Books lined the exposed brick wall in towering bookshelves amidst gothic art and mirrors on the wall opposite her, a velvet jade loveseat sat in front of the window. There was even a dark wood coffee table, a tv, and a giant black and white photo was hung above the bed.

A studio apartment, or a large bedroom?

Did it even matter?

Iris felt her eyes roll back when her captor laid a particularly rough swipe of his tongue on her pearl, the beads of his tongue piercing pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves before he sucked the throbbing organ into his mouth. It felt like his was trying to devour her, the sounds of his appreciative groans sang in her ears to the soundtrack of her handcuff chains clanging with her struggling. Tears dripped a path to her hairline as she bit her lip, breaths heavy but desperate to hold in her own sounds of pleasure.

He paused his ministrations, finally relaxing his bruising grip on her meaty thighs and rose from his crouch with a delirious smirk and heart eyes.

“Don’t cry, pretty baby. I’m just gonna make you feel good. The best you’ve ever felt. Think of it as a welcome home, yeah?” He leaned over her, balancing his weight on one hand, shirtless and incredibly broad. His size was simply terrifying; in all her life she’d never seen a man whose presence alone was so daunting. He didn’t need to be so fucking huge as well, there was simply no chance of escaping such a monster. Not in her current predicament.

He swiped his thumb through the tracks of her tears and paused before rubbing the salty taste against her full lips as his eyes lost focus again.

“You’re so goddamn pretty,” he murmured dazedly. “Like a fairy.” His thumb paused its stroke across her bottom lip and he groaned deeply before thrusting it into her mouth, pressing it against her tongue as he panted.

She’d been on the verge of pissing herself in fear since the moment he’d appeared like a shadow in that alley, and there was no telling what he would do with her once he got tired of playing with her body, but that was the moment she snapped. Iris bit down savagely, and didn’t stop even when blood began to gush from the wound she’d created. Mouth bloody, she glared at him fiercely while waiting for him to retaliate.

He did not.

His eyes fluttered shut and he moaned, pressing his hips flush against hers with a roll; that creepy adoring smirk ever present. “Maybe more like a wild cat than a fairy, but what do I know?” He gripped her jaw firmly, just enough to extricate his thumb before she bit it off entirely. “Maybe you’re a goddess in human flesh? Let me worship you.”

Iris trembled while he slithered down her body, leaving hot wet kisses against the tops of her breasts, then more and more on her soft belly as he went until he’d settled between her thighs again.

“I understand why you’re fighting me; you’re afraid. It makes sense, but I would never hurt you. I’d rather slit my own throat. You’re safe with me, I swear on my mother’s grave.”

“Then let me go,” she finally broke her stubborn silence. “Please, please just let me go!”

He grinned wide, revealing longer than average incisors and a scar at the left corner of his mouth that stretched a bit with the movement . His black hair was tied back in a bun at the nape of his of his neck, errant strands clung to his face where her slick had been plastered to his dimpled cheeks during his meal. He was of Asian descent, a veritable giant and built like an athlete. She wouldn’t admit it either, but he was one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen. Covered in tattoos and piercings and somehow, by some cruel twist of fate, exactly her type.

He held her gaze captive as he lifted her legs and placed her thighs on his shoulders, forcing her to rest her shoulders on the bed while he supported the rest of her weight with his hands holding her hips up to his watering mouth while he sat up with his legs folded.

“W-wait!” She stammered desperately through a flood of more tears. “You didn’t even tell-tell me your name you bastard.”

He just chuckled distractedly, cheeks flushed red with excitement. “It’s Shota honey. Remember to sing it real loud for me, yeah?”

With that he went back to work, savoring every inch of her sex. The sounds he made were animalistic, licking at her hole until he could fuck it with his tongue, until her wetness poured freely. She squirmed but there was nowhere to go. Her breath came in quick pants, already over sensitive from from the hour he’d already spent eating her pussy. Breathless whimpers broke free despite her efforts to stay silence once more.

Shota had doubled his efforts, as if his meal might be snatched away from him any minute and made Iris shriek when he began supporting her hips with one arm while his other hand slid toward her beckoning heat. He released his suction on her clit with a pop to the enrapturing chorus of her first clear resounding moans and French kissed her cunt lips with a gleeful smile.

“That’s it lovely, just let me see you feeling good. Can you do that for me? You look so beautiful like this, fucking hell. What about this, how’s that?” He murmured against the flesh of her thigh, and sucked the flesh into his mouth hard while he slid his forefinger into the furnace between her thighs with a groan of his own.

Iris shook against the bed, her feet kicking at the sudden sensation and fluttered again when his thumb rolled over her clit. It was too good, so much better than all the times she’d ever touched herself. Her fingers were never long enough, and silicone was really just plastic, she’d never quite figured out how to use them to their full potential and didn’t bother trying when her hands did the job just fine. He was the real thing, and there was no ignoring that.

“You can take another,” the pussy drunk giant grunted as he replaced his thumb with his tongue and thrust two fingers in oh so slowly. He shuddered as his fingers traversed her silky heat, scissoring his fingers while still ministering to her clit and labia with his desperate seeking mouth.

Iris twitched and whimpered at the onslaught of intense pleasure. She couldn’t think anymore, there was no escaping this moment and she had no choice but to resign her self to be pleasured until she was a mindless quivering puddle.

Time seemed to stop for a moment when Shota’s knuckles hit a small spongey bean in his path within her creamy walls. A wicked cackle immediately bellowed out of him, and with a sinister grin he returned with three fingers. Thrusting fast and deep, angling towards her g-spot.

“Sh-shot-ta! Shota, Shota!” She chanted his name, not even noticing when he lowered her body back onto the bed since he never stopped fucking his fingers into her. The squelch of her slick as it dripped down his hand to his forearm was like the melody in the background of her beautiful voice as she moaned.

“Sing for me honey, you sound so fucking good. Let me hear you.”

Her eyes had closed in their own at some point, but they flew open when a hot mouth latched onto her left nipple. He’d pushed her right thigh up to meet her chest, one big hand holding it up while he rested his weight on his other elbow to give him access to her bare chest.

Kidnapping her had taken months of planning and waiting, but the moment he had her in this room he hadn’t been able to wait before cutting through her clothes and feasting on her gorgeous breasts. She’d woken up after he’d spent the better part of two hours suckling and biting at her chest by that time he’d moved on to her lower half, but her nipples were still sore and hyper sensitive.

Shota ground his hips against the bed, sucking harder, groaning at the taste of her skin and the feeling of her hole fluttering erratically around his thrusting fingers.

The burning coil in Iris’s belly had wound tight as he worked her closer and closer to her orgasm, it felt like anything at all would set her off. Every thrust of his fingers fanned the flames of her approaching climax, and just when she began to grow impatient Shota pressed down hard on her clit and bit down on her nipple, hard.

Iris squirted with a scream, eyes rolling blindly while she babbled incoherently, “Shhh- sshhho- shhhhh…” Her feet kicked wildly when he dropped back between her thighs once more to taste the fountain of her juices, it didn’t stop as he lapped at her tender sex, or when he suddenly nipped her clit. She kept cumming as he continued the onslaught of pleasure, fingering her while he drank her nectar even when she stopped cumming and until she did twice more.

Iris didn’t move again for a long time after that. She would wake up clean and dressed and disoriented in a button down that dwarfed her smaller frame, Shota’s giant body curled around her like ivy while he watched her with heart eyes and his familiar dazed smile.

Fin.

Likes, comments and reblogs appreciated. I’d love to know what you guys think 🖤 Should I keep posting my work?

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Touch Starved

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub relationship, tiny bit of angst, some sweet fluff at the end

Artwork by me. Please do not use for any reason.

If you want to weaken a dog, you take away their ability to smell.

If you want to weaken a lion, you take away its ability to hunt.

If you want to weaken Jack Harlow, you take away his ability to touch.

Jack knew how to use his hands to his advantage. He was well aware that when you were in his grasp, you belonged to him. They controlled your mood, subdued your rage, exploited your sexual desire. Where his words fell short, his touch conveyed the message loud and clear: you were his, and he could do pretty much anything he wanted to you.

While you were a willing participant in his domination, you quickly learned that taking away his power rendered him useless. If he pissed you off, or stepped out of line in any way you couldn't accept, he received a metaphorical slap of the wrist. He wasn't allowed to touch you; the body his hands had molded to over the years was off limits.

Tonight had been an ultimate test of your patience when you attended an industry event full of women who were just dying to get their hands on Jack. You could feel your blood begin to boil as you watched him flash those pearly whites at a number of girls, his cerulean eyes glistening under the fluorescent lighting of the room.

He could always say that they meant nothing to him till he was blue in the face, and that you were the only women he ever cared about, but it didn't change the fact that you knew those interactions stroked his ego in a way that made your skin crawl.

"What did I do to deserve this attitude tonight?." Jack stood opposite you in the elevator car, his gaze focused on your feet. You were silent, your eyes focused on the wall behind him, shifting your weight between your feet.

You were wearing these silver strappy heels that he loved so much, the ones that wrapped around your delicate calves, his eyes trailing up to the hem of your miniskirt. He stroked his beard, his imagination running wild at the thought of fucking you with nothing but the shoes on.

He snapped out of it as the elevator doors opened to his penthouse apartment. You were just out of reach, a couple steps ahead of him, much to his annoyance. He knew if he could just get his hands on you, and eventually in you, he could wipe that smug look off of your face.

"I've had enough of the silent treatment, baby. Can we act like adults, please?" His words earned nothing but a scoff from you, and he was quickly losing his temper.

"Fine. Fuck it. Be a brat, I'm going to bed." You stopped in your tracks, the sound of your heels against the marble floor echoing through the hall. He was either really brave, or really fucking dumb to push your buttons like that. If he wanted to play dirty, you could play dirty.

****

"You're really going to give up that easily?" You were heavy footed as you stepped towards him, stalking and sizing up your prey with each step. "All of those women sucking your dick tonight must have really tired you out."

Jack chuckled, running a hand through his curls, his hand lingering at the back of his neck. "So that's what this is about." He nodded, letting out a humorless breath. "I didn't think you were the jealous type, baby girl." He tried to run a finger under your jawline, but you swatted it away, harder than you intended.

Jack stepped back, searching your features. He caught the flash of hurt across your face before you returned stone faced.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Jack trailed off when he realized his apology was hitting a brick wall. "How can I make it up to you baby?" You wanted to give in, fuck, he was so damn convincing, but at this point you just wanted your revenge.

"On your knees." Jack's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "What?"

"On your knees."

"Baby, please." Jack reached out to you, but you stepped back.

"You asked me how you can make it up to me. I want you on your knees." You repeated your command, no change in your tone.

Jack slowly made his way to the ground, groaning as his knees pressed into the hard floor. "What do you want me to do, beg?", he chuckled to himself. You circled him, your fingers grazing against his shoulder.

"I have other ideas for that mouth of yours. Hands behind your back."

He shook his head, "No, I'm not doing that. Let me hold you, baby." His voice was pleading, the closest he was going to get to begging tonight. You had a moment of weakness and almost gave into him, but the memory of that girl coming too close for your comfort brought you back to reality.

"Uh huh. Tonight you lost the privilege to touch me." You bent down to his level, Jack's eyes focused on your lips. He was desperate to kiss you, feel your mouth on his. His chest heaved with each breath, his body beginning to ache. "I want you to remember this night before you decide to flirt with another woman."

Jack smirked as he clasped his hands behind his back. "You better tie it right, because if I get out of this, you're gonna be begging for mercy, baby."

He felt the roughness of your wool coat belt against his skin. "Fuck, not so tight." He grimaced as you made the knot, forcing his shoulders back. "Shut up." You stepped in front of him, spreading your legs just enough so he had a perfect view of your slit underneath your skirt.

"Stick your tongue out." You tipped his head up with your hand, forcing him to look at you. He cockily stuck out his tongue, his eyes glazed over with lust. "I don't think you know what a punishment is, baby", he edged out, his mouth practically watering. Your raked a gentle hand through his hair, grabbing a fistful of his curls. He nudged the rest of your skirt out of the way with his head, bending forward so he could get you.

The first flick of his tongue against your clit made you shiver, and you instinctively closed your legs around his face. "Open", he mumbled against your skin. You yanked his head back, your wetness dampening his facial hair.

"Did I say you could talk?" You shoved his face into your pussy, Jack latching onto your clit, alternating between sucking and drawing circles around the sensitive bud. You placed a thigh on his shoulder, giving him better access to your dripping wet core, where he could drag his tongue between your folds.

He quickly learned why the ties were a punishment. Everytime he tried to move, you jerked him back, completely in control of where his head went. He wasn't used to relinquishing his power over to you, and everytime he thought he was getting you close to the edge, you pulled him away.

"Fuck", he growled, pulling at the ties around his wrists.

"What's wrong baby?" you cooed over him, your words laced with sarcasm as you stroked his cheek.

"Let me get to you", he spoke through gritted teeth, his face starting to redden with anger. You ignored his whimpers, and shoved your pelvis into his face, his nose hitting your mound. You felt a wave of pleasure as he went back to sucking on your clit, your core beginning to tighten, followed by a sharp pain as you felt his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

"Fuck! That's gonna leave a mark, Jack." Ever the opportunist, Jack found a way to get his licks in. You shoved his face away, removing your leg from his shoulder.

"Get up and follow me to the bedroom."

****

Jack struggled to get to his feet, trailing behind you. You pushed him onto the bed, and he fell with no resistance, laying back on the mattress. You took your time removing your clothes, Jack forced to watch while you removed your top and bra agonizingly slow.

You pressed a knee into the mattress between his legs, your thigh pressing into his hardened bulge. "Careful, fuck." He groaned as you cupped his junk, crawling on top of him so you were face to face. You drug your tongue up the side of his face, tasting yourself on his skin.

"You're fucking cruel, ya know that?." Jack threw his head back, shutting his eyes tight. His erection was pressing against the zipper of his jeans, and the feeling was almost as painful as it was pleasurable.

"Make me cum, and I'll think about untying you", you proposed at a whisper, Jack nodding frantically in acceptance.

"C'mere", he nipped at you, as you moved towards the front of the bed. You moved to straddle his head, your core hovering over his face. He met you the rest of the way, his nose nestling between your slit as you rode his face. You felt the vibration of his moans move through your body, gripping the headboard to steady yourself as you began to cream on his mouth.

You gave him a second to catch his breath before you were right back at it, Jack tonguing your entrance, bringing you to the brink of release.

"Fuck, Jack. You fuck me so damn good." Jack's hips bucked at your praises, encouraging him to move his tongue faster. You moved your hips in circles, matching the movements of his tongue, settling even more atop his face. Your core clenched as you came, your muscles shaking as you came down from your orgasm.

You moved to lay next to him, still coming down from your orgasm, sweat starting to gleam off of your skin. He rolled onto his side, his face close to yours. "Let me go. You had your fun, now I want to have mine." His voice was gruff, his tone low and commanding.

You giggled, sitting up in bed. "Don't worry, you'll have your fun. I'm not done with you yet, though." You made your way to the end of the bed, standing between Jack's legs. You removed his belt, sliding his jeans past his hips. You could see his cock twitch beneath his boxers, pre-cum leaking through the cotton fabric. He had about 60 seconds before he was going to cum just on the thought of fucking you alone.

You sprung his cock free from his boxers, moving them to hang around his ankles. You took his length in your hand, wasting now time sliding it against your tongue. Jack writhed underneath your hold, letting out deep, guttural moans as you swirled your tongue around the tip.

"Oh my fucking god." He felt like he was about to pass out as you took him halfway in your mouth, his girth pressing against the walls of your throat. You bobbed your head up and down, stroking the bottom of his shaft, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth.

His wrists were red as he tried to pull himself free. He needed to get his hands around your head so he could force you to take him all the way down your throat. "Deeper." He grunted, his core tightening as his orgasm began to build. You ignored him, continuing with shallow dips of your head. You were teasing him, only showing off a miniscule amount of your talent, and still he was coming completely undone in your hands.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum", he feverishly warned, his words followed by the hot ropes of his semen against your tongue. You swallowed every drop, licking his cock clean.

"Stop, stop touching me, please." He begged, the sensation too much, and he couldn't take another second more. "Untie me, now." His eyes darkened, and you realized he was way past playing games. You removed the belt from his hands, laying back on the bed as he sat up and rubbed his wrists.

****

His eyes trailed over your body, as if he was planning his next move. You laid your legs open, presenting for him. He drug two fingers through your labia, collecting your wetness on his digits, using it to stroke the head of his cock. He pulled you up by your arms, forcing you on your hands and knees. You pushed your ass up, further arching your back into the bed. Jack chuckled to himself, grabbing a handful of your ass.

"Fuck, I was starting to get mad at you, but when you're in front of me like that, all I can think about is making that pretty face cry as you're coming around my cock." He lined himself up at your entrance, shoving his entire length inside of you with one push. You gasped, feeling him stretch you out as he slowly began to thrust in and out of your tight pussy. You balled the sheets up in your fists as he quickened his pace, his pelvis slapping against your ass.

"Shit, Jack, don't stop." You let out a roll of high pitched moans as his cock brushed against your g-spot with each drive. You resisted clenching around him, feeling his entire length, your body relaxed as you clawed your way toward your climax. He was relentless, building his own orgasm. You moved a hand to draw circles around your clit and it was only seconds before you were coming again, the liquid gushing from you as Jack continued to fuck you, slowing his strokes.

His mouth hung open as he began filling you up with his release, the mixture dripping down your thighs. You collapsed onto the bed as Jack pulled out of you, your body fighting off exhaustion.

You allowed your eyelids to drift closed, feeling a towel against your privates as Jack cleaned you up. He helped you get one of his t-shirts on before getting dressed himself.

He laid next to you, pulling you over to lay on his chest. You were quiet, close to sleep when you heard him begin to speak.

"I love you." He let the words linger in the air before continuing.

"I love you and I'm sorry." he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers grazed across your chest before landing at your waist. "I won't ever make you doubt how much I love and care about you again. You are my heart and my soul, I am nothing without you." He cradled your face in his hands, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"I'm sorry, too." You rubbed his chest, "I was jealous tonight, and I let those women get in my head."

"When I say they mean nothing to me, I mean it. Being around industry people, that's part of the job, its part of the life, but I swear to you, I'm only thinking about you. Kissing you, holding you, fucking you. I love you baby."

You rested your chin on his chest, pushing his curls out of his face. "I love you, too, Jack."

Tag-List:

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@katiaw2

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@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

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@hoodharlow

[captainjamster]

Price x Reader - Training and Punishment

Pairing(s): John Price x Reader Warnings: NSFW, blowjob, face-fucking, authority imbalance, choking, Y/N is used once, light dom/sub, reader is short and a bit of a brat, also not so subtle ghost/soap if you squint Wordcount: 6.4k Summary: Captain Price is a man that prides himself on his strong sense of justice and sensibility - so he knows that stupid feelings for his inferiors are the last thing he should be having. Yet thoughts of a new Second Lieutenant plague his mind after an off-hand comment, and when he sees the opportunity for an intimate scolding, he quickly finds it incredibly hard to walk the line between his desires and maintaining professionalism. AO3 Link: Right here! &lt;3

A/N: I've been meaning to post this on Tumblr for a while, but I've been holding onto it so I can post it when I'm struggling to write/upload - aka right now :p This was the first COD fanfic I ever wrote and uploaded, and I think it's one of my most popular so I'm proud lol

Full fic is under the cut <3

John Price is a good man.

At least, he thinks that he is for the kind of man that the world has made Price to be.

But lately, devilish temptation has been weighing on his shoulders in an unfamiliar way.

"Good morning, Captain."

Your eyes glance over him in a flash that he hopes he doesn’t imagine as you settle in your chair. Price doesn't care for formal seating positions in these meetings, but as you take your seat just two across from his, he can't tell whether he appreciates that decision or not.

The scent of your shampoo and fresh soap tickles his nose and he takes a sharp breath in, lustful images flooding into his mind like they were just waiting for an excuse. But like the hardened, controlled man Price tells himself that he is, he's shaking away the thoughts before they can go any further.

"Good morning, Second Lieutenant."

For a second he isn't sure whether you appreciated his reflection of rank in his greeting, but as he sees the corners of your lips quirk, a delighted warmth builds in his stomach. Before he can find anything else to say, Ghost pushes through the doorway, nodding at Price. Price doesn't even have to raise an eyebrow before Ghost speaks gruffly. "Takin' a piss. Said he'd be quick."

The large man seats himself at the opposite side of the round table and to anyone else it would seem like a calculated move to make distance, but as you pour over your morning notes, Price notices how Ghost shifts his foot to push the chair next to him out in expectation.

The files are still warm in his folder as Price opens it, spreading out training schedules, operation plans, tactical maps and other notes to go over. Ghost's absence of a folder is displeasing to Price, but equally unsurprising. As he shifts through the folder and passes two pieces of paper to Ghost, he's grateful that at least Ghost gets his paperwork done, compared to another one of his Lieutenants.

Like that Lieutenant was summoned by Price's thought, Soap can be heard from the corridor before he even enters the room, trailing behind Gaz as he babbles about something. His demeanour is too bright for such an early morning start, but at least he looks much more awake than Gaz, who is nursing a steaming cup of coffee between his hands, strong enough for Price to smell immediately.

"Mornin' Cap'!"

"Captain."

Soap takes the pushed-out seat next to Ghost, and as Gaz follows suit, Price is relieved to see they've managed to bring their folders; despite how he cringes at the torn, dog-eared edges. Ghost hands Soap the second paper as Price slides another to Gaz across the table.

Two other second lieutenants make their way through the door. They move to sit next to you, finding companionship amongst the shared rank, though Price notices one falter as they observe your proximity to him. It was a brazen move to seat yourself so close to the captain. He likes your boldness, respectful but confident. As a couple others filter in and take their seats, Price begins the meeting. It's a standard monthly meeting, something Price has done so many times he doesn't even need to think, but today he feels nervous. It would make him a poor excuse for a captain if he let it slip him up, so he powers through the unrest in his stomach each time his eyes catch yours.

He tries to keep his eyes off you during the meeting, tearing his eyes away each time he glances at you. When you stand to speak, he almost feels relieved to have a reason to look at you while you address the table. Price doesn't know why he finds himself so distracted by you during the meeting, or why he wants there to be something behind the way your eyes linger on him.

When he dismisses the meeting, his shoulders release a tension he didn't know he was holding. Another effect of your presence, he thinks, and this realisation sparks something impulsive within him. He watches as everyone moves to the door, eyeing you lagging behind as you shuffle your notes, a pace behind your companions.

"(Y/N)."

Your name is out of his mouth before he realises it and you pause in your step, turning to look at him. "I..." Price falters, wracking his brain for something. "You spoke well in the meeting." He nods stiffly and manages a smile, kicking himself for speaking in the first place.

Confusion furrows your brow for a moment, but you look pleased as you smile, nodding back in thanks as you continue out the door. Price sinks back down into his chair, pulling a cigar and lighter from a pocket on his pants and sparking it. Off the field, he tries to limit himself to just a morning and afternoon smoke – not that he’s happy about it. He takes a long, slow drag as he eyes the "no smoking indoors" sign, neatly paired with the smoke detector that seems to be blinking at him disapprovingly. Next to fucking his inferior officer so hard they couldn't walk for days, smoking indoors seemed like a minor rule to break. ---------- It had started weeks ago, after a bitter comment he half-heard from some rookies in the common room after an exhausting session, designed during the previous monthly meeting and run under your command.

"- no way the Lieutenant worked for it; I'm telling you the bitch sucked someone off."

Their backs were turned to Price as they sat at the table, unaware he stood a distance behind them – seeing the captain occupying such spaces was rare, his work keeping him cooped in his office, and it was only checking the supplies that needed to be replenished that had brought him here.

"The Captain is too old to fuck with her, I'd bet Lieutenant McTavish. She serves under him anyway, yeah?"

The other rookie scoffed. "I bet she serves under him alright."

Price decided he’d heard enough and cleared his throat, turning around and stepping over. The soldiers bolted up, standing to attention.

There was no need for you to hear this, he mused, especially when he could handle it himself.

"Finished with training, boys?" They respond with a “yes sir” in unison, and Price saw the hope in their eyes that he missed their conversation.

"Not if you have breath to talk like that. Do it again, whole thing."

A cruel punishment when an office discussion would have served, motivated by the flush of anger he felt in the moment at the suggestion his officers would be so easily corrupted. But as he laid in bed that night, their words echoed through his mind. Sleeping with you? He could genuinely say he had never thought of that before; the battlefield keeps his mind hostage, no space for fleeting fantasies. He was a good captain and respected his inferiors, perhaps beyond what other captains would deem as wise. He wasn't going to fantasise about you because you were a human with breasts and a vagina.

But then he thinks about your first meeting with the team, remembers shaking your hand, the firm grip warming his palm as you beamed at him. Your hands were soft in his, barely weathered despite your time in the field. Soap was delighted at being the only Lieutenant assigned a Second Lieutenant that had to be transferred in, despite Price's insistence that it was a purely random decision to implement someone trained in new combat drills. You were equally as smile-y as the Scot behind you, and Price thought if your smile was any brighter it would hurt his eyes.

Your hands and that beautiful mouth. He wonders if all of you is soft, how your work has left you scarred, what else is hidden underneath that tight-fitting uniform and heavy gear. How it would feel to run his hand up your arm, pull him against you under the sheets, his fingers wet with your spit as your tongue runs over them, keeping those pretty eyes locked with his as he’s pushing right up against there –

He shoves his face against the pillow until his lungs ache for oxygen, only pulling back for a gulp of air when he feels the burning in his lower stomach dissipate. These were just silly thoughts the rookies planted in his mind, and his tired brain indulging in primal nonsense. There was nothing deeper, certainly nothing regarding you. You were a good recruit and he liked that; he’s just looking out for you, right?

I would’ve reprimanded any junior talking about their lieutenant that way – nothing more.

A small spark of rage reignites within him as he thinks of the comments, rolling himself onto his side with a huff. And as he falls asleep, the captain tried to ignore the quiet voice asking him whether he feels angry at the idea of his Lieutenants being tempted, or if it was the temptation being you. ---------- The next time he bumps into you is the evening a few days after the meeting, when dinner has finished, and most are retiring to their rooms. There's an unmanageable amount of folders in your arms as you hurry down the halls.

For a second he falters, dragging his step as his brain works to compute the next best option; does he wave? Pretend he doesn’t see you, lost in thought? Smile and hope you don’t want to stop for a conversation, busy with work?

It wasn't that he was hoping to avoid you, but your presence makes him feel stupid, unassertive as he fumbles uncharacteristically through sentences. The next morning after his encounter with the rookies, he burnt himself pouring water into his mug when you walked in, and soon Price realised he stumbled every time he noticed your presence. The latest meeting affirmed what Price had been trying to deny; not only did you stir something within him, the times you look at him make him hope you feel something back. Your eyes automatically flicker to him as each footstep brings you closer, a smile growing on your face when you recognise him, accompanied by a respectful nod. He could just nod back and keep on walking. Yet despite all his hesitancy, he finds himself to be the first one opening his mouth.

“Lose another bet with Soap?”

You let out a laugh this time, better than the small smile he got before and after the meeting. He can’t help the way that a smile tugs at his lips from just hearing the melody. The papers rustle as you readjust your slipping grip to stop and talk, and he prays that you don’t notice his lingering look at the way the folders pressed against your chest.

“Let me help you, soldier.”

From the apprehension that flashes across your face, he can predict your rejection before it leaves your mouth, cutting you off.

“You think a captain doesn’t do paperwork too? C’mon. You’ll save me from doing more when you drop those folders and lose something important; missing file reports are a bloody bastard to get done.”

To his relief, the smile returns and blooms into a grin.

“When you put it that way sir, I can’t refuse.”

You struggle to keep everything organised as you separate the piles, and Price instinctively swoops his arms underneath yours to catch any strays that might fall. The move pulls him closer to you, and he hates how he can feel his heart beating faster in his chest. Mumbling a thanks, you manage to divide the stack and hold out a half. Price grabs them, ignoring the way his fingers brush over yours as they hold the stack steady. The pile he takes is heavier than it looks, and he’s surprised you were carrying double the weight without more strain. They’re warm from your grip and he ignores the terribly childish thought about how this is some kind of indirect hug.

“Gettin’ in some extra weight training lugging this around, son. Got a strong set of arms on you.”

He needs to stop complimenting you during every goddamn interaction.

“Thank you sir, guess it’s assurance our training works well. It’s just to my office; you won’t have to carry them for long.”

He hums in approval, letting silence fall between you as he keeps a slow pace, listening to your footsteps fall in tandem. The hallways are empty, and a selfish part of him hopes they stay that way as he basks in your presence.

“It wasn’t a bet, by the way.”

“Sorry?”

“The paperwork, sir, it wasn’t a bet. It was actually really funny – we had some time to kill after training, and Lieutenant Riley and Lieutenant McTavish thought they would try and give me some lessons on hand-to-hand combat.”

“Based on your evaluation feedback, eh? Good lad, working for improvement.”

His approval seems to bring a warm flush to your cheeks that he can just catch in the poor barrack lighting, and suddenly he’s not sure he wants to stop complimenting you.

“Yes sir, thank you sir. L.T. McTavish promised me some lessons and it was convenient that Lieutenant Riley was there too.”

“What was so funny about training, then?”

He can see the door to your office come into view as you turn the corner, and his weary arms feel a little grateful it isn’t much further.

“Oh, it wasn’t the training, sir! They decided to show me some basic combat, and when we’d played around with that, we got to using prop guns as close combat weapons. After a while they started using the guns as weapons to fight each other, and then – “

Price frowns as you cut yourself off sharply, falling silent as the smile drops from your face. He raises a thick eyebrow at the break in speech, but your eyes are suddenly glued to your destination of the door with a feverish interest.

“And then?”

There’s a hesitant quiet before you respond, and Price thinks he can almost hear the gears in your brain turning.

“Lieutenant McTavish… thought it was not a good idea. Because it was irresponsible and could break the decoys or hurt someone.”

If the pause wasn’t suspicious enough, the (rather specific) answer most certainly was. Lieutenant McTavish? Thinking something is a bad idea? You come to a halt at the door, and he stops in turn, watching you.

“And that was funny?”

“Uh… Yes, sir.”

The door swings open as you turn the knob, stepping in and letting the folders fall on the desk with a sigh of relief. Price follows suit, letting the door fall closed behind him as he places his folders neatly next to the pile on the table before turning to you, crossing his arms and resting his hip against the desks’ edge. You stand next to him in front of the desk, eyes flickering between his intimidatingly relaxed stature and the closed door. Instinctively assessing the room and its exit points. Like prey.

“Can’t imagine McTavish would suddenly find such sensibility in the middle of fuckin’ around.”

The way your eyes look anywhere but his face would be amusing if he wasn’t slightly concerned about the state of his Lieutenants and the training equipment. Though, he assumes since Soap and Ghost thought they could get away with it by using you as their little lackey, nothing serious enough had happened to warrant any immediate action; he would confirm with his lieutenants later though, knowing their irritating tendency to shrug off anything but life-threatening injuries.

“You had to…” He watches you swallow as your eyes finally meet his. “You had to be there to get it, just... Funny in the moment kind of thing.”

“Right, right, ‘course. So, if I was to look through these folders…” He picks up one sitting on top just to make a point, watching your reaction. “… This extra paperwork wouldn’t happen to be accident report and equipment replacement forms, eh?”

Nothing comes from your lips as you part them to speak, and you settle for a nervous shake of your head. He notices the flexing of your arms as they rest behind your back, at an informal stance of attention; fiddling with your hands, he suspects, and the way he’s making you nervous sends a rush to his head. You were never arrogant in your responses, but sure and steady, and the sudden change in your demeanour was thrilling to him. Lying to others clearly escaped your many capabilities, and although he could just bust you right now, he doesn’t.

“And if I went to the infirmary logs, I wouldn’t find a muppet or two listed as treated at some point today? All prop guns will be neatly organised in their respective storage spots?”

There’s a pleading in your eyes as they meet his again, and Price knows he should stop tormenting you with this game. That this game is leading his mind to a dangerous place, and he doesn’t know how long he can maintain the boundaries of professionalism as you tremble in front of him. But he won’t be the first one to break, and something inside him can’t but enjoy the interaction, egging him on – so he lets you suffer before applying more pressure.

“You were asked a question, soldier.”

He watches you flounder for a few more seconds, stuttering and stumbling over the excuses racing through your mind. “I-I think I should start my work sir, thank you for helping me carry-“ As you reach out to take a folder from the top of the pile, he uncrosses his arms and moves in a flash to capture your hand against its surface, pinning it there.

“Sir?”

The silence is almost ringing in his ears as he takes a moment to watch you, caught into leaning closer towards him. If Price took not even a step closer, he’d be towering over you; any further and he could feel you pressed up against him.

“I think there’s something you’re not telling me. S’important to keep the Captain informed.”

Every muscle screams at him to give in, to pounce on you. To satisfy the urge to move he slides his arm between you to put the folder back on the table. He lets it fall from his grip before he forces it back to his side, goosebumps prickling where his arm brushes against your shirt. He doesn’t know what miracle is keeping his self-control hanging by a thread, but he’s listlessly thanking every lesson in self-restraint and patience he’s had. He can’t keep the gruffness out of his voice, scratchy as it rumbles out of him.

“Not bein’ entirely honest.”

His eyes flicker down to your lips, and the stutter in your breath tells him that he wasn’t as inconspicuous as he hoped. But you don’t pull away and your hand stays under his, warm, the shaking lulled beneath his steadying hand.

“Sir…”

He takes the step closer, keeping his hand atop of yours. You need to look up to keep eye contact with the captain, and he knows that this is the last time he’s ever going to get to be this intimate with you. Even as they rush by faster than he can keep up with, one stream of thought is loudest: he can’t be doing this. Price had seen this path before, dismissed soldiers from service who had followed it. Even if he did resign to the idea he liked you, it couldn’t go anywhere. Two soldiers couldn’t fraternise, let alone an inferior and their captain.

And it wouldn’t even matter; you were going to pull away. He was making you nervous, wishfully interpreting your fear as desire. Classic fuckin’ projection. This was going too far; a creepy, old officer taking advantage of a good, young soldier. He can’t make himself move, can’t retract his hand from yours, and he knows it’s a matter of time before you do it for him. He breathes in your scent, surprised he can even inhale and waits for you to move, wishing the moment wouldn’t end.

The world doesn’t feel real when you make the first, most unexpected move. You close the gap, body finally against his, and he knows that this is all a dream when your lips connect. But the way your hand cups his cheeks, rubs against the bristle of his beard feels so real, and the shock begins to subside as he kisses back tenderly, afraid the move will shatter whatever illusion he’s experiencing.

His heart wrenches as you’re pulling back too soon, missing your skin against his lips and cheek, but looking at your expression immediately tells him why. Something almost like shame stirs when he realises he’s been paying enough attention to you that reading your thoughts has become easier, but it’s not a challenge when they’re just an echo of his own; we shouldn’t do this, I shouldn’t have done that, we need to stop right now. But Price’s thread of self-control has snapped – it snapped the moment your lips met his – and he doesn’t care about regret or reservations anymore.

There’s only one thing that’s stopping him. He wants to be sure you want this, wants to know this isn’t a mistake.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t–“

“Will y’do it again?”

The question makes you look as stunned as he feels by the kiss, and the playing field suddenly feels a lot more level. Confidence surges back into him, and as words escape you once more, he has a better idea.

“Just tell me to stop.”

His empty hand snakes to your waist and pulls you back into him, letting you rest for a few moments as he waits for rejection. Nothing but a small huff escapes you at the collision, and Price has never moved faster in his life. When your lips meet again, he kisses you like every second breathing is a waste of time; passionate, breathless and hungry. Finally unpinning your hand from the folder, he moves it against his chest. It spurs you to life, fisting the material in a tight grip as your other hand makes itself home in his hair. Price feels himself twitch in anticipation for the moment that it’s guiding him between your legs, and the jolt keeps him grounded. He needs to take it slow, give you enough time to stop. This was already taking too much in his mind, and he was only stealing as much as you would give him. But the way you kiss him back is almost bruising, and the grip on his shirt wouldn’t let him step back if he tried. He breaks the kiss to press his mouth into your neck, and the way you whimper rips a groan from somewhere deep. It takes effort that makes his body hurt to not bite down as he leaves a trail of kisses, finding a place on your collarbone to suck at, until there’s the smallest mark fluorescing against your skin.

Straightening up lets him take a good look at you, flushed and out of breath from his ministrations. He wishes that he’d done this sooner, and an overwhelming urge to make up for lost time hits him so hard that he feels lightheaded. It’s delightfully easy for the captain to man-handle you, spinning you against the desk and nudging your thighs apart with a careful but firm knee. The hand that was in his hair clutches his shoulder for support, and he keeps his hand steady on your waist. But his knee doesn’t press up yet, keeping his distance.

“Y’know what happens to inferiors when they disobey their superiors, don’t you?”

The way your pupils dilate is exhilarating and he feels him twitch again, slowly pressing against the tightness of his pants. Whatever doubt that’s rooted in his brain is drowning underneath the hunger for you, but he refuses to take chances. He can feel the need rising in his stomach, and the fiendish desires that come with it. He wants you to know what you’re getting into – and maybe a small part of him is still in denial, craving reassurance. One last chance to back out.

“They get punished.”

Anything; the grip on his shirt slacking, a twitch backwards, a crease in your brow. But you just peer up at him with anticipation, unswayed by his conviction, jaw slightly agape as he watches the words sink in. He takes his hand from his chest where it encapsulates yours, bringing it to meld against the plush of your cheek, and the way your bottom lip catches under the thumb tracing it has his mind set on what’s coming next. You kiss the pad of his thumb, and as a small hiss slips from him, something sparkles in your eyes.

“Punished? I’m just doing paperwork, like I’m told, sir.”

Then he feels it; the roll of your hips, barely enough to brush your crotch against his thigh. His grip on your waist stiffens as he tries not to tremble. Your breath catches in your throat at the pressure, and he hopes it frightens you. So unaware of what he wants to do to you.

“Doing like you’re told?”

A stray piece of hair brushes against his hand and he pushes it behind your ear, meticulously using the move to drag his fingers down your neck until he can extend his digits, fitting your neck into the crook of his hand. Feeling you swallow underneath his grip is pushing him, and the way he throbs against the seam of his pants is fighting his urge to drag this moment out until he can commit it to memory.

“Funny. I didn’t tell your hips to move. Didn’t tell you to give me cheek.”

With his hand around your throat, you still give him that bratty attitude.

“Part of the service sir, free of charge.”

He has no question that you want this, the reality has sunk in, and it’s only a matter of how fast he can get you on your knees.

“Second Lieutenant, I think you’ve forgotten how this works.”

A gasp breaks from you as he tightens his grip, just enough to make breathing difficult.

“You report to my Lieutenants. My Lieutenants report to me. I am your Captain. You report to me, with honesty.” Price squeezes harder, completely restricting your airway, watching as your face reddens.

“I think you… need another lesson. Y’need a reminder of what your mouth is for, how you should be usin’ it. As Captain of this platoon, it’s my duty to reinforce punishment for misbehaviours.”

The hand around your throat falls to his side, and he lets go of your waist to pull your hand from his shirt, the fabric wrinkled and creased. It pains him to vacate his leg from the warm, plush thighs around it as he takes a step back, but he’s well aware that it’s going to be worth it.

“On your knees, solider.”

Without a word you push off the desk, sliding down the sturdy wood of the desk and to your knees, right at his feet. The lack of resilience is intoxicating, wrapping around his lungs and squeezing the air out of them. Without waiting, your hands are running up his thighs but before they can get to his zipper, he snatches them into a tight grip to press against your head.

“I don’t think so. No hands.”

The stare he fixes you is stern enough to keep you in place as he unzips his pants, just slightly tugging them down. His fingers slip further to his pocket, pulling out a cigar to hang in his teeth and an accompanying matchbox. A lifetime of smoking has the move perfected, and he doesn’t even need to watch, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he strikes the match and burns the cigar butt with a slow, deep inhale. Anticipation is doing his job teasing you, and he can see your thighs squeezing together; good, wearing yourself out for him. When you squirm on your heels, he exhales a plume of smoke, dropping the matchbox on the desk.

“See? Wasn’t that hard t’listen.”

The conflict in your mind is apparent; take the degradation or not. Heat rushes through his stomach at the way your jaw clenches, biting back whatever retort was on your tongue, and he thinks the attitude adjustment deserves a reward.

“Good pet, keepin’ your mouth closed. Maybe you won’t be too hard to teach.”

Price takes another long drag, taking the cigar between his fingers.

“Hands behind your back. Get started.”

“Of course, sir.”

He tries to open his mouth to reprimand your snark but instead a growl tears through him as your cheek rubs over the damp material at his tip, leaving it sticky and glistening when you pull back.

You don’t let him catch a breath, delicately grasping the band of his underwear between your teeth to begin tugging them down. The grip on his cigar is precarious and another drag steadies it as you pull down far enough for his cock to fall free, already tacky and wet from being pressed against him.

“Everythin’ out love, not just my cock.”

Teeth graze against his skin as you nip the band again and he hisses, fixing you with a stern glare. But the way his dick jumps at the pain betrays him, so he settles for another long drag, watching as you finally accomplish your goal. You let go of the band with a snap, the tight pressure of the elastic under his sack making his shaft throb; on purpose, he suspects. You sit back on your heels and take it in, almost admiring your work. He loves the way you look at him, studying his twitching and weeping cock, but Price wants to be in control of this moment. A hand tangles in your hair to attain a dominant grip, tugging your head to stay still exactly where he wants it.

The small noises of surprise are muffled as he pushes your face into the shaft, an upwards roll of his hips pressing his balls against your lips. It’s almost pornographic as each thrust of his hips drags his aching cock across your face, leaving your skin shimmering with trails of pre-cum. Your cheeks are soft and pliant as they smush against his cock, and the hot rush of air and wetness of your spit each time his cock glides over your lips is almost unbearable. A needy moan vibrates against his cock, the sensation eliciting one of his own. The idea of cumming from just rubbing against someone’s face sounds ludicrous, but as his muscles tense, he needs to pull away before he splatters across your pretty face and gasping lips. Your hair falls from his grasp as he clutches your jaw, gripping it with enough force to hurt, tilting your gaze towards his.

“Gonna tell me what my Lieutenants did?“

“They were…”

Satisfaction bubbles in his stomach as you look up at him, sticky, flushed and messy while you lick your lips. He wants you to give in, admit defeat and let him reward you.

“They gave me a close combat lesson and then cleaned down the room, sir.”

It’s so quiet he can hear each breath you take as the satisfaction is replaced with a fiery determination. He doesn’t react or respond, just watches as your eyes dart around his face, trying to gauge some level of reaction. Nothing gives as he rights himself up, dropping your jaw from his grip. The spark of his cigar is dying out, and the last embers glow as he takes a final puff.

“Y’had more than a fair chance, soldier.”

The cigar crunches as he fully extinguishes the expired butt on the desk, letting it fall with a thunk. With both hands free, he tenderly gathers your hair into a bunch, before yanking it back and pinning it against the desks’ surface. The back of your head hits the edge, and he’s satisfied at the yelp and indignant frown it draws from you.

“I’m gonna fuck this mouth ‘til you remember how to be a good soldier. At least work out the fuckin’ stress y’cause me.”

Keeping one hand to trap you against the desk, he wraps the other around his shaft. Spit gathers on his tongue before he opens his mouth, letting it fall down and splat onto his member, making a sticky noise as he rubs it along the length.

“Open up.”

You part your lips, hanging out your tongue and he can’t stop his eyes from rolling back when his cock finally enters your mouth. He knows this isn’t going to last long; Price is a man of drive over energy, stamina ebbing and flowing that’s compensated for by his meticulous touches, manipulative and focused on drawing out every pleasurable sensation he can create whether it’s with his cock or another tool. But in your office, after hours and pressed up against a desk isn’t the right place to bring you apart underneath him, and he has to settle with leaving you a taste only he can satiate.

The way you can’t do anything but let the captain work his hips is erotic, brows crinkled in desperation, eyes wet and pleading, helpless to do anything but speed up the process. It's a miracle he remembers how to speak as shallow jerks massage pre-cum across your tastebuds. In the same moment, he can feel your tongue press against him and his hips stutter.

“Bloody hell, darlin’. Use that fuckin’ tongue.”

Price thrusts further into your mouth, working his way in. You try to swallow around him, spit dribbling from your lips as you do your best to manage the intrusion, and he grunts at the suction it causes.

“Needy little love, eh?”

Another moan vibrates his cock stronger than before, and an animalistic growl is the last thing you hear before he forces the full length in. The way your throat tightens as you gag has his knees weak, and when his balls are flush with your chin, he takes a moment to regain his breath. A slick noise catches his attention, and he realises a hand is between your thighs, slipped under your panties and working away. He’s too close to draw the punishment out any longer, ignoring your absence of permission, and the fact that you’re getting off to being face-fucked is enough to reinvigorate the man.

“Can’t lie for shit, hm? Your body can’t either, just fuckin’ look at that. Playin’ with yourself as I use you.”

Every noise you make courses through him like electricity, and the degradation has you humming and whimpering. Picking up the pace again, lewd, watery plaps fill the air as he fucks your throat. Fluids trickle down his balls, droplets splashing onto your clothed chest with each slap against your chin. The deeper thrusts keep you gagging, stimulating tears that fall down your face, running the military-permitted mascara in black streaks as your eyes squeeze closed. The way you’re falling to pieces underneath him is exhilarating, better than any wet dream or weak fantasy he’s been entertaining himself with. His thrusts grow more erratic, both hands gripping the edge of the table.

“Look at me. Fucking – Look at me.”

Tears drip down your cheeks, nose buried against his pelvis as he feels your throat convulse around him. You blink rapidly up at him, trying to clear your eyes to meet his.

“Watch me while I fill your fuckin’ throat.”

When the words leave his lips, he can see your hand working faster and he feels heat rushing to his loins, thrilled at the idea of coming with you. He picks up the pace, each rough movement driving your head against the wood, and a faint voice in the back of his mind notes to grab Panadol after. The peak of his climax rapidly builds as praise falls from him between pants, telling you how "fuckin’ good" you look taking every bit of his cock.

As he throws his head back, a hand wrapping in your hair and driving his cock the deepest it can go, he prays the walls are thick enough to muffle the depraved grunts and groans he makes while emptying his balls. He feels your body spasm as your own orgasm rushes through you, the high-pitched vocalisations ringing around him as your hips gyrate into your palm and the other clutches at his pant leg. The adrenaline is rushing through him, feeling lightheaded but finally satiated. A hand unclenches from the desk and the other releases your hair, massaging your scalp almost apologetically. When he feels himself soften, he resigns to slowly pulling out, wishing he didn’t have to break the intimate connection. The cum you can’t swallow spills, leaking out and slowly seeping down your neck, onto your chest and shirt.

You look beautiful, face covered in liquids, dishevelled, and still recuperating from your orgasm. Affection overwhelms him and he crouches down, hooking his arms under yours to pull you up from your kneeling position, and sitting onto the desk. A small noise of discomfort makes him feel guilty and Price pushes between your thighs, tentatively pulling you closer into him as a hand rests against your back. The other covers your knee, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the pressure marks. He feels relieved when you melt into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your head to his chest. The room is peaceful, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, and he rests his chin against the top of your head. Although logic returns to him and rationality begins compiling the consequences of his disobedience, he can’t find himself to care, breathing in that same shampoo smell. He hopes next time – will there be a next time? – he can shower with you, surrounded by your scent. As he loses himself to thoughts of possibilities, a small voice breaks him away.

“It was only a decoy pistol, sir.”

It takes a moment to comprehend what you mean, but the realisation snatches a snort from him.

“... And two SA80s.”

Suddenly, the situation is a little less funny, but he settles on the idea it could have been worse.

“… They ripped a mat open and Ghost had a concussion.”

Of course. He closes his eyes, mentally cursing the two idiots and the additional work they’ve added to his already bursting schedule. But he feels your shoulders shake with laughter, and he can’t keep a smile from his own face. While he’d never tell the two men, they could’ve burnt down the barracks and Price wouldn’t care; as long as it led to right here, with you in his arms.

[fastrainbowdas]

Hi hello I saw you didn't want to reach the tag limit on that reblog but I would very much like to hear your full character analysis on dsaf Jack

!!!

HIIIIII THANK YOU FOR ASKING <333333333

ok um. so.

The biggest thing abt Jack's personality is his apathy. He doesn't really care about anything other than his own amusement (and one other thing but I'll get into that later)

Yes, he agrees to help Fredbear (but what was he supposed to do? Just die?) but he doesn't actually Care about the dead kids. It's why he agrees to kill w Dave so easily! In fact, all Dave has to do to persuade him is to tell him how it would benefit Jack and Jack never argues that it's wrong. (I don't think he doesn't know that - he simply doesn't care)

He also... doesn't really care about his siblings either. He says he does, sure, but he doesn't, really. He has no problems killing them on evil routes (and while technically it is only Legacy Jack that does this, it still applies to Regular Jack and I'll explain why in a bit)

Here is where we get into differences between Regular and Legacy; Legacy actually cares about his siblings' deaths (insane, I know). Yeah, that is different from caring about them bcs. as stated before. He kills them in cold blood. lmfao

But he also gets Pissed when Dave flaunts around Dee's scarf and says it's his "most prized souvenir" to the point where he rips his fucking head off. So clearly Legacy cares that his siblings were murdered.

But Regular never ??? does anything ??????? to imply he gives a fuck ??????????? Like sure he says he cares but like. idk considering he knows Who his siblings are now and he has no problem lying to and/or killing them. I'd say he doesn't really care.

Anyway to get to the other thing Jack cares about - Dave! There's no arguing on this, Dave is the only person Jack couldn't bring himself to lie to in the good ending of dsaf 3 and directdoggo has confirmed that that entire monologue was just Jack going around saying "I love you". And we can tell Legacy also cares about Dave, since in dsaf 3, you only solidify the evil path with the line "Dave... I missed you." Which is really fuckin weird to say if you don't care about the person you're saying this to and only want to kill people again? And it's not like Jack can't do it by himself, not to mention Legacy could've easily just. Said he wants to murder again, there's no reason for him to lie about missing Dave. He wouldn't gain anything from lying and Dave was desperate enough to the point where he absolutely would've taken "ok fine lets kill again" more or less the same.

And before anyone tries telling me that Legacy is possessed by Henry or whatever the fuck. That's just misinterpretation of the text. Please go back and rewatch the evil ending, Henry literally STATES he cannot directly control Jack, just talk to him.

SO ALL THIS TO SAY. Both Regular and Legacy Jack care about Dave.

And- that's kind of weird, isn't it? Why is caring about Dave like. More or less the only thing they have in common? Why Dave specifically? What's so special about him?

Well I've given it some thought and. Simply put - nothing. There is nothing special about Dave. What is special is the circumstances in which their relationship formed and developed.

Dave is the only person Jack has gotten to know after he became soulless. Not only that, but they've hung out repeatedly (both the child murder and vegas) so it makes sense Jack would care about him, no?

As for why he doesn't care about anyone he got to know before dying. The most accurate way I can think to phrase it is that losing his soul reset all his feelings.

Anyway. To the part that fucks w me the most.

The similarities between BlackJack and Legacy Jack.

This should Not be a section that I need to make. What the fuck is this. If anything they should be polar opposites, no? BlackJack is literally this guy's soul and they very much clash at the end of the dsaf 2 pure evil ending so what the fuck am i talking about

And I could mention the whole. killing in cold blood thing. But honestly, even Regular Jack does it? If you go w Dave but don't go for the pure evil ending, Jack is still a murderer and all.

So for actual things BlackJack and Legacy have in common that Regular Jack doesn't. The first one that comes to mind is absolutely the enormous ego. (BlackJack thought he could deal with Henry all on his own (which is like. fucking insane. when you actually get to the fight you realize all of blackjack's attacks are fucking useless lmfao) and Legacy LITERALLY LOOKED GOD IN THE EYE AND SAID "I AM GOD". THATS ALMOST KINDA SICK. WHAT THE FUCK DUDE) And because of said ego, they also treat everyone else as inferior!! So that's fun. (BlackJack's entire monologue about how everyone in your party is a monstrosity and he'll show Henry what he's created and if he doesn't feel bad abt it he'll kill him!! And Legacy straight up calling Peter his prey in that one scene)

The last thing is that they're... kind of the only versions of Jack that actually care about their siblings' deaths? Like I said earlier, Regular doesn't give a fuck and both BlackJack and Legacy make it very clear that they're upset about it.

I really like what my friend said on this matter - that BlackJack and Legacy are coping with their tragedy in a similar way, while Regular Jack is coping differently. For BlackJack and Legacy, revenge seems to be a big thing, so it's not really a shocker that the more they care, the more cruel and violent they are. Simply put, caring serves as motivation for doing terrible things.

Um. I am very passionate about Legacy Jack.

Moving on from him though. Regular Jack is really interesting too.

Bcs he doesnt really. change between the different endings. Really, the only difference in Him Specifically between whether he saves the kids or not is just. Does he regard the promise he was forced to make as more important? or does he not give a shit and only think of his own amusement?

Frankly considering that he murders children for kicks and that BlackJack is implied to have been. Very Brutal when killing Henry. It really makes me wonder about what Jack was like before he died (or Alive Jack as I call him).

To me, Alive Jack is the biggest mystery regarding Jack because it's so hard to say what behaviors of all other versions of Jack are a result of Jack's tragedy and what are simply What he's Like. I'd love to say more on this topic but there simply isn't anything to say, all we can do is speculate.

Anyway yeah!! I think that's everything!! I didn't expect it to be so long lmao rip

Thanks for readinggggggggggg :]

EDIT: Hi here's a link to a thread where I answer a few questions :]

[idesofrevolution]

Never Enough

I wanted so badly to be like him. I’d stare at him from afar every day I commuted home from work. He was tall, he was stacked, he was dark, he was fuckin perfect. Each time I saw those arms, twice the size of my head, I had to stifle til the little moan I knew would escape my lips. I didn’t know his name, I didn’t know anything about him except he must have lived nearby, since he was jogging nearly every day down the main strip. No shirt, beadlets of sweat glistening on that ebony skin, trailing down a set of washboard abs into a soaked pair of black shorts.

He was everything I knew I could never be. Surely a couple roid rages helped him along the way, but there’s something to be said about genetics. He had the genes I wouldn’t ever have. So I would sit there like creepy voyeurist every day and drool over this sweaty lug of a man I’d never met but so heavily admired.

I couldn’t tell you what the catalyst was for my google search that day. Maybe it was the fact I was bored out of my mind at work, or maybe that angst just kept compiling subconsciously until I finally did something about it. Either way, I found myself seeing what could be done about the way I looked, about who I was. A few pages down the line, well past 20 or so, I saw one result which piqued my curiosity.

“MelaSculpt” was the product. The little snippet of description on the search page described a fitness supplement for black men. I didn’t really think as I clicked the page that I would find anything of use to myself. After all, a black man I am not- but male is male right? And health supplements aren’t discriminative to my knowledge. The page for some company named VitaCorp opened quickly, and the page did take me back a bit. A studly mocha skinned man smirked back at me, flexing his vascular biceps while shoving a small orange pill into the foreground.

“MelaSculpt is the newest addition to VitaCorp’s growing list of nutritional supplements, which is aimed at improving the wellness and physique of men of color. Specially balanced for peak performance and quick results, this supplement will help YOU get the body of your dreams.” I scrolled past the ingredients list and disclaimers, much more interested in seeing the before and after photos of previous clients. The results were staggering. One man was easily 300 pounds overweight in his before picture, and after one treatment he was cut, lean, and healthy. Another was the opposite: gangly and paper thin before, ripped and bulked after. I kept swiping the pictures, before realizing the gallery was almost 200 photos. Before I could stop myself I had already purchased the bottle.

The rest of the day went by as normal, the draining, soul sucking grind of a day working had made me forget entirely that I had bought the supplements. So imagine my surprise upon arriving home when I saw a nondescript black package in my mailbox with a bright orange VitaCorp logo on it. It wasn’t possible! I looked, the company was out of Australia, I wasn’t even close. Unless they had a fulfillment center here in town, this couldn’t be it. Though, sure enough, as I ripped the plastic open, the matte black bottle rolled out into the palm of my hand.

I booked it inside, immediately rushing to my bathroom to examine the contents further. The futuristic font glistened the MelaSculpt name, teasing me as I ripped the plastic ring off the cap and twisted it open. The inside was full of cotton, and after pulling out what seemed like an inordinate amount of it, I saw two large orange pills in the bottom of the bottle. For a moment I was beyond pissed. What kind of rip off scheme did I buy into this time? I grabbed the package, shaking it upside down, hoping for a set of written instructions or a receipt. Luckily, a small card labeled “USER GUIDE” toppled onto the cold tile floor. I picked it up and began to read.

“Thank you for your purchase! We sincerely hope your experience with MelaSculpt enhances your life in every way you might hope. To begin your journey, take a test amount of a 1/4 pill to ascertain tolerance. Do not exceed 2 pills per person in totality.

WARNING: MelaSculpt is designed for use in men of color only. Side effects may include…”

I tossed the card aside, eager to get started. The orange pill glistened in my palm, presegmented into four doses. I broke off the first portion and swallowed it, washing it down with water from the tap. I stood a front the mirror, preparing myself to say goodbye to this corporeal prison and hello to a hunky Adonis like the jogger. It didn’t take long.

It had been merely second before I doubled over. I could hear the bubbling and groaning of my stomach, feeling it gurgle and pulsate. Immediately, I was convinced I was poisoned. Some random website I had found on Google supplied me Arsenic or Ricin… and I was dumb enough to take it. The first burp escaped my mouth, and I could feel instant relief. I stumbled into the bedroom, leaning on the dresser before actually looking down at my midriff. Beneath my shirt, which once was ill fitting and awkward, my stomach seemed to strain against the fabric. I ripped the shirt from my torso, buttons flying off it.

Beneath that cheap polyester were six little bumps vaguely protruding from my former gut. Another belch, and my swollen love handles seemed to collapse in on themselves. I was shocked, no, thrilled to see my waistline shift and bulk as two cumgutters started to balloon out. That was all fine and good, until my head began to spin. Yet another belch. I grasped onto the dresser, trying desperately to balance myself. But just as the world began to warp and blur, I thought I saw the slightest pinpricks of dark skin begin to cascade down my fingertips before it all went black.

I woke up on the ground. My head throbbed with a migraine straight from hell, rubbing my pulsating temples. Light streamed through the blinds, it was the next day for certain. As my throbbing eyes finally began to adjust, the world around me became clearer. Immediately, I saw them. Toes. My toes. BLACK toes. I wriggled my big toe, just to make sure they were in fact mine, before looking down at my hands. They were a dark ebony, tattoos sprinkled on my wrists and up my thick forearms. I scrambled to my feet and looked in the mirror.

What met my gaze were two meaty pecs, cobblestone abs, arms the size of a cantaloupe… a snaking bulge creeping further and further down my shorts. I hadn’t even looked at my face, I was too scared to look. No, scared wasn’t the right word, it was the mounting anticipation of just who I now was. I looked up, and my breath was taken away. My hair was a wild jumble of black curly locks radiating out into an afro. My chiseled jawline had a light stubble, the only two places on my entire body where I had hair. Every single inch of this sculpted, godlike body was smooth, chiseled, and powerful.

Taking a breath, the light scent of sweat emanated from my pits and feet. Just one whiff gave me a head rush as if I’d taken a hit of poppers. I panicked in the moment, refusing to believe this was who I now was. I pulled and prodded my face as if I were wearing a mask, but alas, this was my face. This was real. And a devilish smirk crept onto my face.

————

That was seven months ago. Truthfully, I’d adjusted pretty naturally into being Jabari. After a day or two of no showing at work, when the boss called the apartment I just explained I was the new tenant. I have no idea what happened to the guy before me. I was Jabari Jefferson, I’d just moved to town from Baltimore and was looking for a gig in personal training. The landlord just kinda accepted I was the new tenant, as long as the rent was paid she didn’t really care.

I started to get more comfortable going out in my new body, appreciating the winks and stares of those who passed. That kind of admiration changes a guy, you start to kind of believe it. I found my own new style, I found a gym to work at down the street from the house. I hit up the bars and happily took home any sexy adult I could find. They couldn’t get enough of that subtle, salty funk which seemed to linger around me; that testosterone laden musk which, admittedly got me and my 9 inch cock off after nearly every session on the basketball court. I made a name for myself around the neighborhood for being “that guy.” The one everyone wanted to be, the guy I always dreamed I’d become. That however, leads us to todays events.

The sun was beaming down on me, as I contently shot some hoops before I hit up my date at a bar down the street. The energy I felt every single day. It was so strong and powerful. That virility, that libido, that strength… it was addictive. I plopped down onto the bench, prying my size 13 LeBron 19’s from my damp, socked foot. Taking a not so guilty whiff of that sharp, satisfying scent of a damn good game, just as I did after every hoop sesh. I tossed the sneakers into the bag and pulled out my slides, only for something to roll right out of the bag as I did.

I looked down at my wet feet on the pavement to see the black bottle of MelaSculpt had fallen out of my bag. Truthfully, I’d forgotten where I put it months ago: out of sight, out of mind. But as I looked down at it, that little nagging voice in the back of my head began to pick at me. Those feelings I felt that day, that euphoric rush. The power of my flexing muscles, the taste of my sweat, the touch of my skin… it all came back to me at once.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. That sensation, that lust for power and strength more than ever before is as enticing as it sounds even now. I opened my eyes, and delicately grabbed the bottle. The pill and 3/4 rattled around the bottom of the black container, teasing me even further. I looked down at my glistening muscles, slick with sweat, and imagined just how much more I wanted. It wasn’t enough to be sexy and strong, I had to be the strongest. I had to be the one.

In that moment of irrevocable weakness, I twisted the cap off and swallowed the remainder of the pill I’d used the first time. I didn’t remember the instructions, I didn’t remember the warnings, I remembered that feeling. It was the only thing in my mind as a triple dose made its way down my throat. Just as the first time, I doubled over on the bench, my stomach rumbling audibly to even passersby. I groaned and let out a cacophonous belch, one that even surprised myself. My chest ballooned out almost comically as a cartoon. Veins bulged prominently out of my thinning skin as my necklace burst from the base of my throat, too fragile for the force of my widening neck.

I scampered and stumbled blindly into the locker room, fortunately empty at the time. I let out another cavernous burp, which echoed throughout the room. My thighs bubbled outward in grotesque disproportion to the rest of my musculature. I crawled on the floor toward a shower stall, making it in before just as the time before the world began to spin. I got one final glimpse of my biceps contort and spasm before it all went dark.

I awoke in that shower stall in agony. Every muscle felt stiff and stone like in the cramped stall. I couldn’t even fit my entire body in the stall, my feet stuck out from beneath the door. The smell, it was strong. I enjoyed that savory, delectable scent of masculine musk before, but this was different. The only word I could describe it with is pungent. Like high quality Gorgonzola, and it was pouring out of every crevice of my body. I pushed the stall door open, which nearly came off from the force of my strength.

Getting to my feet, I crept slowly toward the sink, feeling every contraction of every muscle, thinly veiled behind my hairless skin. I got to the mirror. I had tripled in size. Muscles bulged from every direction, built far past the natural threshold I even knew existed. My dreads had all but fallen off, leaving a buzzed hair which exposed veins protruding from even my own scalp. I could feel my heart pumping every single beat, and the blood flowing across my entire body. The power was incomprehensible, it was incredible. It was… far too much for me. I scrambled back to my bag, tossing my favorite sneakers across the room, never to fit my rank size 17 feet ever again.

The bottle seemed tiny in my massive hand, I strained to see the instructions printed on the card I’d left inside. The only thing I could make out was the final words at the bottom of the paper: “Effects permanent. Use with caution.” My heart skipped a beat, I looked at myself in the mirror, a roid-inflated version of the Jabari I had built, nurtured, valued, loved… this wasn’t me. It felt wrong. I looked down at my phone desperately trying to look up the VitaCorp webpage to no avail. I screamed and punched the wall, my fist going straight through the tile and plaster.

My breathing labored, heavy, and hard, I looked down at the bottle again, chucking it into the bin. I looked at myself in the mirror, accepting there in that moment that Jabari was gone. This walking muscle was who I now was. I now had to concoct an entirely new persona yet again. But the only thing I could think of, was how much I wanted what I had lost.

[sp0o0kylights]

[gasps] number 10 you had me at steddissy!!

Fun Facts about Patchworks, it and Chokechain where the two fics I was like "I'm not gonna post these until theyre complete theyre so close!!" and then posted parts of anyway lmao. Patchworks ended up needing a bit more than Chokechain did to finish it out but she's close.

This one also hasn't gotten The Red Pen of death Editing yet.

Snippet:

"I can't fucking belive this." Robin hisses, and Steve just sighs. 

"How are you still mad?"

"How!? How could I be mad that after struggling with my sexuality; fighting it with tears and--and constant doubt for years, you just threw up once and that was it!"

She drops her voice as deep as it'll go, mocking Steve's own. "Guess I'm queer now, let me get my coffee." 

"That's a horrible impression of me."

"Accurate you mean." Robin mutters darkly. "For the record I don't think you're fine by the way, I think you're repressing it." 

"I'm not repressing anything Robin, I told you I'm comfortable liking both." 

"Not the queerness, dingus, the reaction to the queerness!" 

"I think you're just mad I'm better at being gay than you." 

Robin gapes, mouth swimming through the movements without a sound. 

Oh, he's really pissed her off, and Steve delights in that too, in a way only siblings and soulmates can. 

"Better than me!?" She finally sputters, and Steve settles his hip against the counter, hands crossing smugly over his chest.

"Yes." 

"You--you!" Robin's shaking a finger at him, and if steam could have come from her ears they would have. 

Steve doesn't fight his grin.

"Talking," she says finally, slamming a stack of VHS's on the counter opposite him, and God is he thankful that Family Video is dead for this conversation, "is one thing. Let's see you actually back it up, hotshot.” 

"By what? Hanging out with Munson?" Steve challenges back.

"Yes." Robin spits immediately. "We've all seen how you flirt. I want to see you put all those terrible flirting skills that we know don't work outside of high-school to the test!" 

"I told you Robin, I was bombing on purpose at Scoops." He warns, as he warms up to the challenge.

Hanging out with Eddie will be easy. 

Sprinkling a little light flirting on top?

A total cakewalk. 

"I don't believe you." Robin says with narrowed eyes. 

"Just watch." Steve tells her smugly.

The nice thing about it all? 

Steve barely has to wait a few hours before he can prove himself right.

Eddie trots in as if the universe had given him his cue, coming up to the counter with one of his wilder grins.

"Minion!" He crows, and Steve rolls his eyes in response. 

"Munson." He greets back, but makes sure to lean across the counter, curling his body towards Eddie. 

Predictably, Eddie gets right up in his face. 

"How goes the droll and drab life of retail?" 

"Not terrible." Steve catches Robin's eye, and has to suppress any hint of smugness. 

'Celebrate after you make the play!' Steve thinks in his coach's voice, and he settle himself in for the game. 

"Say Eds," he says, and watches the way the nickname grabs the older teens attention, "you still selling weed?" 

"Not to your freshman, I do keep my promises." A palm goes over Eddie's heart, face full of roughish charm.

Hook.

"Nah I was thinking for myself. My parents are home for the month and they're driving me up a tree."

A truth, though given they were close to their next departure their attention was off Steve and onto more important things. 

Like getting into the right hair salon, or making sure they rubbed shoulders with this or that person. 

"Think we could smoke at your place?" Steve dips even closer into Eddie's space, delights at how wide those doe eyes of his can grow. "I'm happy to pay." 

Line.

"Sure, absolutely, uh, man." Eddie says, and Steve doesn't hold back the grin as he watches him fumble. 

"Thanks." He beams, before reaching out to pretend to brush something off of Eddie's jacket. "You're a lifesaver." 

"Sure am!" Eddie outright squeaks, and over his shoulder Steve can see Robin gawk at the two of them.

"Certified life guard Eddie, that's me!" 

"Oh," Steve grins. "Certified. You'll have to show me how to do CPR sometime." 

"Yeah, Eddie says, before abruptly wrenching himself out of Steve's space, face fire engine red. "I can show you when we uh, hang out. To smoke. What uh, day do you...?" 

His voice goes higher in question, and Steve gives him his best slow 'I'm charmed' smile. 

"Tonight? After work?”

"Tonight!" Eddie says, before he starts dancing back, waving finger guns at Steve. "My place! Be there or be square!" 

"Well I'd hate to be square." Steve replies, giving a lazy wave as Eddie crashes backwards into the door, spins around with a curse and half falls, half tumbles his way out. 

Sinker.

Steve turns a victorious look on Robin.

"He didn't even rent a movie." He preens, while Robin tracks the absolute disaster that is Eddie trying to drive his van away. 

"Oh my God." She says, wide eyes meeting his too smug ones. "I'd say that was smooth but that was the farthest thing from it." 

"Hey, I was smooth. We're only judging me, not my dance partners." He counters. 

"Oh? Certified?" Robin mocks him once again, clenching her hands under his chin before dropping them in disgust. "I can't believe that worked, everyone knows you were a lifeguard for years!" 

"I'm just that charming." 

"More like Eddie's that far gone." She says with a dismissive snort. "He has it bad for you.” 

"I dunno," Steve drawls, resting his chin on the back of his hand. "You're just as bad the second you think a girls flirting with you." 

The offended gasp Robin lets out has Steve cackling immediately. 

"You take that back!" She howls, winging a wet rag at him. 

Steve jumps back, still laughing. 

"Steven Harrington you take that back!" 

"I promised not to tell lies Rob," He gasps, as she whips the towel at him again. 

He reaches out a hand, catching the towel easily. “I can’t take it back!” 

Robin shrieks, and soon enough they're both laughing and wrestling over the towel, all thoughts of the weird dance Steve, Eddie and Chrissy were doing, forgotten.

[jooniesficrecs]

enhypen fic recs

favourites marked with a ♥

✦ — ot7

enhypen reaction to you being special mc on music — @yeeunjia

idol!enha x idol!fem!reader

enhypen giving you gf privilege — @n1k1tty

✦ — hyung line

no nut november — @jayflrt ♥

contains smut !!

social media au

summary : four men suppressing their carnal instincts for thirty days doesn’t sound plausible, but it’s no nut november, so victory is crucial. yet, there’s only one obstacle keeping lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon from their prize: you. game on, boys.

✦ — lee heeseung

give it time — @heesdreamer ♥

playgirl!au x inexperienced!hee

a few sexual scenes but no full smut !!

14.03k words

summary : being jakes twin sister, your reputation followed you around wherever you went. add on the fact you were a known man eating playgirl with a thing for nerds and you were heeseung’s worst nightmare

first date — @heesdreamer ♥

part of give it time universe

contains smut !!

4.1k words

summary : yn gets jealous when a waitress flirts with heeseung on their first date and decided to show her who he belongs to.

fear of spiders — @heesdreamer

spiderman! heeseung x reader

3k words

summary : you’re pretty sure that your quiet and mysterious roommate just might be a serial killer… plus he’s weirdly afraid of spiders

✦ — park jeongseong

ave general — @heetendo

historical/roman! au, roman general! jay, husband! jay

contains smut !!

12.7k words

summary : after your husband returns from the wars in foreign lands, you could not be more proud to see him be the shining pride of rome. however, even among the celebrations and your own personal news, jay park only wanted one thing — some time alone with you.

study lessons — @jaeyunverse ♥

jock x tutor, strangers2lovers, slight rivals2lovers, mutual pining (kinda), high school au

12.3k words

summary : so jay got piss drunk at jungwon’s party, lost his balance, tripped, and fell off the second floor balcony. now, he’s got a broken leg, a plummeting social status and a doctor’s note that orders him to abstain from all upcoming football matches till his bones mend. too bad he doesn’t possess the power to superheal and won’t be able to play when a recruiter from the college of his dreams comes to watch. left with nothing but regret, broken dreams and a shitty gpa (because why would he study when his coach told him he was guaranteed a sponsored ride to indiana university), he’s forced to bury his nose in textbooks and finally learn what the fuck integrals are. it’s a good thing the school was considerate (and sympathetic) enough to assign him the best tutor on the entire campus—you. the small hiccup in this arrangement? you hate jocks, but jay thinks you look cute.

the a-list — @jayflrt ♥

park jongseong x fem!reader (ft. park sunghoon), gossip girl au, rich kid au, fake dating au, friends2lovers

contains smut !!

10.2k words

summary : life seems to finally be going your way. that is, until your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend is back, and gossip girl appears to be out to get you. but there’s only room for one queen bee in the upper east side, and with a hand from your best friend, park jongseong, you’re going to make sure it’s you.

✦ — sim jaeyun

the switch project — @jaylaxies

contains smut !!

photographer!jake x lingerie model!reader, rivals2fwb

5.3k words

summary : being the top model for your company was something you had grown accustomed to, alongside your photographer, jihoon, always placing number one on the 'monthly evaluation list'. just opposite to jake not being accustomed to be placed second. so when company announced 'the switch project', jake had to turn the tables for him. the hard part? you're his partner and you hate him.

to all my firsts with you — @jayflrt

jake x fem!reader, college!au, strangers2lovers, mutual pining

7.3k words

summary : first kiss. first date. first love. first heartbreak. with jake, your timing would always be off—like thunder following lightning—barely missing the other by seconds.

alternate ending — to all my firsts (and forevers) with you

jake sim x fem!reader, established relationship, college au

1.5k words

✦ — park sunghoon

back off — @delcakoo

sunghoon x fem!reader

1k words

summary : after wandering off at the grocery store, sunghoon is less than pleased to find some stranger trying to ask you out on a date. but don’t worry, he’s ready to put the guy in his place!

little lucky charm — @ddeonuism

slytherin!sunghoon x ravenclaw!gn!reader, hogwarts!au

2.4k words

summary : if there was one person who loved quidditch as much as sunghoon, it was you, ravenclaw’s own quidditch geek. from a friendship formed by mutual love for the sport, it’s truly a mystery how you didn’t join you own house’s team. but hey, at least your extensive knowledge on the sport helped him and his team with their playstyle, considering you were always present during the team’s training anyways. after all, you were his own little lucky charm and the sole reason why slytherin has been winning the quidditch cup for five years in a row.

✦ — kim sunoo

scammed!? — @amakumos

non-idol! sunoo x fem! reader, smau

summary : after losing to your friend patrick in a game of fashion famous on roblox, your punishment is to send that one incredibly stupid and very unconvincing “scammer” copypasta using a burner account to your longtime crush - fashion major, kim sunoo. after asking for your phone number, sunoo realises that you’re his classmate from a few years ago that he sees at the cafe often, and maybe you’re the person that he’s been harbouring feelings for - despite how he cringes when he sees your mismatched socks.

✦ — yang jungwon

attention, please! — @eeunoia ♥

rugby player!jungwon x reader

9k words

summary : you are assigned to write the article about the Belift rugby team and had the chance to get close to the the team captain.

kiss cam — @duskwon

yang jungwon x fem!reader, frenemies2lovers

3.8k+ words

summary: you were fully prepared to be single on valentine’s day. yang jungwon was fully prepared to blow your mind.

✦ — nishimura riki

shoot! — @amakumos ♥

friends2lovers, idiots2lovers, social media au + some written chapters

idol!riki x fem!reader

number one rule of having online friends: don’t fall in love with them. but after one year of being friends with cheolsoo, someone you met while playing co-op with in genshin, the little fluttering feeling in your stomach every time he texts you is too hard to ignore. so, after a year of talking and being friends, you and cheolsoo finally decide to meet - but then you realise that “cheolsoo” is actually nishimura riki, a famous kpop idol. so now, you have to deal with having the fattest crush on someone you basically don’t even know. shoot.

sixteen eighty-five — @prettywon

nonidol!riki x gn!reader

6k words

summary : you and riki were the hardest workers on the newspaper staff. despite this, you two are never to be seen working together. he avoids you and you avoid him, until you're both put up for the task of running the "Love Seekers Column." as the column gains popularity, so do you and riki, and no good can come from that.

amortentia — @nikihoon

slytherin!riki x fem!reader, modernhogwarts!au, strangers2lovers

 1.5k words

summary : riki would do anything to have his crush notice him, so he tries his hand at making a love potion.

[waitmyturtles]

THE MORNING AFTER: ONLY FRIENDS, EPISODE 9 EDITION -- SEX, RELIEF, HYPOCRISY, AND A MEDITATION FOR THE HOES

There's a lot to dig into, so let's git it. This episode was more complicated than it actually seemed on the surface -- THANKS, TOP.

@lurkingshan and @respectthepetty came OUTTA the GATES as soon as yesterday's episode dropped, swinging their chanclas at the hypocrisies that larded this episode. Shan read almost every last one of these motherfuckers for filth in her post, naming Atom (there goes my NeoTitle dreams already) for unfairly shaming Boston; Ray, for clearly cheating on Mew; and Sand, for equivocating Ray to Boston -- all while Boston is actually still clearly communicating his preferences to not date, despite people all around him judging him for the sex he has. RTP Senpai points out that Sand is pissed off at Top for stealing Sand's ex-boyfriend -- but that Sand full well knows that while he's sleeping with Ray, Ray was technically still dating Mew. So -- is Sand stealing Mew's boyfriend from Ray? Why, oh yes he is, and Sand ain't holding himself accountable for it, Big Boba Kanaphan Eyes.

Hypocrisy. It was the name of the game of this episode. Or.... was it? It was actually way more complicated than that.

Atom in particular, just like -- where's my chappal -- but let me get back to him in a sec. As the hypocrisies were starting to click in, I saw something else going on in this episode, an opposite to the hypocrisy. I saw some clear revelations, and a learning and leaning into love through the inexperienced eyes of Mew, as compared to the painfully experienced eyes of Yo.

The episode started with Mew waking up at the hostel, unaware of Top's behaviors after Mew passed out at the Halloween party. (Top, by the way, was just -- CHEF'S KISS -- drippingly condescending, hypocritical, and sneaky this episode. Force just laid it awl out. What a performance. More on this in a bit.) Mew parties with Yo, who is like, the friend we need the MOST in this series, and asks her about whether or not he SHOULD like Ray. And Yo has to remind Mew to check himself before he wrecks himself over any sense of obligation he may have to Ray.

Yo's starting to help Mew's thoughts tickle away from obligation to a reality of his heart. At least -- one reality.

I thought of this scene when we went on the camping trip with Sand and Nick, and we had, I think, the best scene in all of Only Friends so far (cc @wen-kexing-apologist and @lurkingshan who were very, VERY right) -- in Sand and Nick clicking into their moment where they're both single, they both real cute, and why don't we see if something's there? Because that happens among friends, sometimes, and if you don't try, you won't know, right? Especially in a queer friend community that will almost always be smaller than a het community, making love that much harder to find. So you might dibble and dabble with your friends here and there.

And they smooched, and they laughed, and they were like, this doesn't work, and they laughed more, and moved on. And they were just so mad cool about it.

The way that this particular line of engagement ended with two pairs -- with Sand and Nick finding clarity, and Ray and Mew together at the social services office and communicating, to confirm that Ray and Mew just would not work together -- was a kind of relief that I haven't experienced in Only Friends yet. The slight lift I got from seeing these considerations and interactions reminded me of how I felt when the tide of trauma began to turn in Bed Friend, where the second act of that series was just trauma pummel after trauma pummel -- how much more could Uea take, I wondered. As we saw, in this episode of Only Friends, clarity roll through SandNick and RayMew, I felt relieved that there was some closure, somewhere, among some of these individuals who had tried, even ever so briefly, to pair up.

But -- this being Only Friends, heh -- it was not only relief that I felt in this episode, but we also still saw a lot of sticky toxicity and hypocritical judgements.

Atom couldn't just leave Boston ALONE. As ever, Boston has communicated to his hook-up that he's not a dating guy, not a relationship guy. And Atom doesn't take the hint.

I love that at this point in the series, at episode 9, we STILL have people judging one-night stands as "awful." What a stark reminder of the ways in which people use judgements against sex to forever condemn those who choose to engage in casual sex.

After episode 6, I wrote a little about the phenomenon of having "feelings" after sex. Many, many people have a biological urge (or even a socially expectant urge) to care/have feelings for for the person they have slept with, whether they had sex after a one-night stand, a friends-with-benefits arrangement, sex in a relationship, etc. Others, like Boston, don't.

Either of these phenomena are okay and utterly normal -- as long as you're accountable to yourself for your feelings, and not placing on anyone else any obligation to respond to those feelings that are only emanating from you, yourself.

In other words: even if Atom had "feelings" for Boston after sex -- what is Boston's responsibility to respond in kind to those feelings?

Boston had the right answer to Atom here. Boston says to Atom: no one (meaning, me, Boston) asked you to care for me. And I'm not here to hold that caring for you. I don't owe you that, Atom. That's not what's assumed when two people have sex as casually as we did.

Compare this to Nick's farewell monologue to Boston (right before Boston is about to have a hook-up, oh my god, Nick). Nick had a thing to say about his feelings ("I like you, Boston, and I am sorry for everything I did, and I am going to move on from you"), he said his piece, and he moved on.

At first, I was CRINGING at what was happening, because I thought Nick would make an embarrassingly grand and dramaaaaatic farewell, of a kind that I saw many of my drunk girlfriends make to their exes at bars when I was in my 20s, all with an intent of making their exes feel guilty for the break-ups that had previously happened.

But Nick, in that moment, actually owned his feelings, despite the timing of the conversation. And we saw Boston respond, ready to approach Nick -- and Nick had bounced and moved on with Daddy Dan, right then and there.

What a MIRROR of behavior between Atom ("Boston, you owe me") and Nick ("I thought about this, and I'm going to end it, for your happiness and for mine"). While Boston and his reputation still remain as a kind of bottom standard for people who want to feel superior when they compare themselves to him (ex: Top, Ray, Sand), Boston himself is direct about his feelings, or lack thereof, and Nick demonstrated that he himself has moved on from equivocating about a feeling of like/love that at least, he thinks, is not there anymore. (Which, from Boston's eyes -- we know now is not the case, as Boston continues to give hints of regret.)

I gotta tell y'all something. I was a party girl, like this group of friends, in my 20s. And I was heavily judged for being a ho. The terms slut, ho, whore -- were all used to describe my behavior in dripping judgement that I wasn't, instead, seeking safe and Puritanical monogamy. I was having fun with and in sex, and I was very heavily judged for it. Maybe, in part, it was because some of my friends had a harder time finding sex? Perhaps. But because sex is so EASY to judge, based on the majority popular judgements against sex -- isn't it easier to roll with the tide, than to think outside of the box and to not judge someone for having casual sex?

While Boston's ho reputation precedes him -- it is a reputation based on an unfair, almost Puritanical judgement against sex, and against people who have sex. (Once again: hello, Khai.) I give major applause to the hoes in this episode of Only Friends. All while people around them are judging sex, and judging people like Boston for having sex: Boston and Nick are not hiding anything -- they are not trying to equivocate away their actions. Their own timing isn't right. Nick knows he's about to go and hit that with a new dude. But they both have clarity about what's happening inside of them at their given moments, and they've become better about communicating what's happening inside of them over the course of the series. It's yet to be seen if the timing will work out for Boston and Nick -- but they're inching towards a clearer line of openness than we've seen in the past.

So. While awwwwlllll of this is going on: Top continues to try to infuse himself in Mew's life. Man. THIS GUY.

Top? Shut the hell up. Condescending foo. And then showing up to invite yourself to accompany Mew's moms? All while Mew doesn't know that you crossed his boundaries the last episode? And that you recorded Ray smooching Sand? Stooping to the very same tactics that got you, Top, caught? AND YOU CALLED A BOOTY CALL? While trying to win back Mew?

And...... amazingly. For Top, it worked. Or at least, it was working for a second. Mew was reconsidering.

To me -- in my opinion -- Top's behavior seems conniving, sniveling, more about winning than about love. But he also knows that he still has a hook in Mew, and was pulling rapidly on the fishing line.

And Mew... Mew began to follow that fishing line again, showing up to Top's building, and hopping into that elevator, with another person that Top had on his hook. And, good lord, now with Mond (MOND!) in the mix, we're going to have ANOTHER dramatic pile-up next week.

God, for me, while there were these notes of relief in this episode, these moments of clarity among people like Sand, Nick, and Boston, I just, like, wanted to tear MY HAIR OUT when I saw Mew and Boeing both approach Top's door at the same time. What the fuck will happen next.

And while Top will try to convince Mew to stay with him, surely, in episode 10 -- Top will also continue to judge Boston to Mew, I am sure. Top will judge Ray. Top will try to "heal" and "protect" and "take care" of Mew.

Top, leveraging judgement against sex by others to build up his own supposed moral and ethical fabric, "taking care" of Mew and leading Mew to think that Top is still a viable candidate for dating -- Cheum even interprets Top's behavior at the Halloween party as "taking care" of Mew -- will it come crumbling down as Boeing the Ex shows up for a little boing-boing?

Dudes, I have no idea, because Top keeps catching breaks! For people at The Top -- that's so often how it works in society, no?

Like I said: this was a hella complicated episode. We have three more to go. This episode captured in a snapshot a group of gloriously imperfect people making equivocating decisions as they bumble along, minute by minute. SandNick and RayMew got CLARITY. Boston got CLARITY on his feelings for Nick. Cheum is getting CLARITY on her association with the hostel. Atom got CLARITY on where Boston stood. I don't know that we have CLARITY on SandRay yet, but.... I dunno, I'll let the capitalists at GMMTV decide that, ha.

Where we don't have clarity is now with Top and Mew, with Top acting clearly duplicitously, and how Mew is going to manage this latest fall-out. I have no idea if Boeing will serve as competition to Mew, if Boeing will be the lug nut in the polycule we're all dying for -- I have no idea. I just know that Top -- who purports himself to be above all moral judgement, winning the hearts and minds of at least two moms from out of town, wtf -- will face yet another challenge in winning Mew's heart that he likely has a stronger chance of winning, due to his station in life. Top was about to come out on Top in this episode, and I wouldn't be surprised if he hangs on for another playoff win next week. We shall see.

I'm tagging the Ephemerality Squad in permanent fury over the permanence of people judging sex, let's go! @ranchthoughts @chickenstrangers @twig-tea @distant-screaming @thatgirl4815 (THATGIRL WITH THE THEORY THAT BOEING MAY NOT BE THE EX THAT TOP AND SAND SHARE, OH SHIT!) @lurkingshan @neuroticbookworm @wen-kexing-apologist @clara-maybe-ontheroad @kayatoasted