#Haven't played this one for long or in a while

[ariestrxsh]

.• ° * જ⁀➴ content warning: smut, angst, manipulation, cheating, toxic relationship, crying, oral (f!receiving), rough car sex, hair pulling, toxicbf!chris, gf!reader

.• ° * જ⁀➴ author's note: sorry guys i kind of made chris a cheating asshole in this (but i'd still let him hit bc i'm lowkey a cuck).

.• ° * જ⁀➴ summary: you and chris get into an argument after you find him cheating on you at a party, but you can't stay mad at him for long, especially when he knows just what you like, and he gives it to you in the backseat of his car.

.• ° * જ⁀➴ this fic is very loosely inspired by this post (it started off as a roadrage fic that leads to sex but the fic really took me down a different road, so i took the rough car fuck from it and kind of changed everything else so idk)

(i used two different songs for inspo, but they both have the same name, and i actually like this concept a lot bc the halsey song more fits where the reader's head is, and the current blue song more fits where chris' head is, so keep that in mind if you ever listen to the songs associated with my fics.)

Drive

You set foot out of the bathroom at a New Year's party your boyfriend had dragged you to, your eyes scanning the sea of faces in search of him.

You didn't recognize most of the people here, but they all recognized you. Chris knew almost everyone, and they all knew of you by association. Chris was a bit of a social butterfly, especially at parties, constantly flitting through each room and getting easily distracted, so you weren't sure where to even begin looking for him.

You had a better chance of finding one of his brothers first and hoping that maybe one of them had seen him. You continued to look for either of the three of them through the crowd while music thumped loudly through some shitty speakers.

You found your way through the living room and the kitchen, bumping into a few people who knew your name but failed to tell you theirs and were no help in finding Chris. The smell of marijuana burning floated into your senses as you wandered out back, thinking for sure that you'd stumble upon your boyfriend outside lighting up a joint, but he was nowhere to be found.

You did, however, find Nick who was getting hit on by a group of girls who were all giggling and playing with their hair while they all completely missed the obvious signs that he was totally uninterested and also gay. "Hey, have you seen Chris?" You called to Nick as your heels clicked against the stonework in the backyard.

Nick politely excused himself and started walking towards you. "No, I haven't, but thank God you're here. I thought they were going to eat me alive back there," Nick whispered in your ear, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as the two of you started to walk back inside. You frowned at him. All you wanted was to find Chris.

"You know, I saw a cat earlier. If we can find the cat, I'm sure we'll find Matt close by. Maybe he's seen Chris," Nick suggested, shrugging. You and Nick pushed your way past a bunch of drunk college kids when Matt caught your eye at the top of the second floor.

He was bent down, petting a black cat and scratching the sweet animal under the chin as she purred and brushed up against his leg. You two made your way over to the banister and started climbing the steps. "Hey, have you seen Chris?" You called to him, startling the cat and causing her to run off to one of the dark rooms down the hall.

Matt glared at you. "No, I haven't," he huffed. "I can't find him anywhere. I swear, I left him alone for like ten minutes," you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach and the thoughts creeping into your mind that he might be somewhere entertaining another girl.

"I wouldn't go up there if I were you. I think there might be someone hooking up in one of those rooms," Matt pointed down the hall, smirking. He turned his attention to Nick. "Hey, since Chris can drive himself now and we don't have to wait for him, do you wanna go?" The rest of their conversation was drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat thumping away in your ears as you peered down at the only room you could tell was lit up.

You saw what looked like two pairs of feet stumbling around as their shadows broke through the light shining through the crack in the bottom of the door. Something told you that Chris was in that room, and even though you had nothing to go off besides a gut feeling, you had to be sure.

After Nick and Matt had made their way back down the staircase and out the door to Matt's car, you finally worked up the courage to march towards the door. You pressed your ear up to the wooden barrier. You couldn't make out what the two voices on the other side were saying, but one of them definitely belonged to Chris.

You subtly turned the knob and threw open the door. Sure enough. Your scumbag boyfriend was getting close and friendly with another woman who had her lips latched onto his neck, and he had his hand resting on her hip. He immediately pulled away and backed up as he realized he'd been caught.

"Hey babe," he said, trying to sound casual. You could tell by the sneer on the girl's face and her body language that she wasn't happy to see you. Your glance flickered between the both of them a few times before you felt tears starting to well in your eyes. You turned away and bolted down the stairs and out into the front yard.

It was a shame Nick and Matt had already left because all you wanted to do was go home, and now the reason you were crying was your only ride. Chris followed closely behind, chasing after you. "Babe, what's wrong?" He asked, playing dumb, as if that could really get him out of this one. You pushed him away, but he pulled you close again.

"What the fuck were you doing with that girl!?" You asked through your tears, raising your voice. "We were just talking," he sweetly told you, wiping away a bit of your smeared eyeliner. "Chris, I'm not stupid! She was kissing your neck," you sobbed in response, shoving him again.

"Babe, you're embarrassing me," he shot back, sounding a bit annoyed with you. "You're the one making out with some other girl at a party where everyone knows we're together, and you're the one who's embarrassed?! You're unbelievable!" You yelled.

"You're always jumping to conclusions and accusing me of shit," Chris responded, embracing you once more. "Shhh. Come on, baby. Come home with me, and I'll show you how sorry I am," he cooed in a soft voice, trying to de-escalate the situation.

"You're not fooling me, Chris. I'm not giving into you this time. Just take me home.." you said, your voice trailing off as he started kissing and nibbling on your ear. "Please. Come home with me. I'll make you feel so good," he whispered into the crook of your neck, pressing his body up against yours.

Your knees and your willpower grew weak as you turned your head to expose more of your throat to him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

As angry as you were with him, he could always win you over with sex. It was like a vicious cycle. He'd hit on another girl in front of you, you'd get jealous, the two of you would start fighting, and then he would console you with sex. You hated that it always worked, but you couldn't help the effect he had on you. He was intoxicating, and you were addicted to him.

"Mhmm. Please, Chris.." you hummed back, giving into him. He had you in the palm of his hand. He reached behind you and opened your door for you, leading you into his car and closing it once you'd gotten in.

It still had that new car smell. He climbed into the driver seat, turning the key in the ignition. You listened to the sound of his engine purring as he pulled away from the street, one hand on the steering wheel and his other on your thigh. His pretty blue eyes shifted between the road, his rearview, and his side mirrors.

You watched the way the streetlights overhead illuminated different parts of the car as you drove underneath them, shadows bouncing off the leather interior, creating a strange illusion, kind of like how it felt to be in a relationship with Chris - like a long, late night drive where the lights and shadows played tricks on your eyes to the point where you didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

"Why don't you put on some music, babe?" Chris suggested, breaking you out of your thoughts and attempting to distract you from bringing up the girl from the party again. "My phone's dead. Can I use yours?" You casually asked him, reaching for his phone that was sitting in his cup holder.

"Mine's dead, too," he replied, trying to grab it before you did. You watched his screen light up as an incoming message came through. "Bullshit!" You yelled, snagging his phone out of his hand.

When you opened his lock screen, it was open to a new contact he'd just saved, and you saw a woman's name you didn't recognize, and when you pulled down notification bar to see who the text was from, it was from her.

"Give it back," Chris demanded, trying to wrestle his phone out of your hand while trying to maintain his focus on the road. The text read: I had fun with you tonight. I hope I didn't get you into too much trouble with your girlfriend. Text me the next time you're lonely. ;)

"That's it, Chris. Let me out of the fucking car," you told him, throwing his phone at him and reaching for your door handle. "Jesus Christ," Chris said, rolling his eyes and turning down an empty road that was dark besides one lone streetlight at the corner.

"I'm not kidding. Stop this fucking car or I'll jump out while it's moving," you threatened. "I know you will," he scoffed at you, hence the reason he was pulling off of the main road and bringing his wheels to an abrupt stop.

Chris had pulled over on the side of the street in a residential area, but there was stretch of empty field before you'd hit any houses, and there were no people around because it was around 11 p.m. on New Year's Eve night and everyone was either out at a bar or a house party or nestled comfortably into their beds ready to start off the new year with a good night's rest.

You threw open the car door. "Don't - slam it," Chris started to say, but he was cut off by you slamming the door shut in his face. You grew even more pissed off at the audacity of him to care about his car in a moment like this. You started marching down the street, your heels angrily clicking against the sidewalk as you tried to hold back your tears with arms crossed over your chest.

He rolled down his tinted window. "Get in," he told you, but you ignored him, not even bothering to slow your strides. "Get back in the car," he repeated through gritted teeth. "No, you can leave. I'll find my way home."

"We're 45 minutes from your house, you've been drinking, and your phone is dead. I'm afraid I don't have a choice. I'm not leaving you out here alone like this," Chris told you, slowly driving beside you, his wheels inching forward with your angry stomps. You gave him the silent treatment, continuing down the pavement.

He stopped the car and pulled himself to his feet, coming around to the opposite side where you were and grabbing you by the wrist. "Look, I know you hate me, and you can tell me all about it in the morning, but for now, let's get you back to my place, and I'll do my best to make it up to you," he softly cooed, looking into your eyes as he grabbed both sides of your face and pulled you into a deep kiss.

You kissed him back, your lips moving in unison with his, but you pulled away. "What? You gonna leave me over it?" He asked genuinely. You stared at him blankly. "Because you never do," he pointed out. He was right.

This was a pattern, and there was a part of each one of you that loved the drama of the tumultuous relationship the two of you shared. You both knew it wasn't healthy, but Chris loved the way you'd get jealous over him and cause a scene. It made him feel like you really cared. And you loved the great lengths he'd go to in order to win you back over after a big fight.

And, of course, you were both addicted to the makeup sex. Neither one of you understood the psychology of why neither one of you wanted out of the relationship. After all, you two really did think you loved each other. You just only had really fucked up ways of showing it.

"Come on. You know you want me. You'd get bored with anyone else," he said in a seductive tone as he winked at you. Again, he was right. He pushed you up against the car and started kissing you, wedging his knee between your legs.

"I need you, baby, and I know you need me, too. I'm the only one who can give you exactly what you like, hmm?" He moaned into your mouth in-between sloppy kisses. "Fuck me, Chris," you moaned back.

"Yeah? You wanna go back to my place, and I'll fuck you nice and good," he purred into your ear. "No, Chris. I want you to fuck me right now," you sternly replied. He raised his eyebrows at you. This was out of character for you, but he liked it, and he wasn't going to let the chance go to waste.

"Fuck. You're so hot," he rapsed as he pulled open the back door. "Get on all fours," he ordered you, pushing you into the backseat. He pulled the hem of your black dress up over ass and started taking down your panties.

He eagerly spread you open, and you shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath radiating onto your core. He leaned in and buried his tongue in between your folds, lapping up your wetness. Your face was pressed against the cold, leather interior as a mewl passed through your lips.

He started to harshly suck on your clit, moaning against your sensitive nerve endings as he brought his hand down and slapped your ass hard. You yelped, leaning back into him. You reached around and entangled your fingers in his soft, brown locks as he continued to eat you like a man starving.

"Like when I eat it from the back?" He seductively asked you. "Mhmm," you whimpered, biting your lip and nodding your head. He wrapped his lips around your bundle of nerves, and he began methodically flicking his tongue over it as your whole body started to tremble.

He slurped up all your juices as he roughly kissed your drooling cunt. He created a bit of suction on your clit again, pulling away slowly and stretching your flesh, which made the feeling far more intense. He smirked after he released it from his lips and it snapped back into place. You whimpered at the delightful sensation.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he praised you. You dug your freshly-manicured nails into the seat as he brought you closer to the edge. His tongue explored you in ways that no one else ever could. You felt the knot in your stomach come undone as he devoured you, paying close attention to every part of your vulva, stimulating you with his soft, wet mouth.

You started to shake as you finished onto his tongue, strangled moans pouring into the car. Chris chuckled against your heat, licking you clean. He released his mouth from you, and you heard the sound of him fiddling with his belt. Then his zipper.

You felt him draw a line up your slit with his tip, dragging it through your wetness. He slapped it against your entrance, laughing at the way you sent your hips back trying to coax it in. "You forgive me, baby? You forgive me for getting mixed up with that girl?" He cooed, teasing you with the head of his cock.

"Of course, Chris. I could never stay mad at you," you whimpered, eager for him to put it in. He smirked, snapping his hips forward and burying himself deep inside you. "So big," you whined as you generously accepted him, your pussy stretching around him and accommodating his thickness.

"Take it," he groaned, starting to buck his hips back and forth. He admired the arch of your back and all your perfect curves as he had you in his favorite position. His eyes wandered towards your ass and the way it jiggled every time he jerked his hips forward, driving himself deeper into your hole.

He grabbed ahold of your hair and used it to steady himself as he pounded away. "You take my cock so well," he growled, rutting into your gspot with every jagged thrust. Your eyes rolled back, and you let out a deep, guttural sound that you almost didn't even recognize coming from yourself.

He started to break a sweat, a few drops of perspiration forming on his forehead, his thick hair sticking to it. The car windows started to fog up with the moisture from your combined breath as the two of your bodies moved as one unit in an escalating exchange of energies.

He relished in the way you squelched around him and the sound of skin slapping against skin. "Harder," you practically sobbed as you felt the pressure building in your abdomen again. He fucked you ravenously, picking up his strides and giving it to as hard as he could, sending satisfaction through every inch of you.

His eyes were slammed shut, his eye brows knitted together, and his jaw dropped, pleasured sounds unfurling from his lips. They were deep, sensual, and almost frustrated - almost animalistic. His car rocked back and forth as he took you in the back seat, your fingers grasping for anything to hold onto as you felt your stomach flutter.

"So close," you managed to whine as you reached the point of no return. With Chris still gripping your hair tightly, he kept his pace as steady and strong as he could while on the brink himself. "Cum on my cock, babe," he demanded, his voice textured with lust. He gripped your hair even harder, tugging with even more force than before as your orgasm rippled through you, fully surrendering to him.

Your bodies reacted to one other in a language of unspoken desire as he pumped you full of his warm, sticky load and your walls throbbed around him, creating a positive feedback loop in which each of you triggered a more intense climax in one another.

"Oh, fuck," he rasped, his dick twitching inside of you as he filled you with every last drop. He relaxed his hold on your hair, and you collpased into the back seat of his car. He pulled out of you, admiring the way his cum glistened on your skin in the faint moonlight as it peeked out from behind the clouds.

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up, go back to my place, and I'll do that as many times as it takes me to make up for what a jerk I was to you tonight."

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[rosenclaws]

Stronger || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: after failing your last mission you start to over train yourself in secret but Logan notices the bruises and cuts and wont leave you alone about it.

warnings: angst to fluff, patching up fic, the reader is very hard on themselves, injury, blood, insecurity, sweet logan, reader pushes themself too much.

a/n: I had this idea at like 1:30am last night and I wrote it when i woke up oops. I just love fluffy patching up logan fics what can I say.

There it is again. Logan's nose twitches as you walk by. You smell like dirt and sweat but most of all blood. He locks eyes with you as you walk past the kitchen door.

Theres a limp in your step. It's subtle but there. You're wearing long pants and long sleeves despite it being hot outside and you're hiding your hands in your pockets. There's bags under your eyes and the smiles you give people aren't real.

Logan narrows his eyes at you and you look at the ground. Hurrying away from his pointed gaze. He wants to go after you but he hears your door slam and lock.

No one else has picked up on this except for him. He brings it up in passing but he's brushed off every time. Something is up with you and he's going to figure out what.

You sigh as you lean against your door. Your body aches like crazy and all you want to do is collapse onto the bed and sleep. But you force yourself to the bathroom. You need to scrub off all the evidence of everything from the night before. The blood and grime washed off but the bruises stayed.

"Damn." You mumbled as you took in the injuries from this time.

The person displayed in the mirror looked like a stranger. Your eyes were sunken, bruises on your body, you looked tired and felt worse. But you had to keep going. You needed to be strong, to prove yourself and this was the only way.

At least that's what you think. You crawl into bed and pass out the moment your head hits the pillows. Unfortunately the nightmares start then too.

You're back on your last mission. The whole reason you've been pushing yourself so hard. You were weak, lost, a burden to the team. You weren't like everyone else at the mansion. You didn't come here as a kid.

In fact you were well into your adult life when Professor Xavier found you. You had no training, no experience. You got stuck into classes with kids who had already mastered their powers. You felt silly, a fool to think you could be apart of this world. You didn't belong.

So when you got the chance to go on a mission you were excited. It means they thought you were ready, that you had something in you that could help.

The mission went terribly. You were overwhelmed and could barely keep up. Tackled to the ground you cried out in pain. A sharp blade against your neck caused you to freeze. You tried to conjure your energy blasts but a foot on your wrist stopped you. It was digging into you, crushing you. You closed your eyes as you braced yourself for what was to come.

It never does.

The pressure is released all at once as Logan tackled the man who was on you. Digging his claws into him until he's limp on the ground. He runs to you, checking you injuries. You couldn't speak. You couldn't warn Logan that someone else was coming. Then it all goes black. You're too late.

You sit up, Logan's name on the tip of your tongue as you wake up. Fuck. You take in your surroundings and try to calm down. Slowly sinking back into your bed. Reminding yourself that everything fine.

That the last mission didn't really end that way. Logan is okay, you're okay. But what if things had played out different.

If you could have held your own then Logan wouldn't have had to come to your rescue. He carried you back to the jet and while everyone was nice, you knew that you disappointed them.

You haven't been asked to go on a mission since. It hurt, you wanted to go. To be apart of the team. So you took it upon yourself to train. Your powers were trained in lessons with the professor but he never lets you go past a certain limit. So instead you decided to sneak out at night to the nearby forest and train there.

Honing not only your powers but your hand to hand combat as well. Trees were your only partners but it worked. They were strong and sturdy. Every night you'd sneak out. Practice with your powers which drained you and then practiced everything else after. It left you bloody and bruised but in your mind it was worth it.

Glancing at the clock you see that you've slept through most of the day. The sun had already set. Quietly you get dressed and sneak down the hallways. Most everyone was already in bed and if they weren't they were socializing in the living room. All you had to do was sneak by and you were home free for the night.

Laughter is the perfect distraction as you sneak past the doorway. Opening the door slowly and sneaking outside, running to the safety of the woods. What you don't notice is someone following you.

Logan caught your scent the second you stepped out of your room. Whether he wants to admit it or not he's always searching for you. He smelled your shampoo wafting past the door and eyed you outside. You were quick but he could still see you. Enough of this. Whatever the hell you were doing was killing you. Slowly but surely it was ruining you physically and mentally. He slipped away from the rest of the people in the living room and followed you.

As he got deeper in the woods he became worried, just what could you be doing out here? His ears perk up as he hears you. Peaking through the trees he finds you in a small clearing. You were clearly exhausted but you kept pushing. Creating energy from your finger tips and blasting them at a tall redwood.

Logan smells the blood that trickled from your nose. You were pushing yourself too hard. He's about to reveal himself when the loud creaking of a branch stops him.

You were too wrapped up in conjuring another blast that you don't notice a large tree branch cracking from the force of your powers. Logan springs in to action.

"Watch out!" He growls as he launches himself at you. Grabbing your body and wrapping himself around you the best he can. The branch falls right onto his back. It snaps in two as it falls to either side of you.

"Logan?! What are you doing here?" You ask as you stare at the fallen branch. Kicking yourself for not noticing it fast enough forcing Logan to put himself in danger for you again.

"What am I doing here? What the fuck are you doing out here?" He yells as he lets you go. Taking in just how bad you looked.

"What the hell is wrong with you? What if I wasn't here? What if that branch fell and hit you and no one would know that you were bleeding out in the fucking woods!" Logan snarls. His fear and worry being masked by anger. How could you be so reckless? So stupid?

"I didn't ask you to fucking follow me!" You bite back. Shame creeping up as he scolds you. Logan scoffs and grabs your face firmly.

"Do you even see yourself right now?" He grabs your wrist and holds it up. Staring at your bloody knuckles. It fucking hurts. It hurts for him to see you like this and it hurts him that you were doing this to yourself.

“You're tearing yourself apart, why?" The anger starts to fade, his real feelings breaking through.

"Because I'm weak." You admit, your voice cracking as the adrenaline starts to drain. Instead being replaced but complete and utter exhaustion.

"What?" Logan asks in disbelief.

"I failed the last mission, I could have gotten you hurt, I was a liability. If I got stronger, If I was better."

"Stop. Just stop. You really think all that?" Logan has let go of you by now, his eyes are looking at all your bruises. All the damage you've done to yourself.

"You don't?" You ask, afraid of his answer.

He doesn't say a word. Instead he takes your holds your hand, you try to ignore the butterflies growing in your stomach as he leads you back to the mansion. Taking you up to his room where he pulls out a first aid kit.

He doesn't need one but every room has one, of course you had already used up all of yours. Silently he patches you up, wrapping your knuckles in bandages and wiping up the blood from your nose.

"If you wanted train you could have come to one of us, to me." He should have noticed sooner, said something. Stopped you from doing this to yourself.

"I thought I had to do it on my own."

"You don't. It took me a while to figure it out too but you don't." He would be a hypocrite to scold you for going off alone but he doesn't really care.

"I'm sorry." You mumble. Logan cups your face and to your shock kisses your forehead gently.

"Don't ever do this again do you hear me." Logan can help you, he can protect you.

"I won't." You promise him. He smiles and picks you up.

"Logan!" You yelp as he drops you into his bed.

It smells just like him and you can't deny the instant comfort that comes over you as you snuggle into his sheets.

"You're going to rest for the next week. Anything you need you just call alright?"

"But what-" He stares at you and you stop talking, he wasn't fucking around about this.

"When you're healed and rested. Then we can train together." He doesn't leave room for argument, not that you wanted to argue with him anyways but still.

"Thank you Logan...You didn't have to do this."

He could have turned his head, pretended he never saw anything. Its what you expected him to do if you were being honest. But he didn't. He saw you struggling, pushing yourself and he couldn't let you hurt yourself any longer. He cared about you, a lot.

"I know." He says simply.

"Will you stay, while I sleep. I've been getting these nightmares and well..." Logan nods his head.

He shuts off the lights and crawls into bed with you. Kind of, more like he's half hanging off the edge of the bed. But you're comfortable and that's good enough for him.

It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep. The comforting aura of Logan was enough. He hums as you curl closer to him. Logan chasing away any nightmares that threaten to hurt you and for the first time in a while your dreams are quiet.

A smile on your face as peace finally overcomes your dreams.

[spanktony]

“I’LL DO ANYTHING.” - anora.

summary: when you snap at anora, she leaves your place pissed, and you come back begging to make things right.

words: 2.3k +

warnings: 18+, fem!reader, oral (a receiving), fingering (a receiving), begging, ani calls u a good girl, reader is a meanie for a bit then turns to a lil bitch, this is bad, and yeah let me know if there’s more.

navigation. request.

tired would be an understatement of how you felt right now. your head pounded, each beat following up with a sigh from your boss's mouth, reminding you of the looming deadline for the project that still needed to be completed.

so, here you were on a call at 9:48 in the morning, on a day you were supposed to be off, with three other colleagues discussing the next steps for the project.

you rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled deep in your bones. you sat at your desk, a few feet away from anora's side of the bed, which made it harder to resist the temptation to crawl back under the covers and ignore the world for a little while longer. but you knew better. you couldn't afford to.

literally.

your phone buzzed on the desk, shifting your attention from one screen to the other. oh shit. the driver. you had planned a low-key day with anora—just the two of you—but now it seemed like that might have to wait.

your stomach sank as you glanced at the message: i'm here. do you want me to grab anything for you two?

you quickly typed back: no, that's fine. you can come inside and wait. i'm in a meeting; it shouldn't take too long.

hopefully…

you hoped anora wouldn't be too disappointed with the change of plans. the message sent, and you set your phone down again, the screen lighting up, showing the call you've been on for... three ongoing hours?!

behind you, anora stirred, waking up from her deep sleep. "good morning," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

you turned slightly, offering a tired smile as you double-checked to make sure you were still muted on your work call. "good morning, babe. sleep well?"

"mmm-hmm," she hummed, stretching. you heard the soft crack of her spine as she reached her arms over her head, a sound that made your heart swell a little. she padded across the hardwood floor with that familiar grace, her feet quiet but sure.

you could feel her before you saw her, like a magnet drawing you in. then she was there, leaning down to plant a lingering kiss on your neck. it made your skin tingle, sending a shiver down your spine. "you've been up for hours, haven't you?" she whispered, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"i have to finish this report," you murmured, half-distracted.

but anora wasn't deterred. her lips trailed to your jawline and then to your cheek, playful and persistent.

"ani," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. "i'm on a call."

she ignored your plea, her hands sliding over your shoulders as she planted another kiss on your temple.

"ani, seriously," you hissed, though a hint of laughter betrayed you.

"what? i'm just showing my hardworking girlfriend some love," she teased, grinning against your skin. it was sweet; it really was. but your boss's voice in your ear reminded you of the pressing deadline, and her teasing felt like too much in the moment.

"anora, stop!" you snapped, louder than intended.

her hands froze, and the warmth that had been cocooning you suddenly vanished. you heard her inhale sharply, and when she stepped back, it was like a cold breeze had replaced her presence.

"what the hell?" she asked with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, still in the same position, looking hurt and confused. you felt your stomach twist. "i—" you started, but the words got tangled.

"i'm sorry for trying to spend time with you," she said, her voice raising in pitch before she swallowed hard. "god forbid i... i don't know, make you feel appreciated or something."

"i'm just trying to work, anora! i have deadlines, responsibilities—"

"and i'm a distraction, right?" she shot back, "just a little nuisance in your way?"

you opened your mouth to apologize, to explain, but she was already moving, grabbing her overnight bag from the floor and shoving her things inside haphazardly. it was like a fire was spreading through the room with how quickly she was packing up to leave.

"ani," you called out, your voice more desperate now. "please, wait. don't go."

but she ignored you, shoulders tense and eyes avoiding yours as she zipped up her bag. you heard the soft thud of her bag slung over her shoulder, and before you could say another word, she was at the door.

"y/n? are you here?" your boss's voice reminding you of the meeting you were supposed to be in right now. you looked at your phone, then the door your girlfriend had just rushed out of. sighing heavily, you unmuted your phone and replied, "yes, i'm here."

the hours that followed felt like eternity. the empty apartment was so quiet, so still, that it almost felt suffocating. by the time night fell, you couldn't bear it anymore. you gathered a few things—her favorite snacks, the earrings she had been eyeing for weeks but never bought, and a small bouquet of flowers you'd picked up on a whim.

your driver pulled up to her old place, her place that she rarely stayed at anymore because she was always at your apartment. she had even given you a spare copy of her key so you could move her things to your place when she was busy.

you opened the door and found the living room empty, thankful her roommate wasn't home. you knocked on her bedroom door, calling out her name softly.

the door creaked open, and there she was. anora's head peeked out from behind the door, her eyebrows furrowing both in anger and confusion, as she clearly wasn't expecting you. she was still in the clothes she'd left in, her hair slightly disheveled.

"what are you doing here?" she asked, opening her door slightly further to get a better look at you.

"i... i came to apologize," you said quickly, holding out the flowers like a shield. she eyed them, unimpressed.

"anora, please. i was an idiot. i shouldn't have snapped at you. you were just being sweet, and i let my stress get the better of me." she leaned against the doorframe, silent, her gaze piercing.

"i brought your favorite snacks," you added, holding up the bag. "and earrings. i even... i don't know, i just..."

you trailed off, realizing how desperate you sounded. but you didn't care. "please," you said softly. "i miss you. i miss us. i'll do anything to make it right."

anora sighed, stepping aside to let you in. you stepped inside her room, slowly closing the door behind you, watching as she stood a couple of feet in front of her bed. the tension in the air was thick as you set the flowers and bag on the nightstand beside you.

her expression softened, just a fraction. "anything?"

"anything," you promised, stepping closer, inches away from her.

"you really hurt my feelings," she said finally, a hand coming to cup your cheek, and you stumbled even closer to her, your lips ghosting hers.

you looked so fucking adorable in that moment, with that vulnerable, almost lost look on your face. like a kicked puppy—those sad, pleading eyes. you looked so damn cute, but she wasn't going to let you off the hook that easily.

her thumb brushed gently across your cheekbone. "you said anything, right?"

you nodded quickly, your hand wrapping around her forearm, and her heart skipped a beat. the way you held her arm, like you couldn't stand the distance between you two, made her lips twitch upward.

there was something in the way you looked at her now, something so earnest, so full of regret, that made her resolve waver just slightly. her eyes darted to your lips, feeling the heat between you both rise. god, you were so close, and she was fighting every instinct that told her to pull you in. to kiss you like she wanted to, to let you wrap her in your arms, to hold her.

her gaze flitted up, catching yours.

"anything," you repeated again, barely a whisper.

"get on your knees," she whispered. without hesitating, you lowered yourself in front of her, her hand running a hand through your hair. you stared up at her, waiting.

"beg."

"please," you said, the frustration clear in your voice.

"please what?"

"please forgive me, ani. i shouldn't have snapped at you."

"no, you shouldn't have. you didn't mean it, did you?"

you shook your head.

"that's right. because you wouldn't dare treat me like that. right, baby?" you nodded again, your hands finding their way to her thighs, gripping them tightly. anora's hands left your hair and cupped your face gently. "good girl," she said, a smile playing on her lips.

you licked your lips when your girlfriend began pulling her shorts down, revealing her bare skin inch by inch. she watched you the whole time, smiling, that smile that made your heart race with anticipation.

you leaned in, kissing the insides of her thighs, and she hummed. it was a gentle kiss, the kind that she needed after the day she had today, and it sent a wave of pleasure through her.

"such a good girl," she whispered, and your lips trailed higher, pressing against the clothed heat between her legs. she let out a soft moan, her hands finding your hair again to stop her legs from trembling.

you pressed a lingering kiss to the spot before pulling back, your gaze meeting hers. anora's eyes were half-lidded, her cheeks flushed, and she looked so gorgeous; what kind of an idiot would raise their voice at her? oh, that's right... you did.

"ani," you murmured, looking up at her, pleading.

"i forgive you, baby," she breathed, pulling her underwear to the side, revealing her glistening pussy. you could see the desire in her eyes as she guided you closer, silently inviting you to continue. with a soft smile, you leaned in to fulfill her unspoken request, eager to make things right between you.

you kissed her again, harder this time, your tongue slipping between her folds, tasting her sweetness as she moaned softly in response. you kept going, your tongue circling her clit slowly, teasingly. you couldn't help yourself, not when she was this wet and not when you owed it to her.

her grip tightened on your hair, and you moaned against her, sending a shockwave through her body. you looked up at her once more, taking in the sight of her, the way her lips parted slightly, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath she took.

"more," she whispered, her hips rocking forward, covering your chin with her slick wetness. you obliged, increasing the pressure and speed of your movements, your hands digging in the back of her thighs, trying to pull her even closer to you.

you continued like this, listening to her soft moans and pleas until she was close. she tugged on your hair, trying to pull you away.

"wait," she gasped, "not yet."

you pulled back, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. "did i do something wrong?" you asked, suddenly worried.

"no," she breathed, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, her hands still tangled in your hair. "it's just been a while, and i want your fingers." you smiled like an idiot, rising off your knees to kiss her for the first time that night.

her lips were soft, pliant, and you savored the taste of her on your tongue. "fuck, i missed you," you mumbled, her lips parting to let out a soft chuckle, falling against the bed with you in a tangle of limbs.

"me too, baby. now be good and finish what you started." you nodded eagerly, sliding a hand up under her shirt, your fingers grazing her skin until you reached her chest, cupping her breast in your hand, feeling her heartbeat quicken beneath your touch.

"i'll make you feel so good," you whispered, leaning in to kiss her neck as she arched into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. "hurry," she urged, her voice breathless.

you slid your hand back down her body, tracing the outline of her curves before finally reaching your destination, sliding your middle finger into her pussy and feeling her wetness enveloping you. she gasped at the sensation, her hips instinctively moving against your hand as she whispered, "don't stop."

her head fell back, her fingers gripping the sheets when you added another finger, increasing the pressure and speed of your movements, your eyes locked on her flushed face, the way her eyes closed and her mouth fell open as she let out a moan, her back arching against the mattress.

you continued like this for a few minutes, watching her writhe underneath you, her hips rolling against your fingers. her moans were music to your ears, and the sight of her like this was enough to make you let out a low growl of satisfaction.

her breathing was labored, her hips bucking wildly, and you knew she was close. extremely close. her body tensed, her hands gripping the sheets so tightly that they were shaking, and her moans became louder and more desperate. you kept going, not letting up, ignoring the ache in your own hand.

"come for me, ani," you said softly, curling your fingers inside her, hitting that spot that drove her crazy. her moans grew louder, and her body stiffened, and then she finally reached her peak, letting out a loud cry of pleasure. "yes, fuck!"

you felt her walls clench around your fingers, pulsing with the force of her release. her head fell back against the pillow, and her body went limp, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

you watched her, mesmerized, not wanting to take your eyes off her for even a second.

you finally pulled out your fingers, bringing them to your mouth and sucking on them, tasting her sweet juices. her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at you, her expression softening.

"what candy did you buy?"

[polarisjisung]

MISTLETOE

synopsis: Ugly sweaters, roasting marshmallows, filling stockings, and visiting the markets— Christmas is all about tradition, right? After years of spending the holidays away from home, you and Haechan revive your favourite Christmas tradition, and perhaps adopt a new one too.

wc: 2k

pairings: (v slight) brothers bsf! haechan × fem! reader

genre: fluff

warnings: one(?) swear word

notes: was feeling homesick, so I wrote this, kinda different to how I usually write, I think

also big love to my cute mooties @winwintea + @suzayaaa for reading this for me (and fixing up my horrific grammar 🫠) ily so much 🫶🫶

It's the most beautiful time of the year

Lights fill the streets, spreading so much cheer

It was a chilly evening, just a week before Christmas, and you were curled up on the couch in your grandmother's home.

It was tradition— the lead-up to Christmas spent in this small cottage that had just the right amount of space for your huge family game nights and bake offs. You take a moment to look around.

The soft glow of the Christmas tree lights filled the room, the one you'd helped decorate the second it hit December first, and the fireplace crackled beside you, comforting, cosy, and beautifully nostalgic.

This was the first Christmas you'd been able to spend with your folks in years.

It was only fair you felt the warmth of the living room wrap around you, grounding you in a way that felt both familiar and comforting, You missed this. Somehow you still felt a smile tugging at your lips as you thought back to last year.

Christmas dinner with your flatmates had been a disaster—burnt potatoes and a mystery bird in the oven that you still weren’t sure was chicken or turkey, potentially neither.

A total fail, you had to admit, but you sure did have the best honey glazed carrots of your life. It was a warm feeling, and perhaps in some strange way, you almost missed it, but nothing could compare to being home.

You really had missed this.

“That happy to see me, huh?”

You hadn't realised when he'd walked through the door— which considering you were currently home alone spoke volumes about your lack of spatial awareness, but you recognised him in an instant.

Black wavy hair parted roughly through the middle, specks of white scattered across his face and melting into his black coat, you'd recognise that face anywhere— Lee Haechan.

The guy who spent a few too many nights in your childhood home, playing video games, lounging around and crashing on the couch every so often.

Time seems to have treated him well, because if he wasn't before, he was cute as fuck now, and you certainly weren't ashamed to stare. Although your increasingly pink cheeks certainly didn't do you any favours even if you had intended to hide that fact.

“Haechan, it's been a while.” You spoke, making one swift move to hoist yourself up off the couch and make your way towards him.

“Too long, apparently, you haven't called me that in years”

He’s right, and though it's been months since you saw him, you still recognise the slither of hurt that lingers in the space between you.

Sure, you had stayed in touch through one too many spontaneous video calls, but something about seeing him in person again had you scratching the back of your neck.

You laugh awkwardly. Finally reaching the space in front of him you wipe your sweaty palms across the ugly Christmas sweater that your grandma had forced you to wear, “Right, Hyuck, how could I forget.”

You feel his arm wrap around you, a hug tighter and warmer than you'd ever shared, one you return with your own arms wrapped loosely around his neck.

“So what's got you all smiley?”

You shake your head, dismissive, but Haechan’s gaze presses further for an answer.

“Just glad to be back home” you respond, eyes raking over every familiar detail of the room you loved so much.

“Yeah,” he does the same, noticing how your hair's grown a little since you last spoke. “I'm glad you're back too.”

And something tells you that his words come from a place far beyond standard courtesy.

Now Haechan wouldn't openly admit it, but Christmas without you hadn't been the same.

For starters, you were a pro hot chocolate maker, a self-acclaimed, but totally deserved title, even if you did put the marshmallows on top of the cream instead of under it where they could melt.

You had always defended yourself saying it looked cuter, and who was Haechan to argue with that. He chuckles at the thought.

And how could he forget those cookies, the cookies you made every year, but still happened to burn a batch of, each time you baked them. God, he swore last Christmas he'd have done anything for one of those.

Haechan had realised how much those small details could change everything.

And if he was really being honest, Mark's hot chocolate wasn't anywhere near as good as yours, and it sure as hell didn't come with cookies.

But more than that, Haechan had just missed you.

He missed the tacky jokes you made and the ring of your laughter across the house.

He missed the way you'd walk into a room and make it feel instantly brighter or how you would show up in a Santa suit on Christmas Eve, dishing out toys to the children on the street like candy on Halloween.

Perhaps he was a little crazy, loving the constantly sniffling, snotty version of you that was always sick around this time of year— a little out of the ordinary for thinking you looked beautiful, even with a strap-on beard and a fake belly, but it was the truth.

And it was a truth he was happy to live with.

The festive season felt incomplete when you weren't around. It felt like a Christmas tree without the star on top— like everything was just a touch less magical without you.

Haechan realises he's been thinking for a while, a suspiciously long while. And only now did he realise just how empty the house seemed, too quiet for your family, that somewhere along the way had become his too, to not be around.

“How come you're alone?”

“I was napping” You smiled meekly “and they left to check out the Christmas markets in the town over.”

Haechan nodded. You'd give up anything for your naps so he didn't find himself surprised, just strangely chirpy knowing you hadn't changed since the last he saw you. Which really wasn't so long ago, but still enough for the awkwardness to resettle between you.

“I don't suppose they'll be back any time soon,” he says, not even waiting for you to agree, “so it's just you and me.”

He tries his hardest not to let on just how much he's losing his mind, but God it's hard when you're smirking up at him like that.

Mark would probably kill him if he ever found out just how badly he wants to wipe the smug expression right off your lips. Haechan’s sure it violates some sort of bro-code, wanting to kiss your best friend's little sister, but then again Mark wasn't here to stop him.

“Didn't think my company was that bad.”

Maybe he had tried a little too hard.

You expect some smart response, maybe a little teasing, but instead, Haechan pulls you back up off the couch you'd just sunk back down on.

"Let’s go” Haechan glances up at you with a mischievous smile.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Go? Where?"

"You'll see,” he shrugs, “unless you'd rather stay home”

Haechan was always full of surprises, and you couldn't fight back your smile. “As long as you're not planning to kill me.”

His eyes sparkled with excitement, and you couldn't help but laugh as he practically dragged you out the door. Not before making sure you were warm by forcibly tying a scarf around your neck though. It was sweet really.

It was snowing lightly outside, the ground covered in a soft blanket of white.

Haechan had firmly clasped his hand in yours, your breath creating little clouds in the frosty air. The tip of your nose was slowly blushing a light pink, your eyes growing glossy from the cold, the oversized scarf almost swallowing you whole. To make matters worse, you were practically waddling over the snow, taking cautious steps so as not to fall, and Haechan couldn't help but find it so incredibly cute.

The town was alive with holiday spirit — the streetlights twinkled, shop windows were adorned with festive displays, and the sound of Christmas carols filled the air. Your eyes wandered the streets, but his were stuck firmly on you.

Finally, after a short walk, you arrived at a quaint little ice skating rink tucked away in the corner of the park. It was charming, with those adorably tacky lights strung along the perimeter and a big, sparkling Christmas tree in the center. The rink was surprisingly quiet for a holiday evening, you almost preferred it that way.

Haechan grinned, already pulling you toward the ticket booth. "I thought we could try reviving an old tradition," he said, his eyes bright with excitement. "You up for it?"

You chuckled, suddenly realising just how much you missed this— his spontaneity, his joy, and that infectious energy of his. "You know I’m still terrible at ice skating, right?"

"I know," he teased, giving you a light nudge. "But that’s part of the fun."

You rolled your eyes playfully, following after him. After getting your skates, Haechan laced up his own and then did the same for you, his touch gentle as he tied your laces, his face soft with affection. Exactly like the old times.

“Ready?” he asked, standing up and offering you a hand.

For a moment you were sure you'd make a fool of yourself, fall face flat on the ice, or go flying across the rink. But as soon as you stepped onto the rink, Haechan’s hand reached out to hold yours.

“You know letting go of the railings might help a little” he chuckles, “trust me I won't let you fall.”

It was all so familiar, his constant encouragement, your consistent failure to skate for more than a metre before crashing into something.

Yet it still felt so different.

It wasn't until you crashed into someone that you heard Haechan's laughter echoing, watching you apologise with a doting grin on his face.

Maybe letting go of your hand wasn't the wisest idea.

"Don’t worry, just lean on me," he said, his voice soft and filled with affection.

And lean you did. You found yourself clinging to him more than you thought you would, but it felt natural. He made everything seem easier.

“Y'know, you really suck hyuck” You rolled your eyes at him.

He grinned, in true Haechan fashion, finding hilarity in your frustration, “Hey that rhymed.”

“How are you so good at everything?” You huff, almost crossing your arms before he stops you, steadying you as you were beginning to fall.

“See I can't even be bitter about it without needing your help”

He shrugged playfully. "That's the point."

You roll your eyes again, and you swear you watch Haechan’s eyes light up even more.

“Alright moody, why don’t we take a breather?” He laughs lightly, steering you toward the edge of the rink with a teasing smile.

Haechan wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close as the snow continued to fall gently around you. The city lights flickered in the distance, and sure you still couldn't ice skate to save your life, but in that moment, your heart swelled with warm content.

"This is perfect," you murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"I’m glad you think so," Haechan replied softly, his voice just a little breathless.

He tilted his head, and for a moment, you thought he might say something more. But then, instead of speaking, he leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead. The gesture was simple but full of meaning.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, pulling back slightly to look at you, his eyes bright.

"Anything," you replied, heart racing a little.

He began with a playful grin, pointing upwards, where a small sprig of mistletoe hung above you, "How about we start a new Christmas tradition? Every year, just you and me."

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t an official proposal or anything, but the sentiment felt just as deep. Haechan, always so carefree, was suggesting something that made you feel warm inside.

Without hesitating, you nodded. "How could I say no?"

And then, without another word, Haechan leaned in, kissing you gently under the mistletoe.

When you pulled away, you both smiled content, knowing that this was just the beginning of many more Christmases together. You'd always spent Christmas together, but perhaps this moment had redefined just what that meant.

“You know,” he whispered, his lips curling into a playful grin, “this is definitely going to be my favorite Christmas tradition.”

You couldn’t agree more.

[ijustwannabepartofyoursymphonyy]

What 500,000,000 berries buy you

The wanted poster crinkled in your grip as you studied his face for the hundredth time: Trafalgar D. Water Law. 500,000,000 berries. The "Surgeon of Death" himself, with that infamous mocking smirk.

Including you.

You'd been tracking the Heart Pirates for three weeks, island to island, always one step behind. But this time was different. This time, you had him.

The tavern's dim lights cast long shadows across weathered wooden floors. You nursed your drink, eyes fixed on the door while keeping your presence subtle. Your reputation as a bounty hunter preceded you, but Law didn't know your face. That was your advantage.

The door creaked open, and your heart skipped. That spotted hat was unmistakable.

Law walked in, confident and unafraid. His nodachi rested on his shoulder. The legendary "Room" could split you into pieces before you could blink, but you had planned for that. The seastone cuffs hidden in your boot felt heavier than ever.

He sat at the bar, two seats away. Close enough to strike, far enough to react if things went wrong. Your fingers traced the rim of your glass, mind racing through the dozen ways this could play out.

"You've been following us since Saobady," he said, turning his gaze away from you. His voice was deeper than you'd imagined, with an edge of amusement that made your skin prickle.

Your grip tightened on your glass. "That obvious?"

"Only to someone who was watching for it." He turned then, golden eyes studying you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Though I must admit, most hunters don't make it this far."

"I'm not most hunters."

His lips curved into that same smirk from the wanted poster. "No, you're not. Which makes me wonder why you haven't made your move yet."

You shifted in your seat. Every second could mean the difference between capturing him and ending up in pieces. "Maybe I'm just enjoying the chase."

"Or maybe," he leaned in, "you're realizing that not every pirate deserves to be caught." You could see the dark circles under his eyes."

"Five hundred million berries buys a lot of justice," you said, but the words felt hollow even as they left your mouth.

Law chuckled, a sound that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. "Justice? Is that what you tell yourself when you hand people over to the World Government?"

His words hit harder than they should have. Your years of bounty hunting showed you. The world wasn't as black and white as the Marines painted it.

"Room," he whispered, and the blue sphere expanded around you both before you could react. Your hand flew to your weapon, but he was faster.

"Shambles."

In an instant, you were outside the tavern, pressed against the cold stone wall. Law stood before you, one hand planted beside your head, the other still gripping his nodachi.

"Tell me, hunter," he said, his face inches from yours, "what is justice worth to you?"

Your heart raced, but not from fear. The seastone cuffs felt like lead in your boot, forgotten. In that moment, you realized you'd been hunting the wrong thing. Those calculating eyes made it clear.

"That depends," you breathed, "on what you're offering instead."

His smirk widened, and you knew the hunt was over. But maybe, just maybe, something more interesting was beginning.

"Join my crew," he said, not a question but a challenge. "See what justice really looks like from the other side."

In a port town tavern's shadows, with five hundred million berries slipping away, you made a fateful choice. It would change everything.

Sometimes, the best hunts don't end in capture. They end in a different kind of surrender.

[munv]

𝗜𝗠𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡 𝗘𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗬

𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗕𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗟𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗜𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗦𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗲𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗷𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼?

P9

Im keeping my promise about posting guys <33

The morning sun slightly blended in through the curtain of your room, it was the weekend and you had no real intentions of waking up. At least, that was the initial plan. 

"Nee-san!"

 You grumbled over your breath in response to the familiarness of the name, rolling over to the other side of your pillow and finding a comfy position before getting ready to double click on the z's again. "Nee-san!" 

A small head of tussled black hair dashed into your room, with a slightly taller head of reddish brown following close behind. "NEE-SAN". The ongoing commotion from the two children managed to wake you up from your slumber, not without irritation of course. "what the hell.." you peeked from under your covers to come face to face with your two so called brothers, and to think that you were safe this morning since you had time before your parents went out. Turns out the time was too little. 

Using your pillow as a support, you manage to sit up successfully and turn to look at your brothers, eyes squinting from the sunlight you manage to get a few words out, "can you guys explain.." you take a pause with a long sigh, "why you two are running around the house like some wild pets that are yet to be vaccinated??.."

"soccer!"

You blinked before coming to your senses. "what?."

"Soccer." Replied the older of the two

The both of them chanted, Little Rin with the biggest smile and Sae behind him with this stare. You thought having one soccer fanatic in the family was enough, but Rin ended up picking up the terrible obsession after hanging out too much with Sae. You make a mental note on how much this is your fault since you were so busy with other things to actually make an attempt to bond with your little brothers. A miscalculation on your end you will make sure not to make ever again. 

Rin stepped forward and presented a soccer ball in his hands with energy and excitement emitting off of his very being. "play with us, please!"

"quit being lukewarm and get your lazy butt out of bed." Sae said with a light glare. You took off the top sheet you used to cover yourself with before facing the little devils. "Quit making an intense overuse of "lukewarm" for me while you get that attitude in check" you snarked back. 

"let's play! please nee-san! You aren't busy right? Lets go, go go!!" It was early as ever this morning and Rin was already raring to go, tugging on your arms and all. You sweat dropped at the sight of the little boy trying to drag you out of bed. "Sorry Rinny..I have plans."

Suddenly it wasn't Rin in front of you, but Sae, "nee-san...surely you wouldn't leave your little brothers all alone" The little brat upgraded to a bastard in less than 10 years..you underestimated him a bit too much. He knew what he was doing, but what hurt even more was that you knew that he was right. You couldn't leave some 4 and 7 year old's to their own devices, especially these two. Sae was a far from normal child and leaving Rin with him was more of a gamble than you were willing to take.

With a depressed sigh you came to a bone crushing conclusion, "get dressed in 5, we're going out." You were going to regret this, not like there hasn't been a moment you haven't. 

"[name]!" A young boy called out. Your meeting today was near a soccer field, and oh the irony, since you've brought the two addicts in the flesh. His blonde hair grew longer since the last time you've seen him, and not to mention he's grown a little taller. "Micheal!" you waved back. He ran up to you from his spot with sudden urgency. His clothes were dirtied more than they would usually be.

you assume hes been practicing a lot more recently with the way he started panting like a dog. “Oh, did you bring your little brothers??” He looked at the small children behind to you. 

Rin looked at him curiously before bursting out into a smile “Hi!! Are you [name]-nees friend??” 

“Too bright”…you sweatdropped at the mini sun introducing himself. Sae, ever the anti-social one, settled to stare at the older boy instead. 

“Lukewarm—“

before he could finish the rest of the sentence you slapped the back of his head while Kaiser doubled back in surprise. 

“Sorry about him. He’s been on this one word tangent for a while and won’t stop. This is Sae” you introduced him.

”aha! Right!” He wondered with the way the youngest didnt react to you slapping your brother if this was a normal occurrence. ”so what did you have in mind today?” 

“You want to walk around? Theres some good as scenery's around here I wanted to take a look at.”

“Sure! Im down for it.” You didn’t want to do anything too exciting today, considering the fact Micheal had to get back home soon. You were aware of his situation at home and tried your best to accommodate the best you could.

the two younger Itoshi’s could only watch you two chatter away with smiles. This was sure to be an interesting evening.

                           ITOSHI OMAKE

sae was, unsure of what to make of this. Him and Rin were walking behind you two as you both giggles and chuckled away. 

Just what the hell was this?

surely this couldn’t be the start of what he thought to be…what do you call it, potential love interest? It can’t be. Its just too good to be true. 

Rin, ever the angel wouldn’t understand the danger their older sibling was in right now. If he didn’t tread carefully, that blue serpent would steal you right from under his nose. 

“nii-san…does nee-san like him?” Good God. If even Rin noticed the new behavior, he knew you were a goner.

”they’re just good friends, Rin.” He remarked, almost as if he was convincing himself. Yeah, just good friends. Nothing else brewing in the pot. 

“Okay!!” He nodded along. Anything his older siblings said was nothing short of truth in little Rin’s head, of course.

[babiigirly]

cw: arguing, mc has this red flag, inaccurate, rushed, I don't know what I was writing, not proofread

Sometimes, you're also the one at fault when it comes to arguments, the one who bursts out the most.

Whenever that happens, you two are not on good terms, obviously. You two won't speak to each other for hours and hours, days, maybe even weeks if the fight was really that serious. Funny thing is, you're the one who avoids him and refuses to be in the same room alone with him.

Belphie who scoffs whenever he sees you and notices how you're doing everything you can to avoid him as if he's the one at fault. This demon right here waits until you come up to him with an apology, he won't ask for it, he will wait until it comes out of your lips. He tells himself that he's going to play along with you, but deep down, he misses you so fucking much and just wants to cuddle. He knows you feel the same way and you're just being stubborn. Neither of you will approach each other unless you do it first. You're the one at fault after all, he thinks.

He acts pretty nonchalant and just eats all he wants as usual, but Beel is actually feeling sad that you two haven't made up yet. Unless the fight was really REALLY serious, he'll be the sweetheart he is and try to talk to you after a few days. Otherwise, neither of you will even bat an eye to look at each other and it's unusually awkward between you two.

Asmo is very verbal or sassy about it. He will yell it out loud even in public if he's feeling shameless enough. Something like "I'm waiting!!!" and he means he's waiting for an apology. Most of the time, it fuels the fire and you just hate being with him even more so more avoidance happens. One time, he came home drunk with Solomon assisting him home while he vents and rants about how you won't apologize to him, but he doesn't care about that now and just wants to be with you.

Gets so angry, Satan just wants to thrash everything around but stops himself because he convinces himself that he didn't do anything wrong. He keeps telling himself how he tried to stay calm this time, but it didn't work out with you. Once he notices you avoiding him, he's doing the same thing. He acts like nothing happened even though he feels mixed emotions about feeling so distant to you.

Levi goes to his room and tries not to cry while the heated exchange replays nonstop in his head. He plays his video games or watches anime while being next to one of his favourite plushies or body pillows. He starts talking to Henry, venting and all that. Then he starts missing you, but he will also avoid you and refuse to look at you. He just wants to hear "sorry" and starts self-sabotaging.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it" says Mammon while he paces around his room. He doesn't know why he's the one feeling anxious, but he also kinda knows why. I mean, it's you sooo... And Mammon can't sit still for the rest of the day and the following. He's also pissed that you're the one avoiding him when he just wanna talk about it but he wants you to initiate the conversation. This man can't sleep. He won't sleep.

There was this shocked, disappointed, upset, angry, and low-key sad expression all mixed in Lucifer's face the moment you walked out of the room. He doesn't stop you, but his pride is so hurt especially when you barely show up to him the following days after the argument. He doesn't send you a message, letter, gifts, or anything. He's just there, upset with you but wouldn't say anything. So he's basically doing the same thing Satan is doing. Acting like nothing happened.

Eventually, once you gain the courage to approach him and talk things out, these men are down bad for you and would pretend to consider your apology even though they're beyond happy that you've finally talked to them.

Once you two are on good terms again, expect a bunch of cuddles, dates, clinginess, etcetera etcetera.

a/n: the reason why I have not posted for so long is because of writer's block, as you can probably tell. I'm sorry for this poor quality of work, I promise you that I can do better than this😭 I'm looking for some fics that I've written and are finished or semi finished. I'll try posting those. As for the requests I've received (that I have not yet answered or started doing, please forgive me), I'll get to it soon and I'll do my very best to give you guys what you're asking for.

Also, the Obey Me! announcement and ending has taken a huge toll on me, so bear with me while I continue grieving please lmao hahaha (I'm not ok)

[blkkasa]

Basketball Player! Connie x Instagram Model! Black Oc

Summary: you being his number one biggest fan (🤭)

Contexts/Warnings: a short-long fic, modern, short smut, fluff, famous instagram model black oc (Aya), a well-known basketball player connie springer, etc.

Notes: i made this because i missed writing fics and stuff but keep in mind... this is my first time writing a fic on this app so don't expect it to be perfect in any way. (Im thinking about making a part two but idk. what yall think?)

Word Count: 1232

"GO CONNIE! YOU CAN DO THIS"

He heard his girlfriend's voice and smiled while playing basketball. Everything about her motivates him to do anything, and all thanks to Sasha for introducing them to each other.

Aya and Sasha are sitting at the bleachers watching Connie from a distance but Sasha is having a problem getting no responses or answers from her other best friend.

"Aya, have you heard from Mikasa lately? Like... she isn't answering my calls or texts and here I am asking you where she's at" Sasha gets annoyed at her phone and looks at Aya like she's finna throw a fit at her.

"No girl. I haven't but if you do please remind me because... I need her to help me out picking outfits to wear for my next photoshoot next week."

"Oh don't worry bestie, I'll let you know but thanks for trying though. Ugh! Mikasa needs to answer her phone these days" Sasha whines.

Aya giggles at her friend's complaints about her best friend. She receives a message from her mom telling her to call her little sister at 5:00. "Okay mama..." She rolls her eyes while liking her mom's message and putting her phone back in her purse.

(2 hours later) The game ends and Connie's team wins.

Aya runs up to her boyfriend and gives him the biggest hug yet.

"Baby I'm so proud of you" She kisses him as she says this.

"Thank you mamas. I love you princess." He smiled at her and they both walked to the door by the lockers where the boys can grab their things out of their lockers.

"I'll wait out here while you grab your things."

"Okay beautiful" He winks at her.

Aya was worried about everything, her mom, her friends, and especially her boyfriend. She thought about what would happen tomorrow since it was going to be a long day. She scrolls on her phone looking at her friends' and celebrities' posts, liking them as if she hasn't been active on there since three weeks ago after her last photoshoot. Connie comes back with his things and sneaks behind her to give her a hug and give her neck kisses.

"Hey love, I'm back and I also have a surprise for you at my house" He smirked, loving everything about her.

" Oh? A surprise? For me?" She giggles

"Yes for you mamas" He chuckled and grabbed her by her hand and they walked towards Sasha.

"You're so sweet, you know?" Aya looked at him with glee and kissed him on his cheek.

"Yes princess" He kissed her hand and smiled.

"OH SHIT HEY GUYS" Sasha looked at them and hugged them

"Yo sasha wassup" Connie hugged her back and they did their little signature handshake.

"Hey sash" Aya winked at her

"Oh my gosh. You guys are would never believe what just happened to me"

"What happened?" The couple looked at her confused and interested at what Sasha was going to say.

"So... this beautiful man came up to me and asked me out on a date and bro. When I tell yall, i was screaming. I WAS SCREAMING but not to loud" Sasha was smiling so hard and cheesy about this dream boy.

"Okayyy boo" Aya cheered for her

"Oh shit sasha has finally found her a guy" Connie laughs

"Okay... not too much" Sasha rolled her eyes and smacked him by his arm

"No but in all seriousness he better treat you right or ill beat the shit outta his ass. Like i don't fucking play that shit" Connie huffed.

"Connie, chill... it's fine" Sasha chuckled

Jean and Eren came by them after communicating with the team.

"Wassup guys" The boys came towards them

"Oh shit is that Aya??" Eren looked at her and hugged her

"Heyyyy renn" She hugged him while jokingly slapped the back of his head and ran behind connie from him.

"OW???" He looked so shocked to the point that he didn't even process what just happened to him.

"my bad" Aya laughed

The group walked to the parking lot and said goodbyes to each other.

"Hey babe?"

"Yes mamas?" He turned to look at her while walking to his car.

"So... this morning after you left, my mama called me about something and i wanted to ask you... are you available next week? Because I asked my boss if you would like to participate in my photo shoots?"

"Really??? Yes, pretty girl, anything for you" He kissed her and opened the door for her.

"Yayyy omg" She hugged and got inside his car.

Connie got inside the driver's seat, buckled up, and drove home. He grabs her thighs and squeezed them while focusing on the road. Aya groaned a bit and moved his hand between her legs, letting him do the work. He gets to the red light and looks at her while putting his hand inside her pants. She groaned a bit louder after he rubbed her cunt, looking at her and smirked.

"You like this huh mamas?" He winked at her and rubbed her cunt a little faster.

"Ngh... yes" She moaned.

The light turned green and before he drove home, he drove into an empty parking lot where nobody could see them.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, removing his hand from her beautiful cunt while letting her remove her seatbelt, and got on top of his lap.

They made out for 10 minutes and removed all their clothes off. They switched places and he began to devour her.

"f-fuck! connie.... a-ah!" She gripped his neck for support while her legs were around his shoulders.

"You taste so good mama... shit! i could do this all day with you princess" He kisses and licks her up until she cums. He devoured her for 5 minutes. He kissed her thighs and bit them giving her bite marks.

"c-connie.... oh! you f-feel... s-so good... ngh!" She looks at him with teary eyes while he fingers her.

"ngh... mamas... you look so damn gorgeous crying for me, fuck...!" He fingers her faster until she cums on his face.

"FUCK" She cummed all over him.

They sat back to their seats and heavily breathed for 5 minutes trying to get their breaths back.

"Hey pretty girl, when we get home ill run us some bath water and order pizza. okay?"

"Okay babe." She blew him a kiss.

Connie looked at his phone checking any messages his friends or family sent him. He received 100 messages from the gc, 20 messages from his mom, and 5 messages from Jean.

"Shit. That's alot of fucking messages" He sighed.

Aya giggled at him and put her clothes back on while he did the same. They drove home without saying a word to each other.

(20 minutes later)

"Hey princess, I got your surprise in the room. go look" He carried her inside the house and put her down on the floor to take their jackets and shoes off.

Aya walked to their room and saw flowers, chocolate, candles, two presents, and an envelope on their king sized bed.

"OMG!! FOR ME?? THANK YOU SO MUCH BABY" She hugged so hard and gave him face kisses.

"Yes babe everything is yours, who else would i give it too" He laughed and kissed her face.

"It doesn't matter. all i know is that this stuff is mines" She smiled and closed the door.

@blkkasa

Notes: so if yall want visuals of Aya, Connie, and their fits in this whole fic then let me know cause I got yall. Also, let me know who i should write about next when i upload a poll, okay? thank you babes 💗.

[fuqnia]

college AU! stan x fem bodied YN

stan and yn are reallyyy close friends, like REALLY close, to the point of kissing eachother sometimes. at this point, him and wendy are not a thing (unless you do poly and we could get some poly action, if not thats fine) and stan and YN like eachother romantically. stan knows he likes them but hasn't come to terms with it, while YN themselves are oblivious to their OWN crush on him because they don't understand their own feelings most the time.

can YN also be a brat (like maybe kind of stuck up and prissy) and also be flirty with people they're comfortable with?

that personality leads me to this: stan snapping and ends up fucking them (maybe confrontational? like, holds their cheeks and asks them if they're even aware how they make him feel, so fuzzy, but also so so so mad! (in a good way of course)

can i have themes of dom/sub (dom stan/sub YN), brat taming, light degradation with heavy praise, impact play?(if you're not comfortable with this one thats fine, i was just thinking maybe spanking of the ass, thighs, and clit), edging, orgasm control, dacryphilia, overstimulation, heavy teasing, and overall just mean but also super soft stan?

thankss (if this request makes you uncomfortable then thats okay)

stan marsh x fem!reader insert (college au)

(╥﹏╥) | [A/N] ah my first request ever! this is kinda long for a request, but i wanted to make it special. i'm so sorry for butchering dom/sub dynamics, i haven't really written that yet. and jesus christ i made stan talk alot in this, and i really highlighted how he would definitely wear tons of bracelets for some reason LMAO. again this was a challenge for me bcus i usually write stan kinda softish and quiet. thank u again <3 there's a scene where stan just goes on his phone during the middle of it and i almost died writing it was so funny to me

(╥﹏╥) | [CW] p in v, fingering, p eating, dom/sub dynamics, dacryphilia, edging, overstimulation assholeish stan and reader, cartman is cartman

The room was dimly lit, illuminated mostly by the soft glow of Stan’s TV screen as he sat cross-legged on the floor, completely immersed in his game. Faint sounds of gunfire and laughter from Cartman and Kenny filtered through his headset. Stan leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the controller tightly, his brows furrowed in concentration.

On the bed, you sighed loudly, barely glancing up from your phone as you continued scrolling through TikTok and Instagram. The endless feed of videos and posts did little to distract you from the heavy boredom pressing down on you.

You switched apps, opening Snapchat out of sheer desperation for something interesting. As you flipped through stories, your scrolling halted abruptly at one that made your stomach twist.

Bebe and Clyde were out on another date. The photo Bebe posted showed their hands intertwined across a table, captioned: “My fave person 💕.”

Your chest tightened, an uncomfortable heat settling there. You didn’t know why it bothered you so much—it wasn’t like you were into Clyde or anything. Still, the jealousy gnawed at you, bitter and unshakable.

Shaking your head, you exited the app and glanced at Stan, who hadn’t once looked in your direction despite your exaggerated sighs. He was totally engrossed in his game, his headset cushioning his ears and his focus glued to the screen.

“Stan,” you called out, your voice edged with impatience.

No response. His lips twitched slightly, like he might’ve heard you, but he made no effort to acknowledge your call.

You huffed, tossing your phone onto the bed. If Stan wasn’t going to pay attention to you willingly, you’d have to force his hand. Sliding off the bed, you walked up behind him and bent down, placing your hands lightly on his shoulders. Without hesitation, you slid into his lap, grinning as his body stiffened in surprise.

“[Y/N]—what the hell dude?” Stan sputtered, almost dropping his controller as he glanced down at you.

Cartman’s voice blared through his headset. “STAN, YOU DUMBASS! MOVE! YOU JUST GOT US KILLED!”

Stan groaned loudly, hastily muting his mic before turning his full attention to you. “I’m in the middle of a game!” he said, his tone exasperated.

You tilted your head, a playful pout forming on your lips. “Yeah, well, I’m bored,” you said, looping your arms around his neck. “Why aren’t you paying attention to me?”

Stan blinked, his expression caught somewhere between irritation and disbelief. “Because I’m playing with Cartman and Kenny? You know—my friends?”

“Uh-huh,” you said, your voice dripping with faux innocence. “But I’m more important than Cartman and Kenny, aren’t I?”

Stan stared at you, clearly unsure how to respond. His hands hovered awkwardly near your waist, his usual confidence suddenly replaced by uncertainty. “You’re being weird,” he said finally, his blue eyes narrowing slightly.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you leaned closer, your face only inches from his. “Weird? You’re so dramatic.”

Before he could reply, you closed the small distance between you and pressed your lips to his, your chapstick leaving a faint, sweet taste behind as you kissed him. It wasn’t unusual for you and Stan to kiss—your friendship had always had an element of playfulness—but this time felt different. The way your lips lingered a moment longer, the way your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his hoodie...

You pulled back, giggling softly at the stunned look on his face.

Stan’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips firmed. His gaze burned with something intense, something unspoken that made your stomach flutter.

But then he exhaled sharply, his lips pressing into a thin line as he reached up and unmuted his mic. “I’m back,” he said curtly, his tone clipped as he picked up his controller and resumed his game.

You blinked, taken aback by his reaction. He didn’t push you off, didn’t say anything else—just continued playing as if you weren’t still perched in his lap.

Cartman’s voice crackled through the headset. “About time, dude. You literally lost us the game because you were being a dumbass.”

Stan didn’t respond, his focus locked on the screen. His hands gripped the controller, his movements precise and deliberate, but you could feel the tension radiating from him.

You shifted slightly in his lap, testing his reaction, but he didn’t budge. His jaw was still tight, his eyes fixed on the screen, though you caught the faintest twitch of his lips when you leaned in close and whispered teasingly, “Am I distracting you?”

Stan’s lips pressed into a firmer line, his knuckles whitening on the controller. “You’re fine,” he said evenly, though the edge in his voice betrayed him. His blue eyes stayed locked on the screen, his jaw tight, clearly trying to pretend you weren’t there.

Before he could stop you, you reached up and slipped the headset off his head.

“[Y/N], don’t,” Stan muttered, his voice tense, but you ignored him, slipping the headset onto your own head and adjusting the mic with a sly smile.

“Hey, idiots!” you chirped into the mic.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Cartman groaned immediately. “Why the hell are you here? Don’t you have something better to do, like annoying someone else or scamming free drinks with that dumb whore shit you pulll?”

“Cartman, don’t start,” Kenny chimed in, his tone amused. “She’s just here to make sure Stan doesn’t embarrass himself again.”

You laughed, leaning back in Stan’s lap and twirling the cord of the headset. “Aw, Kenny, you’re my favorite. Cartman’s just mad because he missed me.”

“I do not miss you,” Cartman snapped. “You’re like a human migraine. Stan, can you tell your ‘friend’ to fuck off so we can actually play?”

Stan muttered something under his breath, his hands hovering uselessly over the controller. “Give me the headset back, [Y/N].”

But you ignored him, turning your attention back to the game. “Eric, don’t lie. You love when I’m around. It makes your miserable little life less boring.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Cartman barked. “You’re just here to mess with us. And Kenny’s a simp for eating this up.”

“You’re right, I am,” Kenny said, laughing. “At least she’s fun. Unlike you, Cartman.”

“Fuck you, Kenny!” Cartman shot back. “Stan, seriously, can you control your fucking lap gremlin?”

Stan sighed heavily, his jaw clenching as he grabbed the headset off your head and slid it back on. His blue eyes bore into yours, his frustration clear. “Enough,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You blinked at him innocently, your lips twitching into a small smile. “What? I was just being nice.”

“Nobody buys that,” Stan muttered, his hands settling firmly on your waist. “Not even you.”

“Come on, I’m always nice,” you teased, your grin widening as you tilted your head.

Stan stared at you for a long moment, his blue eyes narrowing as though he were weighing his next move. Then, without a word, he unmuted his mic and picked up the controller again.

“I’m back,” he said flatly, his tone cold as he resumed playing.

“Thank God,” Cartman grumbled. “She’s insufferable. Get her out of here, Stan, or I’m rage-quitting.”

“She’s not that bad,” Kenny said with a laugh. “Honestly, she’s more entertaining than watching Stan suck at this game.”

Stan ignored them both, his eyes glued to the screen, though you noticed the way his grip on the controller tightened.

You stayed perched in Stan’s lap as he continued to play, his focus unwavering despite your presence. The faint sound of gunfire and Cartman’s incessant yelling filled the room, but your mind was elsewhere. Your fingers moved idly to his hair, combing through the strands and twisting them gently.

Stan’s bleached hair had grown out since you helped him with it, leaving a stark contrast between the blonde and his natural dark roots. You smiled faintly, remembering the day he let you bleach it in his bathroom. He’d been skeptical at first, grumbling about how “Cartman’s gonna call me a wannabe TikTok e-boy.”

But when you revealed the final result, the look of surprise on his face had been worth every moment.

“Holy shit,” he’d muttered, running a hand through the freshly bleached strands.

“See? Told you it’d look good dude,” you’d replied smugly. Then, on impulse, you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

That kiss had been casual, friendly. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Your fingers stilled in Stan’s hair as the memory brought another one to the surface—the first time you’d kissed him. It was at a party, the two of you leaning against a wall in some corner, slightly buzzed from cheap vodka. Someone had said something stupid, and you’d both dissolved into laughter.

And then, without thinking, you’d leaned in and kissed him.

It hadn’t lasted long—just a brief press of lips, fueled by alcohol and laughter—but it had been enough to make your head spin. Stan hadn’t pulled away. If anything, he’d leaned in slightly, like he’d been waiting for it.

But the moment passed, and neither of you brought it up again.

Kissing Stan had become familiar since then. It was just... something you did. A casual thing. Or at least, that’s what you convinced yourself.

Your gaze shifted to his profile now, the faint concentration lines between his brows as he played. The glow from the screen lit up his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the soft curve of his lips. You couldn’t help but wonder: Did he ever think about those kisses? Did he feel the same pull you did, the strange comfort of it?

The thought made your chest tighten.

Do you like me?

The question lingered in your mind, unspoken and heavy. Stan had always been a constant in your life—steady, dependable, the one who tolerated your bratty tendencies without complaint. But did he like you?

And more importantly... did you like him?

Your fingers resumed their gentle movement in his hair, your heart beating a little faster as you struggled to untangle your thoughts. Kissing Stan didn’t feel like it should mean anything. But lately, you couldn’t stop wondering if it did.

“You okay dude?” Stan’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. He didn’t look at you, his eyes still on the screen, but the concern in his voice was clear.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just... thinking.”

Stan nodded, his expression unreadable. “You’re quiet.”

You let out a soft laugh, brushing your fingers through his hair one last time before resting your hands on his shoulders. “Guess I’m just tired.”

“Mm-hmm,” Stan muttered, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press further.

You leaned back slightly, watching him play, the weight of your thoughts settling heavily in your chest.

You shifted slightly in Stan’s lap, your fingers still playing with his hair when your phone buzzed on the bed. The sudden noise made you glance over, and Red’s name lit up the screen.

“Oh, hold on, it’s Red,” you said, slipping off Stan’s lap. He didn’t respond, just kept his eyes glued to the game.

You grabbed your phone, swiping to answer as you perched on the edge of Stan’s desk.

“Hey, Red!” you greeted, your voice instantly bright and flirty.

“About time,” Red said, her tone teasing. “So, are you gonna tell me why you’ve been off the grid? And don’t say it’s because you’re studying babe—I know better.”

You laughed, glancing at Stan out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, you know me. Always finding ways to entertain myself. I’m at Stan’s dorm right now.”

Red let out a dramatic gasp. “Stan? Again? Wow, you two might as well move in together at this point.”

Stan’s fingers faltered briefly on the controller, but he didn’t look away from the screen.

“Right? It’s like we’re married already,” you joked, leaning back and toying with the edge of Stan’s desk.

Red cackled. “God, you two are so weird. What’s he doing? Ignoring you like always?”

“Yup,” you said, your voice dripping with fake indignation. “He’s playing his stupid game. As usual.”

Stan adjusted his headset slightly, the earcups slipping off one ear now. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was listening.

“Honestly,” you continued, keeping your tone light, “it’s kind of tragic how bad he is at multitasking. Like, he can only focus on one thing at a time. I bet if I disappeared, he wouldn’t even notice until he lost the match.”

Red let out a snort. “Come on, [Y/N]. Give him some credit. He’s not that bad. And you’re always hanging around him anyway, so clearly he’s doing something right.”

“Eh,” you replied, smirking. “He’s tolerable. Most of the time.” You glanced at Stan again, noting the way his jaw tightened slightly.

“And?” Red prompted. “What about when he’s not tolerable?”

You grinned mischievously, the words spilling out before you could stop yourself. “When he’s not tolerable? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just trade him in for someone better.”

Stan froze. His hands stopped moving, and the room went silent except for the sound of Cartman and Kenny yelling through his headset.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Red asked, her voice curious but amused.

Before you could answer, Stan stood abruptly, pulling off his headset and letting it rest on the chair. He crossed the room in three long strides, his presence making the small dorm feel even smaller.

“Red, I’ll call you back,” you said quickly, hanging up before she could respond.

Stan loomed over you now, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. He reached past you and pressed the power button on his PS5, the room falling into silence as the screen went black.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, his voice low but tight with frustration.

You blinked up at him, playing innocent even as your heart raced. “What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb, [Y/N],” Stan said, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. “That shit you said to Red. What the hell was that about?”

Stan stared down at you, his blue eyes sharp as he waited for an explanation. You leaned back slightly against the desk, tilting your head innocently as you blinked up at him.

“What?” you said, feigning confusion. “I was just talking to Red about how you’re my bestest friend in the whole world.” You clasped your hands together dramatically, flashing him a teasing grin. “She loves hearing about how much I adore you.”

Stan’s jaw clenched, his brows furrowing deeper. “Your ‘bestest friend,’ huh?” he repeated, his tone skeptical, edged with something darker. “Because that’s exactly how it sounded.”

You shrugged, letting out a playful laugh. “I mean, come on, Stan. Red knows you’re my favorite. I was just hyping you up, obviously.”

“Hyping me up?” His voice was low, incredulous. “You told her you’d trade me in for someone better.”

You waved a dismissive hand, still playing up your act. “Oh, that? That was just a joke. You know I didn’t mean it.”

Stan stepped closer, his hands braced on either side of you against the desk. The space between you disappeared, and his intense gaze locked onto yours. “Do you ever think before you open your mouth?” he asked, his voice calm but heavy with tension. “Or do you just say shit for the fun of it?”

The teasing grin faltered on your lips for a split second before you forced it back into place. “Relax, Marsh,” you said lightly, though your pulse quickened under the weight of his stare. “You’re taking this way too seriously.”

Stan’s head tilted slightly, his jaw tightening as he studied you. “Am I?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less commanding. “Because it’s starting to feel like you’re trying to get a rise out of me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to let it show. “Me?” you said with mock innocence, batting your lashes. “Why would I ever do that?”

Stan didn’t answer right away. His eyes flickered down to your lips briefly before meeting your gaze again, the tension between you crackling like static electricity. His presence was overwhelming, and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close he was, how his body practically boxed you in against the desk.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered finally, his voice low and rough.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. For once, the teasing remark you had ready in your head didn’t make it past your lips. The intensity in Stan’s eyes held you in place, your heart pounding in your chest as the air between you grew heavier.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and unrelenting, as you blinked up at Stan, trying to piece together what exactly had him so worked up. Sure, you’d teased him plenty of times before—this wasn’t new—but something about tonight was different. He wasn’t just annoyed; he was genuinely mad, and it caught you off guard.

“Stan,” you said, your voice softer now, though still carrying that teasing edge. “Why are you so mad? We’re friends. We do this all the time!”

Stan’s brows knit together, his jaw tightening as he took a slow breath. “Friends,” he repeated, his voice low and almost to himself, like he was testing how the word felt on his tongue. He leaned back slightly, straightening up, but his hands stayed braced on the desk, keeping you effectively trapped. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” you asked, tilting your head in genuine confusion. “We joke around like this all the time. Why is it such a big deal tonight?”

Stan’s blue eyes flicked over your face, searching for something, but whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it. He let out a frustrated exhale, running a hand through his bleached hair, his fingers catching in the grown-out roots. “Jesus Christ, [Y/N],” he muttered, his voice tight. “You can’t just—”

He stopped himself, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he visibly struggled to keep his cool. For a moment, he looked like he was going to let it go, like he was going to step back and walk away from whatever was eating at him. But then his gaze snapped back to yours, and you saw the flicker of something raw and unresolved in his eyes.

“You don’t even realize what you do to me,” he said finally, his voice quiet but heavy, each word carefully measured.

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words hitting you like a freight train. “What I do to you?” you echoed, your brows furrowing as you tried to process what he was saying. “Stan, I—”

“You don’t get to act like this doesn’t mean something,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now, though his voice never rose above a low murmur. “You don’t get to sit in my lap, kiss me whenever you feel like it, say the shit you just said to Red, and then turn around and call me your ‘bestest friend.’” He spat the last words with a bitterness that made your chest tighten.

“I thought we were just... I mean, that’s just how we are,” you stammered, the confusion in your voice genuine. “We always mess around like that. It’s not—”

“It’s not just messing around for me,” he cut in, his voice breaking slightly at the end. He took a step closer, closing the gap between you again, his hands moving to grip the edge of the desk on either side of you. “I don’t think you even understand what the fuck you’re doing to me, [Y/N]. How you make me feel.”

Your heart was racing now, the weight of his words sinking in but not fully connecting in your mind. “Stan,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to make you feel—”

“You make me feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind,” he said, his voice strained, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “You waltz in here, act like you own the place, and... fuck. You make me feel so much, and then you just brush it off like it’s nothing. Like it’s some fucking game.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You’d never seen Stan like this—so raw, so vulnerable—and it left you reeling. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain that you hadn’t meant to hurt him, that you hadn’t even realized you were doing it.

“I... I didn’t know,” you whispered finally, your voice barely audible.

Stan’s eyes were sharp and unwavering, his frustration palpable as he leaned closer, boxing you in against the desk. “You didn’t know?” he echoed, his voice low and edged with disbelief. “Really? So, what about all those times you kiss me out of nowhere? Like at that party last month, when you were drunk and decided to make me your personal fucking experiment.”

Your heart raced, and your lips parted to defend yourself, but he didn’t give you a chance. He pressed on, his tone growing sharper. “Or what about when you sat in my lap at Kenny’s place during movie night and kept playing with my hair? You acted like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean a damn thing, even though everyone was staring.”

“It’s just how I am,” you said defensively, your voice trembling as you tried to process the weight of his words. “You know that! I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just... it’s just fun.”

“Fun?” he repeated, his jaw tightening as he let out a bitter laugh. “Dude, do you even hear yourself? You sit here, playing with me like I’m some toy, and you call it fun? Like it doesn’t fuck me up every single time you do it?”

“I didn’t realize—” you began, but he cut you off again, stepping closer until his face was inches from yours.

“Of course you didn’t,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “Because you don’t think. You don’t stop for one goddamn second to think about how the shit you do might affect me.”

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. The air between you was heavy, charged with a tension you couldn’t name, and for the first time, you didn’t know how to talk your way out of it.

Stan’s gaze softened just slightly, though the frustration in his eyes didn’t fade. “You can’t keep doing this, [Y/N],” he said quietly, his voice raw. “You can’t keep acting like this is nothing, like I’m nothing.”

Your chest tightened, and you felt your breath hitch as the gravity of his words sank in. “Stan,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “I didn’t know you felt this way. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his blue eyes searching yours for something—an answer, an apology, a sign that you understood. But all he found was confusion and guilt, and it made his shoulders tense even more.

“I don’t think you even know what you want,” he said finally, his voice softer now but laced with frustration. “And maybe that’s the problem.”

The silence was suffocating, your chest tight with a mix of emotions you didn’t fully understand. Stan’s words hung heavy in the air, but something about them—something about the way he said you didn’t know what you wanted—set you off.

Your brows furrowed, and you straightened up, leaning closer to him, your voice sharp as you snapped, “Excuse me? You think you know me so well, Stan? That I don’t know what I want? Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t have a clue.”

Stan’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he stared at you. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his tone low and simmering with barely restrained anger.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at him. “It means you don’t get to stand there and act like you’ve got it all figured out while calling me out for being confused. Maybe you’re just pissed because you’re too scared to deal with your own feelings.”

Stan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his blue eyes darkening as he took a step closer to you. The tension between you crackled like a live wire, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something. Instead, he closed the distance in a single, deliberate motion, his hand gripping your wrist as he pulled you toward him.

“Stan—” you started, but the words were cut off as his other hand cupped the back of your head, dragging you into a searing kiss.

It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was fierce, overwhelming, and commanding, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that left you breathless. Your body instinctively leaned into him, your hands clutching at his shirt as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. His grip on you was firm, grounding, and you could feel the frustration and need pouring out of him in every movement.

Your heart raced, your head spinning as you pulled away from him. “Stan—”

“Stop,” Stan interrupted, his tone sharp as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward the bed. “You don’t get to play dumb about this. Not anymore.”

Your back hit the mattress before you could say a word, his body towering over you as he leaned down, his bracelets clinking faintly with the movement. His bleached hair fell into his eyes, messy and slightly damp with sweat, and his tan skin glowed in the low light of the room. His hands framed your face, steady but firm, his thumbs brushing over your warm cheeks as his intense gaze locked onto yours.

“You’ve been screwing with my head for months,” he started, his voice low but taut with emotion. “Kissing me like it’s no big deal, running your hands all over me, batting your damn eyelashes like... like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head slightly, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

Your breath hitched, your lips parting to speak, but Stan didn’t give you the chance. “Don’t even try to tell me it’s ‘just you being you,’” he pressed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t get it, do you? How much you get to me.”

His lips crashed into yours, silencing whatever excuse or explanation was forming in your head. The kiss was heated, desperate, and when he pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his face inches from yours. A string of saliva broke between you as he spoke, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “You make me feel insane, [Y/N]. Like I don’t know which way is up.”

Your eyes widened as he cupped your cheek more firmly, his thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth. His brow furrowed, and his voice softened, tinged with an almost hesitant vulnerability. “Have you even thought about it? What it’s like to be me? To deal with this—deal with you?”

You opened your mouth, unsure of what to say, but Stan wasn’t finished. He shook his head, running a hand through his messy bleached hair and laughing humorlessly. “You’re so fucking clueless. You act like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t matter. But it does. It matters to me.”

His words hit you hard, a swirl of emotions rising in your chest—guilt, confusion, and something deeper that you hadn’t yet put a name to. “Stan...” you started, your voice trembling, but he cut you off again, his hand moving to gently grip your jaw, keeping your attention fixed on him.

“You make me feel so good sometimes,” he admitted, his voice raw and quieter now, almost like it was a confession. “Like... like nothing else in the world matters. But then you turn around, and it’s like you’re trying to drive me insane.”

Your chest tightened as you stared up at him, your breath catching in your throat. The intensity of his words, the sheer weight of his emotions—it was overwhelming. But there was no mistaking the honesty in his gaze, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

He sighed, his frustration ebbing slightly, replaced with something softer. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said, shaking his head again, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You don’t even realize what you do to me.”

“I...” You trailed off, your voice barely a whisper, the words you wanted to say slipping through your grasp. You didn’t know how to explain what you felt—didn’t even know if you understood it yourself.

Stan gave a soft, almost exasperated laugh, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Of course you don’t,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of fondness and frustration. “You never do.”

He leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours as his breathing steadied, his hand still cradling your cheek. “But you’re gonna figure it out, [Y/N]. You’re gonna figure it out real soon.”

Before you could respond, Stan leaned in again, his lips pressing against yours with a raw urgency that caught you off guard. His hand on your cheek softened, but his other arm wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance. His bracelets clinked softly with the movement, grounding the moment in the quiet tension of the room.

His lips moved with an intensity that made your head spin, and he groaned low against your mouth, the sound sending heat coursing through you. But as his hand slid lower, you broke the kiss, a teasing smirk tugging at your lips. Stan’s brows furrowed instantly, frustration flashing in his blue eyes as you sat back, a little too smug for his liking.

“What now?” he asked, his voice sharp but low, like he was already bracing himself for whatever nonsense you were about to pull.

You tilted your head, your fingers playing idly with the hem of his t-shirt. “Wow, Stan,” you started, your tone saccharine and laced with mockery. “I didn’t know you were so desperate. Did I mess up your game that badly?”

His jaw ticked, the muscle flexing as he let out a short, humorless laugh. “Shut up,” he muttered, shaking his head. His hands rested on his hips for a moment, his bracelets sliding down his forearms, before he leaned in, his expression darkening.

“No, seriously,” you continued, undeterred, your teasing grin widening. “Do I need to apologize to Cartman and Kenny? Tell them their carry bailed ‘cause you couldn’t handle a little distraction?”

Stan’s patience snapped. His hands grabbed the hem of your shirt, and before you could react, he yanked it over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. The motion left you momentarily stunned, blinking up at him as he loomed over you.

“Stan!” you gasped, more surprised than offended. “What the hell—”

“You wanted my attention?” he cut you off, his voice low, the edge in it sending a jolt through you. “Well, you’ve got it. So go ahead. Say whatever smart-ass thing you were about to.”

Your heart raced as his hands returned to your waist, his grip firm but not rough, pulling you closer. His expression was unreadable, a mix of annoyance, desire, and something deeper that made your stomach twist. The way his messy bleached hair framed his face, the soft flush on his tan skin, and the glint of his bracelets as he adjusted his grip—everything about him right now was so painfully, undeniably Stan, and it made your head spin.

You tried to think of something witty, something sharp, but the intensity in his gaze stole the words from your mouth. Sensing your hesitation, Stan let out a soft, dark chuckle, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “That’s what I thought,” he said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

As if to emphasize his point, his hands slid up your sides, his touch firm but deliberate as his fingers grazed over the lace of your bra. His lips dipped to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that left you shivering. When his teeth scraped lightly against your pulse point, you let out a soft moan, your nails digging into his arms.

“You think you’re so funny,” he muttered against your skin, his tone carrying just a hint of exasperation. “Always running that mouth, always pushing me. But when it comes down to it...”

Before you could respond, he pinched lightly at your side, just enough to make you gasp. The sound seemed to satisfy him, and his lips curved into a grin as he kissed his way down your neck. “You never know when to quit, do you?” he added, his voice softer now, almost like he was teasing himself more than you.

“I—” You tried to speak, but your voice faltered as his lips found the edge of your bra, his breath warm against your skin. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips as he pressed you back into the mattress, the weight of him anchoring you in place.

“You’re always so damn smug,” he continued, his tone quiet but sharp. His hand moved to cup your cheek again, tilting your head slightly so his lips hovered just over yours. “But you don’t have a clue what you’re doing, do you?”

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your heart racing from the heat in his words and the way his touch seemed to set your skin alight. “Stan...” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

“Shh,” he interrupted, brushing his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. “I don’t want to hear it. You’ve said enough.” His smirk softened slightly, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his expression. “Now it’s my turn.”

Stan pulled his hand away from your mouth, his fingers brushing the strap of your bra as he met your gaze. His expression was sharp, almost unreadable, but there was something deliberate in the way his hand slid to your shoulder, gently pushing the strap down. He moved with an almost casual precision, like he wasn’t just savoring the moment but making damn sure you knew he was in control.

His lips found your neck again, his kisses slow and deliberate as the other strap slid down your arm. You shivered, the cool air against your skin making you hyperaware of every single touch, every bit of pressure from his hands. When his fingers reached the clasp of your bra, he hesitated just long enough to send your heart racing.

“You’re so quiet all of a sudden,” he muttered near your ear, his voice low and full of teasing disbelief. “What happened to all the shit you were saying earlier?”

Your cheeks burned, and before you could retort, he unhooked the clasp with an ease that made your breath hitch. He let the lace fall away like it was nothing, his hands immediately cupping your chest. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, his touch surprisingly tender for a moment—until he gave a sharp, calculated pinch that made you gasp.

“Yeah,” he said, his lips twitching into a smirk as he watched your back arch instinctively. “That’s what I thought.”

His grip stayed firm, his thumbs teasing the sensitive peaks of your chest as his lips trailed along your jaw, hot and deliberate. “All that attitude,” he murmured, the words spilling against your skin. “And now? Not a damn word.”

The heat in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips when he pinched again, rolling your skin between his fingers with just enough pressure to have you squirming under him.

He chuckled at your reaction, the sound low and rough as his lips made their way down to your collarbone. “Does this feel good?” he asked, the mock sweetness in his tone making your stomach twist in the best way.

You tried to form words, but all you managed was a breathy moan. His smirk deepened, his blue eyes flashing with a mix of satisfaction and that familiar intensity that made your chest tighten. 

His hands started to move, one sliding down your side with an almost lazy kind of purpose. His fingers brushed over your waist before dipping under the waistband of your panties. He paused there, just teasing the fabric, the rough pads of his fingers grazing your skin.

“Look at you,” he said, his lips curling into a faint smirk as his thumb toyed with the hemline. “All that confidence, all that fire—and now you’re just laying here, waiting for me to decide what happens next.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers dipped lower, brushing close enough to make your thighs tense. “Stan,” you whispered, your voice shaky, “please...”

His laugh was soft but laced with a kind of smug triumph that made your cheeks flush. “That’s better,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower as he let his fingers skim just a little closer to where you needed him. “See? You don’t always have to run your mouth.”

Your body arched toward him instinctively, the anticipation driving you mad, but his movements stayed deliberate, controlled. “Maybe you’re finally figuring out how this works,” he continued, his tone equal parts teasing and sharp. “Or maybe you’re just that desperate.”

Stan’s fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down with an almost lazy slowness. The fabric slid down your thighs, the cool air biting against your heated skin as he tossed them aside without a second thought. His movements were deliberate, but there was nothing showy about it—he just knew exactly what he was doing.

He shifted back, the bed creaking slightly as he knelt on the floor in front of you. The sight made your stomach flip—a mix of nervousness and something much hotter. Propped up on your elbows, you stared down at him, your breath catching as the full picture came into view.

His messy bleached hair framed his face, dark roots peeking through like a signature Stan move—half careless, half effort. His lips, swollen and pink from earlier, twitched faintly into a smirk that was both boyish and entirely too knowing. His band t-shirt clung to his chest, the faded logo stretching every time he breathed, and his gray sweatpants hung just low enough to show a hint of the waistband of his boxers. The bracelets circling his wrists—random, colorful, maybe from some flea market—clinked lightly as he moved, his hands sliding up your thighs.

Stan leaned in, pressing his lips against the soft skin of your inner thigh. The warm graze of his breath against you sent a shiver up your spine, and you couldn’t stop the way your hips shifted forward, searching for more contact.

“Seriously?” you teased breathlessly, your voice cracking slightly but still laced with a hint of defiance. “You’re really gonna drag this out?”

His hands froze for a moment, his gaze snapping up to meet yours. His blue eyes burned, sharp with amusement, but there was a glint of something darker too—something that made your stomach twist. A slow, almost smug grin spread across his face.

“Still talking, huh?” he drawled, his voice low, edged with dry humor. “Bold of you, considering where you are right now.”

Before you could even think of a comeback, his fingers caught the lace of your panties and yanked them to the side with deliberate force. The motion left you exposed, and the cool air against your heated skin made you gasp.

Stan leaned in closer, his breath warm as it ghosted over your most sensitive spot. His gaze locked onto yours, and his smirk widened slightly, like he knew exactly how wrecked you were about to be.

“Guess I’ll have to shut you up,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. Then his mouth was on you.

The sensation sent a jolt of white-hot pleasure straight through you, your head tipping back against the bed as you let out a broken cry. His tongue moved slowly at first, tracing over you with an infuriating precision that made you squirm beneath him.

But when you tried to shift your hips, his hands clamped down on your thighs, holding you firmly in place.

“Don’t,” he said against your skin, his voice muffled but firm, sending vibrations through you. “You’re staying right where I want you.”

You whimpered, your nails digging into the sheets as his tongue worked you over. The wet heat of his mouth was relentless, alternating between gentle flicks and firm, lingering strokes that left you trembling. When he slid a finger inside you, slow and deliberate, your hips jerked against his hold despite yourself.

“Stan—fuck,” you gasped, your voice breaking as your chest heaved.

He chuckled softly, his fingers curling inside you in a way that made your head spin. “That’s what I thought,” he said, his voice filled with quiet confidence. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”

The mix of his teasing tone and his rough hands left you breathless, every nerve in your body alight. Just as the pleasure started to build, his thumb brushed over your clit, adding pressure in a way that had your thighs trembling.

You moaned loudly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the sensation became overwhelming. And then his other hand moved sharply, pinching you directly on your clit.

“Shit—Stan!” you cried, your voice high and breaking as your body jerked from the sudden mix of pleasure and pain.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at you with that same infuriating smirk, his lips glistening, his blue eyes lit with mischief. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone mocking but light, as though this was all a joke to him. “You’ve got all the energy to sass me, but now you’re falling apart? That’s cute.”

His fingers stayed inside you, his movements unrelenting as he dragged you closer to the edge with maddening precision. Your hands fisted the sheets, your body arching toward him despite the overwhelming sensations.

“Stan, please—” you whimpered, your voice trembling as tears pooled in your eyes.

“‘Please,’” he mimicked softly, his voice laced with sarcasm. “That’s new.” His teeth grazed your thigh in a brief nip, and you let out another sharp cry.

Stan’s bracelets clinked faintly as his grip on you tightened, his hands firm against your skin as he kept you pinned exactly where he wanted. The sight of him—his messy bleached hair, his sharp jawline, his flushed face—burned itself into your memory, a perfect mix of control and smug satisfaction.

“Don’t stop,” you managed to choke out, the words barely audible between gasps.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice dipping into something darker, his lips brushing against the inside of your thigh. “I’m not stopping until I’ve got exactly what I want.”

Your breath hitched, and you couldn’t even think of a response. His mouth returned to you, his tongue and fingers working in perfect tandem as he pushed you higher and higher. The lingering sting of his pinch only heightened the sensations coursing through your body, leaving you a trembling mess.

Stan's tongue worked you with an intensity that left you breathless, each flick and swirl sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. When he added another finger, sliding it in with the same slow, deliberate motion as before, the stretch left you gasping.

"Stan—ah—I’m so close," you managed to whimper, your voice trembling as tears began to pool at the corners of your eyes. Your chest heaved, your body trembling as you clutched the sheets beneath you.

You sniffled, overwhelmed by the sensations, your head tipping back as your thighs quivered against his grip. "I’m—oh, God—Stan, I’m gonna come," you cried out, your voice cracking with desperation.

Stan’s mouth continued, his tongue teasing you with relentless precision while his fingers curled inside you, pushing you closer to the edge. You felt the pressure building, your entire body tensing as the release hovered just within reach.

And then he stopped.

Stan’s lips hovered over your inner thigh for a moment, his breath warm against your skin, before he pulled back entirely. His fingers left you aching and empty, and the absence was immediate and devastating. Your thighs trembled as you shifted, trying to seek out the friction you desperately needed, but Stan’s hands stopped you with a firm, grounding grip.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice low and steady, with a soft edge of finality that left no room for argument.

Your eyes widened, tears slipping freely now, as you whimpered, “Stan, please… I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupted calmly, leaning back and sitting on his heels as he looked at you with a mix of frustration and quiet amusement. “You’ll survive. Trust me.”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, every nerve in your body screaming for relief, but Stan only sighed softly, shaking his head. His messy, bleached hair fell into his eyes again, and he shoved it back carelessly before gripping the hem of his t-shirt.

Before you could say anything else, he tugged the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. The motion revealed the toned lines of his chest and the faint tan that trailed down to the waistband of his sweatpants. His silver chain glinted against his skin, catching the dim light, and you couldn’t help but stare.

Stan raised an eyebrow, catching your gaze as he rested his forearms on his knees, casual but commanding. “You’re staring,” he said softly, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

Your throat felt dry as you tried to find your voice, but all that escaped was a soft whimper. Your hands clenched into the sheets beneath you, and the heat pooling in your stomach twisted painfully as you realized he had no intention of letting you off the hook.

“You’ll live,” Stan muttered again, his tone quiet but deliberate as he stood, giving you one last glance before turning toward his dresser. The lack of attention left you buzzing with frustration and need, but he didn’t seem to care—he was in complete control, and you were left to grapple with the fact that he intended to keep it that way.

Stan walked to his dresser with a lazy confidence, the kind that only made the heat pooling in your stomach worse. More of the hemline of his boxers showed now, and the muscles in his back shifted subtly as he grabbed his phone from the edge of the dresser. He scrolled aimlessly, his bracelets jangling faintly with each movement.

You stared, your breaths shallow, thighs pressing together in a futile attempt to calm the ache he’d left behind. He wasn’t even looking at you, completely unfazed, like he hadn’t just wrecked you moments ago. It made your chest twist—part frustration, part something you didn’t want to name.

“Stan,” you croaked, your voice cracking slightly, and he didn’t even flinch.

He scrolled for another beat, finally glancing over his shoulder at you, one eyebrow arching lazily. “What?” His tone was flat, indifferent, like you’d just interrupted him during an uneventful Tuesday.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. You hated how small his lack of reaction made you feel, like the electric tension between you was entirely one-sided.

“I…” you started, but your gaze flicked down to his chest, to the light tan that lingered across his skin and the faint ridge of muscle beneath it. You swallowed hard, trying to piece together your thoughts, but the sight of him standing there— messy-haired, and so effortlessly unaffected—was enough to scramble everything in your head.

Stan sighed like you were being difficult and turned back to his dresser. His hand rifled through the top drawer, and when he pulled back, the foil wrapper of a condom glinted under the soft light.

Your stomach dropped, your body buzzing as he set the condom casually on the dresser, next to his phone. He leaned one arm against the edge, crossing his other hand over his chest, bracelets sliding slightly down his forearm as he glanced back at you.

“You gonna say something, or just keep staring like that?” he said finally, his lips quirking into a faint, cocky smirk.

Your cheeks burned, and you squirmed against the sheets, the ache between your legs sharpening as he stood there, fully in control. “I wasn’t staring,” you mumbled, barely convincing even yourself.

“Right,” Stan said, dragging the word out as he looked back at his phone, tapping the screen lazily. “Sure seemed like it from here.”

The way he brushed you off, so casual and maddening, made the knot in your chest tighten. Your eyes darted to the condom on the dresser, and the implications made your head spin. “Why’d you—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip as frustration prickled at the back of your neck.

“Why’d I what?” Stan drawled, not even bothering to look up this time.

“Y-you…” you faltered again, unsure if it was the tension in your chest or the growing need burning through your veins that had you so tongue-tied.

Stan finally turned, leaning fully against the dresser now, his arms crossed as he looked at you with a mix of amusement and exasperation. His bleached hair was a mess, dark roots peeking through as a few strands fell into his eyes. He shoved them back with one hand, his bracelets clinking faintly before crossing his arms again.

“You’ve been running your mouth all night,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he looked you over. “Now you’ve got nothing to say? Figures.”

You squirmed under his gaze, the heat in your cheeks spreading as you gripped the sheets tightly beneath you.

His smirk deepened, sharp and knowing. “C’mon, [Y/N], spit it out,” he said, his voice low and edged with sarcasm. “You’re looking at me like I’ve got all the answers.”

Your chest tightened, every nerve in your body buzzing as your lips parted again, but the words refused to form. The weight of his gaze, the way his tone was almost mocking but not cruel—it all left you reeling.

“I don’t know,” you whispered finally, the admission feeling heavier than it should.

Stan’s expression softened, just slightly, but his smirk didn’t fade. “Yeah, I got that much,” he said, his voice quieter now but still cutting. His sharp blue eyes lingered on you for a moment, reading you like an open book.

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise in your chest again as the knot of frustration and need twisted tighter. You glanced at the condom on the dresser again, and your voice broke as you murmured, “Why’d you grab that?”

Stan raised an eyebrow, his smirk shifting into something closer to amusement. “Why do you think?” he said plainly, like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your stomach flipped, and you bit your lip hard enough to sting as your gaze dropped to your hands clenched in the sheets. The teasing tilt in his tone, the sheer audacity of his calmness, made your head spin.

He pushed off the dresser and crossed the room in a few slow, deliberate steps, stopping just short of the bed. His sharp gaze bore into you as he leaned down slightly, his bracelets sliding further down his arms.

“Say what you want, [Y/N],” he said softly, the teasing edge in his voice tempered by something quieter, something steadier. “Or don’t. Either way…” His eyes flicked to the condom, then back to you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I-...” you trailed off, your breath catching as you forced yourself to look at him. And in that moment, it hit you all at once, sharp and undeniable.

You liked him.

Not just liked him—you wanted him, craved him in a way that made your heart race and your stomach twist. It hit you all at once: the teasing, the flirting, the way you got jealous over nothing—it wasn’t friendly banter. It was so much more.

Stan leaned against the dresser, his bracelets jingling faintly as he shifted his weight. The condom in his hand hung lazily between two fingers, and his blue eyes locked onto yours with that sharp, assessing look he always gave when he was trying to figure you out. “You… what?” he asked, the slightest tilt of his head adding to the edge in his voice.

Your chest tightened, the words bubbling to the surface before you could stop them. “I want you to come back to the bed.”

Stan’s brows lifted, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He swung the condom lightly, his voice dipping into a teasing drawl. “Oh, yeah? And what exactly do you want if I do?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze even as heat crept up your neck. “I want to kiss you,” you admitted, your voice trembling but firm. “I need to.”

The smirk on Stan’s face faltered, replaced by something softer, more serious. He straightened slightly, the humor in his eyes fading as he stepped closer, the condom now forgotten at his side. “You need to kiss me,” he repeated, his tone lower, testing.

“Yes,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Stan’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his lips quirking as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He placed the condom on the bedside table and leaned down, his hands bracing on either side of you. His lips brushed yours, a soft, fleeting touch that left you breathless.

“You could’ve just said so earlier,” he muttered, and then his mouth pressed firmly against yours, stealing whatever response you might’ve had.

The kiss was different—no teasing smirks or playful jabs, just raw, unfiltered emotion. His hands cupped your face, tilting it slightly to deepen the kiss as his body pressed closer. You melted into him, your hands instinctively clutching at his bare shoulders as the heat between you grew.

Stan pulled back, his lips lingering just a breath away from yours, and his eyes searched yours like he was trying to piece together something important. “Do you even get what you’re doing to me?” he asked, his voice low and rough around the edges.

Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “I wasn’t sure what I felt,” you said softly, the words stumbling out. “But I know now. I—I want this. I want you.”

Stan’s gaze flickered, something vulnerable slipping through his usual guarded expression. His jaw worked for a moment, like he was chewing over your words, and then he let out a quiet breath, his hand sliding to cradle your face. “No more of this back-and-forth shit,” he said, his voice firmer now. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it for real. None of your games. No bullshit.”

“No games,” you echoed, your voice trembling but certain.

His lips curved into a small, lopsided smile, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “Good,” he said, his tone soft but resolute. His other hand settled on your waist, grounding you as he leaned in again, his forehead lightly bumping against yours. “Because I don’t think I can deal with you driving me up the wall anymore without this.”

Stan scooted back slightly, hooking his thumbs casually into the waistband of his sweatpants. His blue eyes stayed locked on yours, that familiar mix of irritation and amusement flickering in his gaze as he tugged them down just enough to reveal snug black boxer briefs. The way they hugged his frame left little to the imagination, and your eyes instinctively dropped, wide and unblinking.

“Wow,” you said quickly, your cheeks heating up as you scrambled to deflect. “Really going for the bold look tonight, huh? What’s the occasion?”

Stan raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a dry smirk. “Bold words coming from someone who keeps getting caught staring,” he shot back. His hands dropped to his hips, his stance casual, but the sharpness in his voice made your stomach flip.

“I wasn’t staring,” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest in a weak attempt to look unbothered.

His laugh was short and incredulous, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, sure. Totally convincing.” He shoved his sweatpants down the rest of the way with an almost careless motion, stepping out of them as they pooled at his feet. Now just in his boxer briefs, he took a slow step forward, looming over you with that same unimpressed look that made you squirm.

“You’ve got a smart mouth,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Always running it, even when you’re caught red-handed.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could get a single word out, he was climbing onto the bed. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart effortlessly, the weight of his body leaving you pinned beneath him. The shift in dynamic was immediate, leaving you breathless as his blue eyes bore into yours, sharp and unrelenting.

“You think you’re funny?” he continued, his voice low and cutting, each word sinking into the tension between you. His thumbs brushed dangerously close to your panties, the teasing touch sending a jolt through your already-overheated body. “Making little comments like that when you’re already soaked? What exactly are you trying to pull here?”

“I wasn’t—” you started defensively, but your words faltered when his fingers trailed up, pressing against the damp fabric of your panties with maddening precision.

“Wasn’t what?” he pressed, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your ear. His voice dipped lower, taking on a mocking edge that sent shivers down your spine. “Wasn’t wet? Wasn’t about to beg me? Careful, [Y/N]. You keep lying to my face, and I might just leave you like this all night.”

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively shifted your hips, trying to get more of his touch. But his grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you firmly in place. He pulled back just enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his smirk sharp and unforgiving.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his tone soft but cutting. “That’s what I thought.”

He pushed himself back onto his heels, dragging his boxers down in one smooth motion. When he stood again, his cock stood hard and flushed, and the sight made your breath catch in your throat. Without thinking, your hand reached out to touch him, but he caught your wrist before you could get close.

“Seriously?” he said, his voice carrying that familiar edge of sarcasm that was so uniquely Stan. He shook his head, letting out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “You’ve been running your mouth all night, and now you think you get to do whatever you want? Cute.”

His free hand came up to grip your cheek, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to make your lips part slightly. “Look at me,” he said, his blue eyes locking onto yours. His tone was steady, but there was a flicker of frustration behind it, a heat that had your stomach twisting. “You’ve been pushing me all night, and now you’re just gonna sit there and wait until I’m good and ready. Got it?”

Before you could respond, he reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the condom, his movements deliberate. The soft crinkle of the wrapper made your thighs clench instinctively, but he caught the motion immediately, his eyes flicking down and then back up to yours with a faint smirk.

“You talk a big game,” he said, rolling the condom on with an unhurried precision that made your pulse race. “Guess we’ll see if you can actually handle it.”

He leaned back over you, his hands sliding deliberately up your sides before settling on your hips, his grip strong and grounding. His gaze stayed fixed on yours, his expression calm but charged with something unmistakably hungry.

“I—”

Stan cut you off, his hand pressing firmly but not harshly on the back of your head, guiding you down toward the mattress. “Don’t,” he muttered, his voice low and edged with exasperation. The motion wasn’t rough, but it carried no room for argument. He wasn’t playing around anymore.

You turned your head slightly, trying to catch his eye, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout as your manicured nails reached for his arm. “Stan,” you whined softly, dragging out his name in that teasing tone you knew got under his skin.

Instead of rising to your bait, he let out a short, dry laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were still at it. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?” he said, his voice carrying that familiar sarcastic bite. Without waiting for a response, his hands gripped your hips, shifting you until your head was down against the bed and your ass was up, fully exposed. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as if he wanted to draw out every second of the tension until it was unbearable.

Stan’s fingers skimmed lightly over your back, trailing down to the curve of your hips. His touch lingered, warm and steady, before his grip tightened enough to ground you. He leaned in just enough for his voice to reach your ears, low and steady, the faintest edge of a smirk in his tone.

“Look at you now,” he said, his words cutting through the thick air between you. “All that talk, and suddenly you don’t have much to say.”

His hands stayed firm on your hips as he lined himself up with you. The weight of his cock against your entrance made your breath hitch, and before you could brace yourself, he pushed forward in one smooth, deliberate motion. The stretch burned, sharp and overwhelming, and your gasp turned into a broken cry as he seated himself fully, leaving no space between you.

Stan didn’t move right away. He stayed buried inside, letting you feel every inch of him as his hands kept you still. The weight of his body, the heat of his skin, the way he held you—it was all-consuming. Tears pricked at your eyes from the sheer intensity of it.

“You’re awful quiet,” he muttered after a moment, his voice low and thick, almost casual. “What happened to all that attitude, huh? Thought you had something smart to say.”

A choked whimper escaped you, and you turned your head slightly, trying to meet his gaze through your tear-blurred vision. Stan’s face was flushed, his messy bleached hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you with a mix of irritation and smug satisfaction. That familiar smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, sharp and knowing, as if he could see right through you.

When you tried to shift your hips, seeking even the smallest bit of relief, his hands clamped down harder, holding you in place. “Uh-uh,” he said, his voice cutting through your quiet protests. “You don’t get to squirm your way out of this. You wanted me back here so bad, right? So take it.”

Your breath hitched again as you buried your face in the mattress, your muffled cries betraying how much you were feeling. “S-Stan…” you hiccupped, your voice trembling, barely able to form his name.

He leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back, his lips close to your ear. “Oh, now you’re playing the soft card?” he murmured, his tone dripping with mock pity. “Too late for that, sweetheart. You’ve been running your mouth all night, and now you’re gonna deal with what you started.”

As if to punctuate his words, he pulled back slightly and then thrust forward again, slow but deep, the motion stealing the air from your lungs. He didn’t let up, finding a deliberate rhythm that left you clawing at the sheets beneath you, every thrust making your body tremble.

“You know,” he said, his voice almost conversational despite the roughness of his movements, “you’re always so damn sure of yourself. Always pushing, always testing me.” He paused, his hips snapping forward harder, making you cry out. “But now? Now you’re not so cocky, are you?”

Tears slipped freely down your cheeks as you tried to keep up, your mind spinning from the overwhelming mix of sensations. When you tried to speak, to form even the smallest response, the words dissolved into broken moans, leaving you completely at his mercy.

Stan noticed, of course. He always noticed. “Aw, what’s wrong?” he teased, his voice softer now, but still carrying that playful edge. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, his lips warm and teasing against your skin. “Too much for you already?”

You managed a shaky nod, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as your body trembled beneath him. His laugh was soft, almost cruel, as he trailed another kiss along your jawline. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low but filled with satisfaction. “Maybe now you’ll think twice before trying to mess with me.”

Despite the tears pooling in your eyes, your body betrayed you, rolling your hips back into him as best you could, chasing the pressure and the sensation. Stan let out a quiet groan at your reaction, his hands gripping your waist tighter.

“See?” he said, his tone shifting to something gentler but still laced with control. “You can be good when you really try.”

Stan’s movements faltered slightly, his hands gripping your hips as he took in the way your body responded to him. His lips quirked into a soft smirk, but his blue eyes betrayed something deeper—intensity mixed with that familiar, slightly sarcastic glint that was so him.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice low and husky. “You’re really losing it, aren’t you?”

You whimpered in response, unable to form words, your head pressed into the mattress. Stan leaned forward, his breath warm against your shoulder, and chuckled softly. It wasn’t mean—it was teasing, familiar, the same way he always had been, but now it carried the weight of everything happening between you.

“That good, huh?” he murmured, his voice dipping just enough to make your breath hitch. “All this, just from me?”

Your body clenched around him at his words, and his sharp intake of breath was proof he noticed. He paused, his hips pressed flush against you as his hand trailed up your back, coaxing a soft arch from your spine.

“Okay, okay,” he teased, his tone shifting, dripping with playful sarcasm now. “You don’t have to answer. You’re kind of... busy.” He punctuated his statement with a slow roll of his hips, drawing a gasp from your lips.

Stan groaned quietly, his head dipping closer to your ear. “Jesus, you’re soaking me,” he said, his voice breaking slightly at the edges. “I didn’t think you could get any better, but here we are.”

His praise made your chest tighten, heat flooding through you as your mind spun. He caught the way your moans grew louder, how your body tensed with every soft word that slipped from his lips.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with curiosity, with that cocky-but-genuine air only Stan could pull off. “You like when I tell you how good you are?”

Your response was a broken whimper, your nails clawing at the sheets as you tried to ground yourself. Stan’s laughter was soft, almost affectionate, as his fingers trailed down your side, his other hand gripping your hip tightly to keep his rhythm steady.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his voice dropping. “Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you? You’re fucking perfect.”

His words sent a shudder through you, and he felt it, his smirk widening as he leaned forward again. “I mean it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before biting down gently, making you gasp. “You’re driving me insane in the best way.”

You let out a choked sob, the intensity of his praise, his rhythm, and his control overwhelming you completely. Your legs trembled beneath you as your body clenched around him, and Stan groaned, his own composure slipping slightly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse now. “That’s it. Just like that. Keep doing that, baby. You’re perfect.”

His words pushed you closer to the edge, your mind hazy with arousal and emotion. Tears slipped from your eyes, and you gasped his name, your voice trembling as you tried to hold on.

“Stan,” you managed to whisper, your tone pleading and raw.

Stan’s pace faltered for a split second when he heard your shaky voice break through the heavy rhythm of your breathing. His blue eyes darted down to you, catching the way tears spilled down your cheeks, your lips trembling as you turned your head away from the pillow to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, voice thick with emotion as you sniffled, your body trembling beneath him.

Stan’s brows furrowed, his jaw clenching, though his movements didn’t let up. If anything, his pace grew more purposeful, his hips snapping into yours as his hands gripped your waist tightly, grounding you to him.

“Sorry?” he asked, his voice low, strained. “What are you apologizing for, huh?”

Tears streaked your flushed cheeks, your lips trembling as you gasped, “F-for earlier. For... everything.”

Stan let out a breathy laugh, the sound edged with something almost disbelieving, his forehead falling forward slightly as he leaned over you. “You’re apologizing now?” he asked, his tone teasing but not unkind, his words brushing against the shell of your ear as he kept moving. “Right when you’re about to come? Really convenient timing dude, don’t you think?”

You let out a choked sob, your body clenching around him as you struggled to keep your gaze locked with his. “I-I mean it,” you said, your voice breaking as your chest heaved, every nerve in your body alight.

Stan’s lips quirked into a crooked smile, his expression softening for a moment before his hands slid up your body, one moving to your face to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed away a stray tear as his eyes bore into yours, his tone quieter now but no less intense.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle, “I know you mean it. But I’m not letting you off that easy.”

Your eyes widened, another soft cry escaping you as his thrusts grew deeper, hitting the perfect spot that had you unraveling. “S-Stan, I... I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he said, cutting you off, his voice dropping even lower, his thumb tracing slow circles over your cheek. “I can feel it. You’re so fucking close, aren’t you?”

You nodded desperately, your fingers clawing at the sheets as your entire body tensed. Tears blurred your vision as you whimpered, “Please.”

Stan groaned softly, his gaze unwavering as he pressed a firm, almost possessive kiss to your lips. “Then come for me,” he commanded, his voice dripping with authority, his hand gripping your jaw to keep you focused on him. “Right now. I want to see you fall apart.”

And with his words ringing in your ears, you did.

Stan’s movements didn’t falter as he kept driving into you, his relentless rhythm drawing ragged whimpers and muffled cries from your lips. His hand stayed firm on your chin, holding your gaze as though daring you to look away. His messy, grown-out bleached hair stuck to his forehead in damp strands, the pale locks contrasting sharply with his slightly tanned skin. The bracelets on his wrists—simple bands and one woven with multicolored threads—shifted and caught the light with every powerful thrust, his forearms flexing with the effort.

The sight of him was dizzying. His swollen lips parted slightly as his breaths came heavy, a sheen of sweat making his skin glisten under the warm dorm lighting. It was impossible not to stare, the sharp cut of his jawline and the faint dusting of pink across his cheeks making him look so effortlessly gorgeous, so thoroughly wrecked in the best way.

“God, you’re so tight,” he muttered, his voice strained as his hips snapped against yours. His free hand slid from your hip to grip your waist, his strong fingers digging into your skin to hold you steady. “I should be pissed at you right now, but—fuck—how am I supposed to stay mad when you’re like this?”

You tried to respond, your lips parting, but all that came out was a cracked moan as he hit just the right spot again. Gathering your nerve, you attempted to form words, the teasing edge in your tone still managing to peek through your overstimulated haze. “I-I was just gonna say—”

Stan cut you off immediately, his blue eyes narrowing as a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Nope. Not this time.” He shoved two fingers into your mouth without hesitation, the pads of his fingers pressing down on your tongue firmly enough to silence you. “You wanna say something? Too bad. You’re done talking.”

Your wide-eyed stare and muffled protests only spurred him on. His bracelets shifted again as he adjusted his grip, his thumb brushing across your cheek almost tenderly, contrasting the raw intensity in his movements. “God, you’re such a mess,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “Look at you—tears running down your face, trying to act like you’ve got something smart to say. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Your moan around his fingers was muffled but unmistakably needy, your body trembling under the onslaught of sensation. The fire pooling in your stomach grew unbearable as Stan’s relentless pace brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“Bet you love it,” he rasped, his head dipping closer as he brought his lips to your ear. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his hips slammed into yours again. “You can’t get enough, can you? Always pushing, always testing me. And now look where it’s gotten you.”

The warmth of his skin, the weight of his body pressing you down, the unrelenting heat in his gaze—it was overwhelming. You whimpered helplessly around his fingers, your eyes locking with his again, and Stan groaned low in his throat, the sight of you so thoroughly wrecked beneath him pushing him closer to the brink.

“You look so good like this,” he muttered, his voice barely above a growl. “Completely mine.”

His pace faltered slightly, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release, his bleached hair falling into his eyes. But he didn’t let up, his free hand sliding down to grip your thigh and pulling you even closer. “Keep looking at me,” he ordered, his voice hoarse but firm. “Don’t you dare look away.”

Stan’s thrusts slowed, his body trembling as he reached his peak. A guttural moan tore from his throat, raw and unfiltered, as his head tipped back, his bleached hair clinging to his damp skin. His grip on your thigh tightened for a moment before his movements stilled completely, his chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths.

For a few seconds, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your labored breathing and the faint hum of the dorm room fan. Stan stayed still, his hands resting on your hips, holding you close as he caught his breath. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face flushed with exertion, and the weight of his release seemed to hit him all at once.

When he finally opened his eyes and looked down at you, there was a flicker of something in his expression—hesitation, maybe even embarrassment. His gaze softened, and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he gave a faint, almost self-conscious chuckle, his hand brushing lightly over your waist as though grounding himself.

“Shit,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, more to himself than to you. His blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, he looked almost abashed, his usual cocky demeanor stripped away entirely. “You… okay?”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and you nodded, your lips parting to respond, but your voice came out in a whisper. “Yeah.”

Stan exhaled a quiet laugh, running a hand through his messy hair as he pulled back slightly, his movements careful, almost tentative. He reached out to the bedside table, grabbing a tissue and leaning back down to press a quick, soft kiss to your temple. “Good,” he muttered, his voice still tinged with that uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I—I didn’t mean to get so…”

He trailed off, shaking his head slightly as if trying to shake off the unspoken thought. His cheeks were still faintly flushed, his bracelets clinking softly as he adjusted his grip on your waist to help steady you. The moment was quieter now, the intensity replaced with something gentler, almost uncertain.

Stan’s fingers brushed over your cheek lightly, his gaze searching yours. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his brows furrowing slightly.

Your heart twisted at the softness in his voice, and you reached up to cover his hand with yours. “I’m okay, Stan,” you said, your voice steadier now. “Promise.”

He gave a small nod, his lips pressing into a faint smile, though the flicker of uncertainty didn’t entirely fade from his eyes. “Good,” he said again, softer this time. Then, after a beat, he added with a wry smirk, “You… really know how to make things complicated, don’t you?”

There was a teasing edge to his words, but his tone was light, almost affectionate. It felt like Stan was trying to bridge the intensity of the moment with something more familiar, something easier to grasp.

Stan exhaled deeply, his forehead briefly resting against your shoulder as he worked to collect himself. When he pulled back, he shifted off the bed, peeling off the condom and tying it off before tossing it into the trash can. His bleached hair was even messier now, sticking to his damp forehead, and the soft jingle of his bracelets filled the quiet room as he reached for a tissue to clean himself up.

You stretched out languidly, turning your head to shoot him a teasing smirk. “So… does this mean you’re not mad anymore?”

Stan froze mid-motion, his head snapping to look at you. The exasperation on his face was instant, though it was laced with amusement. “Don’t start,” he warned, narrowing his eyes but failing to suppress the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You grinned wider, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I mean, you seemed really mad earlier. Like dude, I was kinda scared for a second,” you said, your voice dripping with playful mockery. “But now? I think you’re just a big softie.”

Stan rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath as he tossed the tissues into the trash with a flick of his wrist. “Keep talking, and I’ll show you how ‘soft’ I am,” he quipped, leaning over to lightly flick your forehead.

You pouted dramatically, rubbing the spot he’d flicked. “Abuse!” you teased, mock-gasping. “I’m gonna tell Red you’re bullying me.”

Stan shook his head, standing up to adjust his bracelets and reaching for his sweatpants. “You’re the worst,” he muttered with a laugh, grabbing the discarded blanket from the floor and tossing it over you. “Now shut up and go to sleep before you actually piss me off again.”

You laughed, pulling the blanket up to your chin as you watched him move around the room. The tension had completely dissolved, replaced with the kind of easy banter that seemed to define whatever the two of you had. Stan shook his head again, but you could see the faint grin on his face as he grabbed his phone off the dresser and flopped back down beside you.

i love red sm...

[pyxrin]

All In Against the House

Aka: A demigod runs into the Task Force 141 while on an undeciphered quest. Unbeknownst to her, she rapidly becomes the only wildcard able to give them the chance to win as the underdogs they have yet to realize they are.

AN: This is my cod/pjo crossover fic I got an itch for, so I started writing this and couldn't stop lmao. Didn't edit, and didn't play the games. This is also my first full blown fic, expect errors. Also haven't decided how long I want chapters to be, but expect them on the longer side. Enjoy! ^-^

4330 words

Chapter 1: Lucky Hates Mexico, but the People Trying to Kill Her are Worse

Not here either.

Lucky has decided that she doesn't really like Mexico. Las Almas at least. It's dusty and brown, but not brown in the way that movies portray Mexico. It's brown in the rotting wood way. In the hundreds of pounds of dirt that coat her already shabby clothes way. In the grimy windows that are barred by similarly brown rusty bars way. However, she can live with brown. Lucky has been everywhere, continental US at least, so she's used to all kinds of colors.

What she isn't used to is not finding what she's looking for. Or rather who. This is the tenth mostly abandoned building she's searched, and her dad wasn't in any one of them. Lucky doesn't know how much longer she can take it. The anticipation of the mostly silent night, broken by the incessant wind, and the knowledge that there are people with guns is killing her.

With every passing minute, she sweats more cold sweat, her hands shake more, and she is this close to crying. This whole town is terrifying and Lucky can't wait to leave, but she can't leave without her dad. She has no clue why that stupid prophecy led her here in the first place!

Lucky has never been unlucky enough to not find something or someone. Normally she doesn't even have to try, so that must mean that her dad isn't here. As such, she should definitely, totally, leave. The gunshots only work to cement her rapidly forming plan to get the hell out of Dodge.

She yelps as the distant sound echoes and crouches down below the windowsill. Lucky's heart pounds as she feels the adrenaline course through her veins. Everything becomes sharper, and the world becomes clearer. Demigod senses and all. 

She takes a moment to collect her very limited nerves before peeking through the window. The coast is clear. Lucky cracks open the door and pokes her head through. She looks both ways before dashing out, instinctively going left. Lucky doesn't need a plan, she just needs to follow her gut, which has never steered her wrong before. Maybe she can steal a car or something. This is as good a time as any to learn how to drive, yeah?

 Lucky sprints through the alleyways, doing her best to be quiet and stick to the shadows. Even if she has weapons, she's never been good at fighting, especially when it's bronze knuckles vs guns. She sees a couple guys down the alley she just turned down. Big fuckers with big guns. Lucky panics. Sure, they're not monsters, but they're just as scary.

She ducks behind the corner of the building. They didn't see her, but if she doesn't do something soon, they will, and they will try to kill her, and Lucky really really doesn't want them to try to kill her. She will cry. And if they kill her, she won't be able to find and possibly save her dad, and if she can't save her dad, whatever stupid fucking cartel that's coming after him will kill him, and they will both be dead and forgotten by everyone who knew them and doomed to spend eternity in the worst, most boring ass afterlife in Hades, who is probably already mad at Lucky because she fully thought he was gray with blue fire hair. Was the other side of the alleyway always as close as it is now? It feels like no matter how deep a breath she takes, she can't get enough air. Shit. She can't be doing this now! Lucky thought she was getting better! That was the whole reason why she thought she was ready to go on this stupid quest! She can't just freeze up and stop breathing every time she encounters an enemy she can't run away or hide from. Fuck! What was that thing that Chiron taught her? Senses! Focus on her senses!

She tastes saliva and dirt, which is wholly unhelpful. She hears the wind whistling through the city, the pounding of her heart, her labored breathing, small chatter, and the crunch of boots on ground that is steadily getting louder. Wait, louder!? Lucky is fucked. So incredibly fucked. What's next? Lucky feels the chill of the night wind, the sweat on her palms, and the roughness of the wall she's pressed up against. Lucky sees very little, but there is a pretty rock right by her feet, about the size of her hand. 

Wait, a rock!

Lucky picks up the rock, leans around the corner where both men are thankfully distracted and not looking, and chucks the rock as far and as hard as she possibly can. It sails over their heads and crashes into some unseen pile of what sounds like metal cans. The two soldiers whip around and immediately race off to find the source. She hears them say something something soap and something something ghost. Are they giving a ghost a bath? Weird.

She doesn't pay it any more mind as she's too busy slipping by into another side street. She takes a moment to catch her breath, leaning against the wall. Her heart rate finally starts going down. That thing that Chiron taught her actually really helped, even if she totally forgot what it’s called. Lucky was actually able to find and solution to her problem instead of just running away. Maybe she can actually do this whole quest thing, even if there's bumps along the way.

Once back to a relative baseline, Lucky stands back to her full height and glances around for an idea of what to do next. She turns to face back just as the soldiers she thought she properly distracted come around where she came from. They look at her. She looks at them. Lucky takes in a large gulp of air.

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!”

Soap perks up, dropping the body he just took out. The entirety of Las Almas should've been under military control, and that sounded like a girl's scream. What the hell are civvies doing here? Soap doesn't have time or opportunity to worry about whatever war crimes Graves and his men are committing when he and Ghost were minutes away from joining the list of casualties. Hell, it could even be a trap. Who knows what that wanker's thinking?

The girl will have to be one of the many who haunt Soap after he's gone back to his bed and everything's gone quiet. When he can't help but think about the decisions made and the roads not taken. He grabs anything of use from the bodies before moving in the direction of the church. Ghost is waiting.

He doesn't get far before the girl he was seconds away from abandoning comes flying at him considerably faster than he expected her to. She's just a wee thing. Mousey. Or maybe more rabbit-ey with that pink bandana on her head and the edges of the bow bouncing like that. Certainly a civilian currently being chased by close to a dozen Shadows. It's a wonder she isn't dead yet. All of this passes through Soap's brain in an instant, interrupted only by the girl shouting. “RUN, BITCH! RUN!”

It may be the group of Shadows hot on both of their tails now, but he does exactly as she says.

Lucky doesn't know why she trusts Mohawk, but she does, despite all previous experiences giving her a major distrust in any body that upholds the law. She doesn't know where she picked up the extra soldiers either, but it doesn't matter. They just have to find a place to hide. Hopefully their now bad luck will kick in soon.

She follows Mohawk past a lost car and into the alley just by it. She hears the bullets fly by her to hit the car, as well as a small hissing that she ignores. Lucky glances around and gets an idea, and with how she's slowly catching up to her new friend, she can share the plan too. “Boost me! Left wall!” It's a sheer wall, but the building is low enough that she can scramble up there with a boost.

Mohawk doesn't immediately show signs of hearing her, but he does turn on his feet and interlock his fingers, a perfect jumping pad. Lucky continues her sprint, hopping into his hands and leaping to the edge. The soldier doesn't so much as grunt. She pulls herself up and over in an instant. However, she ain't gonna leave him hanging, so she leans over the edge and holds out her hand.

Mohawk looks suspicious, but the sounds of the rapidly approaching other soldiers changes his mind fast. We'll, as far as Lucky can tell. He jumps and grabs onto her hand. “HO-ly shit! What do they feed you?” This bitch is heavy! With a considerable effort, she is able to tug him up enough for him to grab the ledge.

He's just able to get up there when an explosion echoes in the area, followed closely by screams. Lucky steels herself enough for a peek and finds that that car exploded, the fire and debris blocking the area, as well as a few bodies. An event surely caused by misfortune. She cringes and flops back onto the roof. She didn't think that she would enjoy the feel of shitty gravel digging into her back as much as she is, but clearly a near death experience was enough to give her a fresh perspective on the subject. 

She turns her head to Mohawk who looks like he's buffering. She's used to that look. She sees it a lot when people hang out with her. Demigods or not, none are ever really prepared for her, as Dionysus lovingly calls them, ‘batshit crazy, loony tunes ass shenanigans.’ She can only imagine what a mortal would think. Lucky decides that now is as good a time as any for introductions, if only to distract from the sorta magic she just used.

“Hi, I'm Lucky, well, my real name is Lucille, but everyone calls me Lucky! Nice to meet you. Probably would've been better if we weren't getting shot at, but nothing to change that now. Sorry. I talk a lot. At least I’m entertaining! Most of the time; I’ve been told to shut up a whole lot over the past couple years. It kinda sucks, but I understand, not everyone likes listening to a yapper. Actually, I think I’m gonna take their advice now and shut up. Sorry.” Lucky talks even more than normal when nervous,and the more she talks the more likely she is to overshare. Lucky doesn’t want to give away her life story to this stranger, for a multitude of reasons, so being quiet is definitely the best option, despite how she itches to speak and words bubble just below the surface.

Mohawk decides on what to say, for some reason. Introductions aren't that hard, and she knows that he knows English because he did what she said earlier. Her musings are interrupted when he finally huffs. “Steamin’ Jesus, Ahve ne’er bin on a op this weird. Ahm Soap.”

She takes a moment, asks him to repeat what he said. He does, the last part at least, but that doesn’t help at all. Lucky frowns. She... didn't understand a word of what Mohawk said. Like. At all. She's been in life and death situations before, and her ears worked perfectly fine then, and it doesn't feel like she's having a stroke. Aren’t you supposed to smell toast when that happens? Lucky smells nothing but gunpowder, dust, and the burning car. Not that she knows what strokes feel like, or smell like, for that matter. There's only one possibility left. "Did my dyslexia move to my ears?" She asks herself quietly.

He must've heard her because Mohawk bursts out laughing. It makes Lucky jump and her heart rate spike for a moment before she calms. Mostly. She thinks he's much too loud when there are other big ass soldiers on the hunt for them. He's doing like a full-on belly laugh, and Lucky didn't even make a joke! "Ahm Scottish, ye wee lass!" She stares blankly at him for a full minute before she’s able to figure out what the hell he just said. It dawns on her. Lucky’s eyes widen and her mouth drops. She points at him.

“Oooh! You’re Scottish! Fuck!” She exclaims. This is bad. Lucky is very stupid, and even if her dyslexia hasn’t officially migrated to her ears too, yet, the ADHD that comes with the whole demigod thing makes piecing anything that takes more than a modicum of effort incredibly difficult. Wait. what she just said probably sounds really insulting now that she’s thinking about it, and she really doesn’t want to make an enemy of her new friend. “Wait wait wait! I swear I wasn’t trying to insult you or your heritage. I think Europeans are cool! Not that I’ve met all that many, but still! Really it’s my bad because I’m kinda dumb and really bad at words and shit, so it can be hard for me to know what people say sometimes, especially with heavy accents. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad! Please don’t try to kill me!” She waves her hands wildly in the hopes of conveying her sincerity.

Lucky’s panicked rambling causes Soap to panic. He just got this girl, and they are in an incredibly dangerous situation; he does not need her freaked out and likely to add to the already very high risk they’re in. He puts his hand over her mouth. She quiets and blinks at him owlishly. “Relax. Ahm Soap.” Lucky finds that his accent isn't as thick this time. Thankfully, she can actually understand him.

After a moment, he removes his hand, but not before staring at her intently to make sure she doesn't restart her tirade. She doesn't. Instead Lucky spouts the first thing that comes to mind. “Like the thing you should never ever drop in the prison showers?” 

Soap sighs heavily and holds his breath to keep his chuckles at bay. It is criminal how good Lucky is at disarming situations “Aye.” She nods with a grim expression. Lucky thinks it's a very unfortunate nickname. Poor guy, he seems like a very nice person, and having a silly nickname is an easy way for people to make fun of someone. She could also see people making fun of his mohawk. 

Lucky figures that this is as good a time as any to ask the important questions. “So what now? Do you have a way out and can I come with?” She prays to her mom that he says yes to both questions. She can’t wait to get out of this fucking city.

“Maybe and aye. Ye were coming with me anyway. No place for a civvie.” He seems to say that last part quietly, but it doesn’t escape Lucky’s ears. She doesn't know what a civvie is, but it feels insulting. Whatever it is, she doesn't want to be it. She can ask him about it later, when they aren't hiding from soldiers who want them dead. 

She peeks over the edge. The coast seems to be clear, and Lucky knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. (Are gift horses prone to biting?) She waves Soap over, who pokes his head over the edge beside her. He jumps down and looks up at her, holding out his arms as if he wants to catch her. As if!

Lucky has fallen down larger heights before, imagine her getting help for going down a building that's barely two stories tall? Insulting. Lucky sticks out her tongue at him and jumps down herself. She lands in a perfect tuck and roll. She didn't have to, but she wanted to show off. Lucky has to impress her new friend. They can be hard to find when it feels like every third person who shows interest in her is actually a monster who wants to eat her or some shit.

She dusts herself off and gestures for Soap to go ahead of her. The flaming car blocks the way they came, so the only way is through the maze of alleyways. Soap walks ahead, murmuring something about a lost bird. Lucky couldn't hear him all that well over the ambient noise. Are all military guys this weird? She kinda hopes she doesn't find out. 

Lucky follows Soap, yapping the whole way. “Y'know if every town in Mexico is like this one, I don't wanna come back, but I kinda have to stay in the country for a while until I find my dad. Or I guess I figure out what my actual quest is. I have the prophecy written on a paper, but I'm not very good at figuring out riddles. I think it means that I'm supposed to find my dad. I hope it does at least. I miss him.”

Soap occasionally replies, but his focus seems to be split between her, finding their way, and talking to the demons in his head. He doesn't tell her to shut up though, which is nice. Lucky does earn herself some very weird looks, which makes sense considering that she's talking about demigod stuff, which she really shouldn't, but it's not like it makes a difference. He won't understand. 

“I feel like we totally should've just stuck to the roofs. They're more fun and it's not like anyone looks up anyways. It's safer. Besides, then I can do some cool flips and shit. I know how to do a back-flip and a front-flip. They honestly weren't that hard to learn, but you have to just fully commit to it-” Soap has gotten really comfortable with just putting a hand over her mouth. Lucky is tempted to lick it in retaliation. Not yet.

She learns the reason he did that when she hears the chatter. Lucky freezes. She hopes that Soap knows what to do. She assumes that he does when he pushes her into the shadows, and the wall that is a foot or so inside them. Normally, the brunette girl isn’t quite so happy to be manhandled, but given that she is in mortal danger, she is more than happy to be pushed around if it makes her safer. He gives her a stern look before slipping away.

Lucky doesn't bother to ignore the sounds of flesh being cut into and the soft splatters of blood on the cobbled street. As long as the blood and gore isn't her blood and gore or the blood and gore of people she cares about, she's okay. She comes around the corner, stepping around the bodies with a little “Excuse me. Sorry. Coming through. Good stab? Yeah, good stab, Soap.” She also ignores the weird look Soap gives her. What? Is he not used to fully grown, and most definitely mostly matured adults being desensitized to viscera? Whatever. “So where are we even going? Are we gonna jack a car or something?”

Soap clears his throat and starts walking again, Lucky picking up the pace to keep up with his long ass legs. “Aye, we probably will. We're meeting up with a mate o' mine at the church over there.” He gestures vaguely in the direction they're going in. 

“You were talking to someone!? Not gonna lie, I kinda thought that you were going crazy or something, not that I would've minded. … Okay, I would've minded a little. I just don't wanna get axe murdered! You know what I mean? Is your friend a ghost?” Lucky asks amongst other things. To his credit, Soap doesn't seem surprised in the slightest, and after a moment of what seems to be intense concentration, he replies.

“...Aye, kind of. How did ye ken that?” He stops walking, turns around, and eyes her up and down. Just a quick glance, but it's more than enough to set Lucky’s nerves of edge. She must've said something to upset him. Lucky hopes it's not to the point that he wants to kill her.

“Sorry! Don't be mad! Before I ran into you I heard some of the soldiers talking about finding some soap and a ghost. Since you're the soap, I figured your friend would be the ghost.” She explains hurriedly. Soap nods and resumes walking. Lucky breathes a sigh of relief. She passed the test. She bounces after him.

 In an unspecified amount of time which could've ranged anywhere from five minutes to 45, Lucky has actually gotten Soap to open up to her a little! He even asked about her deck of cards that she had pulled out during that time to fidget with. She said that it's a gift from her dad and her most prized possession, great for magic tricks too! They’re coming up on the church. She can see it over the roofs of some of the buildings, and they haven't even encountered any more of those bitch ass soldiers who suck at taking out two guys and her. She legally gets to make fun of them because they're not here and can’t hurt her

Maybe the real missing dad, and the object of her quest, were the friends she made along the way. Actually… maybe Lucky doesn't really want Soap to be her dad or missing. Soap would probably be one of her older brothers if anything, the kind that would throw her head first in a pool, then Lucky would flail around uselessly, he would immediately panic and jump in to save her. She would bleach his hair while he sleeps in retaliation.

They resume their journey to the unnamed church to meet with Casper and get the fuck out of this shit town. Maybe she can take them with her? Being at camp has gotten her used to having people around and not having people around for the past few months has been hard. No matter what happens, Lucky will follow Soap.

Lucky almost curses again upon seeing the amount of soldiers just idling about. Waiting for them certainly. “Shadows.” Soap murmurs. Lucky wants to correct him because those are people and that's an edge lord ass name if that's what their group is called. He leads her off to the side, they jump over a white car and over a fence. They slip into a shop where Soap scrounges around for… stuff? Lucky doesn't know, but he finds something he likes. She respects the stealing grind regardless.

Lucky watches his piece the stuff together quickly. That look in his eyes really reminds her of the kid who made her brass knuckles. She taps her fingers on her legs anxiously. Even if her nerves weren't as high as they are, she needs something to do. Not even a minute passes and Soap finishes with his tinkering. Oh she really wants to talk right now, to cut the tension which feels electric. She walks over to the side by the counter, drumming on it.

Soap starts opening the door, and her senses sharpen again. The world slows down, and the glint of a gun flashes in the low light. A gun just past the door Soap is opening. He's going to get shot. Cold fear freezes her core. It isn't like her normal fear, which is jittery and overwhelming. That fear causes her to run for her life. This fear causes her to act. Lucky can't lose anyone else, certainly not someone who she's only just got the chance to know. 

Her body moves before her mind does. Lucky drives forward, ramming her shoulder into Soap's gut. With adrenaline, demigod strength, and her own musculature behind her, she has enough strength to tackle him to the side just as the door bursts open. Lucky feels a pressure in her side as a shot goes off. They both hit the ground with a thud. 

Lucky pushes off of his chest and whirls around, digging her toes into the floor to take out the monster before it can take them out. Before she can change her rings into their bronze knuckles form, another shot rings out and the monster collapses. Her chest heaves, but Lucky knows it isn't over yet. Those gunshots surely alerted the other monsters in the area. 

She stands as Soap does. He claps her back with a quick, “Thanks, lass,” but his gaze is sharp and she hears a muffled voice through his earpiece. Before she knows what's going on, he tugs her into a full sprint. They burst out of the door and Soap throws what he was working on. It explodes and smoke billows out.

Chaos erupts. She can't see shit, but she hears every last shout and firing of a gun. Lucky feels Soap's tight grip on her wrist as he pulls her, her legs are pumping and she keeps pace, her head ducked. 

They leave the smoke, dodging and weaving between any cover they can get to. Lucky's luck keeps bullets away, but they still have to be on their toes. Soap fires back some of his own. Lucky looks to their destination, a truck idling.

A bullet whizzes by her and smacks into the truck just as they get in arm's reach of it. Soap pulls the door open and all but throws Lucky in before jumping in himself, shutting the door as the driver peels out.

Lucky looks up at the incredibly large man, larger than Soap even, from her sprawled out, partially pinned state. Even his side profile is intimidating. This must be Casper. Soap turns around to keep shooting behind them, at the Shadows trying to stop their getaway, and Lucky tries to scramble out from under him, only to hiss in pain. She glances down to see a bloody hole in her side only partially hidden by her large unzipped jacket. 

“Fuck!”

[chrystal-ink]

Shadvent calendar Day 23

Shadow x GN Reader

Christmas Party

The party was in full swing by the time the two of you arrived. Rouge never being one for subtlety had spared no expense for her party. Elegant strands of garland and lights hung on the walls, a large christmas tree perfectly decorated stood grand in the center of the drawing room, perfectly bloomed poinsettias were placed through the halls. It looked like you had walked into a Christmas palace.

Servers went throughout her home offering hors d'oeuvres and cocktails curated just for that night. and most impressively a string quartet played in the living room serenading the partygoers with beautiful renditions of all the classic holiday songs.

"Welcome, I was getting worried the two of you wouldn't show. how's my favorite couple?" Rouge greeted as the two of you walked in.

"Sorry were late we ran into traffic."

"Shadow I'm surprised at you, thinking you could get a lie past me." Rouge teased.

You giggled in response. "Sorry Rouge it was my fault I was having a little wardrobe malfunction."

"Oh no! you have my fullest sympathies" Rouge responded with deep concern. "But it looks like it all worked out you look great, not as nice as me of course, but I have the advantage of knowing my decor."

"well no one can compete in the fashion game with you Rouge you're truly the best."

"Oh you flatter me too much Y/N."

Shadow couldn't help but smile as the two of you spoke. The two people he was closest to enjoying each other's presence, he never thought he would feel like that again after Maria and Gerald. he was glad he was wrong.

the three of you chatted for a while before Rouge had to go off on her hostess duties leaving you and Shadow to yourselves. unfortunately your alone time was short lived. it wasn't before too long Amy found you and whisked you away, something about the charcuterie board, leaving poor Shadow to his own devices.

He never really liked parties too many people and far too much chatter, he was perfectly content just sitting in the corner and watching everyone interact. However, a blue hedgehog had other plans tonight.

❄️

"Can I just say Y/N you look amazing tonight" Amy said handing you a cocktail.

"aww thanks Amy"

"You and your date really do make a fine pair"

"enjoying your handywork are we now?"

"what? I don't know what your talking about"

"Well as I recall, you and Rouge worked pretty hard setting us up."

Amy laughed "Well could you blame us the two of you are just so perfect together."

"Well I can't argue with the results, Thank you Amy."

"You've already thanked me enough, every time I see the two of you together you always look so happy. I don't think I've seen Shadow smile this much and so bright too. Seeing the two of you so in love just warms my heart so much You're just so perfect together."

You smiled at Amy "Well I'll toast to that. And if you need me to return the favor with you know who I'd be happy to oblige."

Amy giggled "I might have to take you up on that someday."

🎄

Shadow watched you and Amy laughing together from across the room, the sound drifting to his ears. He loved your laugh the way it could make a silent room into a symphony, and you just looked so beautiful whenever you laughed. He smiled at your beauty.

"Woah! Shadow are you actually smiling? I didn't know that was even possible." Sonic said as he approached the black hedgehog. "Are you happy to see me?"

"Go away sonic."

"Oh I see, staring at Y/N are we? let guess you have a crush on them don't you?"

"Y/N and I have been dating for quite some time now It's a wonder how you lack such basic observation skills."

"I'm just messing with you Shadow, but I haven't seen you smile like that in like, ever."

"I'll say" Rouge chimed in "It's nice to see you happy like that though it's a good look on you."

"I Agree" added Sonic "But I think infinite might get a little jealous."

"He's been dead for several years he'll get over it."

Sonic laughed " Wow smiling and cracking jokes Y/N Really does bring out the best in you don't they"

Shadow once again looked over to you, at the same time you looked over at him and smiled, he smiled back.

"Yah, they really do,"

[fickleminder]

Three's A Party

Team Partyyyyy enjoys a little holiday celebration in the attic.

This is my gift to @xcyberbuniix for the @obeymeholidayexchange event! Happy holidays and have a great year ahead :)

"Exams are over…"

"Lucifer is out of the house…"

"It's time to PAR-TEH!"

Three party poppers went off at the same time, showering the floor in glitter and confetti. Mammon gave a loud whoop and threw his hands up, nearly dislodging the little sheep perched on his shoulder.

"Whoa, watch it Mammon!"

"Sorry MC!"

Asmo tutted and plucked MC from his older brother's grasp. "Mammon, you really should be more careful with dear MC!"

"I said I was sorry!" Mammon pouted.

"Don't worry about it!" MC fiddled with a party hat, struggling to strap it onto their head without getting it caught by their horns. Darn these tiny hooves. "It's the start of the holidays; we should be celebrating and having fun!"

"Seconded~" Asmo reached over to smooth down their fur and help them put the hat on. "Though I still think we should have gone to The Fall. They just introduced exclusive year end cocktails to their menu!"

"The last time you two brought me there, you ditched me to go dancing and some other demon spilled their drinks all over me," MC huffed. "Besides, it's been a while since the three of us got to hang out together, so I thought we could just keep it small in the house tonight."

"Of course! Who wouldn't want to spend time with The Great Mammon?" The second born grinned as he grabbed a pile of snacks from the nearby table. "C'mon, let's have some grub and get this party started!"

Belphie would have raised a stink if he'd known the three of them brought food and drinks into the attic, but they were in the clear so long as they cleaned up before he got back. Beel had taken him out for a walk in the snow (though MC suspected Beel probably ended up giving his twin a piggyback ride or something), which was also how they even had food to sneak into the attic to begin with. Two birds with one stone, as the saying went.

"Ooh, these poison berries are to die for!" Asmo dabbed his mouth with a napkin after each handful and checked his compact mirror for stains.

Next to him, Mammon was crunching loudly on some spicy newt chips. "Why'd you gotta be so healthy all the time, Asmo? Live a little!"

"I dunno, I think they taste pretty good together!" Like the menace they were, MC arranged a few berries on an extra large chip before shoving the entire thing into their mouth. "Mm, yummy!"

"…Humans are so weird."

"You can say that again."

"Hey! You haven't tasted weird until you've had eggnog…"

The conversation quickly shifted to the bizarre stuff — by demon standards, at least — that often popped up during holidays in the human world.

"I'm telling ya, it's technically the corpse of a tree. You chop 'em down specifically to decorate and then display them in your house."

"…I guess!"

"Oh don't go frowning like that MC, you'll get wrinkles!"

Mammon snickered. "Man, if we had one of those in the House of Lamentation, I can totally picture Levi putting all his stupid dolls on it!"

"Do you think Satan would hang cat treats or just cat-related merch?" MC wondered out loud.

"Both, darling, definitely both." Asmo shook his head in mock exasperation. "And then he'll lug the entire tree outside after the holidays are over and use it as an oversized cat lure in the garden or something."

"Well if he's gonna play stupid games like that…"

"Lucifer's gonna kick his ass?"

"Bingo!"

The three of them laughed at the mental image. The other brothers were incorrigible, but that was what made their family so unique.

"Speaking of games, what's a party without some? I vote for Seven Minutes in Hell~" Asmo proposed, raising his cup.

"Don't you mean Heaven?" MC tilted their head in confusion.

The fifth born licked his lips and fixed them with a sultry gaze. "Did I stutter?"

Mammon immediately jumped in-between them and scooped MC off the floor, keeping them far away from Asmo's clutches. "Oi, oi! None of that, ya hear?"

"Don't be such a spoilsport, Mammon! I'll make sure you get your turn too~"

"What if the two of you end up in the closet together?" MC snarked, not exactly pleased to have been hoisted up so suddenly. Just because they were small and fluffy didn't mean they could be carried around like a stuffed toy!

Mammon and Asmo shuddered at the thought and exchanged horrified glances.

"…Yeah, no, maybe we should play something else."

"Agreed."

But Spin the Bottle and Truth or Dare weren't as fun with only three participants, and Never Have I Ever wasn't getting anyone drunk fast enough.

"This is harder than I thought… Any more ideas, MC?" Mammon scratched his head.

"During the parties I attended back in the human world, we would usually have food and drinks and then sit around to chat and generally just chill." MC paused for a while before sighing loudly. "Damn, I'm getting old."

Asmo perked up at a thought. "How about some Devil Kart? We can borrow Levi's console to set up here; I'm sure he won't mind!"

Mammon fist pumped the air. "Aw yeah, that's a great idea! He should be out queuing for some nerdy stuff in town. I can get us into his room, no problem!"

"But he doesn't like it when you take his stuff without asking—" MC tried to protest, the only voice of reason among the three.

"I'm sure Mammon won't pilfer anything else to sell. Isn't that right, Mammon?" Asmo asked with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Uh, of course! You know me, haha… Demon's honor!"

"Then there's no problem!" Asmo's smile returned as he hopped to his feet. "Now let's go before I die of boredom!"

Outnumbered, MC rolled their eyes before toddling after them. "Don't come crying to me if Simeon puts coal in both your stockings again this year."

"Wait, what?!"

[josgalaxy]

MY PERSONAL RANKING OF BALDUR'S GATE 3 COMPANIONS FROM WORST TO BEST (spoiler alert!!!)

Of course this is just my humble and personal opinion, let me know if you agree! Trigger warning, I have a lot to say:

11. The Emperor

I know he's not technically a companion, but let's be honest, he is with Tav since day one. Let's just say this one is a shady bitch. From the get go I didn't trust the Emperor, and going forward with the game my suspicions were confirmed. Not only he literally exploited everyone that could help him reach his goals, but he shows no true loyalty to anyone but to himself.

Proof that the Emperor is just a gaslighting bastard: 1. Lied to the whole party by changing his appearence to seem more trustworthy 2. Killed his dragon bestie Ansur that was just trying to find a cure for him. 3. Kept a Gith prince imprisoned to exploit his power and was willing to eat his brains out to get more powerful. 4. Tried to sleep with Tav and secure their trust (btw, a kinky bitch). 5. LITERALLY SIDED WITH THE BIG BAD NETHERBRAIN as soon as Tav was not okay being manipulated anymore (like babygirl, you spent the entire game telling me we had to kill that thing and now you're ending up siding with it? Excuse me??)

So, yes, The Emperor deserves to rot and I was very happy to fry that calamari.

10. Minsc (and Boo)

So, I haven't played bg2, so I don't have that kind of attachment to the old characters. I don't mind that he is juts this brainless hunk, and I like the fact that he carries a cute hamster with him. He kinda reminds me of Kronk, and I love Kronk so he gets a few points for that. But other than some muscles, dumb jokes, and Boo, what else is there?

Let's just say that he made me smile a couple of times, but I got bored of him (but not the hamster) almost instantly.

9. Jaheira

Same here folks, I appreciate Jaheira but I don't feel that attached to her as the rest of the companions (probably because of the fact that she and Minsc are introduced in the game quite late). I mean, you get this badass milf Elf (mother is mothering) that can turn into a panther and has a cute accent... how can you not like her? But do I find her as interesting as other chatacters in the game? Not really.

I would probably share a drink with the tho, to hear all the stories from back in her day.

8. Wyll

Before any of you come for me for putting The Blade of the Frontier this low, let me explain. I like Wyll, I like the fact that he is a dancer, he's romantic, and that his main goal is to help people. I mean, he made a pact with a literal devil to save his city! Don't get me wrong, I think I would be friends with him irl, but as for character growth and depth, I think he passes off to be more bland than the rest of the companions, probably for his too goody two shoes attitude.

Let's just say if he was a spice, he would be flour. Sorry.

7. Minthara

You see, a long time ago my first playthrough, when I met Minty, I seriously contemplated killing all the Tieflings just to be with her. This is just to let you have an idea of the hold this woman has on me. HAVE YOU SEEN HER? Apart from being a hottie, and incredibly useful in combat as a paladin, she is hilarious without even trying. When you see an [ ! ] over her head you know for a fact she is about to tell something UNHINGED. I'm gagging.

Anyway, just so you know I haven't sacrified the tieflings to recruit her. I'm not a monster. I simply knocked mommy out and found her in Moonrise Towers.

6. Lae'zel

I believe Giths and Drows are quite similar: they both crave violence and see any kind of kindness and compassion as weaknesses. But what makes Lae'zel a better character than Minthara, is the fact that she evolves from her prejudices and violence, while the drow doesn't. She starts off as this ruthless and closeminded character, but later on she learns to challenge authority and her tyrant, save her people, find compassion in others and fall in love.

I think her romance is one of the best ones in the game. It starts off as a simple one night stand where she tries to dominate you, pure physical, but then she starts to soften and open up to Tav. I mean the rooftop scene where she calls you Source of my Joy?? Sounds more like Bae'zel to me.

5. Gale of Waterdeep

To be honest, Gale is literally my type irl: a hot scruffy nerd whose ideal Saturday night is reading a book and drinking some wine in front of the fireplace. Also, he has a cat! He is a bit of yapper, I know, but I find him quite charming, even though he eats magical boots from time to time in order not to explode and kill everyone in the vicinity

I believe Gale had the potential to be a heart-throb, but the only thing that gave me the ick about him, was the fact that he is too obsessed with his ex! I get it, she is the goddess of magic, but that doesn't change the fact the she literally groomed him since he was a child. He was willing to go full Manhattan Project just to get her approval. You are cute magic man, but you need to get over your ex.

4. Halsin

May the Oakfather protect me. He is such a dreamboat. He is kind and forgiving with everyone, loves animal and nature - duh, is great with kids, and let's not forget he is absolutely gigantic (points for him). He even carves out a wooden duck for you at the end, so cute! I love the fact that he knows his boundaries and is particularly attentive to respect everyone, like when he flirts with Tav but will wait for them to speak with their partner in order to have an open relationship.

I know he may not have the same depth some other characters have, but who cares?? Teddy Bear over here is fine as he is. What can I say, I'm a sucker for big men that try to be gentle.

3. Shadowheart

Shar's favourite Princess is one of my favourite characters in the game. She starts off as being wary and skeptical about Tav, but she quickly opens up as soon as one shows her kindness. Which is heartbreaking since she led her life following the Lady of Loss, hence without any kindness or compassion. Her backstory is particulary well made, so that you can truly see her growth: from standoffish, she ends up being such a goofy and sweet character. From putting all her faith in a goddess that has literally taken everything from her, she then learns how to discover herself and prioritise her feelings for the first time. I love that for her.

She is quite frustraing sometimes since she keeps missing in combat, but we love our emo babygirl anyway.

2. Astarion

So, the only reason I didn't put Astarion in first place, is because I know for a fact that in real life I would LOATHE the man. But we're not irl, so his gaslighting and manipulative tricks are overshadowed by his witty answers, his flirtatious expressions and the incredible velvety voice of his (thanks Neil Newbon). And to think that I thought I had successfully avoided the Vampire phase... well, I hadn't met this diva right here.

His backstory is one of the most heartbreaking, and with the right choices, I believe he can grow more than any other companion, which is why he is such a fan favourite among the fans. He starts off as being a vain and manipulative twink, but as you get to know of his past and the horrible things he has been through, you realise he is simply a victim that doesn't know any better.

I just love his confession scene to Tav: "I had a nice, simple plan - seduce you and manipulate your feelings. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you... which is where my nice simple plan fell apart." EXCUSE ME?? WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT??

1. Karlach

She's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Karlach officially is the most likable companion of this messy rank. From the first moment you meet her, it's so difficult not to fall in love with this fireball of energy and kindness. Her backstory is probably the saddest of them all: a hopeful kid that gets betrayed and forced to live with a deadly engine that will one day burn her from the inside, like a tragic metaphor for an illness.

She is also smocking hot (and not just because she is literally burning), I mean, the tats, the muscles, the badass hair and half horn?? Child, she ate and left no crumbs. She is a total smokeshow, and despite her bubbly personality she is not afraid to be a bit sexy and flirtatious. Can we talk about the: "I wanna ride you 'till you see stars" YES MA'AM, PLEASE MA'AM.

But in spite of everything bad that has happened to her, Karlach is always smiley, loves her friends deeply and uses every moment to be a goofball and dance around. She is too pure for this world, which is why you feel that her horrible fate is particularly unfair to someone like Karlach. To be honest, her scene in the harbour after defeating the brain is heartbreaking.

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So folks, here it is my personal ranking from least to most likable companions of Baldur's Gate 3.

Let me know what do you think!

[pricegouge]

alright.

cw: price x trans!reader. no gendered terms used so you can be trans in any direction you want. attempted deadnaming.

he knows something's amiss the second he opens the door to the pungent, chemical scent of too much cleaning product.

it's not that you don't keep a tidy house. some clutter, maybe, but only enough to feel homey, and he's never once found fault in the level of dust or dirt build up, even with his heightened standards after so many years in the service. but this level of cleanliness, the pristine shine of counters, and the cheery scent of orange peel and anise in the simmer pot on the stove. it could only mean one thing.

you're nowhere on the ground floor, though his search reveals more bleached grout, shampooed carpets. john calls up the stairs for you sweetly, a warning of his approach just a much as a barometer by which to gauge your response. he's never shied away from conflict, but he's only made it this far in life by being smart, never going in half-cocked, or with bad intel. he curses silently when you don't play along, either not having heard him or just outright ignoring him.

it's not looking good for him, that's for sure.

"sweetheart?" he tries again, beginning the ascent to your shared room. abject fear doesn't set in until he hears you banging around, taking out whatever pent up aggression you still haven't worked out on his things, by the sound of it. he scrubs a palm over his whiskers, checks the calendar on his phone to ensure he hasn't missed an important date by mistake. he doesn't truly start to panic until he hears you mutter an honest to god 'lousy good for nothin'.'

whatever he's done, there's nothing for it but to take your anger on the chin and start groveling.

you don't even give him time to greet you when he opens the door, spinning around to level him with that same look you use on the boys when they're being insufferable. it transforms you into some wild thing, fiery and tempestuous with sweat caking your hair to your temples and your breath puffing your chest up. he's half a mind to tell you how gorgeous you are, but he's a little afraid you'll make him swallow that swiffer duster if he does.

"dove -?" he tries and you huff before he can even finish, turning away to continue your tirade, mumbling incoherently all the while and he must have a death wish cause he follows after you, hands gentling on your shoulders even as you try to shrug him off. "love, look at me, please. what's wrong? hm? have i done something?"

cagey and stiff, you fight him even as he envelops you, hissin' and spittin' the whole way.

"it's nothing, john. can you -?"

his eyebrows nearly escape the confines of his forehead. "nothin'? that why you damn near polished a hole through the dining table?"

a sputtering sound, somewhere between a cough and laugh. it's all he needs to breathe a bit easier. if it had been something he'd done, you'd have mouthed off about putting a hole in him next time. he guides you to the bed, shoves the wadded up pile of dirty linens you'd clearly intended on laundering up the mattress to clear a spot for you. the smell of febreze wafts around you as you sink into it, not an inch of the house having eluded your wrath. "alright. it's alright now. c'mere, look at me," he coos, waits for you to abide before giving you an overly sweet smile. "now, what's happened?"

you sag, cut strings, the tension in your spine leaving you entirely the second he guides you through one long breath. unexpectedly easy, as if you wanted to be settled and soothed. "got a holiday card from my dad," you grumble, voice muffled somewhere in the pocket of his neck and shoulder.

he hums, the nature of your frustration starting to take shape. your father - absent the entire time he's known you, at least, though from what he gathers that hadn't been a recent development even back then. you exchange texts sometimes, often laugh when he forgets your birthday. chew john's ear off when the man has the nerve to say you're absent from his life when you fail to wish him a happy easter. he waits for you to elucidate. offers some semblance of a truce when he waits too long. "that was nice of him?"

a scoff, some wriggling. you produce a folded up drug store card with a chicken in a santa hat printed on the front. "misspoke," you croak, shoving the card into his hands. "he wrote someone a holiday card."

john sighs, presses a kiss to your scalp as he drops the card right back onto his lap. he doesn't need to open it to know what he'll find, though he's honestly surprised you'd even bothered to tell your father, not when you speak with him infrequently enough that him knowing your preferred name even seemed to matter. but it was your call and if you'd done so, only to have your wishes ignored, he'd half a mind to find this man and unload some built up issues he'd been collecting and ignoring ever since you'd first asked him to leave it.

"oh sweetheart," he murmurs, follows it with your preferred name because he wants you to know how much he likes it. "i'm so sorry. but you know who you are, even if he doesn't accept you, and -."

he stalls out when you squirm away from him, pluck the card right back up from the floor where it had fallen to press it, open, into his face. you're angry again, stalking around the room before he even realizes you've stood.

"you're sweet, but too optimistic, john." the accusation nearly levels him, not one that's ever been laid at his feet. it's a shock that only festers, bottom giving way when you continue, "that motherfucker wishes he'd deadnamed me."

well. doesn't that just pique the curiosity. he's not sure what he expects to find when he uncrumples the card. a medical bill, maybe - your father deciding that all these years of separation ought to be repaid literally. maybe the fool had gone and had another kid, sent you the ultrasound like you were all still one big happy family. he's decidedly not expecting to see the damn thing addressed to someone else entirely. so much so that he nearly asks who it's for before taking a second look, reading it over again.

wrong name. wrong deadname. a slight variant of your legal, christian name. and not even a matter of getting you confused with another family member because as far as he can remember, no one in your extended shares this name. and he can certainly remember more of your family than your damn father can. no, the man had simply forgotten what was on the birth certificate he'd signed. close, though.

"well, he's got the first syllable right," john hedges, folding the card carefully closed along the same seams you'd pressed into it. you don't find him funny, barely even acknowledge he's spoken as you continue to pace. he tries again, casting desperately for an excuse he knows the man doesn't deserve. "is he... unwell?"

"he's fucking fine, john. he's just an ass."

"he's getting up there," john counters, standing, creaky kneed, to trap you in his arms again. "you haven't seen him for years, right? maybe he's -."

"he's fine. called him to thank him for the card," you scoff, take a minute to resettle yourself before speaking again. "i was thinking maybe the same thing, you know? not unreasonable. but he's completely fine. even asked to speak with his girlfriend, just to be sure she hadn't noticed anything either. fit as a fucking fiddle. just forgot what he fucking named me."

without the distraction of cleaning, or pacing, or cursing, your frustration has nowhere to go except tears. he holds you, presses kisses to your crown. calls you by your name - your real one, the one you chose - just to make sure you know someone remembers it, he supposes. honestly, he's at a bit of a loss. not something he's overly used to, people's ability to surprise him having long since worn off. but this is a new one. or, at least not one he's equipped to handle. fathers forgot their kids all the time. forgot to go home after that trip to the store, forgot to call on their birthdays. his own old man had forgotten plenty in his time, too. but he's still fairly certain the man would have been able to recall what he'd named his son right up until the day he'd died.

by the time you've calmed down you're ready for a shower. he'd join you, but he hears the way your stomach growls, food evidently forgotten all day. so he pulls the curtain closed on you after one last kiss and picks his way to the kitchen where he starts first by sifting through the trash, finding the merry red envelope addressed to the wrong person at the bottom, buried under all the waste you'd excised during your cleaning spree. he takes a picture of the corner, tastefully crops out the name that had given you so much grief. sighing, he returns everything to the bin and washes his hands, careful to ensure he won't accidentally scald you.

the rest of the evening moves easier. there's nothing that can be said and you both know it, so you don't. he can let it settle as long as you want, doesn't mean to keep scratching at a fresh wound. so you eat dinner in relative silence, and you sit in relative silence when he lets you use him like a pillow on the couch after, your favorite comfort film playing softly. and that's fine. the next bit he can do alone, anyway. got your father's address tucked safely in his pocket already.

he just thinks someone should make sure the man's okay, is all.

and if i write a comfort fic where your daddy as hell boyfriend takes care of you after you open a card from your flesh and blood father to find it addressed to the wrong fucking name, are y'all gonna be super chill and never ask what inspired it?

[sonysakura]

Meadow (2016)

[benevolenterrancy]

May your hardened heart be woken By the soft and distant song Of all you left here unspoken All the shards we keep stepping on - Take this body home Take this body home Call the wind, and let her know Take this life outgrown Take this broken soul Call the stars, call them all And take it high, take it far, take it home