#and he and one of them just. kept it up all day

[quarterlifekitty]

first, im a bit new to cod but idk…

thinking about ghost’s spouse visiting him on base or some shit, and everyone else wondering how tf he was emotionally flexible enough to bag a bad bitch 🫶

note: this is just my personal little fantasy world headcanon lol so take it with a grain of salt!

Simon maintains a vaguely human lifestyle by adhering to one very strict rule: rigid compartmentalization. You don’t come up at work, and work doesn’t come up around you. Never the twain shall meet, he thinks. And he’s not exactly a watershed of information when he’s with his mates. And it’s not like anyone is asking “When was the last time you got fucked, Ghost?” and seriously expecting a response.

He tells you about the crew, but not about what he does with them. Killing, espionage, torture– that kind of thing stays off the dinner table.

Let it be known that you do not surprise him at work. You respect his boundaries too much, which is why he’s so fucking serious about you, honestly. He calls, asking if you can run something to him. This is maybe the greatest symbol of trust he can bestow, as a man who has only a fraction of an existence in the eyes of the government: he asks you to bring a document of his. He gives you the instructions on how to find it, and trusts that you won’t look at anything you don’t have to.

You know Johnny lets out a low whistle when he sees you coming up with a manilla folder in your hands.

“Who’s that bloody bombshell, then?”

You spy Simon and jog up to him with a smile. He’s the one who embraces you, short but strong. Cue the nigh audible gasping.

“LT, you absolute dog.”

Simon rolls his eyes as the two of you are crowded in short order. You make polite introductions, but have a previous engagement– you really did only have time to stop by.

Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.

Everyone is wondering how this could’ve happened. For the record– I think in this scenario, Johnny and Gaz go through a constant string of heartbreaks, and John is kinda married to his job. So in a cruel twist of fate, Simon is actually the only one currently with a partner, much less a spouse.

“How’d you manage to bag a right beauty like that, LT? C’mon, spill it–”

Simon doesn’t mean to diminish your value or anything, but his answer is not going to be satisfying, because he doesn’t find it that difficult to get women. And also, you’re his true love, so you’re perfect for each other and growing close to you was as easy as breathing. But he doesn’t say that.

“S’not that hard. Remember the stuff she says, don’t keep no secrets… dick ‘er down the way she likes.” He doesn’t mean to be crude about it, but from his perspective, is one of the main reasons why you tolerate him. Soap howls at the response.

He’s telling the truth, though! He has a scarily good memory. Remembers every friend you’ve ever told him about, every movie you’ve ever mentioned, every meal he’s cooked for you and how you liked it. He remembers dates, times, and lists with no issue whatsoever.

And he’s never kept anything from you. He tells you how the fuck he’s feeling, and you return the favor, even if it isn’t pleasant. The only thing he doesn’t mention to you are the gorey details of his work.

And you have never had more of a communicative partner, ironically. There were times in the beginning when he didn’t know all of the ins and outs of coaxing pleasure from your body, so he asked you to show him how you like it. And that scary memory is at work yet again– every sensitive spot, every offhand mention of a kink you’ve not yet explored together, every arch of your spine and clench of your cunt. He’s got it down to a science. Could write novels about making love to you specifically.

What I’m trying to say, at the end of the day, is that Ghost bagged a bad bitch by being autistic.

[justcreatininthedarkness]

I really love this prompt, so I had to write something.

after the death of Jackie's lovely grandparents, his family got the estate and their cat. It was all fine and dandy as they started to move in, most things being as they were when his grandparents had lived there. The antique furniture was somehow in perfect condition, not a single scratch from the cat.

Jackie's room was going to be in the attic, so he started to clean out all the old junk. Sorting through stuff that would be worth money and old trash, keeping the antique and the yard sale pile separate. He found some old family photos and portates, setting them aside for later, most likely just planning to throw them away after getting photos of his grandparents.

After a while his parents called him down for dinner. on his way down he nearly tripped over the cat, causing it to meow up at him, it had such a tiny and kitten like mewl. He picked up the fluffy calico and headed to the kitchen. "What was the cats name again?" He asked as the cat jumped from his arms and sat down by its bowl. "I dont remember, it might've just been chat. You can rename her if you want." His mother said as she put together a meal from what they had at the moment. "That's a boy cat," He lifted the calico up by its sides. "See, he has balls." His father laughed at that but his mother didn't find it as funny. "Jackie, I dont want to see a cats genitals before I'm about to eat." The cat wiggled out of his grip, then he sat down to eat with his family.

After dinner he had almost forgotten about the pictures until he tripped over a box of them, making them scatter. With a sigh he began to pick them up, notice a cat in a few of them. A lot of them. Old ones. At first he thought it was just another calico cat, maybe an ancestor of the current cat. But then he noticed over the decades worth of photos, that the patterns stayed the same. Always the same.

He quickly checked the back of the photos, the ones that included the cats name all had him as Sasha. Same pattern. Same name. Same cat.

He rushed downstairs with the photos to show his family, almost tripping over the cat again, but this time he swiftly ran past instead of picking him up.

When he got to his family he frantically told them about the cat as they sat on the couch, they did not look concerned at all. Not one bit. They laughed it off and told him to get ready for bed. When the cat rubbed against his legs he jumped and whisper yelled "I know your secret." Before he ran off again.

He closed the attic door and locked it. Ignoring the meows and scratching that followed a few minutes later; he curled up in his bed and tried to sleep, hoping that this was just a bad dream.

When he woke up the photos in his hand were gone. Maybe it was just a dream after all. As he sat up with a yawn he spotted the cat, sitting at the edge of his mattress. Just a dream. Please? "Hey... S-sasha, that's not actually your name though, that had to have just been a dream... Right Sasha?" The cat meowed in response to his words. He quickly leapt up and ran for the door, it was still locked. It couldn't have been a dream. How did the cat get up there? How was it alive? He heard it's small feet patter forward and he quickly unlocked the door before running downstairs.

He spent his whole day avoiding that cat, spending most of it with his mother as he helped her clean up the house a bit.

The cat kept following him, somehow getting into locked rooms and watching him from windows when he was outside.

He couldn't run forever, and he watched in dread as the cat slowly approached hid bed when he finally had to sleep. He wanted to run, to scream, to do something, but he had stayed awake and avoidant for two days and he couldn't keep his eyes open, no matter how scared he was. He felt paralyzed as his eyes slid shut and he felt something else get on his bed. "Shhh, no one has to know. Let's keep this a secret, ok boy?" What felt like a hand touched his face, two fingers prying one of his eyes open. "Right?" The figer in front of him was still rather small and surprisingly humanoid, it was just a bit smaller than him. Sashas hair was long and fluffy; it was patched with browns and blacks, with streaks of white. His skin was similar. His eyes were still big and cold brown.

He managed a small nod, then Sasha let go and got off the bed as Jackie quickly fell asleep, more likely from magic than exhaustion at this point.

(Sasha btw. I had to draw him. Might draw Jackie next.)

I had to sit down and think about how I would make a person calico. I actually really like it. might render it later.

I need to stop drawing feminine men though...

Your grandparent passes and your parents inherit the palatial estate as well as the care for its cat. After going through several family records you realize the cat has been inherited throughout the generations. You try telling others but they forget. Now it keeps trying to be alone with you.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝑰𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑶𝒏𝒆*

Pairing: Snake!Hybrid Hyunjin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Snakes! Mentions of Blood/Stitches, Fork/Split tongue, Oral(F), Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Biting, Two Dicks (kinda double P), Sorry for any mistakes or Missing warnings!

A/N: My animal knowledge really shows here😂

Series Master List

-🖤

It was rare to see snake hybrids. A lot of them hid in fear of how others treated them. Humans were mean creatures, especially to things they fear. They knew that all too well, so seeing a snake hybrid brought into your adoption center was strange. His scales were flakey, eyes stuck with shed. You could tell whoever had him didn’t treat him well.

No one wanted to be near him most of your colleagues staying away some even squealing. However you weren’t scared, did you like snakes? Not particularly, but you knew he needed help. When you approached him in the little container he was in he hissed. You quickly shushed him picking him up to take him to the sink area. You had run him a small bath, just some water for him to soak in. “I can’t believe you’re touching that thing” someone streaked at your side.

“It deserves the same amount of love and compassion as any others here” you retort looking down at him. You cleaned him up helping the stuck shed off before putting him back with a heating lamp.

“Y/n will you take it home?” Your manager had asked.

“Why don’t you want it here?” You glared.

“Listen, most of us don’t like them. He’s probably not gonna get adopted and we also aren’t equipped to take care of him properly. You at least seem to know what you’re doing.” They rambled.

You looked back down at the snake who was now curled up by your hand. “Fine, I’ll take it home, however.” You said with a small pause. “He’s mine as soon as we leave and I want the next few days off to take care of him and help him settle.” You stated.

“Of course-“ your manager started to say before you interrupted him.

“Paid” you said sternly.

With a sigh knowing he wasn’t gonna win he agreed just wanting that thing out of the building.

You put him in your spare room, getting the necessary stuff for his set up. You watched as he explored smiling to yourself. “Listen, I know you understand me. So whenever if ever you wanna become human. This room is yours. You have free roam where ever. You’ll be safe here, and taken care of” you kept talking.

He laid under the heating lamp listening carefully. If he could laugh he would. He’s heard that before. Knowing damn well his last owner started off with “love” but quickly forgot about him. He never got comfortable enough to turn so what made you think he would here he wondered.

As days went on you grew fonder of him, seeing some of his goofy personality shine through. His scales looked a lot healthier, a beautiful dark shade with glints of goldish color in them. They matched his beautiful piercing gold eyes. He hissed at you a lot however never making any attempt at striking. After shifts at work you’d pick him up out of his tank, laying him on the couch as you watched tv. It was one of these nights that it changed.

You had done your normal taking him out laying him on the couch with a heating pad beside if he got to cold. He stayed there as you cooked dinner only to be startled from his sleep by a crashing sound. He could smell blood in the air his fork tongue flickering at the scent. “Fuck!” He heard you yell from the kitchen with a bit of rustling. He was scared something had happened that someone broke in. In his panic turning ‘human’. He ran into the kitchen only to see you on the floor holding your hand that was gushing blood.

“What the hell happened?” He said making you jump. He looked at you realizing he was ‘human’.

“You turned?” You said almost excitedly.

He couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh “that shouldn’t be the focus right now, you’re literally bleeding” he said before grabbing a clean towel to wrap it around your hand.

You watched him looking over his features. He had a sharp jawline, slim but muscular physique, those gold eyes even prettier. When he started talking your eyes found themselves on his pillowy lips. You could see the small peak of fangs and to your surprise his tongue was split. You were just in awe taking him in not even realizing he was talking to you. Not until he lifted your head with his warm hand. “Hello? Are you listening? You probably need stitches” he said looking at you were furrowed brows.

You only nodded eyes still scanning over him. You grabbed your phone off the counter with your other hand calling your neighbor. He came over taking you to the hospital and you did in deed need stitches.

Your snake hybrid cleaned up the mess. He finished making the dinner you were working on before it happened and sat there. Waiting. Agonizingly waiting. When you came through the door he smiled sighing in relief. “Hey! Thanks for cleaning and- wait you finished dinner?” You said surprised.

“Yeah, how’s the hands?” He said.

“Ah well it’s not bleeding anymore” you said with a laugh.

“I can’t believe you cut yourself that deep, what were you doing? Dancing with the knife?” He teased.

“No this was all just a scheme to see if you’d come to my rescue” you teased back making him roll his eyes. “Since I can properly ask you now though, what’s your name?” You asked siting down at the counter.

“Hyunjin.” He said.

“Good now I can stop calling you snakey” you said laughing.

After that moment Hyunjin didn’t turn back for the most part. Sometimes you’d fined him curled up under his heating lamp, other times he’d be curled up on the couch under lots of blankets. Your routine continued coming home, cooking, sitting on the couch with him just watching tv. Now though, he talked back. He got into the habit of curling up against you when you came home. Your body’s heat always feeling so nice to him.

You came home today more exhausted than normal though. A fight braking out between some hybrids at work. You being in the middle of it when it happened. Today honestly wasn’t as normal as you thought. All the hybrids were acting weird around you. A lot more possessive and clingy. When you walked through the door thinking about it more you realized hyunjin hadn’t came out from his tank.

“Hyune, are you ok?” You asked leaning down over the tank. When he didn’t budge you picked him up like normal his skin scales feeling warm. He hissed at you baring his fangs. “Are you mad at me?” You said softly, making him stop. He slithered up your arm before slithering down your leg. He made his way to the bed before turning back to his human like form.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “I’m not mad at you. Ugh” he groaned. “Do you realize you’re ovulating?” He said with a loud groan.

“Am I? Is that why everyone’s been so weird today?” You questioned.

“Probably- god I don’t know how you went to work with all of them. You’re supposed to be mine” he said the end of his sentence trialing off.

“I am yours” you said quickly with out realizing your own words impact.

“Yeah?” He said looking up at you. Those gold eyes had a hint of something in them. “Then let me make you mine.” He said before grabbing your arm pulling you to him.

He didn’t give you anytime to protest before kissing you, his lips warm softer than you’d imagine. His kiss was hungry tongue quickly making its way into your mouth. His hands came down pulling your bottoms down quickly in one swift motion. He was moving so fast, his motions only driven by need. The need to have you all his, a primal need. His sharp fangs grazed your bottom lip as he moved down your neck. It was almost like he was a little vampire with those fangs. He kissed down your body, pulling your thighs up to him.

He licked his lips looking at your dripping cunt “she’s calling me” he said with a smirk before diving into your core. His fork tongue feeling way different from anything you’d ever had before. Both the muscles moving on their own as they lapped at your folds. His fingers came up to graze against your slick before pushing them into you. He curled them hitting a sensitive spot. The moan you let out only drove him to keep doing it. To hear it again and again. Your hands found their way to his long soft locks.

“Fuck Hyune” you moaned out.

“Feel good? Gonna cum on my tongue?” He said with a devilish smile.

You nodded making that smile only grow. He picked up his speed fingers finding another even more sensitive spot. With his pace and tongue lapping at your clit your high crashed quickly over you. Walls tightening around his fingers. He licked a long strip up eyes staining into yours. He wanted to keep going, wanted to keep tasting you all over him but he needed to be inside you. Fuck your smell alone was gonna make him nut in his pants.

He stood up pulling down his pants revealing his two curvy cocks. With shock, eyes widen you blurted out “you have two?!”

He couldn’t help but laugh “yeah, you didn’t know? Thought you read up on me” he said. He took your hand wrapping it around the bigger one “this one’s the main one, and th- this one” he stuttered as your hand grazed the smaller one “this one is super sensitive like your clit” he said.

You nodded staring intently at his cocks. He leaned you back pressing his body against your kissing you deeply. He slowly pushed himself into you, the smaller cock rubbing against your clit. He let out a hiss of pleasure before his mind went. He started pounding into you mercilessly. His smacking against yours. The sounds of moans and skin smacking filling the air with the scent of sex. He had his head buried in the crook of your neck his long fangs grazing so gently at it. “I shouldn’t even let you leave smelling this good, all of them got their gross scent on you.” He hissed. “I’m gonna make sure they know you’re taken.”

His thrusts continued fast before he gripped at your legs pressing them against your chest before drilling into you. The new angel letting him hit at your cervix. “Hyunjin!” You screamed hands coming up to touch his chest. He pulled out fully before pushing hard back into you however he felt bigger. You felt more pressure in your core like somehow his cock grew a size. The pornagraphic sound he let out made your eyes snap open looking down you realized why he felt bigger. His smaller cock has slipped in, your cunt sucking both of them so greedily.

“Sh-shit I- I- fuck!” His head rolled back not being able to even speak at the pleasure. The warmth overtaking his smaller cock making it twitch in over stimulation. He snapped his hips back one more time both cocks pushing deep inside of you before you were Cumming. Cumming harder than you have ever before. His body shook at the feeling. Your walls tightening more and more around him. He gripped at your hips harshly digging his nails into you. He cried out as his release finally spilled out painting your walls white.

When you stared to squirm a bit trying to adjust yourself, the movement pushing him deeper into you making him whimper. “D-don’t move” he pleaded. You realized his smaller cock was still hard. You smirked up at him before moving away only to push back on him. He gasped almost like the wind was knocked out of him. His hands tried to stop your movement but one more push back his smaller cock was cumming.

He had the most intense orgasm, his body shook body falling to the side of you. He tried regaining his breath “I’ve- I’ve never- with my smaller” his words coming out choppy but you knew what he meant.

You pushed some of his hair back kissing him softly. “M’sorry for- I should have asked” he said still out of breath.

“It’s ok hyune honestly after today kinda needed it” you said with a smile.

“Gl-glad I could help.” He said nuzzling his head into your neck. His breathing was still heavy as you stroked his back.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @jehhskz @babigriin @kkamismom12 @jeonginsleftcheek

[7s3ven]

SINGLE DAD! X BABYSITTER! READER HAS ME FROTHING OMGG. Even better when the rest of TF 141 is involved

part 1 | part 2 (coming soon - rest of tf 141 introduced)

master list

MDNI 18+

Warnings: big age gap, babysitter! reader, reader is in medical school (but still legal guys)

You told yourself it was just a temporary summer job, something to fill your pockets over the Summer break as you moved into another year of university. Medical bills were not easy to pay off and your old job that paid the bare minimum did not help you in the least. All it taught you was that you had a nasty uppercut (from the time you actually hit someone and got fired).

So, you found yourself standing in front of John Price’s house. You stared up at the tall building, brows raised in surprise. He had understated how big his house was… it even had a garden and a pool. You may as well consider it a mansion.

You quickly rang the doorbell, smoothening out your tight blouse. Your much more appropriate one was in the wash so you prayed whoever answered the door did not notice.

It was a tall middle-aged who greeted you, beard cleanly trimmed and… a hat on his head. “Y/N L/N?” He asked you. You swiftly nodded, softly smiling when he stepped aside.

“So, medical school, huh? Training to become a doctor?” He asks as he brews you a cup of tea while you read over his terms and conditions.

“A surgeon, sir. Not much better, though.” You offer him another smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension.

“Right. Next time I need surgery, I’ll call you up.” He takes a sip from your tea, which you notice but you say nothing. “Just checkin’ the temperature. Wouldn’t want ya to burn yourself.” He hands you the mug, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment too long.

“I assume this is only a quick job for you? Just away to gain a bit of money to pay those student fees off?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you nod. “Yes, sir. I know I should have clarified it but I’m a little desperate at this point. Besides, no retail places want to hire me… after I hit someone.”

Your words intrigued him. He let out a low chuckle as he sat across from you. “Now I’m interested.”

“Well… there’s not much to it… a guy kept staring at my chest. He said some vulgar stuff and next thing I knew, I was punching him.”

Price shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “The lad was askin’ for it. So, what do you think about the job? You’ll honestly be a glorified babysitter. Just do some cleaning and cookin’ here and there and make my baby happy and you’ll get a nice pay check every week.”

It all happened in a blur. You agreed to the job and weeks later, you found yourself at Price’s house more than your apartment. You hadn’t stepped foot into your apartment since two days ago, Price generously allowing you to use one of the guest rooms.

“Lila has a sleepover tomorrow.” Price mentions as you’re reading the instructions on how to make cookies for Lila’s bake sale.

Based on the cooking skills you had seen from Price, you doubted he could bake very well. In fact, all he could cook was steak, which was general knowledge for dads.

“I can drop her off if needed.” You offer while opening the packet of flour only for it to explode in your face. You smacked your lips together, grimacing. “Not a word.” You mutter to Price who’s chuckling under his breath.

“Wasn’t gon’ a say anything, love.” He helps wipe the flour dust off your face, still grinning in amusement.

In all honesty, your relationship with Price felt a little too domesticated, especially right now as you wore a frilly apron he had bought just for you.

“Your skirt’s too short, by the way.” Price grumbles, attempting to tug it down. “You sure no creeps stared at you on your way ‘ere? Wouldn’t want ya in danger.”

You push his hands away from your hips. “Even if people were staring, I’ll just punch them.”

You had tried to maintain a professional relationship with your boss but it was hard when he carelessly manhandled you and treated you like his wife rather than his daughter’s babysitter.

And all professional behaviour came crashing down when he unexpectedly stood behind you as you whisked the cookie batter.

“You look like a coke addict.” Price jokes, referring to the flour that still stained your face. “Like you got it everywhere but up your nose.”

“I can assure you, sir, I have never tried coke unless my friend daring me to snort sherbet counts.”

Price grins at your biting remark, his heavy hands falling to your waist. “Yeah? Heard it doesn’t feel too good with sherbet.”

“Not in the slightest.”

His hands trail dangerously low but you don’t have the courage to ask him to stop… nor do you really want him too. He seems to sense your willingness as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, body pressed up tightly against yours.

You feel more like his spoiled wife than a medical student just trying to pay her bills.

“You’re pretty, ya know that? Surprised you don’ have a boyfriend… or girlfriend. Or partner. Dunno what your label is.”

With shaking hands, you place the bowl filled with cookie batter to the side, afraid you’ll only spill it.

“Never met a woman as soft as you… most think I chased Lila’s mother away. But nah. Her mother ran off, leavin’ me with a baby. Not that I’m complaining, I love Lila… and without her, I wouldn’ have met you.”

You’re reduced to listening to Price’s words, stuck between his larger frame and the marbled kitchen counter.

“Sir.” You whisper but it reaches his keen ears. Everything after that is a distorted blur and you find yourself bent over the counter, clad in nothing but the apron, with Price right behind you.

Price was a mystery to you. How could a man be turned on by something as simple as an apron? Though, he was a single dad so it made sense.

Price is muttering praises in your ears as your knees tremble, threatening to buckle. You never imagined you’d be in your employer’s kitchen, having your back blown out by the man himself.

His hands were hungrily climbing your body, gripping every bit of exposed skin he could find. If it wasn’t for him holding you upright, you would have toppled to the ground in a heartbeat.

You feel Price lift a hand to grip your hair, tugging at your locks. He’s in a desperate stupor but you’re not any better, pushing back your hips to meet his harsh thrusts.

“Gon’ a fill ya up. Give you a baby of yer own. Fuck… be so pretty just like you. My perfect little wife.” He grunts in your ear. You have no energy to correct him; that you’re not actually his wife but you’d have no complaints if he bought you a ring.

If anything, his words spur you on more.

Your chest is heaving by the time you near your release. You’re whining like a damn dog, high pitched noises slipping past your saliva-slicked lips. And you only grow in volume as Price speeds up, pressing his body against your back.

He’s older than you, that’s a fact you knew from the start, but he’s definitely more experienced as well. His well thought out words have the desired effect on you as the coil in your stomach snaps.

Your fluids drip down your exposed legs, hitting the tiles kitchen ground in thick droplets. You hear Price swear under his breath, quickly pulling out and staining your back white.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. Then he leads you towards his bathroom, ushering you inside and handing you a spare set of clothes.

“Imma place your old ones in the washing, yeah?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you to wash off.

You sit on the shower floor for a good five minutes, replaying the moment in your head. When you finally cleanse yourself of sweat, you slip Price’s shirt over your head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of his cologne. It was the one you liked too.

His clothes engulfed you as you stumbled back into the kitchen, hobbling a little.

“I guess I’ll… get going then.” You murmur, fidgeting with your hands.

Price reaches out a hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face. Then he nods. “See you tomorrow night, lovie.”

Right, you still had to finish those cookies and pick up your clothes.

[mamasfavourite]

queen cobra

pairing: axel kovaćevic x reader

summary: the captain of cobra kai catches the eye of the captain of the iron dragons and manages to deal with her teammates and her crush on axel!

warnings: mentions of abuse, some swearing, kissing, fluff, little bit of angst and a little implication of smut at the end, kwon is alive, axel is a sweetheart, kreese is rotting in jail !

cobra kai was never your preferred environment, but you fought to survive there, even when the others tried to influence you. you were a good person and you stood by that. you just had to mask it when in the dojo. it’s not like you would be there long, the dojo was just a way to the sekai takai for you.

and you fought like fucking hell for your spot as captain.

you even dealt with the endless bullshit literally everyone except kwon and tory threw your way. before karate, you had trained boxing and taekwondo, mastering both of them. so, it was easy to say you had the highest kick of everyone your team.

which really did come in handy in moments like this! like when kwon started a stupid bet with miyagi-do over whose kicks were highest. the highest anyone had gone was some kid from the russian team named vlad.

169cm.

kwon hid you for the time being, as the miyagi-do male captain and him faced off in front of the crowd of sekai takai contestants. when they shook hands, you watched as he put chalk to his shoe and swung his leg as high as he could.

175cm.

the crowd cheered, surprised by the height he had managed. you and kwon only laughed. he stepped to the side to let you foward. “show them, captain.”

you grabbed the chalk from the ground and locked eyes with robby as you rubbed it on your shoe. you kicked as high as you could, marking an almost inhumanely high point on the wooden whale statue.

you had to admit you couldn’t eyeball the measurements on that one, but you had won by far.

there was a mixture of gasps and applause as your cobras immediately crowded around you, celebrating your easy victory. you stepped foward to the miyagi-do’s, and stuck out your hand to accept your prize.

a whole room to yourself!

you and the cobras were walking back to the hotel. you all had met up with sensei kim at a karate gym on the other side of the city, and were only now getting back. you walked ahead of the others, not really wanting to speak to them right now.

as you entered the hotel reception, you noticed a few familiar people your age, they were most likely from the same dojo. you were walking quite slow so you had time to observe.

on the couches were, a dark skinned girl, who was chewing loudly and texting on her phone and an asian boy, who seemed to be staring into nothing at all.

as you turned your attention back straight, you saw an incredibly cute boy, he looked european to you in some way, maybe scandinavian.. or slavic? you didn’t care! he towered over you, and you took a second to appreciate his features, his messy brown hair and dark green eyes, his sculpted face and built arms.

you shot him a flirty smile as you kept walking, which almost made him drop the plates he was carrying.

“axel! what the fuck? can’t you hold a plate?” the girl from the couch called out. ‘oh so she was a bitch!’ you thought, but dismissed it as you continued walking, the cobras following closely behind, chuckling at the scene.

how could he! he was such a fucking prick. yoon was already getting on your nerves but you lost your shit when he was bitching at you just because you were chosen captain over him.

you unknowingly stomped past your locker room, and accidentally pushed into the wrong one. but you heard something and quieted down. you heard loud, echoing grunts, hits and yells of “ais!”

you snuck to the doorframe, sneakily peering inside and seeing the cute boy from the lobby the day before. he was training with his sensei, delivering strike after strike to the punching mitts ahead of him.

he was insanely focused, and incredibly strong. even through the gi, you could tell he was built. the force behind his punches were insane, but his sensei withdrew from him immediately.

“what are you doing wrong?” his sensei yelled firmly and all of a sudden the incredibly powerful demeanour axel had just flaked away. he flinched as the older man threw the mitts to the floor.

you watched as his sensei struck the poor boy, you had almost grown attached to. not once, not twice. you could tell he had to hold himself back after the third time. he picked up the mitts and commanded axel to continue.

but before he even landed a second punch, the mitts were on the floor again and axel was being hit. you heart hurt to watch it. you let out a soft gasp.

axel turned his head at the sound and saw you, you shot him a sad smile and walked through the hallway, hearing his sensei yell at him as you kept walking forward.

the cobras wanted to go somewhere and get drunk, and as their captain, you had to go. plus you had secretly hoped you might bump into the guy you had been crushing on for the last two days.

kwon was slumped against the counter, trying to maintain a conversation with you, but miserably failing. yoon and the others were standing around tory, trying to make their lazy advances that seemed to go completely unnoticed.

“씨발, 나 산책하러 가야 돼.. 안전하게 지내라, 얘들아 (fuck this, i’m going on a walk, get home safe boys.)” tory practically growled at you, still insulted by the fact she couldn’t speak your language but the remainder of the team telling you goodnight or to stay safe.

you left your half empty bottle of beer on the counter as you walked out, heading straight for the beach. it was calm, and quiet, and for a second you thought you heard the same sounds as earlier.

“ais! ais!” you heard and you recognised the voice, turning to watch as axel stood a couple metres away from you, shirtless, practising his kata. you watched for a couple moments before you spoke up.

“that’s a really cool kata, what’s it called?” he immediately turned around. he smiled at the sight of you and answered softly, “it’s called enpi.”

you nodded and were about to answer before he spoke again, “i don’t mean to be rude, but it’s a pretty common kata, and you’re an incredible fighter, i’m shocked you don’t know it.”

you looked at the floor for a second, before meeting his eyes, as they watched you. “it’s okay! i’m originally a kick-boxer and i studied taekwondo, so that’s my more proficient area.. i can apply a lot of it to karate though so it’s perfect!”

he nodded and gave you a small smile as he continued the conversation with you. “you’re incredibly strong in karate, i wouldn’t have noticed!” he spoke to you.

you stepped closer to him and brushed his arm. “thank you, you’re very strong, i mean clearly.” you said, trying to make it clear you were flirting with him. “i-thank you.” his smile turned bashful and he felt his cheeks heat up.

“you’re amazing.” he said, and immediately paused to reformulate his statement. “i-mean your dojo’s amazing!” you beamed at him. he was honestly so cute you wanted to squeal sometimes.

you smiled, about to speak but he beat you to it once more. “can i join?” he asked you, and you immediately felt yourself get kind of excited at the idea.

“the cobras? i mean, the boys are stupid but kwon’s okay, he just tries to overcompensate when he’s around others but he’s such a sweetheart i promise-“ you began to ramble.

“i meant your walk..” he replied, almost annoyed with himself that he interrupted you once more. you smiled at him once more and accepted. “of course!” you watched as he turned around to grab his jacket.

your eyes fixed on his back, and the scars covering it. you touched them experimentally and felt his body tense under your hand. “i-i’m sorry.. are you okay?” you asked him, empathy laced in your voice.

he quickly grabbed his jacket and put it on, hiding his back from you. “i’m okay.” he quickly dismissed you. you slid your hand into his and nodded somberly. the pair of you started to walk towards the footpath.

you responded to him. “you don’t have to talk to me about it, but i know what it’s like to have an abusive sensei and it’s always okay to not be okay.” you turned your head to face him as he did the same for you.

“thank you. it means a lot.” he smiled softly as you both stood still and he stared at your face. you asked him to lean down a little bit, claiming you had a “secret” to whisper to him.

once he was close enough to your height, you reached onto your tippy toes and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. you let out a soft giggle as you did and he could’ve sworn he felt his heart beat out of his chest.

you had stumbled upon the cobras, well not all of them, but yoon and a few others. they were clearly drunk and yoon smirked as he saw you. “y/nnn, who’s the guy?” yoon asked, cockily as he dragged out the last letter.

axel’s hand tightened protectively against yours.

“who would’ve thought our captain’s with the enemy..” another boy pressed behind him, and you couldn’t quite make out who it was but it enraged you. you replied to them sharply, with authority.

“you know, i’m sure sensei kim would love to hear that her star fighter was being preyed on by a bunch of drunk losers on her team.” that’s when the remainder of the cobras scattered, but yoon stood in place. you were loosing your patience, and so was axel.

“and i’m sure sensei kim would love to hear that her star fighter is fucking around with some pussy off the hong kong team.” yoon cockily challenged you, but axel stepped forward instantly.

you put a hand on his chest and pushed him back, reassuring him you’d handle it but he kept his fists clenched in preparation.

you stepped towards yoon and spoke to him loudly. “지��번에 팀원 중에 나한테 엉뚱한 짓을 한 사람이 있었던 걸 기억나? (remember what happened the last time someone on the team fucked with me?)” he swallowed and waited for you to continue.

“그러니 그런 일이 일어나기 전에 빨리 호텔로 돌아가세요. (so get your pussy ass back to the hotel before it happens to you).” and with that, he sprinted in the opposite direction, following after his teammates.

you turned back to axel and smiled, “i’m so sorry, you had to be there for that.” you spoke softly to axel and you felt his rough hands envelope yours. “it’s okay, i’m sorry you have to put up with that.” he answered. gazing into your eyes.

“it’s okay, it’s not your fault. it’s all you expect from egotistical teenage boys.” you smiled a little, trying to lighten the mood a little bit.

“i’m not like that, am i?” he asked you, worried that he was like them. you instantly shook your head. “nonono, axel, not at all.” your gaze flicked between his lips and his eyes and he noticed it.

he held himself back, with the worry that you may have only done it as a mistake, or a way to make sure he was comfortable. he released one of your hands and the pair of you kept light conversation as you walked.

outside your hotel, he stopped. “we’re in the same hotel, axel, we don’t need to split up.” you turned to face him and watched as his brow furrowed slightly, in thought. he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

you leant into his touch and looked up at him, knowing it was his way of making a move. you reached as high as you could to put a hand on the back of his neck, and the other rested on his chest as you pulled him into you.

his lips met yours. they were soft and you couldn’t help yourself. his hands reached down to your waist before he pulled away.

“we should probably go to our rooms now.” he said, and you giggled softly, once again, still excited from your kiss. you nodded in agreement, as you held hands again and walked to the elevator.

as soon as the doors shut, he couldn’t help himself any more and pressed you softly against the wall as you continued what you had done just a few minute prior, outside the hotel.

except this time, it was deeper, and it was hungry. his hands wandered over your body, tapping under your thighs, telling you to jump, and as you did, his strong arms held you, kneading at the flesh there as he continued to attack your lips.

at some point, when the pair of you were so wrapped up in eachother, the elevator doors opened. he frowned as you pulled away from him and commanded him jokingly to “put you down!”

he did, and just as you were about to leave, he spoke up once more. “let me walk you back.” and you accepted, still giddy from your stolen kisses.

once you reached your door you smiled and leant up to peck him on the cheek. “goodnight, axel!” and just as you turned around he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him once more.

he kissed you one last time before you went inside. “goodnight beautiful.” he smiled as he started walking away. it took you too seconds before you called after him, dragging him back once more.

“axel, i do have a room to myself… if you wanted to put it to good use?”

[blankspacesys]

🍄- Started as a "Feeling Blank but I have a multiverse in my head so I'll call myself Blankspace online" and devolved into a nickname of Blankets, which we adopted as our actual system name

🐙- "*Sigghs dramatically* I miss my boyfriend 💔 I can merely hope he notices me thinking about him :cryup:" -Ghost in our discord , 10/02/2024 at 2:12am

🎉- Our favorite holidays are the smaller ones spent with people we love

🌙- Yes! We have a Spectral Subsystem that consists of Ghost, the host of the subsystem, and a TON of others, some never fronting, and some that can front with Ghost as seperate

☕️- Switching can vary greatly. We could take days, or an instant, to have a switch. The ones that take days are the worst kind

💫- Most of us engage with art and writing, and DnD! Some are better than others

💾- Our current headcount is estimated 25+

👻- Yes, some of us speak in different tones and voices compared to others! Lotus has a lighter pitch, emotion driven voice. Wit has a very flat and blunt manner of speaking. Al has an accent

🎨- We all do in one way or another! We were raised by an artist

🥀- Splitting only happens under extended periods of stress, so only every couple of months I would guess

🦖- We have a fairly even split between brainmades and introjected fictives, with some nuances

🎵- Too many to count! We all have our own playlists and one mega playlist if we're feeling brave

❓️- We have tons of emotional amnesia, but full blackout amnesia hasnt been noticed at all, so could assume there isn't any. We are OSDD

🎮- Many of us have different things we enjoy online, some use different social medias and apps, some play certain games that others don't, but we usually can enjoy each other's hobbies (usually.)

🪐- Big, unclear how big it really is. The most we usually see nowadays is a block void frontroom that we all are just kinda existing in, but there are ways past the void that lead to the different maps. The dream map is the most confusing one, but the Blankverse map is based around what we create

🍐- Plenty! We have a ghost, a fallen god, a catperson, a foxperson, a actual fox, a divine/angelic entity, The Spiral, a fish man, and a creature dude. Must I go on?

🔋- Universally, music is our recharge. Certain songs or lists just have a replenishing effect

🌧- Art and distractions. Making things, cleaning, finding other focuses

🔦- I don't really remember how it happened. Just that over the years, things kept adding up despite our denial. I know it was a bad start to this year

🌟- We have neither things atm, but Wit and Cade are the best at doing work or dealing with people, and Divine is best at selfcare tasks to keep them going

🌊- Cade, Wit, Ghost, Divine, Lotus, and recently Otis

🎁- Probably! We usually make our gifts for each other, but sometime a host will by a stuffie for someone smaller

☘️- Most are sourced from OCs that grew more than they were supposed to, or from favorite medias

💬- We smoke weed for our chronic pain/fatigue, which leads to,, interesting innerworld connections

system ask meme

🍄 - how did you get your system name?

👾 - funniest out of context system quote?

🎉 - favorite system holiday?

🌙 - do you have subsystems?

☕ - what is switching like for you?

💫 - are there any hobbies you all have?

💾 - what's your headcount?

👻 - do your alters/headmates have different voices or speech patterns?

🎨 - does anyone in your system like art?

🥀 - how easily does the system split?

🦖 - is your system fictive-heavy? factive-heavy? neutral?

🎵 - what songs remind you of your alters/headmates?

❓ - how much amnesia do you experience?

🎮 - what do your alters/headmates do in their free time?

🪐 - what is headspace like for you?

🍐 - are there any non-human alters/headmates?

🪫 - what do you all do to recharge?

🌧️ - how does the system cope with stress?

🔦 - how did you discover your system?

🌟 - do any alters help out with school/work?

🌊 - who are your frequent fronters?

🎁 - have you ever bought your alters/headmates things?

☘️ - what are your introjects/fictives usually sourced from?

💬 - free space!! tell me about something!

[moonlightcycle571]

Getting run over by a train: a guide to how to

Do you know how The Wizard summoned Billy by running him run over by a magic train. What if that was the trains way of giving you permission to enter the rock. Like, once you got run over once, you can go in to travel if you have The Wizard or Billy’s permission.

So now imagine Billy summoning The Train when his colleagues need to go to the Rock of Eternity.

*at the train tracks*

Zatanna,: Thank you so much for letting me visit, this really means a lot to me.

Captain Marvel: oh don’t worry about it. Do be mindful of the train though.

Zatanna: the what

*gets run over by the train*

It becomes sort of a hazing ritual among the close circle of magic friends who visit the Rock. Zatanna had fantastic footage of Constantine loosing his mind before during and after the event.

And don’t think Train-kun is limited to train tracks. Captain Marvel needed to bring Hawkwoman to the Rock asap cause there was a situation where he needed her to check a Thanagarian artifice kept at the rock. She agreed whilst they where both flying. Footage of a random train hitting the both of them and all three parties disappearing.

Yes Billy has to get hit by the train when he brings someone knew that doesn’t have users access. It’s normal.

Clark: so you get hit by a train in a regular basis to go to your … rock?

Marvel: only when I get new people that the train doesn’t really approve of. And when we first met. But we’re cool.

JL: *concerned noises*

Batman adds magic train to his conspiracy board.

Bonus points if he uses the train to capture high end villains to put them in the dungeons / monster lands / prison of eternity.

Super powerful magical entity villain: AND YOU SHALL TUE THE DAY YOU EV-

*gets hit by a truck*

Marvel, whistling as he picks up the villains grimoire: well that was a close one. Good thing they were monologuing, otherwise that wouldn’t have worked as well as it did.

Reporter nearby: Captain did you throw a train at them????

Marvel: Train does what Train wants. Train wants speedruns.

Just fun little thoughts :D

[sam-out-of-energy]

I'm back writing more fic for kefs mecha jazz AU but as texaid has taken over me as of currrent thats what im writin! Just some silly guys and some silly tings, vortex being a weird character yanno :D i went for a bit of a spooky vibe but lmk what ya'll think

Tw for gore i guess? Its not that detailed, but just in case

-------

First Aid- er, Felix, didn't even bother to ask how he'd gotten here. So much had happened since that faithful day he'd been assigned to clean the mecha- er- to clean Vortex.

Thats what this thing liked to call itself apparently. Felix had taken into habit to ignore the text on screens flashing in his face, but when he'd done that the thing had started speaking in his head instead.

So they communicated through screens.

"Dance with me First Aid" it asked, over and over and over again.

When they were deployed, Felix did his darndest to avoid touching the controls. And he didn't have to try too hard as this mecha would move and control itself just fine, slicing and dicing enemies left to right with it's blades.

Felix was a silent observer to the mechas insane violence, but something about it kept him watching. Maybe it was the numbness he already felt towards corpses, but his morbid curiosity peaked whenever he watched Vortex through Vortex's eyes.

Vortex would tease Felix to its hearts content (did it even have a heart? Something equivalent to that anyway), asking him if he was "enjoying the show", wiggling the controls in front of Felix like holding a bone up to a dog.

Felix knew better than to fall for tricks. He knew that every other pilot who had come before him had perished way earlier just by merely pressing one button. He was not about to face the same fate.

Not...until today.

He hadn't had time to think of another solution.

An enemy had caught them unarmed and for the first time ever, knocked Vortex down. No, not even knocked, slammed Vortex down. Hard enough for Felix to feel it.

Sytems fried, a loud buzzing in the back of his head and now, Felix staring up at an alien being, holding a sword over his- Vortex's- their head.

Felix had called for his mecha to wake, but when there wasn't a single stirr in Vortex's body, he'd been forced to grab the controls himself, catching the enemy by suprise and stabbing Vortex's blade through its chest.

The mecha rose at First Aids command. Felix felt his face lift to a grin, something stirring within himself he'd not felt before.

"Haha! Yes!" He squealed almost unintentionally before lifting the blade and pointing it up at the remaining enemies.

"Let's dance!!"

-

Felix sat at the controls. He'd driven the other all the way back to base before he'd shut down the power and just...sat for a while. He'd maybe felt a bit too connected to the mecha. The blood and gore in Vortex's hands had felt so real...too real for Felix's comfort.

He'd sat for long enough before realizing that Vortex stirred. He heard the buzz of systems coming online, the growl of an engine.

"Vortex?" He mumbled, catching himself out of his own daze of thoughts.

Then, the head shook, twisting violently enough to send Felix, unstrapped, falling and tumbling out of his seat.

He sat up quickly. He felt eyes watching him, coldness falling upon the cockpit and then...something dripped on him.

Felix looked up, before looking back to the maw of the beast (the entrance hatch). He saw blood, dripping and soon cascading down from under panels and cracks.

He felt his gut stirr as he quickly rose to his feet, stumbling when he saw blood cover the floor.

"What the fuck-"

He quickly became keenly aware of the space he was now trapped in. The dangerously sharp blades of the fans stirring on the walls, ones he'd picked plenty of fingers out of. The sharp edges of the panels on the roof, somehow able to catch guts, flesh and viscera hanging off the edges.

The floor of the cockpit, now seemingly flooding with blood, staining Felix's suit.

"I'm...sorry? Vortex. I'm sorry." He found himself suddenly speaking. Perhaps it was fright that had forced him to stand still, not sure if the visceral bits of skin and body parts he saw on the walls were real or not.

What the hell?! This thing itself had been begging him to use the controls! Now it was..punishing him for it?

Panic settled in Felix's mind without him even thinking too hard. He had to run, he had to escape.

And that he..tried. Bright red screens watched First Aid back further and further from the entrance, pressing against the wall of the cockpit. No way he could get out the right way, he'd be crushed before he could get through one hatch.

Felix suddenly felt a sharp pain. He twisted and jumped back from the wall, looking down to see what looked like some sort of hook that had sprung out and stabbed into his thigh. (A gap in between his armour).

He let out a painsoaked grunt, pressing a palm over the bleeding spot (He wasnt sure if it was his own blood or not).

A thought came to him. The only other route of escape. Felix limped to the control panel and almost found himself gagging at a pair of hands, torn from the wrists, hanging off of it, rigor mortis the only thing keeping them gripping to the edge of the panel. Everything stank of blood and rust.

He pressed the emergency exit button and turned when he saw a hatch open at the back.

Upon approaching, Felix found that it was just a...chute. An opening at the back of the head that slid down and then opened at the bottom to reveal a fall that was...god knows how long. Vortex was tall.

Felix bit the bullet, grabbing onto the small nooks and cracks inside the chute before starting to climb.

He'd managed to descend about halfway before realizing what kind of a situation he'd just put himself in. Like a prey animal running into a corner, driving itself into the worst possible situation out of sheer panic to escape. The predator had only needed to watch and wait.

Felix let out a stressed "No!" When he saw the hatch below slam shut. The slam of a hatch above made him lose his grip and fall down.

-

It was pitch black, the only illumination inside the escape chute being the small red LEDs lining its walls.

Felix's heart beat louder than the entire mecha. He felt his pulse rush, cold sweat coming down his back.

"Vortex, please"

He called out.

Ch-THUNK!

A hatch slammed shut above him.

Felix's eyes widened at the imminent danger approaching.

Ch-THUNK!

"Vortex" he choked up. He didn't want to die like this. God help the poor sap who would have to dig his crushed and dismantled corpse out of the mechas escape chute.

Ch-THUNK!

Ch-THUNK!

CH-THUNK!

"Vortex!!" He screamed one last time.

It was silent. Felix found himself screaming for a lot longer than he thought.

He

He wasn't dead?

His eyes opened. He was still in darkness, pressed back as down as he could be, against the emergency chute. One last hatch closed barely above his head, upon trying to lift himself, he'd bumped his helmet into it.

Felix then found that he was falling in the blink of an eye as the chute opened again. He couldn't muster out anymore screams, landing on something before he had time to process that he'd fallen in the first place.

A hand. A giant mechanical hand, slowly lifting and bringing him up to a terrifyingly familiar face and then to a dearly familiar scaffolding.

Felix took no hesitation to jump off the hand and land on the scaffolding, stumbling and turning to look back at the giant mecha infront of him.

He panted, falling to his knees when he caught solid ground, watching the bright red glow of the mechas visor.

He turned down to feel his body, his hands trembling from the afterburn of adrenaline. He took off his helmet to feel the cool air brushing over all his senses.

He was alive. His thigh was hurting, but he was alive.

Felix heard a thunk, lifting his head to see that the visor had dimmed. Inside, a bright red glow of a tv screen.

"Did you enjoy it"

it asked, the words read out by a voice inside Felix's head for him. Then the text changed and so did the voices tone, from a mechanical one to sounding more....amused.

"See you tomorrow, First Aid"

[felibrary]

"i love you, i'm sorry"

pairing: aventurine x reader (gender neutral)

synopsis: aventurine doesn’t know how to handle people being affectionate to him. so eventually, just as everyone leaves him, he’s become the one who leaves the person he cherishes the most—you—before you’re able to leave him first. so then, why is he now in front of your home, asking for another chance?

wordcount: 1.2k | content & warnings: unestablished relationship, situationship 101, aven has commitment issues (surprise), angst if you squint, hurt/comfort , mentions of aven's past (kind of) ; ficlet

tags: @eccentric-planet HERE IT ISSSS!!! (after waiting for like a week or so oops)

author's note: i wrote like half of this during biology, history and french class LMFAO

in his world, love leaves behind traces. 

be it dejection that gnaws at him, and wraps his heart in sorrow or your lips that press against him, finding home in his scarred skin. all of the little things that shaped him into being—they all track back to you.  

gradually, over time, with every gesture of affection exchanged, he fell. his once sleepless nights were cured by lying beside you, and eventually, he peacefully dozed off. that is until morning arrived, the sun greeting him as her rays seeped through the curtains, which made him rise.

alas, bathing in bliss only lasted for so long. the love that streamed through his veins and was pumped into his heart, was daring to spill; aventurine knew that confessing his love to you would come with its consequences. there were rules he set up for himself, but after all, he is no more than a pathological sinner—an individual long forsaken by the gods that reign this world—a helpless soul.

despite harboring feelings for you, he kept those blooming emotions to himself; confined in the depths of his heart. 

so as much as he loved you, it hurt just as much to let you go; leave you behind with no words that offered an explanation for his leaving. 

aventurine’s foundation was built upon being alone—disappearing without leaving a trace has always been in his nature. having to leave and being left behind was nothing new. he was a natural.

eventually, the traces you left behind, etched into his very being, washed away.

kakavasha was a lonely child. the word company has always felt foreign on his tongue, at least when he had to say it aloud in a language other than his own.

presumably, that’s why he felt strangely weak in your hold. how you always persistently, almost desperately, buried your nails into his skin and held him tight—not wanting to let go as if you knew that he’d leave one day; silently slip from your grasp.

it was to be expected that you wouldn’t reach out anymore—he made you leave. 

(it’s for the better he thinks. after all, if you would’ve marched further into his heart you would’ve seen what was hidden in the depths of it—someone with no strong ambitions, and there’d be no point of return. aventurine wouldn’t make a good lover, he’s both too selfish and selfless no in between.)

there hasn’t ever been a verbal confirmation that the two of you were in a relationship. everyone around him, including you just assumed that the two of you were together

but he can’t blame them. all the spare items in his apartment, ranging from a mere toothbrush to items like skincare or using the same candles as you, that’d help you feel more at home. arriving at work together and subtly flirting in the elevator when others were around or kissing in the copy room, weren’t casual things that friends did.

aventurine thought it was easier that way, simply because the thought of putting labels on your relationship felt strange. to him, it felt like a heavy shackle bound to his feet, preventing him from being free.

so why is he now standing at your front door, waiting like a prisoner on death row for their judgment to come?

there’s a faint squeak as you open the door and aventurine shoves his left hand into the pocket of his coat, fiddling with the flower-shop bill. 

before aventurine knows it; and can fully comprehend the solemnity of the situation, you stand in front of him, as beautiful as ever.

“hi,” aventurine breathes out, and only now does he realize how much he’s missed seeing you. instead of answering your gaze drifts over his figure and his surroundings.

he feels hot under your watchful gaze, his body suddenly heating up, and clothes sickly sticking to his skin. “so? what’s your business?” your eyes land on the bouquet of lilies and gardenias he's gripping tightly,  slightly wrinkling the wrapping paper by doing so. 

countless thoughts are running through his head. may i come in? can we talk? i wanted to apologi—

“i love you, i’m sorry.”

his voice croaks and suddenly he feels small. the gut-wrenching feeling of fear that stirred in his stomach whenever you were around made him vulnerable and submissive. it made him bolder—more reckless with his way of words. they twisted and twirled on his tongue, and ultimately something else slipped out. (the truth)

the dismissive sound you make crawls into aventurine’s ears like a parasite creeping on his skin, causing him pain. “you say that after playing a game of push-and-pull with me? aventurine do you hear yourself?” you huff laughingly. “don’t do this to me. i can’t go through this once again,” you express with bitterness in your voice. “you’ll just hurt the both of us.” your tone is meek, but aventurine can hear the strain in your voice and he feels his stomach drop.

he exhales and musters the courage to say something. “i know that this is sudden, moreover, i know that i’ve been beyond horrible to you,” aventurine admits, and he swallows. “i want to apologize. my first apology is that i never apologized sooner.” he diverts his gaze to the ground, head facing the floor like a prisoner being escorted. 

he’s sure that at this point the stems of the flowers he’s bought for you are already kinked from clutching them so hard in his hand. “so, may i come in? i’ll tell you everything. i promise.” aventurine doesn’t dare to look up, at least not yet.

“calling me, whenever you needed me like i’m a pet who listens to every command, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as if you were coaxing me into believing something that was untruthful from the very beginning, and—” frustratedly, you ball your hands into fists. “listen. everything i told you was honest. yes i wasn’t ready for a relationship but that doesn't mean that i didn’t love you.” aventurine forces himself to look up, but immediately regrets it upon seeing your hurt face.

nevertheless, he continues. “i’m still hung up on the past. the thought of being with someone and promising myself to stay with them and committing my time, my life, and my very being scares me. it doesn’t excuse my behavior and actions, no, but i hope that this helps you understand me better.”

“i'm sorry that i didn't confide you in this any sooner. I was scared that you too would leave me. so i thought that if i’d leave first, it wouldn’t hurt as much. but i was wrong, my heart fucking aches when i’m not with you.” he cringes at how fake this sounds. but he’s more bothered about the fact that his heart isn’t only twinging when not with you, but it also might jump out of his ribcage, right here, right now.

you bite down on your bottom lip and contemplate. it's faint and if aventurine hadn’t paid attention, he’d have missed it. the way you mutter dumbass under your breath.” forget it,” you sigh as if reaching your breaking point. “just come in.”

this time, you fully open the door to him and he feels a wave of relief washing over him. “you’ve always been a mystery to me kakavasha.” you whisper, and aventurine’s lips form into a small smile as he trails and follows behind you, into your home.

a mystery, you say?

aventurine makes a promise to himself as he places the flowers into the glass vase you provided him. this time he’d be completely honest with you. about everything and anything.

so here it is — his heart laid bare.

end note: who am i kidding. if he came back to me pleading id also take him back.

also tagging @azullumi because at this point it'd be weird not to do this. i just want to thank you azul. thank you for being an amazing friend. thinking back, i used to have much worse communication skills. avoiding the ones around me or never voicing my problems aloud. but you giving me advice has genuinely inspired and impacted me so much. simply because i wanted to be so much like you cause i looked up to you so much and i still do. and recently those efforts of trying to better my social skills have paid off (kind of). I've become better and more mindful when it comes to people addressing their problems they have with me and thus trying to reflect and change my behavior. but I'm also able to talk about the things that bother me better now, simply because i took your advice. azul you understand me like no other. you take the words out of my mouth and are able to form such beautiful sentences i could never even think of. honestly your way with words is what enamors me the most about you.

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Four

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Was gonna make chapter 4 like 5k words but I decided to put it into two separate chapters.

Masterlist: Here

The weight of Sarah and John B.’s loss still felt like an open wound, raw and fresh, no matter how many days had passed since the funeral. Some nights, you could still hear Sarah’s laughter echoing in your head, still feel the warmth of her presence, as though she were just a room away. And John B., with his reckless optimism and that undeniable spark of life that had kept everyone around him grounded, seemed like a ghost that haunted your every moment.

But the hardest part was seeing Willa—tiny and innocent, too young to understand the gravity of it all. Her parents were gone, and she didn’t even know why she cried sometimes, why her little heart was breaking, why her world was changing so fast. And yet, it was you and Rafe who had to bear the weight of their absence, both trying to figure out how to hold Willa together while you were both falling apart.

The days were long and filled with small, seemingly insignificant tasks: feeding Willa, changing diapers, trying to soothe her when she cried. But underneath all of that, it was hard not to remember Sarah’s voice calling out to you, her bright smile in the mornings, the late-night talks about everything and nothing. Those moments were gone, and you felt like part of yourself had been ripped away with them.

And then there was John B. The spontaneous adventures, the way he could make you laugh even on the worst days, the way he’d always come through when you needed him most. Those memories, too, were bittersweet now—something you cherished but also something that threatened to suffocate you.

You tried to stay strong for Willa, to focus on the here and now, but there were days when it felt impossible. There were times when you’d find yourself staring at the little girl in your arms and wondering if you were doing enough. Wondering if she would ever remember the love her parents had for her or if she would only know the sorrow of their absence.

Rafe, for his part, seemed to bury his grief deep down. He rarely spoke about Sarah or John B., and when he did, it was as if the words hurt him too much to say aloud. He was always trying to maintain control—over Willa, over the situation with Ward, over himself—but you could see it in the way his eyes flickered with pain whenever something reminded him of his sister or her fiancé.

It wasn’t just the memories of Sarah and John B. that gnawed at him; it was the guilt. The unspoken weight of knowing that his family—his toxic, emotionally abusive father—was now trying to take Willa from him, from them.

Rafe had never talked much about his dad, not even to Sarah. But in the quiet moments, when the house felt too still and too silent, you could see the rage simmering behind his eyes. Ward Cameron had done unspeakable things to Rafe and Sarah growing up, and the idea of him having any claim to Willa, of him trying to step in as her guardian, cut deeper than either of them cared to admit.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It was late one evening when the dam finally broke. Willa was asleep, her tiny body tucked beneath the blankets, and the house was finally quiet. You and Rafe were sitting on the couch, the exhaustion of the day heavy on your shoulders. The wine bottle from a few nights ago sat untouched on the coffee table. Neither of you had much appetite for anything anymore—food, conversation, anything other than the silence that seemed to speak louder than words.

Rafe was the first to speak, his voice low and uncertain. "I hate that they're gone. I hate that I can't fix it. I hate that Willa won't ever know how good they were. How good they could have been."

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for the first time in weeks, you saw the cracks in his tough exterior. He wasn’t the cold, distant person you’d been living with; he was just a man—broken, grieving, unsure of how to move forward.

"I hate it too," you whispered, turning to face him. "I hate that Willa will grow up never knowing how special they were. How good they were. Sarah was... everything. She made everything brighter. And John B. He had this way of making you feel like things were always gonna be okay. Even when everything was falling apart."

Rafe's eyes were distant, his gaze turned to the floor as if trying to bury the memories. "I should’ve been there more. I should’ve been a better brother. I should’ve been there for Sarah. I—I wasn’t enough. I couldn’t protect her from him." His voice cracked at the end, a rawness creeping into the words.

You could feel the pain in his voice, the regret, the anger that swirled with everything else. It was too much for him to hold, and maybe it had always been. Maybe Rafe had been carrying this weight for years, too afraid to talk about it, too scared to let anyone see him broken.

You didn’t know what to say at first. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him that he wasn’t to blame, but how could you? There were no right words, no magic phrases that could undo the past.

Instead, you simply moved closer, sitting beside him on the couch, the space between you closing.

"You didn’t fail her," you said softly. "Rafe, you didn’t fail any of us. You loved her. You loved John B. You’re still here. You’re still fighting for Willa. And that means everything."

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. But in that silence, something passed between you both. The raw honesty of the words, the shared pain, the understanding that grief didn’t need fixing—it just needed time.

Finally, Rafe turned to face you, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and something deeper, something more vulnerable. "I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a good dad to her—how to keep it together when it feels like everything is falling apart."

You swallowed, feeling the sting of your own grief in his words. "I don’t know how to do it either," you admitted. "But we’re doing it together. We have to. For her. And for them."

Rafe’s eyes softened, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for yours. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was everything. "I’m scared, [Y/N]. I’m scared of what Ward might do. I’m scared of failing her."

You squeezed his hand, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’re not alone in this. We have each other."

And in that moment, as the weight of the past few months hung heavy in the air, you both allowed yourselves to be vulnerable. For the first time since you’d become Willa’s guardians, it wasn’t just about fighting for her—it was about acknowledging that the fight was bigger than both of you, that the grief you shared had no easy solution. And that maybe, just maybe, you could survive it together.

But even as you held on to each other, even as the weight of the past few months began to lift just a little, a new storm was brewing.

The next morning, a letter arrived from Ward Cameron’s attorney.

The legal battle for Willa had officially begun.

And this time, you weren’t sure if you could win.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The tension in the house had been building for weeks. The constant phone calls, the late-night meetings with lawyers, the nervous energy that permeated every room. It felt like a storm was brewing, and no one knew when or where it would strike.

Ward Cameron was relentless. He wasn’t going to let go of Willa without a fight. The custody battle was a war neither you nor Rafe were prepared for, and with each passing day, it became more and more clear that Ward had no interest in doing what was best for Willa. He was driven by control, by pride, and by a need to take back what he saw as his.

You could feel the weight of it all pressing down on you as you prepared for the court hearing. It wasn’t just a matter of legal paperwork anymore; it was about Willa’s future. About whether or not she would be able to stay with the people who loved her most—or whether she would be taken away by the very man who had terrorized Rafe and Sarah their entire lives.

The morning of the hearing arrived, and as you walked into the courthouse, a cold shiver ran down your spine. Ward was there, sitting smugly at his lawyer’s side, his presence already like a shadow over the room. You glanced at Rafe, who looked tense but composed. He hadn’t spoken much in the last few days, but you could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“We’re gonna win this,” you whispered, more to reassure yourself than him.

Rafe didn’t respond. His jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on the door as though he was bracing for what was to come.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It happened before the hearing even began.

Ward spotted Rafe as he entered the building, and in an instant, the calm atmosphere of the courthouse was shattered.

“Rafe,” Ward’s voice was like acid, dripping with disdain. “Still playing pretend, are we? Acting like you’re fit to raise her?” His gaze flickered to you, then back to Rafe. “You’re nothing. You always were. Just like your mother. You’re not good enough for her.”

You could see Rafe’s fists clenching at his sides, his entire body rigid with tension. He was trying to keep it together, trying to stay calm, but you knew Ward’s words were cutting through him like knives.

“Don’t talk about her,” Rafe spat through gritted teeth, his voice dangerously low.

Ward smirked, then took a step closer. “Or what? You gonna threaten me, Rafe? You gonna get violent like you always do?”

Before anyone could react, Ward’s hand shot out, slapping Rafe across the face with a sickening crack. The sound of the slap echoed through the hallway, sending a chill down your spine.

Rafe stumbled back, his hand instinctively reaching for his cheek where the bruise was already beginning to form. You could see the pain in his eyes, but the rage was sharper—cutting through him like a blade.

“Ward, you don’t get to touch him,” you snapped, stepping forward, but Rafe raised a hand to stop you.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice tight with anger. But you could see the bruise already swelling, darkening the side of his face.

Ward laughed coldly, his eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction. “This is the man you’re trusting with her?” He gestured toward Rafe, a mocking sneer on his lips. “Pathetic. This is all a joke to you, isn’t it?”

Before you could say anything else, security had already stepped in, and Ward was ushered away by his lawyer. Rafe stood there, silent, his face hard as stone.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered, turning on his heel and heading toward the courtroom.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The courtroom was packed, tension thick in the air. The judge, a woman with a stern expression, motioned for everyone to sit down, but you could still feel the heaviness of the moment.

Rafe sat beside you, his posture stiff, his hand gripping the armrest of the chair so tightly his knuckles were white. You could see the bruise on his cheek, the darkening mark a stark reminder of the physical and emotional battle he was facing.

Ward sat across the room, his face set in a smug grin. He didn’t look at Rafe. He didn’t need to. He was confident he had already won.

As the hearing began, the tension grew. Both sides presented their arguments—Ward with his usual smugness, his words dripping with false sincerity, and you and Rafe, doing your best to argue that Willa belonged with the people who had been raising her, the people who loved her.

But as the court session continued, it became clear that Ward wasn’t playing fair. His lawyer had found every loophole, every flaw in your case, and used it against you. And with the bruise on Rafe’s face, there was no way around the implications it carried. The scene in the hallway, though quickly dealt with, was impossible to ignore.

Rafe’s history, his past with Ward—everything was being dragged out into the open, and no matter how hard Rafe tried to stay composed, no matter how much you fought back, the weight of their father’s influence was undeniable.

You watched, helpless, as the case swung in Ward’s favor. Every argument Rafe made, every truth he tried to speak, was countered with a lie, with an accusation. And in the end, it wasn’t about what was best for Willa. It was about who had the power, who had the money, who could manipulate the system.

And in that moment, it was clear who was winning.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The judge finally spoke, her voice cold and impartial. “Based on the evidence presented, and in consideration of the child’s well-being, I am ruling in favor of Mr. Ward Cameron for the temporary custody of Willa Routledge.”

The words were like a slap in the face. Your heart stopped, the world spinning in slow motion as you processed the finality of her decision. Rafe’s face fell, his entire body going rigid beside you. His hand, which had been gripping the armrest, was now shaking.

Willa was going to Ward. And there was nothing either of you could do about it.

“What?” Rafe’s voice was barely a whisper, but it held so much anger, so much disbelief, that it made your chest ache.

The judge didn’t respond, and Ward’s smirk only deepened, satisfaction radiating from every inch of him.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t believe it.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Rafe stood up, the pain in his eyes more evident than ever before. He didn’t speak, didn’t argue. He just left. He stormed out of the courtroom, his movements sharp, angry, broken.

You stayed behind, your own heart sinking, as Ward’s lawyer turned to you with a cold, dismissive smile.

“This isn’t over,” you whispered to yourself, but deep down, you knew it was. The battle for Willa had just taken an unimaginable turn. And you couldn’t help but wonder if you and Rafe would ever recover from the blow.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader (halloween) 👻

a special story for those who intensely asked for a part two

warnings: kissing, cursing, just a very intense luke, m4sturbation (f and m), p in v. (also, luke’s ten times hotter with that skeleton make-up)

The usually cold October night felt fuzzy and heavily hot that night, filled with chatter and nonstop dancing from fairies all the way to those dressed as pineapples. The big party was packed and crowded, the drinks flowing, and the music blasting; y´all had to take advantage of Chiron´s and Mr. D´s permission. You sat on a long table, with your sisters and friends, just chilling and enjoying the good time.

It was good.

It was fun.

And Luke was nowhere to be seen.

You didn´t think much about it though, and neither did you expect him to follow you all night like a dog after what had happened in the cabin, whatever that was. Maybe he was just being a jerk, trying to mess with you and play around with you. After all, Luke was always a tease, a playful one. But he did give you a good scare, it was Halloween after all.

Soon your second drink started to hit you, slowly, but the feeling surely was there, embracing your friends into the same bubble as you. As the feeling rushed through your veins, you suddenly found the table a pretty boring place to be at, and soon enough, you and your sisters found yourselves on the improvised dancefloor.

Dancing was the perfect way to let loose, especially after a long, exhausting day of helping the campers. You deserved it, you thought. This fun, this night, a night-to-forget of all those monsters, Gods, missions, the camp life that kept you so exhausted every day. Everyone at camp needed that break, well deserved one. Just a night to behave for what you really were; people. Some of your sisters already disappeared into the darkness with some pirate, or wrestle fighter, or skeleton, leaving their drinks behind and a secret wink to your direction, or a "it won´t be long" comment for you to not worry too much, and honestly? Good for them, in fact, fucking great for them.

In fact, you were going to have your fun too.

You danced and moved around to the rhythm, the loud music blasting in your ears. Your head was slightly spinning, a pleasant feeling more than an unsettling one, and your body moved smoothly along with the music, letting it guide you, letting it move you, letting it control you and the sway of your waist, the holding of your hand to your friend´s, the laughing and singing. You even felt like you would be able to dance all night, nonstop, and you´d still want more fun.

Until you felt it. Again.

That cold, freezing feeling. The feeling of someone staring.

You knew exactly who it was.

He had found you, like he said he would. No-, he didn´t say that, did he?

"I´ll make sure you find me"

Well-, similar.

It was a little weird though, you just knew it was him, without even looking. You were not going to fall for his little mouse-trap game. You wouldn´t look for him, you wouldn´t find him. Did he want some fun? Bring it then.

But you imagined him.

Wearing his entire black outfit, the leather jacket hanging heavily on his shoulders, and his face decorated with that skeleton make-up you worked so hard on. A drink in hand, surrounded by other campers, but you knew, he was only staring at you.

You kept dancing, not a single glimpse, not a single look to his direction. You wouldn´t give him the satisfaction, no, you would be the one giving him a lesson. And maybe he didn´t deserve it. But oh, poor you, didn´t you know he´s been looking at you the whole night and you didn´t realize until now?

The sweat was sticking to your skin, and you´d be fine with that if the feeling of your own hair sticking to your chest didn´t gross you out. "I´m sweating like a pig" a friend told you, basically screaming into your eardrum, "Come get water with me?"

"Okay!" you reply, fixing your hair, moving it out of your sticky skin, following the fairy through the dark woods to try and go towards the drink table.

And that was just the perfect moment to attack.

"Hey" Luke said.

You turned around quicker than you´d like yourself to admit.

"Hi" you say, stopping in your tracks. "Found you, I guess"

He was looking good, too good. His jacket was opened, the teasing flesh of his neck showing just underneath that boring black shirt. His make-up was still in perfect shape, and his face didn´t look as scary as it did before, rather, he looked handsome, even with the painted features.

"Guess so" he smiles, and there´s a slight tilt to his head, as if he was sizing you up. "So-, how that night going for you?" he asked.

"Good so far" you replied, getting rid of the hood of your cape, letting yourself breathe a little bit more. "Sweaty" you stated, "You?"

"Sweaty" he repeated, a soft grin on his face. You rolled your eyes. "Nothing more?" he inquires.

You press your lips together, crossing your arms over your chest, "What do you mean?" you quickly ask.

"No one´s tried their luck with you yet?" he asked before taking a sip of his beer. He tilted his head to the side while doing so, the moonlight doing nothing but wonders to illuminate his jawline perfectly, the shadow of it intensifying over your Adam´s apple, which bobbed up and down slowly, the way his tongue licked his bottom lip quickly.

You scoffed. "No. Not really"

"Come on..." he jogged, "I don´t believe you"

Gosh, he was doing it again.

"Why?" you asked

He shrugged his shoulders casually, "You´re not something that´s easy to miss" he said, and you hated the way the compliment made you feel, and how silent it made you, unable to form words.  And it was like he knew exactly what he was doing, and what he was making you feel. He knew exactly what to say, and he knew it was driving you insane, and Luke was enjoying the hell out of it.

"Were you watching me?" is all you can ask.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe", is all he stated.

You laughed, tilting your head, "What, are you some creep now?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, "Don't get me wrong, I love watching you dance" he said, his tone so smooth and warm, "But I was hoping for something else" he shrugged his shoulders playfully, as if he was just talking about the weather with that casualness.

You raised and eyebrow, "So you were watching?" you asked, and you damn right knew he was.

Luke raised the bottle again, just about to press it to his lips as he said, "Like I said, you´re kind of impossible to miss"

He had a way with words, and they somehow always managed to make your brain malfunction, like you were suddenly a dumb girl from freshman year, the way they came out of his mouth with that husky, rough voice. Like they were sweet and velvety, and he had a way of saying them, a way of pronouncing them.

"Are you done playing around?" is all you manage to ask. You wanted to do something, say something, move somewhere. It was like your legs had become roots of trees, and you were just waiting for him, for him to do something. For him to say anything, really. And you didn´t want to think, or act, or speak. You just wanted him.

Luke hummed, and the smile that tugged at his lips was almost predatory. Like he was waiting for that. For you to ask him, and beg him, and for him to give in, to say yes. In silence, he walked towards a nearby tree taking the last sip of his beer, setting the bottle on the floor shortly after. He leaned back against it, the back of his head pressing against the hard wood.

"Come here" he asked, and it all became so quiet. The loud party was easy to step away from, even when the music and continuous chatter was buzzing inside your ears.

Arms still crossed, you walked to where he was, just a few feet away.

"What are you doing?" you asked, looking straight into his eyes. They were the same ones that pierced through you hours ago. The same ones that stared at you so deeply, and the same ones that made your knees weak. Luke lifted a hand, forcing its way through your crossed arms to hold one of your hands, and he gave it a quick, soft pull, a gesture that would be too obvious, and easy to ignore. But you didn´t. Because his palm was warm, and his fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly, but carefully.

"I just want you close"

You scoffed, unable to hold back a laugh. If you really thought about it, he sounded so, so dumb.

"That was the cheesiest shit I have ever heard"

He didn´t flinch, his face was still as serious as before. And he didn't take his eyes off of you, his fingers gently rubbing the soft skin of your wrist, a gesture that was almost hypnotic.

"I wasn´t done"

You tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to continue. He was attempting to pull you by the hand again, yet he never did. It felt as if you were about to jump off a cliff with the risk of someone pushing you. You took another step closer yourself, and then another, until you were standing just in front of him, your chests barely touching.

"Go on then" you encouraged, feeling your own cockiness take a hold on you, "What is it that you want, hm?". If it wasn´t for your previous fruity drinks, you weren´t sure you would be this bold.

"I said close" he demanded. But your chests were at the verge of pressing together.

"I am close"

That´s when he really pulled you. Luke forced his free hand around your waist, and he tugged, hard. The sudden force had you stumbling towards him, your chest colliding with his and his nose nearly pressed against yours, lips parted as you gasped, your free hand taking a hold on his shoulder so you wouldn´t fall all over him.

"This close" he whispered, his face dangerously close to yours. He was looking at your lips, and then at your eyes, and back to your lips. And you knew, oh, you knew exactly what he wanted, and you were more than willing to let him have it.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, and you could almost taste him. Luke let his lips brush against yours, and the soft touch was enough to drive you crazy. He was testing the waters, testing the limits, and you could tell by the way his lips moved against yours.

But it felt like a hundred tortures.

"Just kiss me already" you muttered against him. Luke didn´t need any more words to finally, fucking finally, press his lips against yours. And when he did, he kissed you hard, and with a hunger that left you breathless. He kissed you like his life depended on it.

He loved the feeling of when you let him press his tongue softly, exploring your mouth. And the way his teeth grazed over your bottom lip, and the way his hand was grabbing the fabric of your costume, and the way he held onto your neck, and the way his other hand grabbed your waist and pulled your hips against his, the feeling of his fingers digging into your soft flesh, the way he groaned softly into the kiss, the way his chest was pressed against yours and his breath was hot and heavy.

And he wanted more.

His kiss was hungry, and demanding, and all consuming, like he was trying to take every single ounce of air from your lungs. His hand moved up, his fingers tangling into your hair, holding onto the back of your neck, his nails grazing the skin, and pulling slightly, forcing you to arch your neck. He didn´t waste any time, and his tongue was instantly on yours again.

He pressed a couple of quick kisses over your jaw, his teeth grazing the skin, biting softly. His lips trailed down, pressing wet kisses all the way down to your neck, sucking on the soft skin. His fingers tightened, tugging slightly.

"Let´s go somewhere else, yeah?" he whispered, low and vibrant.

You didn´t have the chance to answer.

It was a quick turn, and the next thing you know is that Luke is walking ahead, his hand holding onto yours and a quick, firm pull, making you follow him. And soon enough, you find yourselves inside your cabin. And it was as if a switch had turned inside him. He pressed you against the door as soon as it was closed, his lips attacking yours. He kissed you hungrily, his hands gripping the back of your thighs, lifting you and pressing you further against the door.

He was all over you. It didn´t take him long to take a firmer grip of your legs as he walked towards the bed, dropping you down softly. His hands were quick to grab the edge of his jacket, removing it with ease, throwing it across the room, his black t-shirt following right after. You were mesmerized, watching the way his muscles flexed with each movement, the way his eyes remained focused on you still.

You got rid of your cape as he leaned down over you, "Stop" he warned you. He looked down, his hands roaming over your red skirt. His fingers took a hold of it softly, "I want this on" he stated. You could only nod as he leaned down, pressing another quick kiss against your lips. "But I want this off" he whispered, his hands moving up, reaching for the top of the corset. You were quick to remove it, Luke helping you quickly, letting the  material fall down onto the mattress, leaving you in the button up shirt you had underneath.

Luke popped a knee onto the bed, dangerously close to your core. "Fuck-" he muttered. He leaned down, a hand quickly unbuttoning your clothes. "How am I supposed to not fuck you like this?" he mumbled, and you felt the warmth of his hands, the soft touch, his calloused fingertips, his nails scraping the skin. "Looking this pretty, waiting for me"

You could feel the heat creeping up, and you knew he could see it. Your chest was rising and falling with every breath, your heart pounding in your chest. Luke was looking at you, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

His knee finally pressed against you, the contact enough to draw a small gasp from you, his thigh now firmly between yours, your skirt pushed up slightly. You felt his hands run over the smooth material of your skirt, and then under it, his fingers squeezing, pulling, kneading at your legs. His hand ran up the length of your inner thigh, "Move" he demanded then.

You obliged. You didn´t dare to question him, his knee remained pressed firmly against you. You felt the delicious pressure against your clit as your hips slowly grinned against his thigh.

Luke watched, his lips parting. "That's it" he praised you. Your eyes fell shut, your head falling back, a low groan whimper your lips. You felt his hand trail up your lower back, encouraging your movements against him, "Keep going baby, show me how good you feel" he breathed, and you couldn´t help but feel the rush of heat between your legs. He leaned in, his lips pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses over the base of your throat. Your hips jerked against him, his hand gripping your skin tighter.

"I want to touch you" he muttered, "Let me touch you" his hand moved up, fingers caressing the flesh of your stomach, all the way up to your cleavage. He was bold enough to cup one of your covered breast for a second, squeezing it firmly, and then trailing his hand down, his palm pressed flat against your lower abdomen, "Come on-," he urged, "Let me touch you, let me get you off"

Luke was desperate, and you were a moaning mess, grinding against his thigh. You were desperate too, and the friction of his clothes against you wasn´t enough, and he was right there. "Do it. Do what you want" you sight out, grabbing his face to smash your lips together again. And that was enough.

Luke moved, his hands working their way down your skirt. His fingers worked quickly, his finger hooked on the waistband of the underwear, pulling them down slowly, the fabric scratching your thighs. His mouth was back on your neck, his teeth grazing the skin as he sucked and bit the soft skin, and then his tongue soothing the pain. You shivered, goosebumps rising over your skin. "You said you didn´t bite" you teased.

"Shut up" he grunted.

His fingers slid in between your thighs, teasingly, before moving further down, the pads of his fingers rubbing your folds. A sigh escaped you, and you heard his smile against your skin, his fingers slipping between the wet, slick skin.

Your body shook at the sudden sensation, his fingers spreading you apart. Luke slid his index finger inside you slowly. He pressed his lips against your throat, a deep chuckle leaving his lips, "I´m sure you don´t mind if I bite" he muttered, his fingers curling inside of you. "And you won´t mind if I fuck you too, right?" he asked. Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn´t form a proper answer. "I won't ask twice"

You couldn´t help the way you clenched around his fingers, and the sound that escaped you was something that was not going to be forgotten. "N-no" you whimpered.

"No?" he repeated, almost mockingly, a small yet lying pout on his lips. It bothered you as much as it made the rest of your body hot, but you had no time to be mad. Luke picked up his pace, his fingers sliding in and out in a faster motion that got you taking a hold of his wrist.

"Oh-," you whimpered, and you were already feeling so sensitive. He had a way of getting you so worked up, and the teasing was killing you.

"What is it? You don't like it?" he asked, but the smirk on his lips told you everything.

"Y-you know-," you breathed out, struggling to keep your words straight, "Fucking jerk"

"Mhm" he hummed, the pad of his thumb moving up to circle your clit, rubbing it gently, his fingers still moving inside you, "Is that so?" he asked. You could only nod, unable to keep your eyes open, the sensations overwhelming, his voice only making things worse, and the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out was too much.

The burning sensation on your tummy tightened just for a second before he went back to his slow and deliberate pace. You felt him move, and you realized he was positioning himself better, his face now at the level of your stomach. He kissed the skin just above the waistband of the skirt, fingers still working inside you. You took a quick look at him, the paint on his face, smudged around the round edges and his perfect lips not looking so perfectly painted anymore. You were not going to admit it out loud, but the messy look was something that did wonders to you, and you hated the thought of being able to have him like this, with a paint-stained face, and a body that was not the least bit tired of the day.

His mouth guided upwards then, following an invisible line that travelled from your belly button all the way to your lips again, kissing you as his fingers were still sliding in and out, his thumb still working circles over the bundle of nerves. You felt him shift his weight, his hand moving up from your waist, sliding over the back of your head and grabbing a fistful of hair. The sensation made your breath hitch.

Luke broke the kiss, a small grunt leaving his mouth, "You feel so good" he grunted, "So warm, and tight" his fingers curled inside you, again. His hand pulled slightly on your scalp, the tug feeling like electricity shooting through your spine.

He wanted to know if you´ll feel that good when he fucked you.

The thought alone had him throbbing painfully, aching to be inside you. Fuck-, he wanted it now.

"Let me fuck you" he asked, almost begged, "Let me fuck you, sweetheart. I know you want it." he whispered.

Gods, did he love a dirty talk.

You were so lost in pleasure that his words were barely registering, but the way he was touching you, and the way he was speaking to you. His front was almost pressed against you, your fingers taking a grip of the skin of his waist and back, scratching whenever the scissoring of his fingers hit that spot. And you loved the feeling of his hot skin touching with yours. Why not take it a little bit further?

"Go on then" you replied, barely, and a moan followed right after. He could tell it took a lot out of you, the effort to speak, but he could not have been more thankful for your reply. His fingers slid out of you, slowly, instantly missing the feeling of it.

Luke pressed another kiss on your lips before leaning away, "Sit up" he ordered, and you did. He didn´t say anything as he did the exact same thing while he got rid of his pants. His erection was obvious, tightened by the fabric of his boxers, and you could only watch, his cock hard, thick and pulsing.

He didn't even ask as he took a grip of the back of your leg, forcing you to straddle over him. The sudden move was quick, but you could only hold onto his shoulders, the new position making you sit directly on top of his erection, a hiss past his lips, but he liked it. He loved having you like this, and his hand was already reaching for the skirt, moving the fabric out of the way as you took matter into your own hands, pulling down on his underwear to relieve his painfully hard cock.

You held onto his length, the tip already wet, the precum leaking, and he groaned. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breathing labored, eyes closed. You stroked him slowly, your hand tightening around him.

"Shit" he muttered, "Don't stop" he moaned.

You moved your hand up and down, stroking his length, and his hips jerked against your palm, and he could have cum just right there. You twisted slightly around it, the pad of your thumb softly caressing his tip, stealing a filthy moan from the back of his throat. He only wanted this for a short time, or else he would explode on your hand, he knew it.

So he let you have your fun for a moment, before he took a hold of your wrist, stopping you, "You have no idea how close I am" he breathed. "Can I fuck you already?"

And come on, did he even need to ask?

You were quick to reply, "Stop asking and just do it". His arm moved around your waist, pushing his hand under the skirt, moving the fabric out of the way. The lost feeling of his fingers on you was soon replaced by the tip of his cock, teasing the entrance. He moaned. He didn't push in yet, his hand guiding his cock between the folds, rubbing his shaft against the wetness.

"You feel so good already" he moaned, his other hand holding onto the base of his length, giving himself a few pumps before he let his tip slide into you, his hand quickly grabbing a hold of the back of your neck, pulling your head towards him. And he was quick to slide inside.

His lips swallowed the small gasp that left you, the feeling of his cock stretching you being too much to handle in a matter of just a moment. "That's it, that's my girl" he muttered against you.

He began rocking his hips, slow and steady, letting you adjust. "Come on" he encouraged, his arm tightening around you. You began to move, slowly, the sensation almost unbearable, and he moaned, the feeling of him hitting the right spots was all it took. You usually hated this position; the discomfort on your thighs, the burning, how tiring it was, and the fact that the person on top always seemed to not hit the right spot. But with Luke, it was different. It felt different, damn it.

He grunted with a particular roll of your hips, and you moaned, the feeling of him filling you up being enough to make the fire burn hotter, and you clenched around him, causing him to let out a curse. He gripped the skin of your hips, his hips thrusting upwards, his cock sliding further into you, the sound of the two bodies colliding filling the room like a slap. His mouth fell open, his fingers digging into the flesh, holding onto you like his life depended on it, his eyes shut tightly, brows furrowed. And the sound, the lewd and wet sounds coming from the connection between the two bodies, mixed with the moans and the sound of skin, was delicious.

He felt so good, the way his hips bucked against yours, the way he stretched you, filled you, the way he moaned. It was the best fuck of your life, and you hadn't even reached the climax yet.

He placed a hand behind him, onto the mattress, the hand that still held you guiding the dancing of your hips. He began moving his hips, meeting each of your movements, his pace slower than before, but deeper. Your hands reached for his pelvis for your own support, nails scratching the skin.

"Fuck, fuck" he cursed. He let his head fall back, and the sight was mesmerizing, the veins on his neck, the sweat on his forehead, the messy black and white face paint, his mouth falling open and his chest raised and fell. His muscles flexed under the dim light, the moonlight shining over his skin. And his hair was a mess, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow. You never thought someone could look that pretty while fucking.

"You´re being so great" he praised, "So good, sweetheart" his hips snapped, hard, and it hit just the right spot, and a gasp left your lips.

"Oh my-," you whimpered, "There, there, please" you begged. And Luke loved a good beg, he would have to remember that.

"Here?" he smirked, his hips rolling upwards again, the same movement, hitting the exact same spot, and a moan left his lips. He knew he found it when your walls tightened around him, and he couldn't help the way his own legs twitched.

Your thighs already burned, the muscles begging for mercy. It was painful, the strain, the effort, the exhaustion. You didn't want to admit it, but you found yourself thinking that you wouldn´t stop for Luke even if it hurt. He just felt too good to let go now.

"Keep going, don't stop"

And the way he fucked, and the way he was so good at it. Luke was a fast learner, and he didn't waste any time in finding the right spot, and he didn't hesitate on keeping his hips thrusting against you. He could tell by the way you moved, and the way you cried, that you were getting closer.

He felt your walls begin to tighten, and the way they did it, the feeling, was something else, and it only took him a few more rolls of his hips, and he could feel the heat begin to coil at the pit of his stomach. But he didn't want to cum just yet.

"Hold it, baby. Hold it for me, yeah?" he grunted. And the way he called you that, the way his voice was laced with a command, it made you weak. You didn't know how long you could last. He had already brought you to the edge once, and he was doing it again. He could feel the pressure building up, his hips stuttering. "We´ve got all night. Shit, I could fuck you all night" his voice was strained, and you knew he was getting closer too.

The more you tried to hold it, the worst everything felt. You needed to let it go in order to feel him let go too. You wanted-, needed Luke to finally snap, to release inside you. "Luke-" you called, and your voice was a whisper, and you didn't know if he heard it. "Please"

And you grabbed his hand, the one holding yout hips. Your poor movements kept on going as both your hands held his, leading it close to your lips. You placed a kiss on the knuckles, the gesture being enough for him to open his eyes and look at you, and not stop even when you darted his thumb to your lips, pressing them on your tongue.

He saw it before he felt it, the way your tongue moved along the pad of his thumb, the saliva sticking as you wrapped your mouth around his digit. Fuck. The sight-, the sight. You. You killed him. It was just the way he wanted you.

His hips stuttered and shook, your own breath getting caught up in your throat and tightening, the warmth pooling. You came undone. The orgasm washing over you like a wave, leaving you trembling and shaking, the feeling of your release was so powerful. And he came not long after. He couldn't help but follow your release, his own cock throbbing, releasing his cum inside you.

You felt like you could pass out, heavy breathing and sweating and all, the cold night air suddenly hitting both of your heated bodies.

You fell forward, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding onto him as if you were drowning. Luke wrapped his own arms around your back, pulling you close, his chest rising and falling against yours, his heartbeat fast and erratic, just like yours.

"Gods-" he said, panting, his hands roaming over your back.

"Yeah" you laughed, lifting your head up to look at him, your breath hitting his face when you still managed to catch your breath. Luke chuckled then, a little hum vibrating on his chest. "What?" you asked.

Luke gestured his face with a hand, but his eyes roamed over your face constantly; your eyes, your cheeks, your nose. Even down your neck. "I did a number on you, huh?" he chuckled.

[hedwig221b]

Witch or magical Stiles recs..?

Hi! I did magical!Stiles fic recs here! This time, let's focus on witch!Stiles (my beloved)

A Thousand Fiery Suns of Angst - Just Press Play by apocryphal

All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

The Wolf in the Tower by exclamation

Too many people are scared of witches so when Stiles accidentally sets a building on fire with magic, he is taken prisoner and dragged before Lord Hale. Rather than leave an untrained magic user free, Peter Hale thinks he might be able to make use of Stiles' skills and hands Stiles over to his sorceror Deaton to be trained. Stiles is still unsure about his future, but he's even more confused when he finds out that one of his new duties involves feeding the black wolf imprisoned at the top of one of the towers. There's something very strange about this wolf and Stiles can't help wondering if magic might be involved.

Dead Things by standinginanicedress

Derek blows some more smoke out. He chooses to look at Stiles’ mouth instead of in his eyes, again. “I need you to bring someone back.” “Back.” “From the dead.” “Absolutely not,” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. “Not for you, not for all the money in the world.” Derek looks at him, just looks. He is not going to accept no for an answer, and Stiles knows it, but it doesn’t matter, because Stiles will not do that. He cannot do that, not again. “Why not for me in specific?”

For My Flesh Had Turned to Fur, and My Thoughts Had Turned to You by literaryoblivion

They’ve known about the other pack for quite some time now. They know the pack is young and small, formed together more by accident and necessity than anything else. But, they haven’t done anything about them because they’ve been fairly quiet, kept to themselves, and haven’t caused any trouble. That is until the Hales start hearing rumors about the McCall pack acquiring a very young and inexperienced but powerful witch. So Alpha Hale sends her eldest son, Derek, for all intents and purposes, to spy on the McCall pack and their so-called witch, to see what the truth of the situation is.

The Ink Under My Skin by rainsoakedshoes

Derek is looking for an Emissary. What he finds is Stiles Stilinski; resident witch. Stiles would do whatever it takes to protect the Hale pack and his Alpha. “I want to protect my pack as well as I can,” Derek continued. “Emissaries traditionally keep balance, having someone who wants to tip the odds in our favour may come in handy.”

Destiny is the Rising Sun by asswords

Stiles and Derek are best at keeping secrets – the biggest one being the fact that they knew each other long before Scott had to go and become a werewolf. (The second biggest secret belongs to Stiles, something about how he’s not allowed to tell Derek he’s the trusted advisor and kind of a witch.)

your fangs against my skin (the sound of your bones)

This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles. He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough. He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower. Witches didn’t get happy endings.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life. There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

These Scars Tell A Story (But It’s Not Mine) by HappyJuicyfruit

Derek’s eyes widened in confusion as Stiles babbled at him. “I know it’s not up to you, but you’re like, my guard, right? You’ve been keeping an eye on me? Tell your mom I wouldn’t lie about this, my dad deserves to stay here. He’s happy here, please let him stay!” Guard? Keeping an eye on him? “Stiles, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stiles face crumpled, his hands clung to Derek’s shirt tighter as tears and snot dripped off his chin. Derek frantically tries to think of the right thing to say. “You think- you think I’m your guard? That I’ve been watching you to, what, make sure you don’t do any magic? Stiles, that’s ridiculous. Beacon Hills is a sanctuary for supernaturals. We allow people to use their magic. I was just trying to be your friend.” Stiles breath hitched. “My friend?”

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | mafia | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse

[rokkit-story-time]

"L-look, I just... I wanted to chill out for a few days, yeah? Cats are a good form for that!"

I nodded slowly as I kept petting. The slow, gentle strokes along his fur seemed to be helping. "And now you've forgotten... how your power works?"

"No!" It was less a shout and more a whine. I decided to assume it was the cat body changing the quality of the voice. "I... I don't have a 'default' or anything, you know? I don't just 'shift back' to my original self, I actively turn *into* it each time. A-and now I'm..." They tuck their nose between their paws. "...I can't picture what I looked like clearly enough to change..."

Oh. "I have some pictures of us from a year or two back. Would that help?"

He looked up at me and blinked, then lowered his head back onto the couch. "Yeah... yeah that should be enough to go off of. Now all the panic feels a little silly..."

I didn't reach for my wallet right away. "I mean, you couldn't have known when I'd come over."

"Yeah, I guess, but even if it was a little uncanny, I could've turned back into something with hands and sent you a message asking..."

"...so why didn't you?" There was something else here. I could feel it. So I started nudging. "And before you say you were panicking too much, you've been silent for *days*. That doesn't seem like a short-term lapse in judgement."

"W-well, I was still enjoying being a cat up until yesterday!" The protest was weak; there *was* something else going on. "A-and..."

"And... you didn't want to change back?" I offered.

"No! M-maybe?" They tensed like they wanted to flee, but slowly relaxed again under my continued reassuring scritches. "I want to change back into a *human* again, b-but..."

I looked at them with a smile and nodded. "But...?"

They looked at me, then shifted to rest their chin on my leg. "...remember last year? At that club event?"

They paused, so I nodded and continued for them. "I wanted a possible hookup and you decided the discount was worth it, so we ditched the faux-het-couple routine by you turning into a girl." I tried to keep any smugness out of my encouraging smile. They were different that night, and no amount of excuses had made me forget just how.

"W-well, I, um... th-that was the first time I'd ever done that." They refused to look at me, but I nodded anyway. "But it... w-wasn't the last? I-I mean, it was the last in... in public..."

They seemed to have trouble continuing, so I offered another nudge. "...but sometimes you'd do it again in private...?"

"...yeah. I... I tried out different looks and body types. A few of them I really liked. And sometimes, I... I caught myself wishing I could wear a look all the time. While going about my life, you know?"

"...why can't you~?"

They raised their head, and even the cat features managed to look utterly incredulous. "What, do you want me to out myself as a shifter!? Or are you suggesting I fake my own death or something?"

I couldn't help but laugh as I shook my head. "Nothing that dramatic! C'mon, you can be subtle. Call up a therapist, talk about your feelings a bit, get a prescription for some new medication..."

"...so like... actually transition...?"

I nodded. "If that's how you feel, then yeah." My smile widened as I scritched under their chin for a moment. "In case it wasn't clear, I'm here for you and will always support you fully. And I say you should do what feels right!"

"M-maybe. But that whole plan feels, I dunno... a little disingenuous?"

"So you can pass better than most and won't actually need any HRT or any surgery. Does that change who you want to be?"

She laid there for a long moment before responding. "...no..."

I nodded, still alternating between head scritches and long pets down her body. "...have a name in mind~?"

"...Coral..."

"Damn, you picked a pretty one~" I flopped back against the couch. "You've really been thinking about this ever since that night at the club, huh?"

"...yeah..." She was silent for a few more moments before speaking up again. "...sorry. I... I should've talked to you about it before now. I kept meaning to! But there was always some excuse I'd give myself, and then I wouldn't be able to speak up, and..."

I just nodded. "I get it. Kind of a shame, though... I could've asked you out waaay sooner."

"You... what!?" Watching the cat body language take over as she suddenly leapt up and backwards made it *really* hard not to laugh, but I held it down.

"Well yeah, remember how I kept saying I wanted to make sure I only left with the cutest girl at the club? Well, the cutest girl at the club that night was *you*. But I couldn't just say, 'hey you should turn yourself into a girl more so we can date' or anything. Glad I didn't too, or I wouldn't get the chance to see what other cute looks you've grown attached to~"

"Y-yeah, I-I guess you're right!" The panic in Coral's voice was similar to when I'd first gotten there, but somehow much more gay this time. "I uhhh, I should probably go change then!"

I patted my pocket as she dashed for the stairs. "Need that picture~?"

She stopped. "...no. Not right now, at least." She looked back at me with what I could only assume was the cat version of an emotional smile. It was *adorable*. "Thank you~"

I just nodded again as she turned and zoomed up the stairs, excited to see what she might look like when she came back down.

Your friend, a shapeshifter (a secret you've kept since childhood) hasn't answered your texts in days, so you head to their home. Upon arriving, you find that they're in the middle of an existential crisis; they can't remember how to turn back into their original, human form.

[moonlight-prose]

smoke and ash

a/n: this is based entirely on a post made by the amazing @cavillscurls and i was given permission to write it for her cause the idea actually made my brain go numb. plus just the thought of this man having an oral fixation paired with someone who also has an oral fixation?? beautiful. filthy. spectacular. it's quickly written cause i had the inspo at the time and really didn't want to lose it. so enjoy!

summary: cigar smoke trailed after him with every step, his mouth always desperate for something to wet, something to bite down on. and you with the match between your teeth indulged him every which way.

word count: 1.4k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, oral fixation, spit kink, choking, dry humping, desperate!logan, overstimulation, cigars, they're fucking messy, dirty talk.

A dark stain of saliva coated the base of a match as you sat sprawled on his leather couch. Your teeth dug into it, creating an indent that would last until you decided it was time to strike the phosphorus and let it burn down. Sometimes they snapped. Other times you tossed them in the trash. Tonight you were intent on lighting it up—solely for the cigar currently stuffed in between his own lips.

He sucked at the end thoughtfully most nights. Glasses perched on the edge of his nose, a book he'd read a hundred times over propped in one hand—whiskey in his other. Half of it was already burnt through. Used within the span of a few days before stubbed out and saved.

“Interesting story?”

The soft hum was all he offered, his eyes flicking back and forth between the lines even though he could recite the words from memory. The pages were worn from use, spine cracked every which way, and you often considered buying him a new copy. If just to give the story a chance to breathe in his mind. Sink beneath the depths of memories that still floated along the surface—seeking to ruminate in the cracks of chaos.

“Logan.”

“Bub?”

“What does it taste like?”

At last he looked up, eyebrows lifted and fingers moving to drag the sticky wet cigar out of his mouth. “This?”

You nodded. “Good or bad or…”

“Better than those fuckin’ matches,” he scoffed, pointedly glaring at the splintered wood between your teeth—a nervous habit you had yet to kick. “C’mere and find out.”

Scrambling off the couch a bit too quickly, you found yourself perched in his lap, legs straddling his hips with a smile painted across your lips. He removed the match, flicking it into the discarded ashtray with contempt—happy to have your mouth empty and waiting. Only to place the soaked butt against your tongue, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip at the sight. You always imagined what the flavor resembled. Until it finally dawned on you.

This is how it tasted to kiss him. The bitter tang of the cigar muted by the flavor of the whiskey he drank and the mints he chewed in his spare time. You sucked on the remnants of his saliva, your mind lighting up at the feel of it. Of having something stuck between your lips, a thing you could fixate on.

“Taste’s like me don’t it?”

You nodded, shifting against his body as the first spark of heat began to slowly meld with the rest of your senses.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, the book forgotten to the side in favor of his hand sliding along your throat, thumb catching just beneath your chin. “Suck on it harder yeah? Want it to taste like ya when I smoke it again.”

A whine cracked in the back of your throat, your hips catching on the zipper of his jeans. “What about you?”

The mumbled words caused spit to drool down to your chin, his eyes tracking the slide of it with a heavy gaze. He wanted to lick it up. Swallow down what you offered. But the sight kept him transfixed—your tongue sliding along the end of the cigar as if it were his cock. Soaking it in your taste enough to drive him a bit closer to the edge, his other hand suddenly a harsh grip on your ass.

“I got what I need,” he replied with ease. “Yeah?”

You nodded, catching the glaze of desire in his dilated pupils. He wanted more than an empty mouth. The cigars appeased a side of him no one saw, a man who ached for something to bite down on, someone to taste even in the most mundane of ways. He was your guard dog looking to chew, to gnaw, even if spit flew out of his mouth with a feral edge of desperation. And with a grin, you stuffed three fingers into his mouth right down to the knuckle.

He took them with a moan, tongue laving over the length of them as his hips bucked up into yours. The hot cavern of his mouth and wet slide of his tongue drew out a sound you never knew you could make. A biting grunt that made spit fly everywhere, splattering against his cheek to mix with his own.

Ripping the cigar from your mouth, you hastily licked around his full mouth. “Suck harder for me baby.”

They met the back of his throat, choking him enough to force his head back. His eyes rolled, nostrils flared, and for a moment you felt the power dynamic shift. You were in charge. Telling him what to do to appease the ache of pleasure growing in the pit of your stomach. And it might have lasted. He very well could have given you complete submission if it weren’t for the lack of the cigar in your mouth.

A growl rumbled up from his chest, eyes flashing dark enough to send a thrill down your spine, and before you could fix your mistake he rectified it for you. Three fingers—to match your own—were pushed harshly against your tongue, hooking behind your teeth to drag your face closer to his. You didn’t need to hear him to know what he wanted.

The intent blazed in his hazel eyes well enough: suck.

Through the haze of wanton lust you felt his hand begin to guide your hips along his crotch. The bulge of his cock straining against denim, pushing the metal zipper up for your clit to catch on each time. Clad in his flannel and cotton panties, you found yourself plummeting towards the burning ache that built faster than you could comprehend.

You ripped your hand from his mouth, burying the spit soaked fingers into his hair to grip him close. But it never remained enough. He wanted to delve beneath your skin. Seek the warmth that seeped from your body where his fingers kneaded and pushed to drag you to a fro. His teeth latched onto your shoulder, the sweater pulled to the side while his fingers met the back of your throat, choking you with their size.

A cry slipped past his knuckles as you humped his clothed cock—dragging yourself inch by inch towards the release you could practically taste. It clung to the tip of your tongue—the saccharine flavor intertwined with the tobacco musk of his fingers. You swallowed around them, drool spilling down your throat and pooling at the top of your breasts.

“That’s it,” he gasped, a line of bites trailing right to the juncture of your neck, his spit smeared across your skin. “Gonna cum for me?”

You whined harshly, body going taut as your clit pulsed rapidly with the impending wave of bliss that tugged sharply on your spine. The pain of his teeth puncturing hard enough to draw blood dragged a knife through the thin strand  of resistance. And you came with his name at the back of your throat and white bursting behind tightly shut eyelids.

“Yes. Fuck–” His growl ran down the length of your spine, body trembling in his tight grasp. “That’s my girl.”

Unconsciously your nails punctured the skin at the back of his neck and with a jolt, he groaned long and ragged against your throat. A dark wet patch formed beneath his jeans as you soaked him with a spit filled cry. The pleasure wrung your body dry, pulling the final dregs of your energy straight from the source. Your chest heaved, mouth a gentle suckle at the very base of his fingers, and Logan could feel you begin to collapse forward into his chest.

“You really like when your mouth is filled,” he mused, lips curling into a smile.

Nodding, your voice was a content hum—his fingers dragging at the back of your teeth, tracing their shape. A kiss was pressed to your head, body slumping further into the chair with you atop him.

“Gonna get you some more matches in the mornin’,” he mumbled lazily. “My pretty girl needs a treat for being so good.”

Your heart fluttered, eyes glistening with the devotion you’d never dare to hide. The love that burned with the power of an eternal flame. Settling into his body, you felt his hand drag along the expanse of your thigh. Calming the storm in his mind—a catastrophe you longed to weather with him.

You were the balm to his weathered soul.

A permanent fixation of smoke and ash that surrounded his charred and splintered heart that burned for you.

[prentisslvr]

congrats on 100 followers. i’ve been following since your first spencer fic, checkmate. i absolutely love your writing. could i ask for a spencer reid, with prompt 4 (he’s saying it) and then 8 (with reader saying it)

WHATS MINE IS YOURS

summary; you spill something on your shirt and you borrow spencer’s

genre: fluff, mutual pining, bestfriends to lovers.

prompt; “is that my shirt?” & “stop looking at me like that.”

authors note: i’m not sure if i like this, this was a little rushed but 🤷‍♀️

you had arrived at work in a haste, two cups of freshly made coffee in your hands, one for you, the other for spencer.

which was what you did every morning, but it’d just so happened that today, emily had her intern running around completing tasks, one of them being running right into you, causing you to spill piping hot coffee all over your white top.

you would’ve screamed had it not been for the fact the intern looked like she was going to burst into tears right then and there, so with a strained smile, and a pat on her shoulder you’d made your way back to your car looking around for something to wear.

the only thing being a spencers fresh laundry you’d picked up from the laundromat for him, he woke up pretty early in the morning, but he lived a walk away from the nearest laundromat.

and since you had a car, you grabbed them for him.

he appreciated this greatly, even if it had taken you weeks to convince him to allow you to do it, you lived like five minutes away from the laundromat, he live about fifteen minutes away in a car, probably thirty minutes to walk like he did.

you just liked making things easier, penelope had once said your love language was acts of service, whatever that meant.

you walked into the bullpen in one of his button up shirts, you sigh taking a seat at your desk, the shirt was white with stripes, it wasn’t your usual attire and it drew attention, from almost everyone.

especially the man who owned it, at first, he’d just thought you changed up your style for a moment, but when he really looked, he noticed what you were wearing.

his shirt.

and, god, he was having palpitations, you were in his shirt, and you looked really good.

it was no lie to the entire team, and well, pretty much the world, that whilst you and spencer were best friends, there was something more than that between the two of you.

“is that my shirt?”

your eyes shoot up from your paperwork and you guiltily nod. “i spilt coffee and im not exactly the most prepared person in the world, i had your laundry and—”

“don’t worry about it.” he smiled cutting your little rant off. “what’s mine is yours.”

you sigh thankfully. “thanks spence, you really are a lifesaver.”

as you continued work though, spencer would not stop sending you glances, if it were someone else, you may even have seen a hint of desire in his eyes.

but it was spencer, surely he wouldn’t.

“stop looking at me like that!” you exclaimed, it’d been ten minutes and spencer wouldn’t stop staring at you, granted you’d been looking too, but still.

spencer blinks. “like what?” his ears going red, he’d been caught, but he couldn’t help it, you just looked so good in his shirt, he’d never felt so attracted to you before now.

“nothing, nevermind.” you bite your lip looking down at your work with frown and spencer smiled, he’d tell you one day.

but for now the dr would settle for his stolen glances and making sure he kept a couple spare shirts in case you ever happen to ruin one of your own once again.

[lichenes]

I heard you were begging for Silco asks and I will take literally anything.

Jealous Silco or Jealous Reader (bonus points if Silco doesn't notice that someone is hitting on him)

I also feel like Silco would be an amazing dance partner/classical waltz style or some intimate partner dance but would only ever do it in private.

Silco with a reader who is maternal with Jinx ❤️

Smut or fluff, whatever you feel like writing I just want to treat that man right 👍

To all the anons that requested Silco i will be getting on that soon!! Now I present to you: Silco looking for a mum for Jinx, any takers?

This gif has such a fucking GRIP on me it's driving me insane. How can pixels be SO F I N E. Anyway per your request anon this is Silco x reader x (kinda) platonic!Jinx :D!! SILCO DESERVES SO MUCH LOVEEEE. I don't care if he commited like... actual war crimes, what does AIR mean to my LUNGS. CW: brief cursing!! not much besides that, pretty tame, kinda ooc.... sorri... wc: 1261 .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚

The Zaunite air was filled with an unrelenting heaviness. Each day, despite Silcos best efforts, the food was getting scarcer and people were more and more scared. It wasn’t ever too much. He could handle it no doubt. Right?

Jinx was sitting on his desk and talking his ear off.

She was enjoying her time with him while Silco was quietly taking care of some documents. Spending time together with Jinx was one of the few things he enjoyed in life. Sure, his unique appearance made many women drawn to him and most people in Zaun felt nothing but respect for the man but he never developed anything meaningful, anything… tangible. Aside from Jinx he had no one. 

The stream of words being let out of Jinx at, at least, 200 words per minute stopped when there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” Said Silco with his usual sombre tone. He always filled the room with a certain coldness few were able to tolerate or enjoy, for that matter. Sevika entered the room. “Someone wants to talk to you.” 

He nodded, giving her permission to let them in. 

During the conversation with whoever was sitting on the other side of the desk Jinx kept returning to the thought that brushed by her mind that morning. Shouldn’t someone as undoing as a daughter have a mother by her side? Jinx was good. Good at what she did, good at killing and even better at creation. She lacked the maternal hand that was supposed to lead her through life even if she wasn’t exactly aware of what she was looking for she needed someone to guide her through her life. 

On the other hand, Silco, the effective ruler of Zaun, didn’t have anyone to share the parental burdens of life with. The swooning crowd of power-hungry women in the city weren’t a good choice for a mother. Not for someone as unpredictable as Jinx. 

Jinx was convinced you fell from heaven for her, how could he not see it? A godsend perfect for what she needed.

The Last Drop was busy. People talking, the air stuffy with Zaunite tensions, dilemmas and the smoke being extruded out of the lungs of many. He noticed you before, an everyday woman, providing her parents with whatever they needed in their old age. He didn’t do many of the job interviews himself, his lesser henchmen took care of that, but the barkeep of The Last Drop was the person he came to care for. 

“You’re hired.” He said at the end of your chat.

You were used to people chatting you up while you were behind the bar, an additional drink, boredom or true infatuation were all at play here. Never… this. “What can I get you?” You said when someone took the only free stool at the bar. When they didn’t answer you so you turned around to check them out. If they were a danger to the well being of the people inside or the bar itself you’d rather they threatened the guards than you. 

What transpired was truly bizarre. You expected to see anyone here, Sevika in a foul mood, Jinx with a gun to your head or even one of the lesser lackeys of the many people running this city. Silco? Silco was last on your list.

You froze in place almost dropping the pint you were holding. Quickly you put it on the counter in front of the person who ordered it and turned your attention to him. He looked at you with an unusual intent, normally when you’d look over to his usual spot he’d be smoking and surveying the room with his ice-cold vision, today there was… need. 

You were stuck in place not being able to even utter a word in such presence. After a moment more of scaring you into an early grave he spoke. “Come to the back, someone will take your place for tonight.” Suddenly terror turned into anxiety. “Am I being replaced?” He only stood up and went around the bar to presumably accompany you there. 

Your heart was pounding and your hands were sweaty, this could be your execution you realised. Your mind was going a million miles a minute, combing through all your wrongdoings and if you were eligible for any pardon. 

He didn’t enjoy that scared expression on your face, he enjoyed them on most people with exception to Jinx and well… you. “Nothing to be afraid of, lady.” Said Jinx toying with her gun. That definitely didn’t mitigate your concerns. “She’s right.” Said Silco somehow appearing behind you. You jumped at his sudden intrusion into your personal space. 

Explaining what they wanted was certainly difficult. You had a lot of questions regarding your new position as a… babysitter for Jinx? You’d never say that out loud for fear of swift death. The payment was lucrative as well so you decided on accepting the offer. At the end of the talk you were more or less familiarised with what this job entailed, along with being a co-parent to Silco, you were to be on their beck and call, still you retained the position of the barkeep. 

As all people you were a bit afraid of Jinx. Looking at her she was inconspicuous, the braids giving her a child-like wonder look to her. Underneath you could feel a profound sadness sitting inside of her and you were determined to make this weird little fucked up family a happy one at least. 

You were happy to tend to wounds, look after The Last Drop when needed and listen to Jinx talk for hours. With time, Silco grew fond of you. Your mannerisms of a caring and doting parental figure, despite all which burdened you, would soon make him swoon. 

One night after closing when you were wiping down tables Silco walked in, in an unusually good mood. He leaned on one of the clean tables. “Hello. How was your day?” You asked mindlessly, not noticing him inching closer and closer to your figure. Nobody else was in the room when it all happened. 

You weren’t the best at concealing your growing affection towards Silco. The longing stares weren’t doing you any good and the fact that somehow he kept catching you was even worse. You were sure your position was soon to be terminated. 

He spun you around and caged your body between his own. His breath was warm and falling just over your chest. “Silco?” You dared. 

“You make me sick with worry sometimes.” He was… smiling? Silco was smiling? You couldn’t make anything out, your head was spinning from the proximity and his cologne. “Look at me.” He demanded grabbing your chin and tilting it upwards. “I’ve got a question.” You nodded. “Do you want to dance?” You were stunned.

The tables were moved to the sides as Silco put a few coins into the jukebox and began striding towards you with the delicacy and grace of a cat. You put your arm on his shoulder and grasped his other one. He led you around the room to the song being played and amidst the growing tension, brought his lips to yours, hesitantly. The kiss was magical, you could feel yourself rising above the roof when he finally closed the gap. You reciprocated the kiss and as the song faded away he put his hands on your cheeks trying to get as close to you as possible.

He thought he’d lost the spark and now, here you were. 

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