#It's not worth your mental sanity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nouearth · 6 months ago

Text

teach me hard and soft.

pairing. zane phillips x male reader.

part two.

word count. 9.3k.

summary. the constant studying was getting to zane. reader helped his grades up, sure, but was it worth missing out on the parties where he could be dicking down random men and getting black-out drunk? reader's sudden proposition makes him think twice before quitting.

content warning. college!au, jock!zane, top!zane, nerd!reader, virgin!reader, bottom!reader, reader wears glasses, slight dom and sub dynamics, blowjob, dry-humping, rimming, praising, muscle and body worshipping, size difference, breeding, dirty talk, verbal, soft to rough!sex, a build to exposing reader to sexual intimacy!

Tutoring sessions were supposed to bring boredom. Mind-numbing monotony that wore heavy on Zane’s eyelids; weariness that steamrolled his mouth open with a yawn; frustration that made the inside of his head blare as his brain blended your explanations into a pasty mixture of nonsense. One word went in one ear and out the other, and another break would be enforced for the sake of his sanity on the surface. In actuality, Zane knew it was for your own mental soundness.

Yet upon the third meeting of the new week, redoing his calculus homework left him alert and excited—the complete opposite of boredom. It had little to do with the assignment at hand and everything to do with the man who was flipping through Zane’s textbook through brightened and adoring eyes like he was lost in the fantastical world of superheroes fighting for justice from panel to panel. It was you. You and him were polar opposites. Numbers were Zane’s kryptonite, while frankly, they were your super power, and evidently so as you’d complete multiple practice worksheets from Zane’s textbook to pass time. Until Zane was done with his own work.

It had become increasingly difficult to ignore you, especially with the incentive you had offered Zane last week if he completed the extra worksheets you assigned for practice—last week’s quiz was abysmal. Zane couldn’t get it off his mind—the idea of him tutoring you about all of life’s own intimacies. Instantly, an apparition of you; beneath him, over him, kissing, touching, feeling, squeezing, pleading; he snapped back to reality when he felt a warmth over his hand, and another source of heat swarming below his pelvis.

“Done? Looks like you corrected everything.” You peered over the opposite side of the short table, cross-legged on the floor like Zane beneath it.

“Oh—Uh, yeah. I had a little trouble with 4C, but…” Nonetheless, Zane slid the worksheet and a lined paper containing his proof of work towards you.

“Already looks like you’re getting the hand of it.”

It took a lot of willpower to stop himself from smiling when you perked up at the sight of his corrections.

Sunlight squinted through half-turned blinds in your bedroom, the sun bloated and content over the sheets of paper as you scanned them, comparing his answers and work to your own, and surprisingly marked them correct afterwards. Zane had a sigh of relief whenever you did, through briefly, because it would cycle again as you analyzed the next problem. Sometimes a little too long, though. Your brows would scrunch in confusion on how Zane came to that conclusion on a problem, but with a fix of your glasses, you tightened your gaze to analyze his work closer, and you marked it correct. That would repeat until you returned the worksheet with a score and a comment on top.

83%, Nice work!

It was like you were born to teach. You went over what Zane did correctly, what led to incorrect answers, what was missing in the formula, and what process that could save him the headache of memorizing. Every word came out of you like a story—a purpose to make sense of the world, of the problems you had given him. Your lips were distracting, minted breath tingling the inside of his nose—and god, how he wished he could taste it right now. And so, Zane endured a little longer, opened his ears, and made sure he was attentive, because he certainly wasn’t going to get that reward if he was slacking off.

“Nice job today! I’ll let you relax since you’ve been working hard. I know you have a match coming up, so…” You flipped through your binder of worksheets, unclasping it with a routine tug, and handed it to Zane. “Just finish problems one to four, is that okay?”

“Yeah. Perfect. Thanks.” Again, it took a lot of willpower for Zane to keep himself from smiling, especially since it seemed like you remembered his upcoming wrestling match. Like clockwork, he failed, blessing you with those pearly whites of his. As according to plan, you couldn’t spare a single second holding his gaze before feeling some type of way. Zane had picked up on your fidgeting—fingers, toes, and all—it was adorable.

Though, what wasn’t adorable was that you seemed to have treated this session like every other session, as if you hadn’t proposed that damn incentive that Zane had been working towards.

Did (M/N) forget? He couldn’t have, right? He was practically whining his way through when I began teasing him and—

And Zane would’ve been on his way out if he wasn’t so determined and unabashedly brazen.

“I thought I was going to teach you how to kiss.” Zane directly stated. Not as a question, but as a fact. You promised me this.

You caught your breath before you could choke on the water you were sipping. Instead, your shock was fleeting in the brights of your eyes.

“Oh—I… thought you forgot—“ You stammered through your surprise, and it only made Zane want you even more. Maybe there was regret that you had even proposed the idea, but it seemed like it wasn’t getting in the way of your conscience with how you stumbled to sit on your bed.

Zane followed, a pleased grin growing across his face, almost predator-like, because you were just as eager as he was, and it was exciting to know that he caused you to fidget for another round. “You couldn’t possibly think that I did your worksheets for…” Then, he looked over his shoulder, at the empty bowl on the table. “—a bowl of strawberries, right?”

“Well… strawberries reduce inflammation in the body, and I know you probably get tossed around a lot on the mat—”

God, his rambles are cute.

“I don’t get tossed around. I do the tossing.” Was that a threat? Zane didn’t mean for it to sound like one. He was merely playing a game of intimidation, to see if you were a man of his word. Even with the fleeting fear that heavenly passed from one eye to the other, whether it was from his taunt or from the evident size difference between you and him as he sat himself next to you, you seemed assured in your decision.

“Sorry, I’ve never been to your matches—“ Instead of acknowledging his presence, you stared at your folded hands, clammy in your lap.

“That’s fine. It gets boring pretty quick. I end up winning them.” Zane edged himself closer to you, in hopes to lift you from the enchantment of your palms.

“Really? Whoa, that’s cool—I would love to see it for myself. I’m sure I won’t get tired of it.” Knees touching now, and you still won’t look at him. Somehow, concentred even more now, on your fingernails this time. Biting them, pushing your cuticles back. Zane would’ve been annoyed with anybody else, by this inconsiderate lack of attention, but not you.

Never you.

A drop of silence fell over the both of you. One body hesitated, while the other was quietly pursued. Cicadas buzzed outside your window, passersby laughed in turn from a joke, and multiple vehicles roared, presumably racing each other down the street of your apartment. Zane watched you through all of it; the gentle inflate of your cheeks because you felt hot in the mouth, the bite of your lips because you were about to speak but ultimately rescinded; the curl of your toes into your socks because Zane suddenly put a hand over your lap to tear your gaze back towards him.

When you did—with those quivering eyes—Zane whispered, “Can I?” A permission that lit a twinkle in your pupils, stars mirroring the bright blues of Zane’s eyes. He leaned in because he was immediately pulled in like some kind of spell, a tilt to his head that you naturally countered, and pressed his lips to yours. “Follow my lead.”

Your lips were soft, incredibly supple flesh unfortunately stiffened by fear, an inexperience that Zane would cherish from this moment onward as he adapted and stilled until you’d adjusted.

“We’ll go slow, okay? Soft. Gentle. All of that. As long as you work with me.” Zane pulled a centimeter or two away from your lips, mumbling while making sure his breath compelled your lips to move. “Your turn. Kiss me. A small peck, can be a smooch too, your choice.”

“Y-Yeah, okay…” You nodded. You turned your body towards him for proper positioning, cross-legged, and Zane followed in turn. Then, you leaned in. A peck to Zane’s lips, your glasses bumped against his nose in the process. A chaste, pure moment of affection that Zane wished could have amounted to more, but he didn’t want to rush you.

Another one, a smooch like Zane had suggested, and a rather puzzled one at that because Zane was smiling from ear to ear, and you were confused, almost embarrassed as to why. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no… you’re just…” He couldn’t keep himself from laughing. First, at the absurdity of this mutual settlement. Second, at the luck he was given because it had to be you, someone he’d briefly discounted as merely ‘an awkward nerd’ upon first meeting. Lastly, because you were more than ‘an awkward nerd’ to him now. A cute guy, a smart person, an incredibly pure and sweet boy that he would more than love to—

Zane was getting ahead of himself. Just kissing. For now.

You weren’t going to learn efficiently this way. This step-by-step process only worked on paper, on problems, on math problems, and Zane was done adapting your style of teaching. Zane was a demonstrator, it was how he taught wrestling to the younger kids at his part-time job. And man, were you in need of a good demonstration.

“—so cute…” With one hand to your cheek, he guided you closer, and pressed his lips to yours again. A bit harder this time, but enough to pull a gasp, a breath, a sound out of you. You parted your lips, and Zane seized the opportunity to claim the soft flesh as his own. He could feel a gentle buzz festering among the joined lips, a spark that compelled you to take its voltage in and pass it off to Zane with a gentle nip. Then, a suck when the bolt of electricity returned back to you tenfold, and your hand—you didn’t know what to do with them, curling them into your shorts for the meantime, but Zane had the experience to know. He held one, squeezed to let you know that you were in good hands, then guided it towards the underside of his jaw, letting you hold him.

“Hold me if you feel lost.”

“Okay…”

It continued on like this for a while. The passing of electricity, of sparks. Eyes closed, lips held and parted away from one another for a breather, then reunited with a thin string of spit bridging warmth between the two mouths, mutual devotion climbing from one end of spit to the other.

“Just like that…” Zane whispered, encouraged, praised. He was referring to the ease of your tension, seemingly melting away baby the second, but also the sounds coming out of your mouth. What was once desperately vaulted in the back of your throat in fear of sounding too eager, moans had now fallen dramatically off your tongue like they were meant to be, and Zane sucked it right off in fear you’d restrain yourself again.

“Was that okay?” You paused, muttering into his lips. It tickled when Zane chuckled, the soft, thick hair of his mustache aiding the quiver of your lips.

You pulled back to give him space, to take in the air around you, but Zane had a sudden hold on you, on the back of your neck, gentle but firm, and gazed proudly into your eyes, past the crook of your glasses. He haunted you to the core with that smile of his, stilled your breath for a long moment when he squeezed at your nape, something knowing and mischievous, like you had been branded with a hot iron, his name engraved into the now bruising hold on your flesh, and you knew you couldn’t go back on your word now even if you tired.

As if you wanted to.

“A natural…” It was distracted, Zane didn’t mean for it to sound half-hearted, but that only meant that he was telling the truth if he dove immediately back to kissing you again, without bothering to fix the slant of your glasses.

You got it. It was as simple as that. The swapping of lips, of saliva, of licks, Zane made it all so easy, and all you had to do was follow his lead. He kissed you until you begged for a break. You kissed him until the rush of blood in your southern region had calmed.

And it never did, even when he kissed you goodbye. He could spot your erection from a mile away.

It was like this for Zane’s meetings from then on. Tutoring went on as usual. He brought in his worksheets, you lectured him through the problems he’d missed, and you’d check off the problems he’d fixed. After, Zane would have you practice on him, learning how to lead for once.

As Zane returned with better scores, so did you with kissing. You’ve learned that touching was just as important as kissing. Zane liked his neck and chest rubbed, while you liked your nape held, controlled. Eventually, the two tutoring sessions a week doubled and became four, then it became six, until Zane found himself visiting you every day, with fluctuating hours depending on his schedule and yours. Though, you two made sure to free up your time to accommodate. Your lessons remained consistent, but Zane’s, however, had gotten longer. It was his excuse to make up for your inexperience.

In reality, he really wanted to be your every ‘first’ as selfish as it was.

You never knew there were so many types of kissing. Zane’s lips on your neck were your favorite. The softness of his mouth. The warmth of his tongue. The nuzzle of his mustache. As much as it was a struggle to hide your erection, he knew. You felt comforted by his words that it was only natural and couldn’t be helped.

And excruciatingly helpless when he confessed, “I’m hard too.”

Zane found you had a surprising knack for french-kissing, and that ultimately became a normalcy between you and him. Once you felt the slip of his tongue exploring your warm mouth, you were a goner. Kissing with just lips didn’t feel right anymore. You needed tongue. You needed his spit covering your tongue. You needed to suck at his own wet flesh. You told him that, through breathless pants, that you needed to explore more of him.

And Zane resonated with an astounding, “Me too,” and left you blue-balled, like always, on the bed.

And like always, you found yourself rubbing to the thought of Zane, wondering if he was doing the same, if he could find a way to during practice.

You would think about the new lessons for the week: kissing positions. It started off simple—making out on the couch, tenderly sharing tongue while you sat on the kitchen countertop. You naturally felt an inclination to touch him, it was the right thing to do, and the longer your hands were on Zane—squeezing his shoulders, caressing those built muscles that had been sculpted through sheer hard work and dedication—all the more ramped up these feelings for him had gotten.

He preferred you sitting on his lap, the perk in your posture meant that you had too—the warmth of his cupped palms around your ass being a constant reminder.

You kept it to yourself, but you were at his disposal.

It sounded naive. Wrong. And to be frank, cliché, but it was fluttering to feel so wanted. A nest of honeybees festering in the pit of your stomach, all because Zane’s attention was on you. Praising you for doing so well, when in actuality, you simply allowed him to ravish your neck that day until he was certain that hickies would blossom across the cavas of your neck overnight. Admiring your tainted skin the next day by topping his bruises with another round of painful, but welcomed sucks, because marks had never looked so beautiful on someone. Thrilling because you were a work in progress, and would be labeled as so until Zane had the final say. Whenever that day would come, you dreaded knowing it could end soon.

Zane kept it to himself, but he liked knowing that he’d branded you as his so easily.

It was common for both of you to end your visitations blue-balled—panting into one another’s mouth. Bodies collapsed onto another on the bed at the sound of Zane’s alarm, and every day, you found it increasingly harder to give into surrendering his body for practice. For his friends. For classes. For parties. He was a popular man, and this was the first time you’d cursed him for it, as much as you had been envious of it from the start.

When Zane unwillingly tore himself away from you, he felt his heart jolt with a spark, that same spark that had been passing from lip to lip, and festering in his veins to yours.

You looked at him with such distraught, a silent plea for him to stay. Disappointment laced in those pure pupils, and emphasized when Zane catalogued the mess he’d made on your body. Wet reminders of his presence on your neck cascaded over your collarbone, and down to the middle of your chest. The first few buttons of your shirt had been unbuttoned—the most visible skin you had bared so far, yet Zane had never felt his balls tightened up for such little promiscuity. It was like you were teasing him, pushing him towards the edge to see until when—just when he would crack and take you as he pleased.

That night would be an aide-memoire that you had captivated Zane, just as much as he had a control on you.

“Relax for me,” he whispered into your lips, ignoring a call from his friend with a toss of his phone before using the same hand to push you onto your back.

“Wait, but the party—“ Cold yet warm, that was how it always felt when you were with him. The draft hit your skin when Zane lifted your shirt to smother your stomach in tiny, fleeting kisses. Your goosebumps conflicted whether they should owe their arrival to the drop in temperature, or to Zane’s worship on your body.

“I know. They can wait. You’ll be quick.” Everything was moving at rapid pace. A beast in Zane suddenly unleashed from as he began removing your pants. An impatience you found yourself unsettled by, yet just as equally as desired with the way you followed every one of his command: to spread your legs wider, to keep your shirt on, to lean back on the pillows, braced on your elbows, to look at him, to watch him.

“Quick with what—“ Your mind was cluttered with so many demands, dazed by the sudden chaos of it all.

He barely gave you a chance to react before pressing his mouth to your hard cock. You instantly puzzled what all of this had amounted to the more he enveloped your length with a sudden gut-punching heat you had never experienced with your entire being. “Zane—“

“Just hold still.” He guided your shudders to his blonde locks, forcing a gratifying grip to his hair before power-washing your cock with his tongue.

Zane thought he heard your moans. Thought he knew them from flesh and bone from the times he’d devour neck and lips like an insatiable scent. But no—these were the sounds he was in desperate search for. Staggered, guttural, straight from the stomach and raw out your throat, as you begged for mercy from the suction of his mouth.

“S-stop, I’m going to c-come in your mouth—“ You desperately pleaded, rock-hard in his mouth and throbbing at the pulse of his tongue. The tip of his muscle flicked endlessly at your slit, beating it with the spit that had been over-compensating for his dry mouth.

“That’s the point.”

You tugged on his hair harder, not away, but towards you. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t muster the strength to watch him, and restrain yourself. That was absolutely impossible with the way Zane’s blue eyes locked with you, determination in his gaze that signaled that this had no longer been a demonstration. Sloppily sucking you off. Beating your wet dick off until it was swollen. “W-wait, Zane, stop—I’m really going to—“

Repeating, cycling, spitting, moaning, praising, urging, kissing, repeating until the thick release of your cum satisfied the grit of his throat. Drinking every ounce of purity out of you because it was a sacred resource. Until you felt completely drained with Zane’s throat at your disposal, the salty taste of your loads nearly costing him his sanity had you not pulled him up to ground him with a kiss.

Or maybe his sanity had already been broken, because he pushed the thick of your seed back into your own mouth when you two connected, and it drew out the most beautiful symphony of sounds from you: the shock of it all, the salty and bitter taste embarrassingly spreading thick over your tongue, and then the exaltation, when Zane sucked it right off of you as a way of saying, ‘I’m yours too.’

No, this had been done out of pure love—one that had been kept in reserve for you, and only you.

It was an open secret to how prone you were to bruising. Zane remembered the shock of returning the next day to an onslaught of hickies on your neck. Marks that you comically hid behind a scarf despite the summer season. Bruises that earned him a knowing side-eye when one of your roommates answered the door to let him in.

“Does it look bad?” You instinctively bared teeth, sucking in a gasp when Zane curiously poked at one bruise to the next.

“Sorry. I got carried away.” He remembered that night vividly—beating off his dick to it after practice. He’d left hickies on many people before. For you, he didn’t know why he felt so fascinated by the wear of your skin—the break of skin solely caused by him.

“Not your fault. Kind of the reason why I never played sports.” Popping open the cap of the soothing cream in your hand, you then began to apply the thick mixture onto your wounds. Well, one of them, before Zane took it out of your hand.

“I’ll do it… Let’s take a break today, yeah? We can cuddle, watch a movie? Anything you want.” Ann apology seeped into the kisses he brought around your neck before applying the cream onto your bruises, finishing what you’ve started.

Not too long after, he’d take you into his arms, your head comforted by his chest, while you went on with your free-time: scrolling through social media, laughing at videos that appeared on your feed with him, chatting, kissing, chatting again.

“Do you date a lot?” You asked one day, knowing the answer without Zane having to speak. Though, you really just wanted to hear it from his mouth, to clarify, instead of assuming everything.

“In high school and first year in college, yeah. But it’s been mostly hookups so far.” Zane found that your hands looked perfect in his: smaller yet equally veiny as he compared, then examined your intricately cut nails. Perfectly trimmed with little whites baring.

“Hm…” You nodded, letting him play with your fingers, stroke your hair, kiss at your neck, until your silence was deafening.

It was like Zane read your mind, because he’d spare you that smile of his—one you had been intimidated earlier on in your life before all of this—and your heart felt like it surged over hurdles during your pursuit to him. He laughed in your neck at the glimpse of your pout, and he would tease you with several pokes to your body, introducing various notes of levity until you broke out into a laugh yourself.

“Before you say it, no—you’re not a plaything.” Zane assured with a kiss to your lips. Whether he was telling the truth or not, you’d rather delay the revelation for a little longer.

You never realized that you and Zane barely did this. Getting to know one another was an interest that had been vaulted from the back of your mind as things were ramping up. There were times where you needed it. A break from everything, even if it meant that you’d fall deeper for him. For Zane, it was always on days where he had too many events to juggle on his plate. Venting to you came first, then you’d pacify his frustration at his friends, at his professor, at his teammates, with a semi-homemade meal, and a movie in bed.

You two would compensate for the lack of knowledge about each other by coincidentally pulling all-nighters. Somewhere among one of those nights, you two found the perfect balance of understanding each other from in and out.

“I came to watch you practice the other day…” His hand was roaming under your shirt, lingering over your stomach, and then up your chest to toy with your nipples. You groaned into his mouth at a tug of one of your nubs, mirroring his actions onto his own body. Though, you were always distracted by how big his chest felt under your palm, preferring to explore the muscular plane.

“What—“ Zane pulled away, breathless and baffled at the admission, because who would want to watch him practice? His previous partners never did that for him. “Why didn’t you say hi?” You looked so delectable under him. Swollen lips, tongue peeking to taste at the lingering residue of spit.

“Wouldn’t I throw you off your game?” You ran your hand over his forearm. Memories of Zane’s sweaty muscles bulging as he pinned a guy down coming to mind, thick veins charging the muscle fibers with a pulse. If those veins had telepathic capabilities, you’d assume the erection in your pants was from their own command.

“Don’t think so. I would’ve introduced you to the team too. They would like you.” Another kiss to your lips before he rolled onto his back, switching positions with you to pull you onto his lap.

“Really? I didn’t think I would have anything in common with them!” You’ve gotten more brazen in your touch. Affectionate. You gave Zane’s shirt three tugs, a magical number to him, and he tossed it off his body and to the corner somewhere, removing the obstacle between your lips and his temple of a body.

“Maybe. Maybe not? I don’t know, some of them are struggling in their classes right now. I mentioned to them that you brought my GPA up, so—fuck…” The steady progression from being anxious to greedy was fascinating in Zane’s eyes. He watched you tongue his pink nipple, assaulting one after the other until either had stiffened, and then his armpit—he never thought you would warm up to practically burying yourself into his hairy musk, licking again, inhaling him with awakening ferocity that Zane wanted to tame. After all, that’s what he’d been doing to you, right? Taming the baby pup.

“I have some free time… Just mention my rates…”

“Yeah—god, you drive me crazy.”

You and Zane explored each other effortlessly—no labels, no commitments, simply out your own free will, and maybe that was the reason why Zane cracked.

There was a droning sound in your room, somewhere in the vent, but you’d never noticed the monotonous buzz before until now.

Zane was angry. You could decipher it from his fist, the cushion of mechanical pencil comforting the clasping grasp. You’ve never seen him angry other than being slightly annoyed or inconvenienced, but the tension in your room weighed heavy enough to pull his gaze anywhere else but towards you. No welcoming kiss, no bantering, no playing footsies under the table—only work.

“Zane, what’s wrong—“ Your voice was gentle. Maybe if he would look up, he would soften at the distraught etched onto your face, fine lines wearing you down with worry, with deep dejection because it wasn’t about second-guessing whether you did something wrong.

When he reeled his hand back from your touch, you were absolutely positive that it was your fault.

“Are you done grading yet?” His voice was tempered, methodically calm while his gaze never left the screen of his laptop. Scrolling through an endless pit of web pages.

“Yeah…” You pushed the paper towards him, and he glanced at it.

64%. The lowest marks he’d received since you started tutoring him. He was doing so well. Constant 80s. His peak being nearly a perfect mark, and it was all crumbling because of a man.

He sucked in his teeth, a familiar feeling of contention seething in his stomach.

Two men.

It only happened in his matches, and when it did, it signified his victory.

“Hey, what’s—“ Another attempt quickly stolen with a sudden biting kiss. Rough hands roamed around you, a touch that you had already felt nostalgic for upon Zane’s absence the past few days, and then a bite to your neck, a painful mark, an answer as to why you had felt so deprived of energy in addition. “Z-Zane!”

“Nico and Austin,” Zane muttered bitterly into your clavicle. Your shirt was then unbuttoned at flying speed, and his eyes were searching, pupils dilating upon the scan of your skin. Marks of want, of pleasure, faded into your chest and neck like foam to coffee. “—these are theirs, right?!”

“W-what? No! Are you crazy, what?!” You gulped hard, your neck straining as Zane began to match several bruises to his mouth, renewing the plump skin out of spite, out of greed. Traces of his spit matched the outline of your mark to perfection, yet he continued, relishing himself into the warmth of your skin, to the sounds of your panicked moans as you rubbed at his back to pacify his sudden burst of anger. If they hadn’t made a mark on you, then they will soon. You were his territory, his worshipping ground, and he needed evidence that he’d claim you first. “What’s going on…”

“They…” Embarrassment crept his way up to his neck, then his cheeks as Zane settled upon assessing at what he’d done to you. Windswept, that was what he’d described you as you lay breathless beneath him. He’d missed this, yet it was frightening to know that the withdrawal symptoms from not seeing you every day resulted with an uncontrollable need to ruin you. The calm of your breathing consoled him in meantime, and also lowered his blood pressure a few beats. He refused to release his grip around your wrists, but loosened for your comfort, and breathed, “—keep talking about you. It’s been a few weeks since you started tutoring them, right?”

“Yeah—they usually come together… What do you mean they keep talking about me?” On first impression, you’d assume it was about the way you presented yourself. Guarded and reserved to most, but you always made sure you had good intentions, right? That couldn’t be the right assessment, though. That wouldn’t have made Zane riled up, practically eating at your neck from a comment about how you were standoffish.

“Don’t make me say it,” he squeezed past tight lips, forewarning with tense eyes because you were smart. You were supposed to know what he meant by now.

Clueless.

“It can’t be that bad—“

“They’re animals, (M/N). The way they talk about you like you’re a piece of meat.” He muttered bitterly warm at the underside of your jaw. Yet, a part of you felt like he was kissing to the thought of their ridiculing, whatever they were, and you let him do as he pleased, with restrained silence to hear him, to let him know that you were listening, to let him know that it was getting dangerously hard to focus on his words because—you had no idea when, but his hand had slipped inside of your shorts now, massaging you through your boxers.

He continued after carrying you to the bed, his shorts kicked off to the side, your own after, and pressed himself to you, practically into you as you felt him throb against your erection without missing a beat. “—keep talking about how pretty you’d look sucking them off. How they would like to see you struggle taking their cocks inside of your mouth, both at once. As a reward or something, for doing those damn worksheets.”

“I—“ Your mind felt foggy. All of this information was overwhelming you, plus the friction of your cock against Zane’s much larger erection held your mind hostage, harassing it with violent yet pleasurable rubs as you felt the tip of your cock constantly brush against the scratchy fabric. This was new, and you needed to focus and fixate on Zane’s worries. “Zane…”

“They’d blow their loads inside of your mouth. Over your face. Inside of your ass—“ Zane grunted hard, stroking a hand over your head while rocking into you with his broad body, with a rhythm led by greed and lust. The weight of his motion reflected onto the creaking of the bed springs, and his eyes searched looming repugnance. “—wouldn’t shut up about that ass of yours. How it filled out those shorts of yours so nicely. How they wanted to breed you with their cum, one after another, then another round, and another, until your body had given itself up.”

None. You were fucking hard, throbbing and solid as he rocked into you, polished his cock with yours, and your eyes—he could see how much you’d want that fantasy to come true.

“Zane, I wouldn’t—“ You whimpered when he pulled your boxers off, freeing your embarrassing boner for him to delight his eyes on. You stripped yourself completely for the second time, top to bottom. It triggered the memory of baring it all for the first time, where you received your first blowjob. You watched in silence, in between hot pants, as Zane stripped his muscular body of his clothing, one by one. Like a performance, a stage that was approaching its curtain call, because you knew Zane only had patience for one more lesson to teach you. Fuck me, please…

“And you know what’s worse? I thought they were just playing around, that typical locker room talk. Told them you were a virgin, never even kissed a boy in your life, and that it would all be too much for you…” You shuddered, feeling the warmth of his eyes analyzing you like a scanner, taking copies of your body and inking it into his mind. The sink of your stomach as Zane caressed your body downwards, the gentle hairs below your belly button, all delectably leading to the unkempt hairs of your pubic area, surrounding the twitch of your cock.

He could take you right now, but Zane liked playing with his food. Loved seeing the sweat form on your forehead and on your neck; loved watching your chest rise and sink when he wrapped a hot hand around your cock; loved hearing you whimper when his large cock joined his fist, stroking you and him together as one large mass.

“And you could practically see them come alive from that. Drooling, rubbing their dicks through their pants, because all they want to do is break you. Wreck that tight little hole of yours. Make your first time memorable. Two cocks fucking inside of you. Who could say that they got double-penetrated on their first time?” You could feel his heavy balls jump. He wanted to see that too, didn’t he? To see you wrecked like this. After all, he was a saint for holding back for as long as he did.

“And god—baby, would you call me a monster if I wanted that too? To see you take cock for the very first time? To see you crying out about how it wasn’t going to fit? But you’re a good boy, right? You’d relax for me? And take my cock in? No complaints?” Fingers. You could feel him rubbing at your rim when he brought your legs over his shoulders, one on each side. It was wet with spit, cold against your pucker as his cock jumped at the thought. Your own dick leaking pre-cum in turn.

“N-no—would want you to.” You gulped, a grit in your throat you tried to pacify. Then, a grit in your mind, because you reached over to replace Zane’s hand over your cock and his with your own. God, he was a handful. You could barely wrap around it with your fingers, let alone both of your rubbing cocks. But you tried, and your efforts were met with a shuddering moan from Zane, a shiver rolling up his spine tenfold compared to his hand. “I think I can take it—I’ll be good. I promise—“

“You’ll be good? You’re smart, (M/N). There’s no ‘thinking’ when it comes to this. Only an ‘I can’ and an ‘I can’t.’” His blonde locks hovered over his eyes as they casted downwards, addicted to the way your pucker kissed at the pad of his finger. Enamored of your beautiful hand holding his cock and yours as tightly as if your sanity had depended on the two throbbing erections. His hips buckled when you began thumbing at his slit, spreading your pre-cum with his, and that was when he knew he was devoted to pleasing you—when he pushed a lubed finger inside of you without warning, watching the way you struggled to swallow the length of his finger. “Which is it?”

You broke out into a staggered moan. The introduction of his digit collapsing the gears in your mind, having been conquered by nothing but an empire of pure lust, and you resisted, with a tension around the first knuckle.

“I-I can!” A guttural gasp when his finger began maneuvering inside of you, working you open little by little. Past his cuticle, then he would pull out. Then down to the first knuckle, you would then pucker. Then plunged deep to where the webbing of his fingers met, and you would gape. He cycled through with little alternations, fingering you while providing your cock and his the warmth and friction they desperately plead, stroking in sync.

“You can, what?” Two fingers inside of you, your hole sticky and slick with a generous amount of lube, pistoling past initial limitation. You shut your eyes with strain when Zane pushed a third into your heated hole. He had you holding your legs up now, splayed out with your feet in the air as he flattened himself onto his stomach to watch your hole with an inquisitive, yet lewd mind. Every now and then, he’d pull himself out to taste you, sucking his fingers clean, then endeavoring upon his curiosity with focused licks to your hole, flicking and swirling around your rim, then entering to dig inside of you.

“O-Oh, god—I-I can—“ Your cock throbbed at the sight of his imposing body—flushed with heat and sweat, splotches of red on his body from where you grasped and held onto him previously. You stilled, but your hands moved to tangle within Zane’s full locks, pulling, yanking, tugging, at the magical plowing your hole was taking from his wet tongue. “C-Can take your cock, Zane—“ Upon those final words, he ended his rimming with a loud slurp, then a sudden splat of spit to your hole—perceptive to the lube drying out on your body.

It was grand. Watching Zane’s broad body crawl back into position, onto his knees, then forward as he lined your smaller body with fleeting kisses. Kisses to the tip of your dripping cock, to your happy trail, to the supple skin of your stomach and chest, to your nipples, to your neck, then finally to your lips, where he spent majority of his delight upon. His questing fingers snuck to tend to his muscular cock, applying a thick amount of lube in midst, a mess on the sheets you’d figure you could later scold him for, and pressed the slick, wet head to your heated rim. You whimpered at the imposing taught, your hole puckering obscenely in apprehension.

“Going to make love to you,” Zane mumbled into the kiss, the other hand fondling your cock to ease the tension in your ass, in your legs, in your back, in the grasp you have on his shoulders. “Gonna make sure you feel full with my cock. Make you think about nothing but my cock. Make you mine with my cock. Make your hole ruined with my cock.”

“Ruin me…” You said with a pleading whine. Your hands caressed his large back, squeezing whatever came to your palm and under your fingertips, and you gazed into Zane’s promising eyes, your own imploring in case he were to turn on his words.

The scent of desire filled the air—one more yearning kiss, to quench the drought of your throat, and Zane loved you like this. Folded in between his embrace, his arms tucked around you as a safety net, rubbing your hole with his cocked, making small circles, your feet over his shoulders—he blessed a kiss on both ankles—quivering, fear and want dancing in the light of your eyes, and he finally pushed, slowly until the head of his cock slotted in.

Your chest lift upon the intrusion as you strain your head forward and groan with distraught. “O-oh, f—“

“Relax… Just relax…” He was barely in, his cock almost slipping out as you sealed yourself shut and kept pushing himself out, but Zane resisted, countering with a persistent push until you’d open yourself up for him again, allowing him to enter you a centimeter more. “You got this…” His words were comforting, the kisses on your chest and neck soothing the burn beneath you, and you loosened bit by bit, though with difficulty.

“M-mm, u-ugh…” It was lewd, fucking erotic with the whimpers that came out of your mouth, the heat remounting from their bodies reflecting with a fog on your glasses. Zane didn’t want to, but he had to shut you up with another loving kiss. Another peep out of you would’ve unscrewed the armor that had been holding him back from ravishing you completely.

Your scent drifted to Zane, potent and intoxicating, and it was upon impulse when Zane decided that he needed to be selfish, and take you for himself. Your entire groan tingled, the pressure on your opening suddenly too harsh, and your hole protested, the ring of muscle clenching tight when he pushed in more of his cock. “Need you, need you so fucking bad. Need to fuck you. Need to make love to that sweet, tight hole of yours.” Words spilled out of your mouth, his tongue sloppily tasting the corner of your mouth, then chin, and his cock fondled your balls and cock, squeezing, tugging, stroking, because he had to over-compensate. Zane was strong. Determined. And broken. Your body defied any reason to refuse his cock in any longer, opening for him, and inviting hm in upon the force of one long, deep, and guttural thrust.

“That’s it. I know, baby. I know. It hurts. I know… Just… Fuck… Relax for me…” His words were gentle, almost cooing when you instantly caught your breath, and then paused his thrusts with your hands on his toned thighs. Even so, the undeniable proof of your arousal, the throbbing and twitching of your cock, spilling thick strings of sticky pre-cum, was the sole evidence that allowed him to plunge himself deeper inside of you, past your resistance, until his pelvis met your ass. “There we go… Not so bad, right? Fuck, you’re so fucking tight…”

“M-mm, full—“ You felt so full, the discomforting pleasuring hitting you like a lightning bolt when Zane pulled himself completely out to watch your hole deliciously gape, then flushed himself back inside of you with one thrust. Your ass felt like it couldn’t handle any more of Zane’s cock. You clenched tight around his thick girth, feeling the veins throb with imposing lust, feeling his balls jolt and twitch as you squeezed even tighter when he began officially thrusting, whimpering louder.

“So full, right? Your ass taking my cock right now. God, I wish you could see it, baby…” Zane had brought himself up, his posture straightened to feast his eyes upon the sight of the tight ring swallowing his thick cock whole. He was practically salivating, the self-restraint he has had unlocking with every thrust, kissing at your ankles, your feet, as your legs remained hooked over his shoulders. His muscular body—sweating bullets, draining yet feeding him with heat while he flexed his stomach upon moving his hips against you. He made you feel loose and hollow, and your cock agreed with a desperate plea to be touched. Some form of friction around its veins, and you fulfilled it with a wrap of your hand, stroking yourself to the lewd sight before you, to the beastly groans Zane thickened the air with, to the smell of musk and sweat radiating from bonded bonds, to the glorious drilling your hole was enduring. There was wild fury in Zane’s face, of strength and passion, thick veins surging through his arms, biceps, neck, as he held the lower-half of your body higher, and fucked into you. You feared him as you wanted him, taking him like you had promised.

“Z-Zane! God, you feel so—g-good!” Fierce and untamed, Zane powered into you upon that confession. A slur of sounds you’d make, beautiful in his ears, embarrassing to your own, but Zane made you feel so wanted, so loved, that you didn’t mind baring it all for him. He downed your moans with a kiss, a gulp, a sloppy open-mouthed kiss as he was desperate to hear more of you, licking inside of your mouth while he stretched you open and filled you with his cock. “H-harder—Want your c-cock…” You’d give it to him, delegating those pretty whimpers that he’d happily starve for and feeding it to him tenfold. Whimpers, grunts, and moans ripped out of your mouth while tiny tremors and tingles explode from your overfull guts. You were taking him. Taking his cock. Taking him like a good boy. Wetness trickled out from his pounding, a leak of lube splattering upon the connecting impact of Zane’s hips to your ass.

“So good. That’s my good boy. Fucking take it. Good boy. Fuck. Take my cock. You like it, don’t you? You love being filled with my thick cock, don’t you? Been thinking about this since we’ve met, haven’t you?” Zane reminded you as your eyes rolled back in their sockets, leaving only the whites of your eyeballs visible. It felt like a punishment for asking him to do all of this with you—this mutual tutoring. But god, if it truly was, you needed to find more ways to make his blood boil.

“C-close—“ That was how you always jerked your cock off. Rubbing the sloppy, swollen tip of it against the palm of your hand. Rough and smooth, you liked it that way. You would accidentally rub at the most sensitive spot at your cockhead, ramping up closer to your inevitable climax, and that was what you did in this current moment. You rubbed your cock to the heavy weight of Zane’s dick inside of you, the tickle of his mustache on your lip, the crooked, fucked-out position of your glasses, the tantalizing depth his cock had reached inside of you. Zane’s hand skimmed down your chest, stopping over your nipple, where he tugged and pinched with a thumb and a forefinger. Close. You were so fucking close. One hand reached up to Zane to hold his nape and keep him from pulling away from you—because you needed him to watch you, to see you crumbling upon his very eyes.

“Come… Keep stroking that cock. So close, baby. I’m so fucking close, hm? Look so beautiful—god, I could do this all day. Could spend forever doing this with you. Fucking your ass. Making love to that hole… Making love to you.” Every word that came out of his mouth was a spell that took you higher and higher to your climax. He had his hands around your hips now, his biceps bulging as he powered you down onto his thrusts, and right there—Zane felt it, you felt it. You both hissed when his slick crown dipped to your sealed entrance, your prostate. A little more. Just a little more and—you felt him.

“S-shit, Zane! R-right there—“ You choked out.

With a subtle angle change of Zane’s hips, you felt his throbbing cock struck your prostate like it was rock, mined it as it you’d been concealing gold and life’s greatest treasure from the world. In a way, you did because you unleashed an unholy moan that sent tremors to the goosebumps on Zane’s body. He’d branded you now, ironing you with his cock, deep plunges deep into your hole, into your prostate. If his hickies was not enough proof of his devotion, you were convinced with the absolute euphoria Zane had sent your body in with the weight of his cock. You thought you knew ecstasy, thought you knew what it was like to be pleasured and fulfilled—but this was an entirely different level.

“Shit, baby. I need to come inside—“ He was ruined. Zane was fucking ruined. HIs hips on autopilot. Large, rough hands roamed your body, squeezing whatever came into his palm. He helped you in stroking your cock with one hand, the other playing with your nipples, or squeezing your waist, or squeezing your throat. He didn’t know what to do. He was delirious, fucked out of his mind, and all that mattered was that it was with you.

“P-Please—Come inside me, please—“ You managed to gather yourself and plead with him. As if he would ever deny that opportunity. But you needed Zane to know that you desperately wanted him just as much as he did. You wanted him in there. You wanted his loads desperately sticking inside of you, filling and keeping you warm even if his cock had abandoned your hole.

Your pupils were blown out, Zane’s blue eyes glowing as the size of his shaft stretched your flesh out, stirring the inside of your hole, kissing your prostate with every thrust. He held you close, arms clasped around your neck to fold you toward him. He had you whimpering with overwhelming sensations, the stretch of your legs and back forgiving because Zane was deep inside of you, turning you in and out like he had promised, overpowering any pain in your body while he circled his hips. Upon watching him, you’d never seen someone looked so pleased, so determined, impaling you with his cock over and over, brushing your body with his rough hands, and on the nth stroke of your cock, so relieved as he indulged on your endurance for as long as he could, before spilling his thick load inside of you. Not a second after, you chased after him in pursuit, your cum sprouting from your cock in six shots, Zane doubling that amount in your ass.

You both shared a deep, guttural moan, wallowing in your shared orgasm with a long, gratifying kiss while Zane continued to dump himself inside of you, panting, refusing to catch up on his breath, and stripping you the chance to do the same as he began moving his hips again. Languidly for the rest of time, but you felt his cum pushing deeper into you, warming up your guts with the help of his cum-covered cock. Your body was at his disposal, and he seized the opportunity to remind you that it was no longer your body, but his.

“You okay?” Slowly, he unfolded your body until it was flattened with the weight of his body collapsed on top of yours. You could feel his heartbeat, his muscular chest slick with sweat pressing to yours, slowly but surely coming down from its high. He was unwilling to pull himself out of you, the warmth of your hole around him nearly lulling him to sleep. Exhaustion in his eyes, but he mustered up enough strength to take care of you, stroking your hair back after licking your cum off your body in midst of repositioning.

You kissed him again, wanting to taste yourself off his tongue, and Zane accepted that as an answer, laughing into your mouth. “I’ve taught you well, haven’t I?”

“Couldn’t have asked for a better tutor.” You mumbled sleepily, hiding the blush in your cheeks into his shoulder while fatigue struck the muscles in your body until it begged for a rest. You wrapped your arms around him, embracing his large body into your own. His warm smell, his soothing voice, his adoring touch—you couldn’t fathom going back to a life without Zane in your life, teaching you about anything and everything, just as you did for him. It made your chest swell at the thought, your heart twisting itself until it began to hurt. But Zane kissed you once more, something that felt perpetual, and you’d calm.

“What are you doing for the summer?” He whispered, nuzzling his mustache against your cheek like you liked. He fixed the crook of your glasses with a twist, impressed by how they hadn't fallen off the entire time he was fucking into you.

“Working… Tutoring’s still in session for the summer classes, so I’ll be here.” You nodded, and he hummed in response. There was a brief silence, you’d reckon that could hear him thinking if you had the skills to.

“So… you know how I wanted you to meet the team? Maybe we could do that over the summer. What do you think? Think it’s only right to introduce my boyfriend to my best friends.” Nibbling on your ear now. You squirmed, ticklish as the tiny bristles of his mustache brushed against places that had never been touched. His smile only made it worse, the curve of the hairs grazing over your lobe and the shell of your ear.

“I’m your boyfriend?” It was impossible to stop yourself from smiling from ear to ear. The label made you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside.

“You didn’t think I did this all because I wanted to have sex with you, did you? I mean, it’s been months—“

“No, no—I was just…” You shook your head to shrug off even trying to reason with your confusion. “What about Nico and Austin? They were being kind of—“

Deceitful fingers spidered over the span of your belly. Lower, and lower. A roguish smile slowly formed on his face as he began fondling your sensitive flaccid cock. He then turned to you, gently pressing your nose to his.

“We can talk about that when the time comes.”

“When the time comes for—“

“You’ll see.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#zane phillips x male reader #zane phillips x reader #zane phillips x m!reader #zane phillips x you #zane phillips x y/n #zane phillips imagine #zane phillips fic #bottom male reader #x male reader #male reader #m!reader #gay reader #male reader insert #male reader x male reader #nou.fics

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jiniretracha · 29 days ago

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ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎 ꕤ

Sim Jake x fem!reader: masturbation

summary: Movie night gets interrupted when you decided to get a little too comfortable with your roommate...

warnings: smut, jake being a horny little shit, masturbation, y/n being a lil straightforward (?)

word count: 1.7k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

You had hit the jackpot when you found a friend like Jake. You two had met in college, when the history professor had paired you up for a research project. It was in an instant that you two discovered the amount of things in common that you both had. It was crazy. You bonded through your love for dogs, music and movies.

You had even met his friends and they loved you. They found you fun and such a great influence for Jake.

Soon enough, you were moving in together as roommates, when he had told you that his past roommate, Sunghoon, one of his best friends, moved in with his girlfriend and he was in need to split bills.

Movie nights were something that had grown and developed as a tradition between you two. It was two times a week, friday and sunday. On fridays, Jake was the one who could pick the movie and on sundays, it was your turn.

It was a sunday, meaning you had the privilege of having control of what you two were going to watch.

“No, please. Not Mean Girls again” Jake huffed as you hovered over one of your favourite movies.

“Oh, come on!” you whined.

Jake rolled his eyes. “We literally watched it last week! Pick another one, please. For my sanity. I’ve memorized it at this point” he chuckled.

“Okay, fine…” you sighed. “Mamma Mia?”

“Not a musical fan, to be honest” Jake shrugged.

“Okay, what do you like?” you scoffed. “I’m not watching Scary Movie like we did two days ago”

Jake snorted, “It’s a fun movie”

“It’s immature!” you whined. “I hate jokes about drugs and penises and farts. Like what is that?” you groaned. “The Eras Tour movie?”

“What?”

“Worth a shot, I guess” you sighed. “Joker?”

“Okay” Jake nodded.

“Great, popcorn ready?” you asked him and he nodded, handing you the bowl he had prepared.

You clicked on the movie and relaxed, placing your head against Jake’s shoulder. It was just an innocent move, you really didn’t think too much of it when you did it. It just felt comfortable at the moment and you two had shared thousands of moments like this.

But it wasn’t innocent for Jake.

His eyes immediately fell to your head and let out a shaky sigh, that he disguised as a cough while he cleared his throat.

“You okay?” you asked him in a hum.

“Yeah…” he said, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible about it.

Twenty minutes into the movie, you had downed the bowl of popcorn with Jake, so you left it on the coffee table in front of you. Jake didn’t expect you to get back to the place you were, right into his shoulder.

He decided to throw every thought out the window and carefully placed his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him, resting his cheek against your hair.

You let out a giggle and let your hand fall to his thigh, caressing it with your thumb.

Wrong fucking move.

Jake went stiff as a rock and felt himself stirring inside his pants.

What are you doing? She’s just being nice and here you are, acting like a horny thirteen year old, Jake thought to himself.

He was glad you were too invested in the movie playing on the screen in front of you to even notice Jake’s big frown over his forehead as he mentally and physically battled the boner he was so sure was about to pop any second now.

You let out a sigh and squished your cheek even more against his shoulder. Your hand now went up and down over his thigh, in a loving manner. And Jake understood that, it was just that his freaking groin didn’t.

He gulped down hard and started thinking about things that could help ease the horniness creeping up his veins.

My grandma’s underwear.

Sunghoon’s smelly socks.

Layla peeing on the bathroom rug.

You on all fours waiting for him to just-

Alright. It was impossible.

He couldn’t really focus on calming down when the scent of your shampoo was invading his senses, your face was so close to his and your hand was so fucking close to touching his dick-goddamnit.

Jake had to get out of there as soon as possible if he wanted to preserve the last bit of dignity he had left.

“Y/N- I-uh, could you wait for me?” you heard him ask you and you looked up at him with a frown. “I just want to um… go to the bathroom”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. Let me pause the movie” you said and grabbed the remote control that was on the coffee table.

“No need” he muttered before sprinting towards the bathroom in a rush and closing the door behind him.

His back hit the door and his fingers fumbled with the buttons of his jeans. Jake kicked them off his legs and let his cock fallout from the confiness of his boxers.

Jake let out a content sigh, trying to be as quiet as he could manage, as he rubbed his palm over his shaft slowly. He bit his lip and clenched his eyes, trying his hardest not to moan.

He knew he was going to feel embarrassed about this. He literally got hard at just the touch of your hand near his crotch area. He twisted his hand over his base and let out a tiny whimper that racked through his throat.

Meanwhile, you were busy with your phone, answering unread messages and just scrolling through your Instagram feed. Your eyes fell to the hour and your eyebrows furrowed. Jake had spent almost fifteen minutes inside the bathroom.

You decided to walk towards the bathroom, just to ask if he was okay when you heard a low whine coming from inside.

You gasped. Your initial though was that he had fallen and hurt himself.

“Jake, you alright?” you asked out loud.

His eyes immediately widened and his hand stopped moving, frozen over his base. “I- I, I’m fine, Y/N, don’t worry” he said, trying to seem as casual as possible, but he knew he was failing miserably.

Your eyes widened. “Are you um… you know…”

“No, I’m not taking a shit, Y/N”

Jake didn’t know what was more embarrassing to admit.

“Okay… I just wanna know if you’re okay” you asked him in a small voice.

Jake shut his eyes with force and sighed. “I just got a little problem” he admitted. Well, he knew for sure it wasn’t little, it was just a way of saying.

“What is it?” you asked him , getting closer to the door.

Jake couldn’t think of a moment in which he felt more embarrassed than he was right then and there. “I’mhard” he mumbled.

“Eh?”

Jake let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I’m hard” he said, pausing so you could understand each word.

You went silent and Jake panicked for a moment, debating if he should’ve told you or not. He started to think how fast he could pack up his bags and text one of his friends if any of them had a spare room which he could crash in, while he went searching for a new apartment, probably Jungwon had one, or maybe Jay-

“I can help you out” you stated.

Yeah, Jay probably has- hold up.

“What?” he asked. He didn’t trust his mind, maybe it was the desperation he had at feeling your hands on him.

“I said… I can help you out, Jake” you said softly. “Open up” you chuckled.

Okay, not dreaming.

Jake slowly placed the boxers back over his hard on and opened the door slowly.

Your eyes fell torturously slow over the tent in his underwear. You pressed your lips together into a thin line and smiled. “All of this because of a little cuddling?”

“Shut up” he said and grabbed your waist, smashing his lips against yours.

You smiled against his lips and opened your mouth, letting your tongue slip inside, curling with his own. He gripped your waist tightly, rolling his hard on over the front of your jeans roughly.

Your hands went down his chest, raking your nails through the process, and hooked one finger over the waistband of the boxers he was wearing, tugging them down and releasing his leaking cock.

“Holy shit” he gasped. “I’d never… I’d never thought we’d be here” Jake chuckled, moving your hair out of your neck and started nibbling on the skiing there, making your toes curl inside your shoes.

Your hand curled around his shaft and started moving up and down, applying pressure to the base and letting it twist on the points you noticed he was sensitive.

“Shit… go faster babe” he panted against the curve of your neck, digging his teeth into it. You obeyed, moving your hand frantically, thumb sweeping over the tip, collecting the pre-cum leaking. “Y-yeah, like that”

You smirked and, with your free hand, you grabbed on his hair, pulling him away from your neck so you could kiss his lips.

He groaned against your mouth, his hands shamelessly drifting down to your ass, squeezing them over your pants.

“I’m- I’m close…” he whispered against your lips.

“Then come for me, Jakey” you smirked, biting his lip and pulling it roughly with your teeth.

He nodded his head and you jerked him off even faster, pulling him to the edge. Jake spilled his load over your hand with a satisfied whimper, his forehead falling against your shoulder as he panted, trying to regain his composure.

You smiled and slowly took your hand off of him, wiping your palm with a towel. Afterwards, you threw it in the bin with the dirty clothes and looked at Jake in the eye.

“That was intense, huh?” you giggled.

“Yeah…”

Jake was looking at your face with a certain glint in his eye, and it made your stomach erupt in butterflies. But you had only one thing in mind.

“Want to return the favour?” you smirked.

Jake’s smile grew even wider.

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @yaorzu-blog // @jisunglyricist // @leeknowinggg // @ka0ila // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght // @regardsto-hell // @jaiuneamesolitaiire //

#jake x reader #enhypen x reader #sim jake x reader #jake imagine #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen jake #jake smut #jake fluff #kinktober

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amongemeraldclouds · 9 months ago

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Things I’ll Never Say

Why say things out loud when you can write them all down in a journal? No need to inconvenience everyone else with silly declarations of love that’s only guaranteed to break your heart. So what happens when your enemy - of all people - finds it?

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

Thanks to @thatdammchickennugget for the prompt. Here's my official entry for the Hogmarch challenge, prompt one. 1k words.

Author’s note: The way I screamed when this idea came to mind! Journaling is such a big part of my life, I’ll take any and every chance I can to incorporate it to my stories.

Indented text are journal entries.

Warning: Cursing, no use of y/n, slight angst but it’s kinda cute. Fluff express coming through!

✿ Masterlist

“Stop copying my notes!” I hiss at Lorenzo, moving my arm to cover my parchment.

“Come on, I missed class today. I need to catch up,” he says, tugging at the arm of my sweater.

“Go ask your friends,” I retort, moving my arm away from his grasp.

“You know they’re not in that class, just you,” he insists.

“Oh we’re not friends,” I deadpan.

“It won’t take long,” he tries again.

“If you weren’t busy sleeping around with everyone, Berkshire. You would have made it to class this morning.”

He leans in to my ear and whispers, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

I grab the nearest hardbound book and swing it in his direction. Thwack! It strikes his shoulder.

The librarian looks at us sternly. “Your final warning was just given five minutes ago. No noise in the library!” She points her finger to the exit, “You two, out!”

“Great. Thanks for that, Berkshire. Good luck with your notes.” My face gets hot with embarrassment as I gather my things and rush off to the exit.

Enzo spots a black leather bound journal in the area you just vacated. He takes it with him as he exits the library. She’s always writing in this notebook. I’m sure she won’t mind if I take a peek, I’ll give it back to her anyway.

He damn well knew you would mind. When he reaches a quiet corner of the hallway, he proceeds to turn the cover anyway.

I know, I know. I’m not supposed to like Lorenzo Berkshire. Why the fuck did I just draw a heart over the “i”! That’s it. I’m losing my mind! I can’t be caught liking the boy who spewed the word mudblood in my direction our first year. Like it’s my fault I was born into my family. And screw him okay, muggles are awesome. I can break my own heart with my misguided affections, but I’d rather die before I ever let him break my heart. So before I check myself into a mental asylum, I need to just say this somewhere. Anywhere. A last ditch effort to save my sanity.

He’s the intrusive thought I love to entertain in my head.

As a dare, he took off his shirt at the party. My toes curled. I pretended not to notice him.

I heard him laughing with his friends. I love the way it lit up his face.

I saw him enter his dorm hand in hand with a girl. I never wish to be her, another one night stand. Once would never be enough.

I nearly kissed him again.

He helped me pick up the pile of books I dropped at the library. He seemed kind and concerned. Ha! Who am I kidding?

I count down the hours until I see him again.

Maybe in another lifetime it wouldn’t matter: bloodlines, social status, and hierarchies. So unnecessary.

I noticed the veins in his arm at quidditch practice. I tried not to bite my lip. What must it be like to be wrapped in those arms?

And there he was again with his stupid hair breaking my stupid heart.

Enzo hears determined footsteps approaching and he shuts the journal, hiding it behind him.

“Fine, Berkshire,” I sigh when I reach him. “Here, take my notes,” I say, handing it out to him.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you so desperate to get them earlier?” I fold my arms. “I will not be part of the reason you fail in class.” I point at him, “you and your dumb ass can very well do it yourself. I have more important things to worry about.”

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

My brain short circuits, the fire freezing in my veins. How the hell does he know?

He smirks, pulling out a familiar black journal. My eyes widen.

“On second thought,” I say, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter,” I turn around and walk away. “Fail class for all I care.”

I’m yanked back when I feel Enzo’s grip on my wrist. “Wait.”

My heart thumps in my chest. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. He knows!

“I’m sorry,” he says. What? I turn back, my confused expression directed at him.

“That I called you a mudblood,” he explains. “I was a dumb ass when we were younger.”

“Finally, we agree on something,” I state, trying to mask the tremble in my voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you back then and I was prejudiced. Over the years, I enjoyed watching your passion for magic and studying. How you light up when you talk to your friends about a book you just read. And how you’re always the first to volunteer when someone needs help. You have this fire and warmth in you and I just need to be around it all the time. I’m reduced to being a moth to your flame and I don’t mind it at all.”

I blink, speechless.

He takes a step forward, voice softening. “Why do you think I tease you all the time?”

“Well how the fuck was I supposed to know?” The anger not quite there in my voice.

“I just wanted a chance to talk to you and I thought you hated me.” He brushes the hair from my face and cups my face. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

I roll my eyes, “Oh no, I do hate you.” I falter, “but maybe I kind of, just sort of, like you too.”

He grins. “It seems there are things we need to talk about. Will you go on a date with me?”

My heart stutters. “You already know my answer.”

He laughs, “stubborn as always. I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulls me in for a hug.

Oh. Being wrapped in his strong arms is even better than I imagined. I rest my head on his shoulder when a thought occurs to me.

“You’re sure this is not just some elaborate ploy for me to keep giving you my notes?”

He sighs, “of course not, just enjoy this moment."

He moves his mouth to my ear, "But if you do, I solemnly swear I will make it worth your while.”

I don't hit him this time.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: For those who get the Avril Lavigne title reference, here's a tight hug for you! ♡

I may or may not have also had a place where I wrote down love confessions for someone I couldn’t have. Some of those may or may not have been included in the journal entries.

Two fics published in one day? Who is she?

#hogmarch challenge #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #enzo x reader #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fandom #slytherin boys #wizarding world #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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rubywonu · 3 months ago

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❝ I miss you, I'm sorry ❞

angst . idol!wonwoo x yn . 600 words

You looked at the billboard, the sight destroying your mental sanity. It was a sight for poor eyes. The ad played repeatedly, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from it.

Wonwoo's captivating gaze graced the screen, and you looked at it as unwanted memories flooded your mind.

You and Wonwoo walking down the same road, laughing and sharing sweet nothings, promising a life of forever love, you couldn't believe you almost bought it.

It seemed like just yesterday, the two of you made a collage of all the things you wanted to achieve as a couple, you drew a house, while he named your children.

You baked while he documented, adamant about making a documentary for the both of you to watch when you're old and wrinkly. You remember the way your heart skipped as Wonwoo walked towards you every morning with a flower or the way he used to smile when he looked at you.

You remember it all, and it tore you apart every single day. You missed the way his lips used to graze yours before he left to work, or the silence that decorated the room as you cried in each other's arms when Wonwoo used to go on tour.

You cherished the moment when Wonwoo, got on his knee and asked you to stay with him forever, you believed it as you screamed 'yes' and wrapped your arms around him. But that soon faded to black, when the memory of you throwing your engagement ring at his chest, tears streaming down your face, crashed into your mind. How could he? you thought. And now all you thought of was how could he not, it was expected.

You even missed the arguments, the way you would scream at him and the way he tried to calm you down. It never worked, but it was a cute attempt.

You looked away from the billboard and stared at the street, it was painfully familiar. The cafe opposite the billboard, housed a few of your favourite moments with him, the place where you first met, the place where you asked him out because he was too shy or the time when Wonwoo told you he was going to debut as an idol. How you wished you could travel to that moment and cherish Wonwoo more. You would go through the pain any time, it was worth it for the love, for the forehead kisses, for the back hugs, for the laughs, for him. He was worth it, he would always be.

Nothing happened in the way you wanted, every corner of this city was haunted by laughter and love. But what could you do? You weren't his and he wasn't yours anymore. There was nothing in this world that could bring you back together, not that it would work. He was a famous singer, and well you were...you. And maybe that was what caused the downfall in the first place.

You tried but everything you knew brought you back to him, and you despised yourself for it.

You heard the honk of the car, and you snapped out of the dream and crossed the road. With each step you took, you forgot about the memories, the moments and the love. You couldn't afford to remember it, you were afraid you would call him. It's not like you hadn't before. It always went the same, two sentences. You would speak and after a moment, you would hear a deep breath, and Wonwoo would say two words that would shatter your heart before he would hang up.

In the last step you took, before you would be out of sight from the billboard, you left the painful repeating memory.

"I miss you."

"I'm sorry."

nia’s notes: hi guys..my first piece in almost 10 months. so I hope you guys go easy on me, cause this is crusty. thank you guys for waiting patiently for a new fic, hope you like it!

taglist: @xomingyu . @pixieskie . @bangchansbae . @weird-bookworm . @chansdimplesmile .

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astrolovecosmos · 1 year ago

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Chart Ruler in the Houses:

Your chart ruler is the planet associated with your rising sign. e.g. Libra rising means your chart ruler is Venus, Sagittarius Rising means your chart ruler is Jupiter. The chart ruler can be similar to the rising in that it represents an aspect of your self-expression. It can also act like a guide or marker to areas of life that greatly impact you and motivate you. See below the chart ruler in each house:

~1st House~

Individuality is not only important to you and your life, but questions surrounding individuality, developing it - these are a big part of your life lessons, struggles, wins, and fulfillments. How you develop as a person, your self-expression, independence, and how you stand out acts as motivation. Early life may have been unique, intense, or hazy depending on the planet, but frequently revisiting it or taking inspiration from it is common for this placement. Having your chart ruler in the 1st House may indicate someone who has high expectations for themselves and their life or even "destiny". It is common for these individuals to be on either side of the scale with pessimism vs. optimism in their approach and view of their own life. A fear of being rejected, ignored, and possibly used or controlled may exist here. When the chart ruler is in the 1st House these people will always ask themselves who they are and/or may have a huge drive to always prove themselves or define themselves. They may face many challenges involving depth, intensity, intimacy vs. shallowness and detachment. Self-love and acceptance are their strength, their crown.

~2nd House~

The 2nd House is a house of the physical world but also our relationship to the physical world which many times can be highly intangible. The most straightforward way to understand this is through ideas around value and resource. The 2nd House is what we value from our favorite piece of clothing to our loved ones to our own self-worth. This is also the house of security, quality, spending, resources, energy that is taken or received, it is physical manifestations or materialism which can extend to ideas of the spirit having a body (6th House may be body and health, but the 2nd also has connections to the body and physiology, especially the throat, neck, voice). When the chart ruler is in this house challenges, lessons, and guidance may seem very practical with lessons about work, money, and possessions. Other times it can be hard to recognize or follow with lessons about restraint, boundaries, or defense. The chart ruler pulls on individuals to practice self-care and stability. People here may feel like their stability, safety, and maybe sanity are frequently questioned or being threatened. They learn early on how important options, skills, tools, money, space, being resourceful is. These people for many reasons may also constantly seek comfort and contentment. They want the peace that comes with more passive attitudes towards living like attraction, patience, routine, and indulgence or relaxation. The 2nd House is also about potential and when the chart ruler sits here motivation can come from self-belief. Endurance and determination are their crown.

~3rd House~

Self-expression, learning, communicating, connecting - all of these things are brought front and center with the chart ruler in the 3rd house. Motivation can be from a curious mind or possibly a bored mind, being highly involved or removed from a community, or social status or pressures. Learning from others is very important for this placement, even those who are shyer may crave this. Many of their internal conflicts or conflicts throughout life may involve some sort of lone wolf. vs social butterfly themes. Their main motivation may come from, their self-expression and personality shaped by, or possibly one of their guiding lights in life may be their siblings, extended family, students, or possibly a teacher in some form. These individuals are likely observant, mentally quick, possibly talkative or social, and likely adaptable. Even if someone with this placement has a lot of fixed sign influences, life will pull them through many situations that will demand flexibility or an open mind. There is a focus on how these people are in their attitude towards others in their most immediate environment and inner circle outside of highly intimate or hierarchical roles like a spouse or parent. Think friends, coworkers, siblings, their network, their community. The planet will have a lot to say about this, Venus for example indicates a very easygoing, nice, possibly loving attitude. Mars may mean competitive, aggressive, or passionate interactions and relationships. The Sun or Pluto can indicate power struggles. Saturn indicates a lot of responsibility, reputation, maybe burdens form being part of a community. This attitude or approach to their community will be extremely important to them. Knowledge and adaptability or an openness to learn are their crown.

~4th House~

This individual's motivation and personality may be heavily based around family somehow. They are prone to holding onto old feelings and grudges and this may be a major drive for them. The 4th House can represent our homelife, our private life, private selves, ancestry, cycles or patterns, intuition, and nurturing. Having a happy, safe, or stable home is a need for everyone but here their home life may impact their most basic self-expression constantly. A hurt or disturbed home life may be worn on their sleeve somehow. The 4th House can represent our parents both in a literal or metaphorical sense. I wouldn't be surprised if those with their chart ruler in this house find that they seek a parent type of relationship with others frequently OR has to parent themselves or others somehow. There may be a great drive to carry on a family's legacy or to start a new found family with this placement. Questions and insecurities may frequently revolve around one's place in their family, starting a family, or leaving one. This person may be good at hiding intentions, may be highly private or guarded, receptive, perceptive, and sensitive. Where they feel most at home can be determined by planet and sign but the chart ruler in the 4th indicates that there is a huge need to always "return" home or feel at home in the self, with others, and in a place. Getting in touch with one's past or heritage may be important to them throughout life. An understanding of the pasts' impact on the present and future is a major theme and lesson. Understanding and caring are strengths of theirs to cultivate. But...Loyalty, love, and trust of family is their crown.

~5th House~

A general love for life may be a major motivation for this placement. The 5th House is the house of recreation, love affairs, romance, drama, creativity, creation, pleasure, celebration, hobbies, self-expression, vibrancy. Expressing the self through what one creates whether that is art, a reputation, food, crafts, ideas, debatably children are all important to this house. The chart ruler in the 5th House may have a huge desire to leave a legacy or impression through what they make and share. There might also be a drive to indulge, experience, and love. This house has a positive reputation but the chart ruler here depending on sign, planet, aspect may indicate a struggle to enjoy life or express one's creativity. There may be a need to shine, fight, rebel, create a new path. A desire for adventure, admiration, romance, and leisure can exist in a way that is desperate or hard to satisfy. The 5th House has been interpreted as a place of self-discovery, carefreeness, play, or self-creation and in this sense, there is a huge push to be confident in oneself and to let your energy or vitality burn. The 5th House has also been interpreted as a place to look at how you learn and celebrate others and through them also learn about and celebrate the self. This can take a lot of giving and risk. Because of these aspects bravery and generosity is this chart ruler's crown.

~6th House~

This is the house of the everyday - habits, work, physical health, cleanliness, collaboration or teamwork, routine, service, help, support, practicality, skills, work ethic, pets, efficiency, uses. On paper this house can sound dull but similarly to the 2nd House the relationship of the tangible to the intangible can make interpretations or manifestations of this house sometimes hard to recognize. Work and health are two very common motivators for this placement. Other common motivators may be a desire to be useful, to heal others, to fix something, or possibly to be part of a team or cause. Depending on the influences involved a chart ruler in this house may spell out a person who craves recognition or reward for their status, good deeds, or accomplishments. There is nothing inherently wrong with this but it may cause a lack of fulfillment for the individuals. The chart ruler in the 6th House may work themselves to death or be distracted from people or things that truly feed their soul and help their mental health because they can get distracted with "the right way" to do things, with daily tasks they need to check off, or a sense of heavy duty. In this way modesty may be needed not to humble but to cut through the b.s. of more shallow pursuits and relationships. Some with this placement may need to be brought down to earth sometimes, just not in the way they or most may expect. Some may fear leaving their routine and habits, easily getting stuck in ruts. This will take courage to break routines or unhealthy habits, but it will also take self-discipline and even gratitude. Being thankful for the past and the present may help them to overcome fears of regret, failure, losing, or even imperfection. Boundaries, self-worth, discipline, physical and mental health, and self-sacrifice are all subjects that can make or break this placement's expression. Those with this placement likely want to be part of something that is bigger than them. Something that gives the everyday purposes or light. They can find this in the simple things and in everyday happenings. Because of that humility and gratitude are this chart ruler's crown.

~7th House~

The house that is all about relationships, you can expect that having your chart ruler here means plenty of action, karma, lessons, struggles, highs and lows to one's friendships, romances, rivalries, and enemies. This may have been a person who learned early on how important it is to get along with others or possibly to stand out from others. The chart ruler in the 7th does not automatically make one easygoing and cooperative. Mars or Aries in this house may drive someone to be competitive, overly independent, or antagonistic with others, finding this to bring them the most excitement or even peace in their life. Questions about relationships and who they are to others may always be part of their life. The 7th House is about projection and how you present yourself to others and how others reinforce your self. Those with their chart ruler in the 7th may find that they have deep insecurities about being loved and accepted. The chart ruler here may indicate someone who struggles a lot with boundaries, people pleasing, and balancing the needs of themselves vs. the needs of others. Even with a hotter or more self-focused influence like the Sun or fire element can find themselves easily losing themselves in others or forgetting to take care of themselves. Equality, respect, and honesty are pillars they need to build in their relationships. Some with this placement may need to unwrap their ego from their relationships and loved ones, others may need to overcome a fear of loneliness. They feel fulfilled when in a happy relationship. Things like self-love and healthy boundaries will be important for this placement but I would say their biggest virtues, what they will find strength from is with both unity and independence. 👑

~8th House~

How does the house of secrets, the taboo, intimacy, sharing, death, rebirth, inheritance, loans, and the metaphysical and occult motivate one and their life? This darker house can have abstract or intangible influences on one's self-expression. First those with their chart ruler in the 8th likely have a strong connection to their intuition, emotional side, depths, religious or spiritual beliefs, or psyche. They may have learned at a young age the importance of listening and of staying away from or investigating the dark, scary places of themselves and others. They learned about monsters under the bed or in the closet early on. One of the physical ways this house manifests is through physical intimacy. The 8th House rules over all forms of intimacy, physical or not. Those with their ruler in this house will likely have a life greatly impacted by this somehow. Maybe they are in tune with their body and libido, others may struggle to tame it or get in touch with it. Maybe they easily become attached and close with others, or maybe they are extremely guarded and detached. Chart ruler in the 8th commonly indicates someone who is more secretive or private. What they share or don't share with others may be a huge focus. Rewards and punishment for being overly open or overly closed may be a common challenge. A fear of looking weak, wrong, or bad can exist. Speaking of fear, this house rules over it. I could see someone with their chart ruler here struggle with nightmares in their life. This may be someone who struggles with timidness, or even acting cowardly. Others may be addicted to adrenaline, finding it an escape or confidence boost. Some assign psychology to this house and with this can be a huge desire to know and master the self. With the ruler here their self-awareness game may be strong. This is also the house of transformation and joint, inner, or (will)power. These people may very likely have vibrant, passionate, intense inner selves or personal lives that are very much hidden or a mystery to others. Abuse, trauma, and life-changing events are not exclusive to the 8th House but this placement may find immense insight, wisdom, and empowerment from them. Just like the cliche of the phoenix, they get stronger after turmoil, rising from the ashes. Vulnerability and compassion are their crown.

~9th House~

This is the house of travel and higher education but also philosophy, beliefs, meaning. Having your chart ruler here indicates high energy, enthusiasm or a zealous nature, curiosity, and optimism. A passion for learning and exploration, an open mind and heart, or a desire to be part of something higher and greater than them are common motivators. They may frequently find themselves asking philosophical questions throughout life or big pictured questions. Some simply like to think and wonder while others get too stuck on "what ifs" in their life. This placement is likely passionate about their beliefs and opinions. Even if their beliefs aren't rooted in religion or the spiritual, they may be opinionated and forceful about them. Being highly open and changeable about your beliefs may be a theme too. This could be a person who is very open-minded to different religions and cultures and wants to try them all in some capacity. Either way belief is central to their life and character. The 9th House can be associated with worldly matters, foreign affairs, how culture and ethics differ, form, and are practiced. Being a globetrotter may be a common manifestation or being highly active in politics or foreign relations. This house is also about rituals, publishing, hopes, the future, storytelling. Those with their ruler in this house may find they have a complex relationship with truth vs. lies or illusions. The duality between hope and despair may exist in their conflicts and challenges. There can be a thirst for knowledge, especially specialized, privileged, forbidden, or secret knowledge. These people may live in their own cages or horizons based on their beliefs. Their worldview may mean everything to them. Belief either in themselves or something else and curiosity are their crown.

~10th House~

Status, reputation, or reward, especially the material kind are the most likely motivators for someone with their chart ruler in the 10th. The 10th house is about career, reputation, ambition, public life, authority, parental influence, discipline, recognition, purpose. There may be a huge need for a great sense of purpose. Responsibility and reputation are hot topics for those with their chart ruler here. These may be two things that haunt or bring joy to them throughout life. A fear of failure, embarrassment, or a lack of control can be a huge challenge for this placement. Seeking approval from or rebelling from an authority figure may be a huge drive for some. Their self-expression is focused and monitored, criticized and restrained so it fits within their society or family. Matters of support and providing are important for those with this placement. Both receiving it and giving it may be challenging or rewarding. Those with this placement may be passionate about campaigning for or providing for those who lack help much like they may have lacked when younger. These people typically strive to be helpful, depended on, the leader or decision maker, the problem solver. Even those that are more independent, unconventional, and rebellious may find themselves leading a rag-tag team of outcasts. Control issues and obsession with career or work can be challenges. Many with this placement find purpose and identity through their career. Some are driven by places of fear and insecurity around control. But it is commitment and honor that makes up this placement's crown. Through these virtues/traits they can find strength and energy.

~11th House~

The 11th House is the house of social awareness, collective action and consciousness. How one fits in with society or a group is very important here. Individuality has a place in this house but the story is more about how one fits in or stands out with their individuality than just defining that individuality. The 11th House is also about friendship, acceptance, alienation, awareness, trends, the higher mind, intellect and intuition, wishes/aspirations. This tends to be a hopeful and extroverted house in terms of its general influence. Having your chart ruler here means you may find meaning and direction by being part of organizations or groups. There may also be a struggle to find people you belong with. Motivation tends to come from social expectations/pressures, societal norms, rebellion, isolation, idealism, or fear of missing out. Friends and peers may be very important to those who's ruler sits in this house. From an early age this individual learned the importance and need for acceptance by one's peers or may have found refuge, learning, and understanding in them. Expanding their mind and knowledge through others may be a drive for them. Having a charismatic and confident self-expression may be important for some, or finding those who celebrate or are attracted to their unique sense of self-expression. Those with this placement may sympathize with or find purpose through humanitarian pursuits. There can be a part of them that wants to do good on a large scale - to help humanity, the world, society. Motivation and a guide for the self may come from seeing the big picture and caring for groups or humanity. But depending on the sign, planet, and aspects having your ruler in this house may also cause one to be highly selfish and focused on how a group can benefit them. There may be a desire to control or dominate a group of people or organization. Conformity and nonconformity can also be pulled to one of the extremes with this individual. Getting carried away with group fear, hope, promises, deception, and division can also happen with these people. They can understand the pros and cons, the depths of tribalism. It is important for them to learn quickly a healthy separation between the self and the group. But ultimately tolerance of others and cooperation are this chart ruler's crown.

~12th House~

The House of the subconscious and hidden or secrets can be tricky to explain. When the chart ruler is in the 12th House one's motivation can be elusive or at times, they may feel that they lack motivation or that they struggle to express and define the self. Being introverted or shy is common with this placement. Getting to know oneself is a lifelong path for many with this placement. There can be a desire to be found, to discover from the self and from others something meaningful, a desire to be connected spiritually, for intense intimacy, or possibly a feeling of wholeness. They themselves may struggle to pinpoint their desires, needs, and motivations, but once discovered they can be highly empowered. This is also the house of isolation, loss of power, loss of ego or identity, and loss in general. This person may confront many uncomfortable questions, truths, or experiences surrounding loss. This house shares similar themes with the 4th and 8th Houses - family karma and secrets, depth, psychology or psyche, spirituality, magic, intuition. A yearning to understand the self can be present for those with this placement. There may also be a drive to understand themselves and others through spiritual lenses. A drive to heal and help may exist here as well. This house covers many intense and bleaker subjects, but it is associated with surrender, forgiveness, reconnection, rebirth, reparation, hidden strengths or potential, and the good and bad of spirituality, oneness, and karma. People with this placement may be natural healers, counselors, or teachers. Fearing or embracing loneliness and separation may be a common manifestation. Through the dynamic between creation and destruction that this house has, they can find great insight and power from their pain. Empathy and listening to one's soul or intuition are what makes up their crown.

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mr-ys-phantasma · 4 days ago

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🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1312

Chapter 37:

When you walked into the Iron Maiden and climbed the first two steps, you did not expect to hear Jen shouting for anyone other than herself.

"Lilla! Lilia!"

Her shouts echoed across the stone walls, and you let Agatha continue up ahead as you turned and chose to check what was going in.

Yet when you found her hitting her fists against a dirt wall, shouting the name of a certain witch that was not amongst you... you realized.

Your lips pressed against one another, forming a flat line and momentarily you closed your eyes; offering a silent prayer and a moment of respectful peace for the brave witch.

Lilia was not close to you, and the way she often stared at you made you keep your distance from her. But in the end, she cared for the coven; more than anyone.

In the end, she sacrificed herself so the rest of you could move forward; one trial closer in reaching the end of the road and the much needed prize.

A prize, one would start questioning if it was worth it, after all the mental and physical torture... and the losses.

Jen needed a moment to recover, tears being wiped by the back of her hand before she sat down by the steps; trying to process yet another loss.

One that she truly felt this time.

Teen joined her while you stood close. You could have left them behind, go find Agatha, but you chose not to. They needed to mourn, to process everything before being able to continue.

Agatha would be fine, for she was not stupid enough to walk away. Yet you could not help but have this feeling... that something was not right.

"Rio." Jen started, unsure where to start. "Green Witch with a capital G. She told us who she was in the very beginning." She continued, earning Billy's attention, who was not catching up.

"Green Craft is about the cycle of all living things. Growth and decay in constant flow." You chose to enlighten him, leaning against the stone wall with hands folded in front of your chest.

At least you were out of that dress, which was perhaps the only positive thing you could think of right now. That and the fact that you were alive, one trial closer in getting out of this helish road.

Billy looked at you, not surprised you knew. He had come to realise, with your past related to Agatha, that you knew far more than the rest of the coven members.

"So Agatha's ex is Death." He concluded, trying to wrap his head around the idea that death was a woman; one capable of faling in love from the looks of it. "Well, one of her exes." he looked at you again.

You kept your lips pressed to one another. "Pretty much,"

"That makes sense," he commuted. Somehow, it did make sense; though by now, he did question his sanity and mind.

"You knew, didn't you?" Jen asked next, her gaze on your form.

This time, though, she was too tired to judge. Too tired to throw any sparky remarks. She just wanted some more answers. She deserved to know after all the trials she had been through with the coven.

You sighed. "I did."

"And you didn't tell us."

In honour of her grief and Lilia's sacrifice, you chose not to react to her words. "You didn't ask me, not her, not anyone," you replied calmly.

It was Jen's turn to sigh. "No, we didn't." she placed the back of her head against the wall.

Silence enveloped the group of three, no one truly knowing what to say. Some were even hesitant to move, trying to savour as much as they could, this little moment of peace.

Who knew what they would face next? How quick will the next trial come meet them?

As you three sat there, it was then that your fellow witches took notice that someone was missing.

"Where is Agatha?" Jen questioned, looking around but finding no sign of the magicless witch.

"Up ahead. She should be waiting for us, " you informed, one thumb pointing over your shoulder towards the way the steps were leading.

Jen scoffed. "Yeah, right?"

"She knows alone won't do her any good in the trials," you reminded Jen as you offered your hand to pull her up on your feet. "The Road needs us together. It's the only way."

Defeated, she accepted your hand and let you pull her up; surprised by your strength. You definitely did not look that strong...and yet again, you did not look a lot of things if she were to be frank.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Path led you back to the forest, unsure if it was the same place you had started of further down the Road. Everything looked the same, but you did not trail back to question. There was no need.

As you three walked in a line, you could not help but start a conversation. Though the topic was not much to your liking.

"I mean, how did they even meet?" Billy wondered.

"Um, over corpses, I imagine." Jen answered before the duo looked at you.

You sighed. "I am afraid you are asking the wrong witch," you confessed.

"But you were first, right? You knew Agatha before Rio, didn't you?" She asked you next, remembering what Evanora's ghost was saying in the cabin.

Though Jen was still puzzled by that interaction. Evanora hated you, and Jen suspected it was because you had chosen Agatha in the end. But something was telling her there was something more.

Pieces of your puzzle were missing, making it harder to get a good image of who you truly are and what your past is.

"I was," you answered simply, clearly not wishing to continue this discussion.

It was not easy for you either. Your feelings mixed about the topic and you needed time, to finally make a decision about it... to make peace with it.

"You must have really hurt her if her next ex ended up being Death itself."

You took a deep breath at Jen's words. You had chosen not to react so far, simply as a respect to her grief, but even you had limits to your patience.

Billy took notice, and he did not really like how that topic had changed to focus on you and your rather cryptic relationship with Agatha.

And it was not right talking about Agatha behind her back, as if she was not going to show up any time soon.

"Well... I don't care," he joined the conversation. "It simply shows more proof that Agatha has feelings."

His words made you smile faintly, but you hid it from Jen, who you didn't have to look to feel her disagreement rising.

"That was your takeaway?" She scoffed. "I do not understand your loyalty to her. Hers, I understand, but not you. "

"It's not loyalty. It's analysis." Billy quickly defended himself.

"Oh, look who grew up."

"I'm fully aware that Agatha Harkness can never be anything but a coven-less witch."

You did not manage to hide your expression at those words, which seemed to sting you as much as they would Agatha.

Yet before you could ask anything, someone else beat you to it.

"Ouch!" Agatha exclaimed as she came from behind some plans.

Your eyes locked, and you could once again see right through her. You could see that something was odd, something had taken place but you were not sure what.

A part of you told you it had to do with Rio, but you wouldn't put your hand in the fire of it.

One thing was certain, though.

Agatha's mask was back on. Any moments of true humility, humanity, and empathy long gone by now. She had locked them all away once again.

Chapter 38

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha spoilers #agatha fanfic #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #moon phases fanfic #kathryn hahn #aubrey plaza #marvel #jennifer kale #billy maximoff

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astro-rainbow777 · 1 year ago

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✨𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔖𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔰 & 𝔐𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔗𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔰 ✨

~ Represented by "☾" in a natal chart ~ The moon is symbolic for the emotional nature, your natural instincts, intuition, the inner psyche, the relationship to the more feminine parent or guardian and often times how we see ourselves. ~The sign the moon falls into how the behaves and expresses itself, the house it falls into shows where the moon's energy prominently shows up in the native's chart.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓢𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓼‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

🌑 Aries Moon- This moon sign feels things at an intense, bold and expressive level. Think of their feelings a constant burning flame, with every emotional encounter acting as gasoline. There can be a sudden, explosive reaction that fizzles out very quickly. This shows up in every emotion that they experience. They aren't one to hold on to grudges because when they feel things they feel it to the fullest extent. Competition, working out and sexual activity can help with feelings of anger and restlessness. They are very passionate lovers and feelers. Aries Moons are not one to beat around the bush, if they feel something they will make it very apparent unless other aspects in the chat show differently. They are known for their assertive and direct nature with a possibility for a selfish reputation. However they are pioneers, confident in their abilities and dreams. They are warriors of the heart and would probably go to war for those they love. At work, they have no issues ruffling a few feathers. Combat, competition and deadlines excite them. Most Aries moons at least have a sports team they loyal to. Expect nothing but emotional honesty from this moon signs! If they want to do something, they will :)

🌒 Taurus Moon- The moon is very comfortable in the sign of Taurus because of its value of security, peace, and safety. Their emotional boundaries are usually firm, stable and strong, which makes for someone with healthy coping skills and self worth. Taurus moons are great lovers, gift givers, and emotionally loyal. They are guided by their five senses and generally have a strong intuition. They try to stay realistic and practical with their emotions. They aren't too big on day dreaming and have an easy time staying grounded in reality and the present moment. The moon is exalted in Taurus, meaning it has an easy time here while also having a chance to grow. Having financial security (although, abundance is prefered lol) and material needs met is a must for a Taurus moons sanity. They are known to strive for the best on a material level; the softest fabric, gourmet foods, beautiful music and aesthetics. Cooking, being with their loved ones, shopping, nature walks, and self care bring them internal peace and relaxation. There may be a tendency to resist change and stick to what they are familiar to. However, who can blame them? They are the masters of quality and comfort.

🌓Gemini Moon- Known for their spunky, hilarious, and witty nature- Gemini moons are far from boring. These moon signs are very vocal about their emotional upsets and excitements, although they have a tendency to cope with humor and make light of how they truly feel. This sign may also have difficulties intellectualizing their feelings and may struggle escaping their mental energy when trying to connect to their intuition. They may have troubles balancing the head and their heart, and benefit from journaling, talking it out, heck!- even talking to themself can be very beneficial. Having something to bounce their emotions off of can bring them emotional clarity. Meditation can be beneficial for these natives, but it might be a difficult practice to get into. There is a nervous, racing, changeability to their emotions which may cause them a lot of anxiety or restlessness. They may benefit by having a healthy curiosity about psychology and the emotional nature, as well as their hobbies and "special interests" which I truly believe every Gemini Moon has lol. They love to socialize with a variety of different people, trying to keep it light hearted and playful. With a Gemini Moon it's really never that deep lmao.

🌔Cancer Moon- The moon sits at home/domicile in the sign of Cancer, making for a generally sweet, family (biological or chosen) oriented, and emotionally aware moon sign. Their intuitive abilities are strong, so when they get a good feeling about someone or something they try to ride with it. Cancer moons enjoy connecting with their loved ones, expressing their artistic ability, and relaxing at home. Their biological family has probably made a great impact on the way they see themselves and express emotions- good, bad or neutral. They are blessed with a great memory and can get lost in nostalgia from time to time. Letting go of the past is not an easy thing for them to do. They may be plagued by memories of the good old days that prevents them from maturing or entering a new phase of their life. Cancer moons are extremely sentimental; if you entered their home or safe space, you would most likely find random knick knacks, birthday cards/letters, or toys that they keep as trophies from the past. This moon sign is private about their feelings, especially in social settings- it is important that they can trust whoever they open up to and that their feelings are safe. They can be hurt easily, which may cause them to put up walls with others. The worst thing you can do is criticize them for their moodiness and emotional changeability. Although Cancer moons are protective of themselves and their emotional sensitivity, they are just as protective of their loved ones.

🌕Leo Moons- Within this moon sign holds a fountain overflowing with creativity and artistic expression. It isn't uncommon for these natives to create a masterpiece after experiencing some kind of loss or a great success. Leo moons may have a playlist curated for every mood and every chapter in their life. It is important that shine in at least one area of their life (This may be determined by where the moon falls in the houses or where the sun falls in the houses), this may not be as loud as a leo sun but it is possible that you will hear the lion's roar if their emotional needs aren't met. They are extremely loyal to their family, possibly to a fault, whether being biological family or chosen family. They are very prideful in their feelings and may struggle to validate the emotional experiences of others, feeling that their experience holds more validity than the experience of someone else's. Most Leo moons have a special talent that the receive recognition for, which often ties into their creative abilities but not always. They are very kind, warm and generous with their emotions and in connecting with others. Those who stay true to the Leo moon will certainly be rewarded.

🌖Virgo Moons-Practical and intelligent, the virgo moon always knows how to improve a situation. They can take a mental approach to their internal struggles, analyzing the hearts desires and searching for the perfect outcome. They can try to fix their emotions rather than sitting with them and feeling out their problems. As with their loved ones, it can be hard to leave their emotional difficulties as they are. Virgo moons can have a very critical mind, and if they fix too hard on their emotions it can manifest in the physical body. They are prone to worry and stress so having an organized routine may help them relax. Having pets at home or plants to take care of can soothe their need to take care of something, more often than not if they aren't taking care of something it can bleed into their relationships. Virgo moons often have an ear for music and prefer music that have "correct" harmonies and good rhythm. Often times their love for others is expressed through acts of service, but they are known to be too critical at times. If a Virgo is not intune with their own emotions, when others or themselves express emotions they can feel uncomfortable or icky. It is important for them not to judge emotions; virgo placements judge themself harder than they judge anyone else.

🌗Libra Moon- Partnership is very important to these people, often times if they don't have a best friend or romantic relationship they can feel less than satisfied. It's common for these natives to learn about themselves emotionally through their connections with others. There is a emphasis on fairness and balance in one's emotional life. That being said, when there is conflict between others, the native can be emotionally avoidant, passive aggressive, and engage in people pleasing activities. It is very important to have a win win outcome, these are not people who care for winning an argument. Libra moons are the most secure when they are surrounded by love, peace. and harmony. Compromise is a talent you can bring to your partnerships at work, family, and personal relationships. It is easy for this moon sign to see the good in others, although they may struggle with uglier emotions that exist within themselves. It can be difficult for them to express when their boundaries have been violated, at least earlier in life. Overtime Libra moons will learn how to lean into their mediating abilities and before they know it this becomes one of their biggest strengths.

🌘Scorpio Moon-This moon sign is deep, mysterious and alluring. Scorpio moons have a instinctive understanding of psychology and at their best can be great healers. Their emotions are powerful and at some point in their life have to learn how to gain control over their extreme emotions. The moon is uncomfortable in the sign of Scorpio and is considered in "fall". Scorpio is a very black and white sign, so wherever you find scorpio in a natal chart can show where there can be extreme polarities. With the moon in the sign of Scorpio, the native can be be all or nothing in terms of their emotions. They can be the most connected, loyal, trustworthy person in your life; however, if you betray them there is no going back. Scorpio moons will never forget what you have done to them, good or bad. Forgiveness is possible and encouraged, but they will always remember the knives in their back. They are great at finding out the truth as well, this placement is powerfully psychic and intuitive. It is near impossible to lie to them and if they find out someone is, it is hard to give a second chance. A healthy Scorpio moon can be the sweetest, kindest, purest person ever. An unhealthy Scorpio moon? A weapon of self destruction, fearlessness, emotional manipulation, and at worst abusive.

🌑Sagittarius Moon- Optimistic, jovial, and emotionally independent, the Sag moon is always down for an adventure! These natives are goofballs and know how to turn that frown upside down! 🤡 Going for a drive, escaping somewhere new can really help soothe their emotional upsets. No matter how down these people may be, they are always up to have some fun! They aren't the best with sitting with their emotions or sitting with their loved ones emotions. They often search for the philosophical interpretation of what's going on in the their inner world. It can be hard for them to emotionally commit in their relationships, and those close to them should know that Sag moons benefit from a go with the flow mentality. They love to connect with people of all different kinds of backgrounds and ethnicities. Through their emotional experiences they often create their own philosophy life and where their place is in the world. These guys are generally good humored, spontaneous and down to hang if their available. They often move many times in their life and might find it is hard for them to settle down. Exercising their freedom is extremely important to them and they are likely to suffer if anyone is trying or succeeding in controlling them.

🌒Capricorn Moon- Hardworking, persistent and patient, Capricorn moons are known for their mature and serious reputation. This moon sign is considered in detriment in the sign of Capricorn, meaning the moon's energy is not the most comfortably expressed here. This moon sign is quite restrictive when expressing their emotions and might feel as though they must be the strong one for others, leaving little room for themselves. It is possible that these natives restrict their emotions to protect themselves or may feel that it's not practical to show how they feel. While they may have a huge heart, Capricorn moons are slow to show their authentic emotions. Even then they aren't big on showing their emotions to those they care about the most. Their actions often make up for their lack of romantic affection. The type to provide for you rather than outright say that they love you. They are dependable and reliable, so if you need anything at all a Capricorn moon will be the first to show up. They are often humble in their gratitude and affection, prefering to keep their charitable acts private. Although this moon sign is considered out of place, there is a lot to be admired and appreciated about he way they show their feelings.

🌓Aquarius Moon- This moon sign is known for its unique interests, superior intelligence, and quirky personality. Aquarius moons can be a little more detached from their emotions than the other moon signs, but they have a big heart for their community and personal relationships. These natives can feel like the black sheep of their family, which ultimately makes them an independent thinker and personality. Often times they make their own family with others who have the same values and beliefs as they do- Although they enjoy a healthy debate now and then. Aquarius moons are humanitarians at heart and want to make the world a better place. It can be difficult for them to honor you or your opinion if it doesn't benefit the world at large. These individuals are often skilled in science, technology and engineering. Their emotions can be erratic and unpredictable even to them, which can make them feel like they are no posterface for sanity. They can feel alone in the world and misunderstood which is why it's so important for them to have a bigger purpose or community to be apart of, they are the happiest when serving the community at large.

🌔Pisces Moon- These natives are the masters of compassion and unconditional love. Their empathy is powerful and their intuition is strong, a lot of these natives have clairvoyant or clairsentient abilities. Although this moon sign is the emotional embodiment of compassionate care, their own feelings can be cloudy, confusing and disorienting. They may struggle with their sense of self and pick up feelings that didn't belong to them to begin with. There can be a tendency towards emotional escapism, which can manifest as addiction, codependency, daydreaming, ect. Because of their are emotional sponges, they often pick up, not only on the good feelings of others but also some darker energy. This can be very difficult to cope with due to their caring and selfless nature. They can become self sacrificing for those they care about, which is very beautiful when you think about it, although it is best not to give with the expectation of something in return- even if it is as pure as love. This can lead to resentment and emotional manipulation that they might not even be aware of. It is important to be grounded in matters of the heart because of Pisces moon sensitivity. They benefit from a "collective consciousness' attitude and are at their best when they give from a place of wanted to give.

𐦍⋆𝑀𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒𝓈⋆𐦍

🌙 Moon In First~ A sweet, caring and protective personality, this moon placement is known for wearing their heart on their sleeve. They often make strangers feel comfortable upon their first meeting because of their comforting energy. They may show a strong resemblance to their mother, although that is not always present. Many of them have a familiar quality and remind others of a loved one- if not it’s common to feel like you’ve met them before. They are excellent at making others feel like home, although it is important for them to learn how to feel at home within themselves. This may be a constant theme in their lives. You can rely on them to express their emotions authentically however it may be that they are more passive aggressive than assertive. Moon in the first natives are very connected to their emotional nature and their sensitivity plays a big role in their life. They are highly sentimental and if you are in the circle of loved ones they hold you very close to their heart. In their childhood, they could have assumed the role of caregiver for a parent or siblings at an early age. Many of them have super soft skin, have a crescent-to full moon face shape, and sparkly eyes. Depending on the sign the moon is can show if they are more introverted and closed off or more welcoming and outgoing.

🪼 Moon In Second~ With the moon in the second house of self worth, finances and material possessions- This can manifest as a need for financial stability and security. That being said the moon is a constantly changing planet, so self worth and material gains can be kind of an emotional rollercoaster or just a sensitive topic for the moon in second natives. This individual can have a hard time breaking away from the family financially or have some kind of influence of their personal relationship with their finances and self worth. They can have possession of family heirlooms, buy their childhood home, or spend a good portion of money on matters related to the home or loved ones. Depending on their financial situation can determine their emotional stability. When distraught they can indulged in retail therapy, stress eating, or just a fat nap 😴 They are extremely generous when they have everything under control, gift giving or providing for others may be how they show their feelings for others. It makes them feel safe as well when their loved ones are willing to show them the same generosity. They can be very loyal to their creature comforts and may have fears surrounding change.

🕸️ Moon In Third~ This moon placement can be a reserved talker, a good listener and possess a sensitive mind. They are often emotionally intelligent and have an adequate understanding of basic psychology- at minimum. Siblings can hold a soft spot in heart and may live with them from time to time. Some of them may live in their car, RV, bus or live an on the road lifestyle. The more feminine parent could treat them as a friend, an equal, or have a more childlike relationship with them. On a more negative note, that parent can behave very immaturely and not be present in the native’s life. Moon in the Third can be close with their childhood friends and hold relationships all the way from grade school. These people may benefit from learning about their emotions to help obtain peace. They can find comfort in their interests, hobbies and talents; This can serve as form of meditation for them. It helps them to have a loved one they can talk to about their stresses, if not it may cause them anxiety and restlessness. They can have an empathetic communication style that can change depending on the moon sign and the people they are around. Good secret keepers, although they can be emotional gossipers.

🏠 Moon In Fourth~ Home is where their heart is! These people look for comfort in their family relations or creating a family that they never had. These people can have a prominent relationship with their mother or mother figure, where they are like best friends in the adult years. They are sensitive to their loved one’s emotional needs and opinions of them. They are excellent host and probably don’t go out too much. If they are socializing, it has to be somewhere that is safe and comforting for them. They can lean on the introverted side of life, preferring to stay in rather than go out. Doing cozy activities, decorating and tending to their home can bring them emotional satisfaction. They may gain a lot of happiness from being a parent and parenting is most likely second nature to these people. Moon in Fourth natives are generally private with outsiders about matters of the home and their emotions. They have a talent for intuitively picking up the needs of their loved ones, which can make those lucky enough to be in their circle feel very special. Their emotions are meant to be felt with moon in the fourth house and is a great tool these individuals use to navigate themselves, their relationships and the world around them.

💎 Moon In Fifth~ These individuals are loud and proud about their feelings and cares for the world! They are artists that use their feelings to paint a picture, tell a tale, sing a song and so on. Their feelings can be bold and dramatic- they definitely aren’t shy about expressing their concerns or excitements. They have many hobbies, love to have fun and grab the attention of those around them. They are likely to be popular and have many friends because of this quality. It is super important that they express their feelings authentically or they may feel that their light is being dimmed. They may behave recklessly when they are stressed or worried- they have a habit of risk taking or gambling away stability. They can be prideful in their conflicts, refusing to look at the other side of the coin. However, they are extremely loyal to the people and communities they care about. Moon in the fifth may have to be humbled by their loved ones from time to time because they are the main character of their the movie that is their life! Their creativity and imagination is beyond attractive to many, which makes them extremely like able and charming. Others will find them selves loyal to the moon in the fifth, which will more than likely be returned.

🎐 Moon In Sixth~ With the moon falling into the sixth, having a healthy and organized routine is the best way to achieve optimal emotional wellness. This placement may find that they are emotional cleaners and planners. Although they may struggle with keeping a consistent routine, it’s going to be beneficial for them to learn how to keep one. This placement may suffer from anxiety or excessive worry for whatever reason. Often times their moms were very hard on them, worked in healthcare, or had a lot to take care of. These people may find emotional peace and security in taking care of others, plants and animals. Many moon in the sixth natives are close with their coworkers and make a home at the work place. It is possible they have a job where they help others or that their job brings them a level of emotional fulfillment. It is important to note that emotional distress and excessive worry can manifest in the body. Diet is very important as well so be cautious of what food is impacting your moods as well. These people have a tendency to be very critical of their own emotions, so if they aren’t aware this can bleed into their relationships with others. Healthy Exercise and diet can be emotionally healing and supportive.

💫 Moon In Seventh~ These natives find their emotional security and fulfillment in their partnerships. Their spouse will end up helping them a lot with their confidence and become a safe space for the native. Their partner is likely to be very sensitive, empathetic and intuitive to the needs of the moon in seventh individual. The native or their spouse may show care taking qualities in the relationship. The moon in seventh person may be very intuitive and empathetic to others in general. They are the most emotionally sound whenever they have someone to feel their feelings with. They may struggle to express their feelings if they feel that it isn’t “fair” or “just”- which may lead to people pleasing or abandonment of the self. In a partnership their mood can change depending on their partners mood. It is comfortable to have someone to feel and express their emotions with. It is important to learn how to balance their emotional need to be in partnership with a relationship to the self. They will support their partner (and other close relationships) in all matters concerning the heart and encourage emotional vulnerability between each other.

⛈ Moon In Eighth~ This moon placement can have a heavy impact on the natives life. More often than not, the individual will be interested in darker, taboo subjects (crime documentaries, witchcraft, the occult, ect). They are known for their mysterious and deep reputation- I wouldn't be surprised if a majority of the tumblr astrology community have this placement. These natives feel things to their core and because of this may find themselves asking "why?". This is a powerful placement and will certainly be felt by the moon in the eighth individual. These people may find it hard to open up, talk about their feelings, or connect to others. There is usually a moment of suffrage in the natives life that brings about great transformation. These moments of trauma...addict*on...ab*se...ect. are the same things that guide them to spiritual research and taboo subjects. These people look for and find their comfort in the unknown. It is a blessing and a curse for many of them- they can have a very deep connection to life and death, which while beautiful, can be lonely🥺. Spirituality is a great gift and tool(excellent intuition as well), so I advise these people to lean into these abilities.

🐚 Moon In Ninth~ These natives could've grown up moving around quite a bit giving them a go with the flow attitude in regards to their emotions! Their maternal figure can be from a different part of the world, philosophical, well traveled, a teacher, or preachy when it comes to theirs beliefs- heck, they could even be a preacher! The years 19-21 can be a very special time for these people. They can find comfort in travel, freedom and pondering life's existence. These people love new experiences, exploring the unknown, and exercising their freedom muscles. It is important that these people have the ability to live an independent lifestyle, they will not be happy being tied down for too long. Not saying they can't commit- there's just a need for balance. Moon in the ninth are known for their moral compass and certain beliefs they stick too- they are super big on expressing THEIR TRUTH. These individuals cope with uncomfortable emotions with a (hopefully) healthy dose of optimism, humor and warm smile! They make great company on any adventure- just don't expect them to see them tomorrow! The wind is calling them <3

⏳ Moon In Tenth~ This moon placement can give the native a great connection to their purpose (This doesn't have to be work). I see a lot of people with moon in tenth who are stay at home moms! Being a mom is a career y'all, I don't care what they say! They can gain a lot of respect for their nurturing and caring side. The moon is super personal so having it placed in the house of public image can be uncomfortable. They can be known for who they really are. It's possible that they work from home, are apart of a family business, work with your family or their family could've inspired your career in some way. Their place of work can be like home to the native, they can be a nurturing boss, or have a work family. The career can require them to be soft with others, exercise empathy or be nurturing with the people they work with. It is important that they have good boundaries with moon in tenth because the native is known for their emotional sensitivity or timidness. The native is reliable and finds it very important to provide for their loved ones. The type to show their care through actions or silently.

🦚 Moon In Eleventh~ With the moon in the eleventh house, the native can achieve emotional fulfillment by going after their goals and dreams. It is important that they belong to a community or a group of friends- It will bring more comfort to be around like minded people. The native may deal with emotional unrest, unpredictability, and loneliness due to their unique beliefs and mindset. These people are often humanitarians or belong to an organization that helps them express their emotional upsets. There is a need to belong somewhere, so whatever unique interests the individual has should be embraced and accepted so they have an easier time finding their people! Moon in the eleventh can be very innovative, ahead of their time and bring a lot to the table. Just because they are different doesn't mean they are are wrong! These people may find enjoyment in technological advancement, video games, coding, engineering, or anything that is on a progressive movement. These people may find peace in activism as well because it's forward thinking and progressive.

🌌 Moon In Twelfth~ These natives possess a sensitive, dreamy, and spiritual inner world. Many of them are psychic and aware of their impermanence in this lifetime. Moon in twelfth has a hotline straight to source consciousness and a very intimate relationship with the universe. Although this placement comes with many spiritual gifts, it can be a lonely placement for the moon. People can overwhelm the moon in the twelfth native because of their heightened sensitivities. It also can manifest as addict*on struggles because being psychic can be a tough journey. Many people don't understand them or take advantage of their loving nature. Like moon in the eighth house, these people find comfort in the unknown, the afterlife, or the idea of returning to home that isn't physical. For them, home is not something they can can physically obtain, it is somewhere so serene, so beautiful beyond human comprehension. This placement benefits from alone time, good rest, and plenty of vacation. Please make sure that y'all aren't coping with dr*gs, alc*hol, or s*x - this can be an emotionally overwhelming placement so please try to lean into your spirituality if you aren't already <3 Alone time is a must!

🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑

THANKS SO MUCH!!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED

🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑

I love hearing y'alls feedback and constructive criticism so please let me know what y'all think in the comments or via DM <3 I hope all of my followers are doing great, thanks so much for supporting me, this has brought me a lot of emotional fulfillment to express my passion for spirituality and astrology. I hope you can take something away from this post to gain a better sense of understanding of yourself. Thanks again so much, Happy Sag Season Kees Kees, Kya <3

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k9punkout · 1 month ago

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AND IF I SAID THAT ivan's perception of till's determination and hostility was generally wrong and unintentionally undermining of his actual mental instability. IF I SAID THAT this pov rubbed off on the fandom and plays into several till mischaracterizations. WHAT THEN.

okay so hear me out on this one. ivan's acknowledged that he could never quite understand till like he could all the other children. everyone else fell into a sort of pattern, a puzzle that can be solved with a simple analysis and adapted behavior. everyone except till.

till was no solvable puzzle. all the pieces to him were distorted, broken, missing. a living hurricane, a walking contradiction. he was gentle in his violence, quiet in his loudness, complex in his simplicity. ivan could get no true read on him, and that's why he grew so drawn to him.

and while i do believe that till is just an eccentric and unpredictable person at heart, a large part of his chaotic nature is due to his trauma. his rapid and intense mood swings, his aggressive behavior, his easily overwhelmed mind, his fluctuating ego, and many other aspects to him are all signs of abuse related mental instability. ivan saw all of that, witnessed all the abuse and all its side effects, but it never really struck him that holy shit, this guy needs psychological help.

and it's not like that's HIS fault either. Ivan was never really taught how people work, he learned via absorbing how the other children interacted instead (which isn't really efficient, he's no mind reader or anything). i wouldn't be surprised if he had no clue that mental illness even EXISTED; he always referred to himself and sua as simply "twisted" rather than trying to figure out if they could be helped or fixed, or WHY they stood out from the others.

he never even questioned his own hatred for himself. he simply thought it was reasonable, because of course, who wouldn't hate a monster like him? once someone knows who he is deep down, there is no redeeming quality that he can genuinely exhibit to exonerate himself from his rotten, detached mindset. in his mind, he deserves the isolation.

ivan truly sees himself as the worst person in the world, which makes till, by comparison, simply a confusing kid who isn't scared to fight back. ivan thinks till's willpower stems from great mental strength rather than desperation and fear. this would lead him to both misinterpret till's actions and overestimate his mental strength, all while underestimating how rapidly his sanity is withering.

this is shown quite a few times around the series. in "Confession," he refers to till as the "victim of his shallow emotions," demonizing himself and painting till as his victim. as if till could do no harm. as if till was the ONLY victim here. (i can't stop thinking about how much till would've hated that word. victim.)

in a slightly more elaborate retranslation of Cure that someone on this app did (i tried to find it but i sadly couldn't), the word "scars" ("even if your cruel words carve scars beneath my eyes") was said to be better translated into "scratches." a flesh wound. nothing debilitating, nothing severe, just painful for a while, and then gone. insignificant. the harm he inflicts is insignificant compared to everything else that he is.

i'll stick around, i'll stay, because the bruises we leave on each other are nothing compared to the spark he ignites within me.

till punches and kicks and screams and snarls, and to ivan, it's no problem, just something that makes him unique. he'd do anything to see him fight. so what if he gets caught in the crossfire? so what if he's killed while he's at it? it's all worth it. till could just continue on without him, it'd be so easy. he's strong, he never cared for him all that much anyway.

till is unpredictable, till is unique. it's just the way things work. nothing about it needs to be changed. the destruction he causes to himself and to others doesn't need to be fixed, it's already perfect. he's perfect, in all his imperfections.

THATS where the toxicity lies in ivantill. not because ivan is totally possessive and wants till to belong to him and only him or whatever some of the fandom says. but because ivan so obsessed with till that he'll die for him while calling him his victim. that he'll acknowledge till's hostile behavior and his quickness to rage and violence and consider it something to be loved rather than concerned about or feared. he'll hone in on his own flaws, never acknowledging till's, never seeing how they're destroying EACH OTHER, and exclusively focusing on the harm that HE'S done to till.

it's why ivan was always bothering him. he wanted to see him lose his temper, wanted him to fight and struggle. (more often than not, this was a good thing, as it often happened whenever till was sad/out of it, but just because something's beneficial in the moment doesn't mean it makes for a healthy relationship).

of course, none of this means that ivan DIDNT want till to be happy. he wouldn't have tried to escape with him if that was the case. he liked seeing till angry, but not any more than he hated seeing till miserable. despite not quite understanding him, he still wanted the best for that boy.

i think ivans warped perspective affected the way many people characterize till. a lot of people treat him as a more gentle person than he is in canon, and while it's true that he's mentally weak, he'd never cower in the face of someone stronger than him, like many people seem to think. he's vulnerable in the explosive and reactive sense, not in the powerless and delicate sense.

so far, we've gotten so much of ivans perspective of till that people seem to forget that he literally committed a murder in round 2. and he looked REALLY happy abt that shit. my mans freddy was a father of two and till did NOT care. not to mention that he didn't even spare acorn a GLANCE the entire round.

idk man the guy's a lil cuckoo loca we might need to remember that

#is this a hot take guys #please tell me you see my vision bcs that was #so incoherent #yapping #again #GOD the ivantill dynamic always makes me SICKKKKKK #SO SICKKKK #alien stage #alnst #ivantill #alnst ivan #ivan alien stage #till alien stage #till alnst #tillvan

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mythicalmisery · 2 months ago

Text

Olympic Hockey AU: GhostxSoap

Ghost glared at the end of the table from which the obnoxious laughter was emanating. It had been a long week and a half; battling jet lag and enduring the light, but rigid, training schedule imposed on him and his team. The company was just the cherry on top.

There, resting his foot on the bench at the end of the table was one John “Soap” MacTavish - the pain in Ghost’s ass for the past four years.

Ghost and Soap had what would be considered a rivalry on a good day. On the bad days, it was a miracle they hadn’t killed each other yet. Their so-called feud wasn’t exactly a secret either, judging by the swarm of press and the number of articles published about them playing on the same team this Olympics.

Ghost, a formidable center, and the Scot, a relentless defenseman, had clashed repeatedly during their careers. Ghost had lost count of how many times they’d dropped gloves over the years, their altercations often leading to multiple trips to the penalty box and a scolding from their coaches like the children they were.

Ghost wouldn’t deny it, he acted without any sense when it came to the shorter man. One look at that stupid fucking mohawk and he was seconds away from putting his face through the ice. And to make things better, the other man knew it. Soap would never shut up, always running that mouth until Ghost finally snapped and saw red. It was never a matter of if, only when.

When Ghost had first heard that Soap would be joining the team, he nearly turned down the offer. But the news that John Price would be head coach had changed his mind. His regular season coach had a way of calming the storm, putting him in his place when he was one snarky comment away from ripping the Scot’s head off. If Price was here, he could find a way to manage somehow. He wasn’t going to let that bastard ruin this opportunity for him.

It was a miracle they somehow managed to get through the preliminaries and quarterfinals without a murder charge. The knockout stage was coming to an end with the semifinals tomorrow meaning they either lose and get a shot at bronze, or win and get to advance to the finals.

The only way he had made it this far was due to him avoiding Soap like the plague for his own mental sanity. Price had paired Ghost with his regular season teammate Roach to room with, providing somewhat of a semblance of normalcy. Roach was Ghost’s goalie and one of three selected for the Olympic team this year. It helped knowing he had someone in his corner while playing with a bunch of men who were typically his opponents.

Ghost spent most of his time in the gym or his room, venturing out only to get food. Soap had surprisingly managed to leave him be off the ice, likely because Price had threatened to tear him a new one if he and Ghost couldn’t keep it together. That was until he decided to interrupt his once peaceful dinner.

The sound of Soap’s laughter echoed through the cafeteria, grating on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. He was standing around a few of their teammates and that one snowboarder Garrick who always followed him around.

As Ghost’s glare intensified, he felt Roach’s elbow nudge him in the ribs.

“Ignore him,” Roach muttered, not even looking up from his meal. “He’s not worth it, so stop getting your panties in a twist and eat your dinner.”

Ghost grunted in response, tearing his gaze away from Soap and focusing on his own plate. God, he was infuriating. He may have been able to give credit where it was due, but that didn’t stop him from always showboating and bragging. Ghost thanked the heavens above that they were in different draft years, he wouldn’t have been able to handle it if Soap had been number one instead. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Yeah well, tell him to shut the fuck up. Some people are trying to enjoy their meal,” he grumbled out before taking another bite. It was a shock the fork didn’t break with how tight his jaw was clenched.

With a sudden burst of laughter that had both men’s attention drifting back to the opposite end of the table, Ghost watched as Soap and the Garrick guy portrayed some lewd acts much to everyone’s delight but his own. That’s it. He wasn’t going to sit around for this.

Roach rolled his eyes as Ghost stood up and gathered his tray, waving off his comment that he’d see him back in their room later tonight. He needed to blow off some steam so he headed straight to the gym reserved for the hockey players.

Ghost pushed through the doors, basking in the fading sounds of clinking utensils and hum of conversation the further he walked. Further away from him.

Price may have been clear: they needed to work together if they were going to bring home the gold. But the task seemed impossible when the person you were supposed to rely on was the same one who had spent years making your professional life miserable.

Ghost pushed through his workout, the rhythmic sound of his feet pounding against the treadmill a steady, grounding force. The gym was practically empty, just how he liked it. He only planned on doing some light cardio, not wanting to get sore before the game tomorrow.

It hadn’t been thirty minutes before the door clicked open, breaking the solitude. Ghost didn’t bother looking up at first, hoping whoever it was would take the hint and leave him be. But when the sound of footsteps grew closer, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. He quickly glanced toward the door, his heart sinking in the process.

Of course.

It had to be Soap.

The Scot strolled in, a grin already plastered across his face. That cocky, infuriating grin that Ghost knew all too well. Soap’s eyes scanned the room, lighting up as they locked onto Ghost. Fuck. He made a beeline for the treadmill next to Ghost, his every step oozing with that infuriating confidence despite the death glare Ghost was sending his way.

Ghost’s hands tightened around the treadmill handles, his knuckles turning white as Soap approached. The silent dare hung in the air between them as Ghost took a drink from his water bottle, waiting for the Scot to say something. So much for getting away from him.

“Fancy seein’ ye here, Simon,” Soap drawled, his voice thick with amusement as he stopped beside Ghost’s treadmill, casually leaning against it like they were old friends.

Ghost clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep running, his eyes fixed straight ahead. “Mactavish.”

Soap’s grin widened at the curt reply. “What, no witty comeback? Don’t tell me I’ve finally worn ye out.”

Ghost didn’t respond, his breath coming in controlled, even bursts. Every word out of Soap’s mouth made his muscles twitch with the urge to throw a punch in that stupidly perfect smile, but he kept himself in check. Price’s warnings echoed his mind, he couldn’t afford any slip-ups no matter how much the other man taunted him.

But Soap was relentless. “Ye know, I was thinkin’… maybe we should work out together. Team bonding, yeah? I promise I won’t make ye look too bad.”

Ghost finally turned his head at that, fixing Soap with a glare that could cut through steel. “I’m not interested. Now fuck off, MacTavish.”

Soap raised his hands in mock surrender, but the playful spark in his eyes never dimmed. “Suit yourself. Just try not to break the treadmill, yeah? Don’t want ye too knackered for the game tomorrow.”

Ghost bit back a retort, instead focusing on the numbers ticking up on the treadmill’s display. Each step felt heavier than the last, the proximity of Soap throwing off his concentration.

Soap lingered a moment longer, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing, before finally backing off. He moved to the weights, still within Ghost’s line of sight, his movements casual and unhurried.

Ghost focused on his workout, trying to drown out the sound of Soap’s presence with the steady rhythm of his breathing and the clanking of weights. But the blessed silence between them was short-lived.

“So, what’s got ye in such a hurry?” Soap asked, breaking the quiet as he worked through a set of curls. His tone was casual, but Ghost could hear the genuine curiosity beneath it. “Ye bolted out of the cafeteria like yer arse was on fire.”

Ghost didn’t look over, keep his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. He almost ignored him, desperate to just finish his workout but he knew the man wouldn’t relent. The silent treatment never worked on Soap.

“Didn’t feel like sitting around and watching you and that Garrick guy dry hump each other while I ate,” he replied coolly, the words slipping out with a hint of irritation.

Soap’s laughter was instant, a loud, unabashed sound that filled the gym. He set the weights down and leaned against the rack, his grin wide as ever. “Didn’t know ye were such a prude, Ghostie.”

Ghost finally turned his head, leveling Soap with a deadpan stare. “I’m not. It’s just seeing you in those situations that makes me lose my appetite.”

Soap chuckled, clearly amused by the retort. “Ye wound me Ghostie,” he stated with hands mockingly clasped to his chest. “Well, I can’t say I blame ye for that. But come on, yer actin’ like you’ve never seen a bit of friendly banter before.”

Ghost shook his head, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “There’s a difference between banter and whatever the hell that was.”

Soap shrugged, still smiling. “Maybe, but at least ye got a free show out of it. Guess ye owe me one for that?”

Ghost let out a huff, slowing down the treadmill as he prepared to end his run. “The only thing I owe ya is a punch to the face if ya don’t leave me the fuck alone.”

Soap raised an eyebrow, that playful glint still in his eyes. “Now, now, no need to get violent, Simon. We’re on the same team, remember?”

Ghost stepped off the treadmill, grabbing a towel to wipe down his face. “I’m trying to forget.”

“Good luck with that, Ghostie,” Soap called out to him, a hint of laughter still in his voice despite being threatened. Everything was always a joke to him.

Ghost was fucking sick of it.

Tomorrow’s game was too important. They needed everyone on the ice, not stuck in the penalty box because Soap couldn’t keep his mouth shut or resist starting something.

Without a word, Ghost walked over to the bench, standing over Soap as he began his reps. Soap’s eyes flicked up at him, curiosity and a hint of unease crossing his face as Ghost loomed above him.

“Don’t be a shithead tomorrow,” Ghost said flatly, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t ruin it for everyone else. The team needs you on the ice, not the penalty box.”

Soap hesitated for a moment, mid-rep, before managing a smile, though Ghost could see the flicker of nervousness in his eyes. “Was that a compliment, Simon?”

Ghost didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned down, his hands pressing against the bar, adding just enough pressure to make Soap’s muscles strain under the added weight. The bar dipped closer to Soap’s chest, and Ghost watched as the smirk faded slightly from Soap’s face.

“Like when people call ye a good boy, Johnny?” Ghost murmured, the words slipping out before he even had time to think them through.

The effect was immediate. Soap’s eyes widened in shock, his grip faltering slightly on the bar. For a split second, the ever-confident John MacTavish was at a loss for words.

Satisfied, Ghost released the bar, stepping back as Soap quickly pushed it up and racked it, his breaths coming faster than before. Ghost didn’t bother sticking around to see the aftermath. He was tired, worn out from the day and from dealing with Soap’s antics. All he wanted was to get some rest and be ready for the game tomorrow.

As Ghost walked away, he could feel Soap’s eyes burning into his back, the shock still palpable in the air. But Ghost didn’t care. He had said what needed to be said, and for once, he felt like he had the upper hand.

And that was enough.

— — —

The locker room was a cacophony of noise and energy, the air thick with the scent of sweat they were all nose blind to. Ghost leaned against the cool metal of his temporary locker, it felt good against his heated skin. He let the noise wash over him as he unlaced and peeled off his skates. The team had pulled off a win by the skin of their teeth, clinching the game 3-2 with a last-minute goal that had the entire bench erupting in cheers. Ghost could still feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins despite his exhausted body.

He was stripped down to his black base layers now, the tight fabric clinging to his sweaty body. The material felt almost suffocating, but he didn’t mind. It was a familiar sensation after a game like that, a strange way of reminding him of the effort he had put in. He could already feel a nasty bruise forming on his side from one particularly rough slam against the glass during the second period.

As Ghost scanned the room, his gaze landed on Soap’s cubby station across the way. He was standing in front of two seated players, shirtless except for his compression leggings, his body still glistening with sweat. He was in his element, laughing and joking around with that arrogant attitude that only seemed to be enhanced by the recent win. Ghost mentally prepared himself before strolling over there. The other player’s attention suddenly shifted towards him as he stepped up behind the Scot, giving way to his presence.

Soap turned around, his smile faltering slightly as he found himself face-to-face with Ghost. But the cockiness quickly returned, his smile growing as he straightened up, meeting Ghost’s gaze as head-on as he could manage.

“What’s this, Ghostie? Come to congratulate me?” Soap’s tone was light and flippant.

Ghost crossed his arms, his expression impassive as he stared down at the man. “Ya played well out there,” he conceded, the words grudging but sincere. It wasn’t easy for Ghost to offer praise, especially to an asshole like Soap, but he couldn’t deny that the man had held his own in the game and given them the last-minute goal they needed.

Soap’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin. “Aye, I did, didn’t I? Didn’t know you were such a fan of my work.” His eyes gleamed with a teasing edge that Ghost had become familiar with. God, he regretted this already.

Ghost narrowed his eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. “Let’s not get too carried away MacTavish,” he warned. “Ya still racked up two penalties. Could’ve cost us the game if ya weren’t careful”

“Minor infractions,” Soap shot back, leaning in just a little closer, his voice dropping an octave. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Still two more than we needed,” Ghost countered, his tone sharp. “Don’t get all cocky now.”

“Why are ye on my case, Simon?” Soap questioned. “Ye should worry about yerself. Not my fault ye can’t keep yer eyes off me when I’m on the ice. It’s normal to wanna watch the best.”

There was a beat of silence, the locker room’s noise fading into the background as Ghost locked eyes with Soap. Both men were always on alert around the other, always waiting for the inevitable fight to begin. But before he could figure out what to say, Soap chuckled, breaking the tension.

Ghost felt that familiar flicker of heat creep up the back of his neck, but he forced himself to stay cool. “Keep dreaming, MacTavish,” he muttered, turning to grab his towel.

Soap’s laughter trailed after him as they headed to the communal showers, but it wasn’t his usual cocky, grating sound. There was something lighter in it, almost playful. Ghost tried to shake off the unsettling feeling in his gut. He could handle the annoying, antagonistic, egotistical Soap—that was familiar territory. But this version of Soap? This was something new, and Ghost didn’t like it. He didn’t like friendly Soap, being friends with Soap.

The steam filled the shower area, the hot water soothing Ghost’s sore muscles. He deliberately chose a spot near the wall, hoping for some space, but of course, Soap took the one right next to him. Ghost said nothing, too tired to start an argument.

Yet, as they showered, the tension between them from earlier lingered, and it wasn’t the usual animosity Ghost was accustomed to. It was different, and that unfamiliarity was starting to piss him off so he did what he always did and tried to ignore the other man.

It didn’t help when his eyes unconsciously glanced over as he turned around, just for a second, catching a glimpse of the water sliding over Soap’s sculpted body. He quickly looked away, telling himself that it was nothing more than a casual look. It was far from the first time he had seen a naked teammate and wouldn’t be his last. While Ghost was in his own head, trying desperately to act nonchalant he didn’t even realize that Soap had been subtly glancing his way as well.

“Simon, hurry the hell up!” Roach’s voice cut through the sound of the heavy streams, jolting Ghost out of his thoughts. He turned to see Roach standing by the entrance to the showers, towel slung over his shoulder, looking impatient. “Let’s go get food before all the good stuff’s gone.”

Ghost finished rinsing off and turned off the water, grabbing his towel. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he muttered. Neither man said a word as Ghost padded his way out of the showers.

As they made their way into the cafeteria, the locker room’s atmosphere had clearly transferred to the dining area. The guys were still riding the high from their win, their voices loud and boisterous as they rehashed the game and talked strategies for the final.

Ghost and Roach found a quiet table toward the back, both of them content to sit and eat in relative peace. Or at least, that was the plan.

They’d barely started eating when Soap appeared, dragging Kyle Garrick along with him. Without asking, he plopped down across from Ghost, flashing him that stupid, smug grin.

“Mind if we join ye?”

Ghost glanced up, a faint frown pulling at his lips. The fucker wouldn’t leave him alone. “You’re already sitting, aren’t ya?”

“Couldn’t stay away from ye, Ghostie,” Soap teased, winking in a way that had Ghost’s grip on his fork tightening slightly.

Roach rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, digging into his food with a resigned sigh as he already knew how this was gonna end. Gaz, on the other hand, seemed to find the whole situation amusing, shooting Soap a grin as they all settled into a tense silence.

It didn’t last long.

“So, Simon,” Soap started, leaning forward on his elbows, “Ye ever think about what ye’ll do when we win the gold? Bet ye’ll be all stoic and shit, trying not to smile like always.”

Ghost shot him a sidelong glance. “Ya think we’re guaranteed to win, huh? Thought I told ya not to get cocky.”

Soap’s smile only widened. “Just confident, mate. There’s a difference.”

Gaz chuckled, but before Ghost could respond, Soap’s attention shifted. He turned to his friend, the grin on his face taking on a different quality—one that Ghost could only describe as flirtatious. “Ye guys should really watch Gaz’s half-pipe run from earlier today. Silver in the bag, it was bloody impressive.”

Roach congratulated Gaz while Ghost continued eating his food. He was being a petty asshole right now but he didn’t really care.

“Must feel good,” Soap continued, leaning closer to Gaz, “knowing you’ve got a medal hanging around yer neck. Hell, maybe I’ll switch sports, see if I can give ye a run for yer money.”

Gaz laughed at that, shaking his head. “Stick to hockey, mate. Don’t think you’ve got the balance for the half-pipe.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Soap said teasingly. “I’ve got pretty good balance for my size.”

Ghost’s chest tightened inexplicably, an odd discomfort settling in his stomach as Soap continued to flirt with Gaz. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why it bothered him, but the longer it went on, the more irritated he felt. He focused on his food, trying to drown out whatever the hell was happening right in front of him.

“Oh I’m sure your size helps ya out in a lot of things,” Gaz responded.

That’s it. Ghost finally pushed his plate away, the food suddenly unappetizing. “I’m tired,” he muttered, standing up. “I’m gonna head back to the room,” he said, aimed towards Roach.

Soap’s teasing expression faltered, confusion flickering in his eyes as he watched Ghost leave. “What’s his problem?” Soap asked, trying to sound indifferent, but there was an edge to his voice that gave him away.

Roach shrugged, completely over their shit. “It’s been a long day, he needs his beauty sleep.”

But Soap wasn’t convinced. Something was off. Was he that upset he sat down at his table, or that he brought Gaz over to the table with him? He wasn’t even trying to piss the man off this time so what the fuck had made him so angry?

— — —

Ghost was seething. His rage boiled over as he stormed his way back to the locker room for the final intermission. His eyes locked onto Soap, not thinking twice before shoving his way through the crowded hallway. He ignored the shouts of the other men, grabbing Soap by the back of his jersey and slamming him against the wall in one swift motion.

The impact had Soap wincing, even through all his padding. The bloody nose he received earlier in the game still dripped down his face despite the haphazard tape trying to keep it under control. Another player had high-sticked him which set Soap spiraling the rest of the period.

“Ya fuckin’ idiot!” Ghost hissed out.

Soap tried to pull away, but Ghost wasn’t having it. “Ya let them get under your skin and play ya like a fuckin’ fiddle MacTavish!” Ghost’s grip tightened as he cursed out.

Soap, true to form, deflected with his usual attitude, shrugging off Ghost’s words. “What’s yer problem, Simon? I was just —’’

“Just being a fuckin’ liability!” Ghost’s voice rose, his grip on Soap’s jersey tightening. “Ya let them get to ya! They taunted ya, and ya snapped! Then your team paid for it. This isn’t the fuckin’ Soap show, be a team player!”

Soap’s eyes narrowed, that cocky defiance flickering in his gaze turning into his own shade of anger at Ghost’s words. “Team player? That’s rich coming from ye. Where the fuck were ye when I was gettin’ slammed over and over!”

“You’re lucky it wasn’t me slamming ya!” Ghost shouted back in frustration.

Before Soap could retort to that, Price and Roach rushed over, shoving themselves between the two men.

“Enough!” Price barked, his tone brooking no argument. “Both of ya, cool it!”

Ghost released Soap with a final shove, his hands trembling with barely suppressed fury. He stalked over to his spot in the locker room, trying to regain some semblance of control. The game was tied 3-3, and the tension was palpable as they had been neck and neck the entire time. Ghost couldn’t believe how reckless Soap had been, letting the other team’s attempts get under his skin.

While Ghost had been grinding his teeth through the mumbled shit-talking during face-offs, Soap had let his emotions explode on the ice, spending the last five minutes of the period in the penalty box for a major infraction. He was one overzealous body check away from getting pulled from the game entirely. The rest of the team had been forced to scramble, covering for him, only to have the other team score a last-minute goal.

Ghost had seen red since then, his mind a whirlwind of anger and utter confusion. Soap was obnoxious, a showoff sure, but he wasn’t stupid. He was a damn good defenseman, and wouldn’t have made the Olympic team if otherwise. So why the hell was he acting so irrational and childish during the biggest game of his life? He’d be lucky if Price even let him back out on the ice for the final period.

The locker room was filled with a tense silence, thick enough to cut with a knife. Price stood in the center, his expression dark as he fixed both Ghost and Soap with a glare that could make a lesser man crumble.

“What the hell was that out there?” Price's voice was low but filled with controlled fury.

“Ya think this is some backyard brawl?” he continued. “We’re here to win a gold medal, not indulge in petty vendettas!”

“Who do ya think scored the leading goal out there? It’s not my fault they keep targeting me!” Soap interrupted.

“Boy, you better sit down and keep that mouth of yours closed,” Price warned.

Ghost sat on the bench, his head bowed, seething quietly as Roach placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. But the rage still simmered beneath the surface, a mix of frustration and guilt gnawing at him. He knew Price was right—this wasn’t the time to lose his cool, but damn it, Soap had been reckless. And now, everything hung by a thread.

“Get your heads out of your arses and back in the game,” Price continued, pacing back and forth. “We’ve got one period left. Ya need to focus, not on each other, but on that puck.”

The rest of the break was spent in silence. Everyone chose to stay quiet as Price went over strategies and the uneasy energy lingered. Ghost did his best to pay attention but he found himself glancing towards Soap every once in a while to make sure he was listening. Thank god the fucker was, otherwise, Ghost would have sacked him right then and there.

As the break ended, the team stood and headed out onto the ice. They were smart enough to give their captain and Soap a wide berth. Ghost felt that tinge of guilt shooting through his body. He never wanted his shit with Soap to get in the way of the other men’s chances. Price didn’t deserve to deal with it either.

The crowd’s roar was a distant hum in Ghost’s ears, his focus narrowing on trying to not spiral. The final period kicked off as the puck hit the ice, and Ghost couldn’t help but keep an eye on Soap throughout. They both hated each other with everything they had, but something shifted as the game went on.

Ghost noticed that the Scot was actually trying his damnedest to stay cool under the constant attacks. Despite repeated body checks that had him slamming against the glass, Soap didn’t lash out. He gritted his teeth and shook it off, ignoring the taunts thrown his way.

Something in Ghost cracked at that sight. Soap was trying—really trying—not to let his emotions get the better of him. And for some reason that he couldn’t fathom, it had Ghost angry for him instead of at him.

During the next face-off, Ghost locked eyes with the one player who had been gunning for Soap all game. Magnussen. He’d recognized the man early on, recalling that he and Soap had once played on the same team a few years ago. Whatever had happened between them was now being laid out on the ice and it was pissing Ghost off. The moment the puck dropped, Ghost charged forward, slamming the guy to the ice with a force that rattled through his own bones.

Soap’s stunned expression was just a flash in Ghost’s peripheral vision before he went right back to the game, pretending like nothing happened. The minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow, and the score remained tied. Roach was a force to be reckoned with, holding the line with a ferocity that had the entire team and crowd rallying behind him. Despite his efforts, Ghost knew his friend. He was getting tired and they needed this to end soon because he wasn’t going to last much longer at this level.

The buzzer finally blared, signaling the end of the regulation period.

Fuck.

The sound echoed through the arena, the only thing Ghost could hear as he skated to the bench. Overtime. This was it. Everything came down to the next twenty minutes or until whoever scored first.

Price was quick to make his decision. “Ghost, Soap, Brady - you’re up.”

Ghost hesitated, just for a moment, before nodding. It was the right choice on Price’s end, the three of them had been the main scorers for the past week. As Soap skated over to him, his expression was uncharacteristically serious, all traces of his usual attitude gone. It had warning bells going off in Ghost’s head.

“Truce?” Soap asked quietly, extending his forearm out in front of him. He almost had a meekness about him that had Ghost trying to suppress a grin.

Of all the things he was expecting the man to say, that was not one of them. Ghost stared at it for a moment before raising his own forearm and tapping it against Soap’s. “Truce.”

They took their positions, and from the moment the puck dropped, it was a brutal battle. Neither trio let up, both were determined to leave it all on the ice. The clock ticked down and unlike the previous period, it seemed to fly by. Ghost and Soap moved in sync, pushing each other to the limit, feeding off each other's energy. They played like men possessed.

But the tension spiked again when Magnussen - who had high-sticked Soap earlier - skated past, whispering insults right in Soap’s ear, ensuring the referees wouldn’t hear. Ghost caught the look in Soap’s eyes, saw the struggle to keep it together, to not snap.

Something swelled in Ghost’s chest—anger, determination, maybe something else he didn’t want to name.

Two minutes remaining.

As he gained control of the puck, he faked a charge at the goalie, drawing the defense toward him. In that split second, he saw Soap skating up beside him, in perfect position. Without hesitation, Ghost passed the puck.

One minute remaining.

Soap didn’t miss a beat. He took the shot, the puck slyly slipping through the goalie’s legs and into the net.

For a moment, the world went silent. All Ghost could hear was the sound of the puck hitting the net, echoing through the rush of blood in his ears.

They won. They won the fucking gold medal.

The arena exploded in cheers, the sound finally breaking through to Ghost as he turned to face Soap. Their eyes met, and for the first time, there was no animosity between them, just pure, unfiltered elation.

— — —

The day of the medal ceremony had passed in a whirlwind of celebration and chaos. Ghost had gone through the motions—smiling for the cameras, shaking hands, and enduring the endless rounds of interviews and press events. He even managed a genuine smile or two, knowing his brother and family were watching back home, proud of what he’d accomplished. Soap’s energy and peacocking made up for his lack of excitement anyway. But as the adrenaline wore off and the exhaustion set in, all Ghost wanted was to retreat to his room and disappear for the night.

He had kept his distance from Soap throughout the day, giving the man a wide berth. The last thing he wanted was to ruin the good mood of the team by stirring up their usual shit. They made it through the game without killing each other and even managed to win together, but Ghost wasn’t ready to test how long that truce would actually last.

He managed to sneak away after the last photo call of the day, grabbing a few snacks from the dining hall as his mind was already focused on packing and getting some much-needed sleep. But as he left the cafeteria doors and stepped into the hallway, something made him slow his pace. Leaning against the corner wall a couple of feet away was Soap, arms crossed, his posture tense. In front of him, one arm outstretched, stood Magnussen, boxing him in against the wall. His body language was too close, too invasive. Ghost’s instincts went on high alert, his body bristled as he assessed the situation. Price would skin them alive if they got in a fight with the other athletes in the village.

The conversation between the two didn’t seem overly hostile, but Soap’s expression was unsettling. The blank stare on his face reminded Ghost too much of the look Soap had worn during the game when he’d been trying to keep it together on the ice. Something about it made Ghost’s skin crawl, that tightness in his chest returning.

Ghost couldn’t suppress the slight flinch when he felt hands on his shoulders, turning sharply only to see Roach standing behind him. He hadn’t even heard the man approach while being preoccupied with watching Soap like a total creep.

“Hey, you okay?” Roach asked, a hint of concern in his voice. “We’re grabbing some dinner. You in?”

Ghost shook his head, his gaze drifting back to Soap and Magnussen. “Nah, I’m beat. Think I’ll head up and start packing.”

Roach followed his gaze, his brows furrowing. “What’s Soap doing with that prick?”

Ghost shrugged, though his stomach still churned with unease. “No idea.”

Roach didn’t press further, giving Ghost a nod before heading back toward the cafeteria. Ghost lingered for a few more seconds before he turned and headed back to his room, missing the brief glance Soap shot his way after noticing the man. If he got into it with Magnussen, that was on Soap and didn’t concern Ghost in the slightest.

Nearly twenty minutes had passed with Ghost in his room, folding the last of his clothes into his bag, when a knock echoed through the quiet space. He sighed, setting down the sweatpants he’d been holding. He hadn’t had any visitors all week, so he could only assume it was Roach.

He opened the door with a roll of his eyes. “How the fuck did ya lose your keycard again?”

But it wasn’t Roach standing there. It was Soap, grinning like he hadn’t a care in the world. But Ghost wasn’t impressed. Something ugly and unsettling was bubbling up inside him instead. Soap was acting all causal after just having a conversation with the man who had been trying to put him in the hospital for a week.

Ghost narrowed his eyes, his voice low and edged with something dark. “What do you want?”

“Well, aren’t ye a ray of sunshine tonight,” Soap quipped, leaning casually against the doorframe. “The lads are headin’ out to celebrate, thought I’d invite our resident shut-in to join the fun.”

Ghost’s jaw tightened. “Not interested,” he replied curtly, turning back towards his room.

Soap’s grin faltered, confusion flickering across his face. “Oi, what’s with the attitude? I thought we were good now, or at least better. What’s got ye all pissy?”

Ghost didn’t look back as he continued folding the clothes he had tossed on the bed. “I’m fine.”

Soap wasn’t buying it. He stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. “The fuck ye are. Yer pissed about something. Yer practically vibratin’ with it.”

“Drop it, Soap,” Ghost warned, his voice dangerous.

But Soap, being Soap, couldn’t let it go. He stepped up right next to Ghost nearly suffocating the man. “Nah, I’m not leavin’ until ye tell me what crawled up yer arse. We just won the bloody gold, mate! Why the fuck are ye being a little bitch?”

Ghost’s patience snapped. In one fluid motion, he turned and grabbed Soap by the throat, shoving him hard against the wall. Soap’s eyes widened, but he didn’t resist. He stared at Ghost with a mix of surprise and something else he didn’t want to acknowledge for his own sanity.

“Ya need to learn when to quit, MacTavish,” Ghost hissed, squeezing Soap’s throat for emphasis. “And maybe ya should think twice before cozying up to the man who’s been gunning for ya all week. Have some fuckin’ self-respect.”

Soap blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Who? Magnussen? What are ye—” he paused, realization dawning on him. A slow smile spread across his face, despite the situation. “Oh, I see what’s goin’ on here.”

“Enlighten me,” Ghost growled. His anger only intensifying at the sight of Soap’s smug grin.

Soap chuckled, the sound strained but amused. “Magnussen and I… we used to fool around back when we were on the same team, and that’s putting it lightly. Didn’t end well since he was under the impression exclusivity only applied to me. I told him to fuck off and he made my life a livin’ hell after that. Guess they were right when they said don’t shag yer coworkers.”

Ghost’s grip loosened slightly, mind reeling at the admission. “And what’s that got to do with me? I don’t care where ya stick your prick.”

Soap’s voice softened, his tone flippant as he shrugged. “He’s been makin’ comments all week, never could get over the fact I left him. Likes to tell me how my ‘new boyfriend’ —” he said the word with a mocking lilt, “— couldn’t satisfy me like he used to.”

Ghost felt a flush of heat rise to his face, and he told himself it was just the anger, nothing more. “So, what? He thinks I’m your new boy toy or whatever? Why the hell would he think that?”

Soap’s smile grew, a teasing glint in his eyes. ‘Ye know, I’ve always been into the ones that play hard to get and our rivalry isn’t exactly private. And let’s face it, yer not as subtle as ye think, Ghostie. I can see where he connected the dots.”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are ya talkin’ about?”

Soap’s grin widened. “It didn’t click right away but now I can see it. I think ye do care where my prick ends up. You’ve been actin’ like a right jealous bastard for the past week. First with Gaz, and now with Magnussen. Why don’t ye just admit it?”

“Admit what?” Ghost demanded, his heart pounding in his chest. His pitiful attempt of denial was pointless against the Scot.

Soap leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “That ye want to fuck me so bad it makes ye look stupid.”

Ghost’s breath caught in his chest. His grip on Soap’s throat tightened, but the man didn’t flinch, his eyes locked on Ghost’s, daring him to respond.

“You’re fuckin’ insane, MacTavish.”

He shrugged once more as he attempted to pull away and take a step toward the door. “Guess I’ll go see what Magnussen is doin’ since I’m so wro—”

But Soap didn’t get to finish his sentence. Before he could think it through, before he could talk himself out of it, Ghost’s lips crashed against Soap’s in a rough, bruising kiss. It was more anger than anything else, a raw, violent need to shut Soap up, to wipe that smirk off his face.

But as their mouths moved together, it became something else. The tension that had been simmering between them for so long ignited, exploding into a fire neither of them could control. Ghost’s hand slid up from Soap’s throat to cup the back of his head, fingers tangling in his stupid mohawk as he deepened the kiss, pouring all his frustration, all his confusion, into it.

Soap responded with just as much intensity, his hands gripping Ghost’s sides, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. The kiss was a battle for dominance, neither willing to back down, neither willing to let the other have the last word.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard. Hot and ragged on one another’s skin. Ghost’s eyes were dark, pupils blown and filled with a storm of emotions he wasn’t ready to face, but one thing was clear—there was no way they could come back from this. No way to uncross the line they just plummeted over head first.

“Still think I’m insane?” Soap whispered, his voice hoarse. The teasing edge to his words remained despite the breathlessness.

Ghost’s response was a low growl as he pulled Soap back in, kissing him again, harder this time. He didn’t shy away when he felt Soap’s wandering hands, slowly inching their way down to the waistband of his joggers. His own hands had fallen to rest upon Soap’s hips at some point, occasionally lifting to splay up and down his abs. Relishing in the shivers it caused as he needed to touch every inch of the man’s skin.

He hissed as he felt Soap grip him through his boxers and grind his palm. He was slightly pent up; spending a week sleeping five feet away from Roach hadn’t left him many options to take care of himself. Part of him wanted to take it slow, ease into it, and give each other time to adjust. But when Soap let a low moan escape his throat after touching him, it took every ounce of fleeting self-control Ghost had to not throw him on the bed and take him right then.

That moan pissed Ghost off while turning him on altogether; every little feeling he felt toward Soap was conflicted with an opposing emotion. He wanted him so badly while wanting to put his face through the wall for making him want him that badly. What the fuck were they doing?

“Fuck,” Ghost groaned out, a mix of annoyance and desperation coating his voice. He loathed how out of control he felt at that moment, especially when it was John fuckin’ MacTavish who had the advantage. He pushed off of Soap’s chest giving himself some room to breathe, his lungs burning at the sudden intake of oxygen. Soap saw what must have been a flash of uncertainty in his eyes as he interrupted Ghost’s inner turmoil.

“Don’t tell me yer getting cold feet now? I can leave if ye want. Walk out that door and leave ye all alone to wank one out as ye think of me,” he goaded, leaning up to whisper directly in Ghost’s ear. “Or do ye wanna get out of yer head and be a good boy for me so I can take care of ye?”

Ghost swallowed at that, even though all the moisture in his mouth had evaporated in a second. His lips parted to reply, but it was as if his brain had gone offline; he couldn’t string a sentence together to save his life. The glare he had trained on Soap didn’t deter him from what he wanted though.

He grabbed the two pant strings of Ghost’s joggers and pulled him in where their foreheads now rested against each other. Ghost couldn’t help but shake his head, a whispered, “I hate you,” was all he could manage in the end.

Soap grinned as his hand dove under Ghost’s waistband once again, only this time he included the boxers. “I know.”

Soap’s touch felt like a brand upon his skin. Ghost’s hips reflexively jerked back, but the man’s tight grip kept him in place. The slight burn of friction caused by dry skin was a welcome one. He started to slowly jerk him off, picking up the pace every few movements just to slow back down again. The bastard always keeping Ghost on edge while making sure he wasn’t able to cross it. He almost let a moan slip out when Soap leaned in and started sucking right on his pulse point. The repercussions of letting Soap mark up his neck were so far from his mind as he focused on the way the man flicked his wrist.

Soap’s mouth moved in an upward pattern, eventually kissing his way back up to meet Ghost’s lips once again. He must have deemed Ghost ready as he pulled back, his gaze burning into Ghost’s skull as he searched for any uncertainty. With only desire remaining, Soap slid his thumbs under the waistband of Ghost’s pants and underwear, pulling them with him as he fell to his knees.

He had that devilish look in his eyes as he leaned forward with no hesitation. He licked a stripe from the base to the tip of Ghost’s cock, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Ghost couldn’t contain the full body tremble as Soap’s tongue swirled his head once before he took the entirety of him down in one go.

“Fuck, Johnny,” he hissed out.

Soap responded with a smirk as he pulled back, giving a few pumps before returning to his mouth.

Ghost watched as Soap moved his head back and forth, taking him impossibly deeper each time. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. It felt too intimate to rest them on Soap’s head despite his dick currently halfway down the man’s throat. He settled on leaning them against the wall, the position completely blocking Soap in and angling himself even further till the other man gagged. That was a sound he could get used to.

Ghost took in the man kneeling before him. Had he always felt like this? He never thought his emotions surpassed hatred when it came to Soap. But now that he was actually looking at him and he wasn’t running his mouth, he couldn’t deny anymore that there was something else there no matter how fucked up it was. It might have always been there.

His gaze drifted to the bridge of Soap’s nose where it repeatedly brushed against his pelvis. The wound was still red and fresh where he had been hit by Magnussen. Ghost scowled the longer he stared. That ugly feeling inside him reared up again at the thought of that fucker making him bleed. Hell, maybe Soap was right. Maybe Ghost was jealous and his head was too far up his own ass to see it.

He hadn’t even registered that his anger had escaped from inside his mind until he heard Soap — more like felt — groan around his cock. His eyes focused and he realized his hand had unconsciously moved to the man’s hair, gripping his mohawk tightly as he ground Soap’s face closer to deepthroat him. Of course he liked his hair pulled. No sane person would willingly choose that haircut unless the sole purpose was to bring attention to it like a neon sign that said ‘PULL ME.’

Ghost picked up his pace as he gave in and let his anger wash over him. What once was a blowjob had now turned into Ghost flat-out face-fucking Soap. Each slam of his hips had Soap choking on a gag, his hands desperately finding purchase on Ghost’s thighs. His throat reflexively swallowed around the tip of Ghost’s cock, the constriction having him see stars.

The force of his thrusts had managed to jostle the medical tape on Soap’s nose at some point. The wound reopened as streams of hot blood ran down his face, mixing with the spit on his chin and dripping onto the floor between his knees.

The way he looked like a fucking painting right then had Ghost entranced. His eyes watery and blissed out just from getting his throat fucked, face flushed from the lack of oxygen and strain, and now the lower half of his face was streaked in red. Ghost could feel his own cock twitch where it rested on Soap’s tongue as he watched one particular drop run down and land where he and Soap’s lips met.

Fuck me.

He practically growled as he pulled out of Soap’s throat, using the other man’s surprise as a window to grab ahold of him and throw him on the bed. He opted for Roach’s as his own was currently covered in clothes and his suitcase. What the man didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Ghost climbed on top of Soap, one hand splayed beside his head while the other pinned him to the mattress by his mohawk. Their combined weight pushed the limits of the fragile cardboard bed struggling to hold them up. Before Soap could make some smart-ass remark he leaned forward to take his mouth again in a feral kiss. He pulled the man’s lower lip between his teeth and bit down until his tongue was flooded with the taste of metal.

He swallowed Soap’s curses and moans the same as he did his blood. His own fucked up attempt to wash away what was left behind by Magnussen with his own claim. If anyone was making John MacTavish bleed, it was going to be him alone.

Ghost moved from Soap’s lips to the edge of his jawline, making his way down his neck while leaving behind a trail of bloody prints in his wake. While Soap was lost in the haze of pleasure, Ghost took the opportunity to slide his hand under the man’s shirt and pull it off. Soap gasped as he moved from his neck to his chest, paying extra attention to each nipple as he ran his tongue over them before dragging them between his teeth. Ghost wanted to leave his mark upon the man’s skin, and make sure he was reminded of this for weeks to come.

He hooked his fingers in Soap’s waistband, lifting the man’s lower half up as he pulled them off in one glide. He sat back to admire the man splayed out before him. Soap’s chest was slightly heaving as Ghost’s eyes danced across every inch of his skin, narrowing in on his newly exposed jockstrap straining against his hard cock.

“Ya always wear that, ya slag?” he asked before leaning down to hover over the man.

“Never had any complaints before,” Soap stated casually while looking into Ghost’s eyes, fully aware of the button he pushed.

Ghost’s jaw clenched as he dipped down to speak directly in his ear, “You should pick your words more wisely, Johnny.”

That was all the warning he gave before he gripped onto the strap wrapped around Soap’s hip with both hands and pulled. The resounding tear of elastic in the otherwise quiet room was deafening. Ghost tossed the sad lump of fabric to the floor as Soap looked at him with bewilderment.

“Yer buyin’ me a new fuckin’ pair ye bastard,” was all he said before grabbing the back of Ghost’s neck and pulling him into a heated kiss. Ghost greedily swallowed Soap’s moan as he took him in hand and started pumping him at a quick pace. He was still rock-hard himself and knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. But there was something so addicting about making the man under him fall apart with nothing but his hand that had Ghost chasing that rush and ignoring his own needs.

He wanted to ruin Johnny. Ruin him for anyone that came after, and the memory of anyone who came before. That cloud of possessive need fogging up his brain had him missing the words leaving Soap’s mouth when he pulled away.

“What?”

“I said lube, where’s yer lube?” Soap repeated breathlessly.

Shit. “I don’t have any.”

Soap raised himself onto his elbows at that. “What do ye mean ye don’t have any?”

“I didn’t bring any. Some of us actually came here to do a job and not shag half the village,” Ghost pointedly stated.

“Oh my god, yer such a fuckin’ prude,” he groaned out in frustration.

“The bloody hell I am, your dick is literally in my hand right now.”

Ghost wasn’t expecting Soap to laugh at that. Their usual banter had the familiar flame of irritation flaring up inside him. God did he want to wipe that stupid smile off his face. The mineral oil he used to prevent his blades from rusting sitting in his gear bag probably wasn’t skin-safe.

He panned to Roach’s toiletry bag sitting on the floor by his bed. That thought didn’t last long; there was no way he was about to risk his life using the man’s ridiculously priced moisturizer he had special ordered each month as makeshift lube. He was out of options and Soap’s incessant whining to hurry up was really starting to piss him off. Spit it was. He was lucky he was even giving the man that much.

Soap let out a less than dignified yelp as Ghost suddenly flipped him over, stuffing a pillow beneath his hips and stomach. He maneuvered the man like a rag doll until he was in the position he wanted. He harshly slapped Soap’s ass when he tried to sit back up. It was as if every fiber of the Scot’s being was wired to be difficult and not follow orders.

“Lay the fuck down, MacTavish,” Ghost warned.

That was all the grace he was willing to give before his hands fell on Soap’s ass, thumbs spreading him open before he brought his face closer and dove in. He held on tightly as Soap bucked his hips forward, trying to escape Ghost’s invading mouth and tongue. The man only managed to get a few inches before Ghost pulled him back down once again, his hands tangling in the sheets as he cursed out.

His moans were half-muffled as his face rubbed into Roach’s pillow. The once pristine white cotton now stained blood red and damp where he bit into it. Ghost wasn’t giving him a second of reprieve. Soap’s senses were overwhelmed by either the mouth at his rear or the hands that had moved back to his front to fondle and tease once again.

Soap turned his head to the side to make sure Ghost heard him after one particular movement of his tongue almost had him losing it. “Fuck, Simon… I’m ready. I’m not gonnae last much longer so get the fuck in me,” he groaned out.

If Ghost was a stronger man, he would’ve kept going just for the sake of torturing Soap and making him beg more. But in the end, he wasn’t a stronger man. Far from it. He needed in the Scot just as much as he wanted it. For once, the two were on the same page.

He leaned back on his knees, lining himself up slowly. Soap didn’t let him get far enough into the preparation to add his fingers, but he was the one who claimed he was ready. If it hurt, that was on him and Ghost would gladly remind the cocky bastard of the fact.

With a deep breath to try and gather some semblance of control, Ghost started to press forward using only a mix of spit and blood, precum, and a prayer to pave his way. He couldn’t contain the strained, “Fuckin’ hell, Johnny,” as the man’s tight heat engulfing Ghost’s cock made it nearly impossible to enter. “Relax before ya snap my prick in half,” he scolded.

“If I could I would, It’d go a lot faster using it as a dildo than whatever the hell pace yer goin’ at,” he quipped back.

Ghost glared at the small portion of the man’s face he could see resting on the pillow. He was such a fucking asshole, Ghost didn’t know if this was even worth it anymore. Yes, it was.

He held onto Soap’s hips as he retreated the few inches he had managed to trek. Fuckin’ asshole. He slammed into the man in one harsh thrust, sheathing himself entirely despite the resistance.

“Motherfu—!” Soap’s scream was quickly snuffed out as Ghost shoved his face into the pillow. He leaned down till his body draped over Soap’s, heavy and slick with sweat. “Ah ah, we have neighbors, Johnny,” he whispered in his ear before licking up the shell and biting down hard when he reached the top. Soap tried to flinch away from the sting, but the way he clamped down on Ghost’s dick gave him away.

Ghost pulled back, leaving a trail of hickeys and bite marks down Soap’s neck and back in his wake. It was his own fault for having such a large canvas to work with, practically begging to be marked up. He returned to moving in and out of Soap, each thrust easier than the last. He had to reprimand him with a few slaps to his ass whenever a particular moan got too loud. It was only partly an excuse, he was actually worried about the paper-thin walls and that one of his teammates would complain to Price, or even worse— tell the whole team he had a ‘special visitor.’

Soap managed to lift himself up on shaky arms and knees, deciding he was no longer a passive member in this ordeal. He placed one arm on Ghost’s hip, the other sliding behind his neck and gripping onto the sweat-slicked hair. The new position had Ghost angling himself upwards, reaching further and deeper. He tried to stifle his own moans and grunts by latching onto Soap’s newly accessible throat, attacking it as he pounded into the man.

“Quiet, MacTavish,” he groaned into his ear after one particularly harsh thrust had Soap crying out.

Soap leaned back, arching his back impossibly more as he rested his head on Ghost’s shoulder. The new angle had him pounding into that bundle of nerves inside the man repeatedly. Soap responded by cursing Ghost’s name so loudly that it practically reverberated through the whole village. He had to of done it on purpose just to piss him off. And it worked.

Ghost grunted as he slammed into the man at a punishing pace. “Do ya ever shut the fuck up?” He didn’t give him much time to respond as he momentarily paused to lean over and grab something off the shared dresser between the two beds. Soap was off balance and overwhelmed, he didn’t quite register what Ghost was doing before something was being shoved in his mouth. It took him a second to figure out what it was. It was thin and slippery like silk, pulled tight where Ghost gripped it at the back of his head, keeping his tongue flat in his mouth so he couldn’t speak properly.

Ghost just grinned as he continued to fuck the man below him, ignoring his muffled shouts and attempts at cursing him out when he realized what he was gagging him with.

His gold medal dangled back and forth between Soap’s shoulder blades as the neck strap finally shut the man up.

The small victory wore off quickly, replaced by short breaths and electricity shooting up his spine in warning. He was getting close. It was a miracle he had even lasted this long. By the way Soap squeezed him every time he hit his prostate and let out a punched-out moan, he wasn’t too far behind himself. Ghost let the one hand that was gripping the medal keep them balanced as he reached around and started jerking Soap off with his other. His pace didn’t falter as he chased both of their releases. Sweat dripped down his nose and landed in the small space between them, right on the bloody marks he left trailing down Soap’s spine. The sight alone almost had him tipping over the edge, picking up speed right before disaster struck.

A slight crack was all the warning they got before the bed gave way and sent them tumbling to the floor. They both groaned at the impact, Soap more so as he bore the brunt of the fall. He should have stopped and made sure the man was okay, but that stubborn and selfish need inside him had him picking his movements back up without so much as a stutter.

It only took a few more thrusts before that burning feeling deep in his stomach returned. He switched to a slow and deep rather than fast and shallow rhythm before ultimately falling over the edge. His hips stuttered as he pumped into Soap slowly, basking in the way the man had a death grip on him while practically milking him dry.

When the fuzziness in his brain slowly retreated, he glanced down to where he was still inside the man. He took his time pulling out, unabashedly watching his own spend drip out of Soap. His returning moans had Ghost snapping out of his own reverie. He flipped the man over and resumed a quick pace as he jerked him off, giving extra attention to the head using his wrist.

“Hand or mouth?,” he asked before ripping the now spit-soaked and blood-stained ribbon out of Soap’s mouth.

“Mouth, fuckin’ mouth,” he breathed out.

Ghost didn’t hesitate, shimmying down the collapsed bed till his face hovered over Soap’s painfully hard dick. It only took about three strategic swallows before Soap was cursing and following him over the edge. His whole body trembled with the force of his orgasm. His massive thighs nearly crushed Ghost’s skull where he remained between them to swallow down all that Soap had to offer. It was only when the bastard swatted his face away from the overstimulation did he decide to pull off and attack his lips instead.

When the exhaustion finally won out, Ghost rolled over to lay next to him. Shoulders touching as they both desperately sucked air into their heaving chests. He internally winced as he registered the amount of bodily fluids that covered them where they lay. Ghost had never felt so disgusting but so blissful at the same time in his life.

The blissful silence didn’t last long as Soap turned to look at Ghost, that stupid shit-eating grin plastered onto his face. “Next time, don’t forget the lube.”

“Next time?” Ghost questioned with a raise of a dark blond brow.

The Scot’s responding smile had him looking like a psychopath while covered in blood. “Ye didn’t think ye were gettin’ away without me havin’ a turn with yer arse now did ye?” he replied with a kiss to Ghost’s nose.

Before Ghost could crush any of Soap’s hope that was going to happen anytime soon, their heads both flicked to the deafening whir of an electric gear unlocking the room door. They both sat up, desperately clinging to the massacred white sheet draped across their lap.

It was as if they were two deers in the headlights as Roach stood in the threshold, sliding his keycard back into his pocket before freezing mid-step when he finally looked up. Neither of them dared to say anything as the man scanned over what was once his bed, now crumpled onto the floor along with his blood-stained sheets. If Soap wasn’t sitting up, Ghost wouldn’t put it past Roach to conclude he had finally snapped and murdered the man once and for all. When he scanned over their naked bodies, that’s when the final nail went into the coffin. They were so dead.

“What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you two!?”

#ghostsoap #ghostxsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #olympic hockey au #hockey player Ghost #hockey player Soap #rivals with benefits

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