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batsplat · 4 months ago

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can we have a conversation about how much ktm is in shambles? cause i’m hearing they’re having so many problems financially and apparently even technically. it seems like they got stuck from the start of the season and they are just not progressing. i get that the last few circuits weren’t stop and go circuits that ktm prefers but the performances were really worrying. now, no offense to binder but he clearly has no backbone, but pedro already scolded them this weekend because they are not working the way they should, is there a chance they finally decide to take a risk and develop a project around him? because i feel like that’s what they need to do, a bit like yamaha or honda did for vale and marc. also i’ve thought about the fact that a lot of ktm engineers are leaving ktm for honda, if honda is actually working on a good project for 2027, is there a chance that perhaps a rider like pedro could get them out of the hole they got stuck into? cause i think that would be very interesting to see. of course only if he decides to leave ktm which i hope he doesn’t cause i’d like to see him become the first motogp wdc winner with a ktm. also i can’t really see where else he could go if one day he decides he’s unsatisfied with ktm

love asks that clearly come from the heart. I've been holding off on being too mean about ktm because in a way I do want to save it for after the NEXT race. we're in austria now!! ktm's home race! which they've actually been remarkably successful at, given they're the only non-ducati manufacturer to ever win in the modern iteration of this race in the premier class - first in that quirky last corner shoot-out courtesy of oliveira in 2020 and then in that bizarre slicks in the wet performance by binder in 2021. which, okay, unusual races and all that, but it's a track they should be doing well at!! binder got two second places here last year. if they flop here, then the alarm bells will really be ringing

I guess we can get into an argument about what 'flopping' would even look like. it's entirely plausible that, hm, the first 4-5 slots at minimum are locked out by ducati again - honestly, at the minute another ducati podium lock out feels like the expected scenario. I have heard there's a decent possibility of rain on sunday, but by this point of the year I've been promised rain quite a few times so I'll believe it when I see it. if it rains, sure, anything's possible. a positive result for ktm right now would probably be... a podium, right, which in itself is pretty damning - how are ktm still this bad at actually winning races? last year, binder got a podium at silverstone, which isn't a massively ktm-friendly track. this year, they didn't get even remotely close to that. the ktm defence argument goes 'well, look at what everyone else is doing'. silverstone is a very aprilia-friendly track and they had a pretty disastrous weekend themselves this year. the less said about the japanese manufacturers, the better. but... well, ktm was kinda supposed to take it to ducati this year. they finished last year on a very promising note, with what really should have been a 1-2 at valencia. (the fact that they didn't convert on that maybe should've gotten some alarm bells ringing about the ultimate potential of that rider line-up, but let's not get into that.) after binder's performance at qatar, ktm surely should have been determined to be in the title hunt. they are extremely not in the title hunt

the thing is, anon, ktm does know that pedro is their title winner. the idea of 'developing a project' around him is tricky - because to the extent that ktm is capable of that, they will do it!! they're not going to develop the bike in a direction that suits binder over him, for instance, or completely disregard his feedback or any of that. manufacturers can struggle with being reactive enough to rider concerns... my sense is that ktm likes to throw a lot of stuff at problems, it likes to flex its muscles and use a lot of data and come up with big update packages and all of that - and for all the progress they've made in their bike development, clearly all is not yet well on the in-season development front. (cf the whole chattering thing that ducati has gotten a handle on and ktm hasn't.) manufacturers do sometimes have a tendency to believe they know best and not listen enough to their riders, especially when there's a disconnect between the riders and 'the factory' that's actually designing the bikes. yamaha is an interesting example of that at the minute, where a lot of their current problems are so long-running that you can find their roots in stuff jorge and valentino were complaining about YEARS and years back. they've become a lot more reactive in recent years and did do a lot to tackle fabio's complaints about the bike's top speed... but by that point, they were in such a hole that just 'fixing the top speed' really wasn't enough to actually make a competitive bike. still, part of the reason why fabio's decided to stick with that project is he feels like yamaha is finally listening to him - and if they'd lost him, they'd really be fucked, so that has to count as at least a little bit of a W

in terms of the valentino and marc comparisons, they are just about different enough that it'll only take you so far. with valentino, the simple truth is that nobody today could do what he did for the yamaha project in 2004. he couldn't do that nowadays; it just isn't possible for a rider and his team to make that sort of instant impact anymore. motogp is so different now, with all the aero and devices and all the other stuff casey hates. the balance of power, if you will, has shifted pretty decisively from riders to engineers. also, valentino by that point was a fair bit more experienced and a lot of the credit has to go to his even more experienced team for what they were able to do with yamaha's carte blanche. a rookie, however gifted, just won't be able to provide quite the same level of direction. with marc... well, the honda was fantastic when he showed up! best bike on the grid! it's not exactly an analogous situation to pedro in that what honda needed to do was 'keep being good'. they did listen to marc's feedback and it did bag them enough titles to make it worth their while, but it also did not send their bike down a particularly happy development route for anyone else riding that thing - which ultimately as a manufacturer is not a situation you should want. honda was already losing the development arms race to ducati in the late 2010s, but giving marc a fast if capricious bike and relying on his natural talent to ride around the issues managed to disguise the problems for a while... or at least make them hurt less. all in all, I'm not really convinced 2010s honda is a model anyone should be particularly interested in copying

what ktm should do is listen to pedro, obviously. I assume they're already treating him as their championship contender elect, but if they're not then, yes, they'd be idiots. and given how long it took for them to actually confirm his place in motogp last year, I am open to the possibility that ktm are being idiots here. whether there's a workable system in place to actually make use of that feedback and continue to progress is more open for debate, and that's kinda what pedro went to the factory to check in on. pedro today was talking up a "big, big step" in the coming few races, in part due to the impact of their two test riders and the more ktm-friendly circuits to come, so it'll be interesting to see if it lives up to that. beyond that, who knows? ktm does have money and resources and a track record of success outside of motogp to give it faith, but of course this year has been a disappointment. (quick note: I have seen the stuff about ktm being in trouble financially and obviously that would massively change all of this, but at this stage it's quite hard to judge how seriously to take that - so the rest of this ask will assume that ktm will continue having a lot of money at its disposal. if they don't, my analysis is that they're probably fucked.) the first bit of the season made everyone doubt whether the bike was actually better than thought and the riders were simply not taking advantage of it - which a few signs last year like 'surely dani shouldn't be this competitive' and the whole valencia thing already pointed to. now, it's definitely less competitive than last year and even their superstar rookie can't do all that much with it, so that's not great. they do have a little time to play with here, but not that much. pedro's signed for 2025-26, but if ktm doesn't start next season more competitive, it won't take long for him to start looking around. and even though you can't do valentino 2004 things in quite the same way anymore, this is clearly going to be a project that needs an alien-level talent to actually get it over the line. they've kinda managed to fail upwards into a very strong set of riders next year and they should be able to extract a lot of them for bike development purposes, but also their rider management has traditionally been godawful so it remains to be seen how that'll work out

that being said, pedro will be fine! I mean, idk if he'll be ktm's first premier class world champion. if I had to put money on it, I'd say it's pretty likely, yeah? but the 'where would he go' thing isn't really a big concern. all the big names have kinda hunkered down (as have the teams who signed them) with two year contracts that take us very neatly to the next rule cycle kicking in, which everyone expects will majorly shake things up. while this whole japanese manufacturer situation is massively annoying, I would be shocked if at least one of them aren't regular race winners again in 2027, and hopefully will already be so before that. most manufacturers except maybe honda have at least one star rider they're intending to be a title contender in 2027, and ducati has two. they probably won't all stay in the same place (even if they all remain reasonably healthy in that time) and there's bound to be at least one manufacturer hunting for a big name. pecco will be in his late prime and possibly grey-haired, god knows what state marc will be in *taps wood*, we have no idea how the whole jorge aprilia situation will work out. maybe yamaha will be so competitive again that they actually decide they want TWO riders fighting it out for a championship and we get a proper throwback in blue to the good old garage cold war days - which is where my imagination sadly fails me because I can't picture fabio putting up a wall or yamaha not sucking. maybe, like you say, pedro is just what honda needs to... well, honestly I don't think he could get them out of this hole - but perhaps in a couple years time when honda is looking healthier again, he's the kind of rider that could make it a title winner again. it'll be a new world! if pedro is as good as we all think he is, then obviously any manufacturer would be thrilled to get their hands on him, not least to deprive the competition of having him. how old will he be in 2026? about nine years old, I think? if I had to guess, I do kinda see him being a title contender around 2026-ish, because I just can't quite picture ktm making the necessary leap by next year so 2026 feels like a good way of hedging my bets and trusting his sickening levels of natural talent to make up the bike difference. one of my big remaining doubts is... well, it's actually been quite a while since a new manufacturer has won a rider's title. the last time was ducati way back in 2007 when they nailed the new regulations cycle and also kinda lucked into signing the casey stoner, but ducati had already been regular race winners for quite a few years before that. capirossi was third in the championship in 2006. I suppose aprilia got vaguely close in 2022, but that was a chaos season we don't have much reason to expect to see a repeat of any time soon, and in the end they also didn't get that close. ktm really needs to be getting into race winning form soon if they want to be thinking about titles. it's ridiculous that it's been over three years since their last win in the dry, and nearly two since their last win full stop. if I were them, I would maybe consider winning some races, instead of continuing to lose them idk. let's see how they do on sunday, eh

#this has been languishing unanswered for a good week but crucially i can get in my hot take before friday practise #also the binder dig lol. honestly i've never really got what his deal is supposed to be but i don't think a backbone would really hELP him #binder becoming ktm's golden boy of all golden boys was always kinda a weird situation #i haven't understood a lot of what ktm's been up to these last few years really. never been a believer in this set up #my ktm takes have gone from being very contrarian to incredibly mainstream this year which has been a satisfying journey #//#brr brr #batsplat responds #i think i've mentioned this before but i do have to state in the interest of fairness that i'm broadly rooting for ktm to fail here #i just have such deep contempt for their whole deal and *especially* their incompetent rider management #that it'd just be deeply funny to me personally if they fucked THAT line up. like you convinced them all to trust you and now what #and i'm not really invested enough in any non-pedro bit of next year's line up to feel all too bad if things go south. he'll be fine!!#i've basically existed in a very casey-ish state of schadenfreude about the ktm project since the start of the year #both when pedro was doing well and now they're all flopping. because at each stage it was kinda proof ktm had been fucking about #but i'm aware that all good things come to an end and am broadly expecting ktm to get their act together and win a lot to piss me off #by contrast i have a lot of respect for the aprilia operation but am deeply pessimistic about that thing's future. so goes life #it's the money thing unfortunately. that's what it all comes back to. ktm will fail upwards because they'll never run out of the shit #or ktm goes bankrupt and then we're all free!!#whereas my poor scrappy underdogs over at aprilia are relying on hopes and a prayer on that front #the fact they're so much better than honda and yamaha is... god let's not even talk about them don't get me started #current tag

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wttcsms · 2 months ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ when they act this way (i know i got 'em) !!

ᝰ.ᐟ kiyoomi sakusa is used to getting what he wants, and what he wants most right now is you. too bad you’re the biggest fucking tease in the world. fine by him, though. because when he gets his hands on you — and he will — you’re going to see what exactly all your thirst traps did for him. ( fem!reader )

pairing kiyoomi sakusa x reader word count 3.6k content contains angry sex/rough sex, overstimulation, semi-public location, pop star!reader, cheeky/bratty to sub!reader 😭, he manhandles you a bit, creampie kinktober masterlist

“What’s his fuckin’ problem?” Atsumu grumbles, tossing his sweaty practice jersey onto one of the benches, mindful of avoiding the bench Sakusa is currently occupying. He takes this extra precaution since he doesn’t want to get yelled at again by Sakusa, who did snap at Atsumu five seconds prior for almost getting his dirty jersey thrown on top of him.

“Maybe you just stink, ‘Tsumu.” Bokuto’s grinning, but Hinata shakes his head, gesturing for both of his teammates to come closer so he can whisper to them.

“I think Omi’s in a bad mood because he’s mad.”

“No shit, Ginger!” Atsumu groans. “People who are in bad moods are usually mad. We didn’t need you to spell it out for us.”

“You didn’t let me finish!” Hinata whisper-shouts. “He’s been looking at [Name] [Surname]’s Instagram since before practice ended.”

“Who the hell is that?” Atsumu hisses, and Bokuto hits him on the shoulder.

“Bro! That singer!”

“Yeah, that clears shit up.” Atsumu rolls his eyes, yanking open his locker to find a clean shirt to wear. “Why would Omi be mad at lookin’ at some girl’s Instagram?”

The trio is silent for a moment before a lightbulb practically appears over Bokuto’s head.

“Hey! Maybe she got a boyfriend, and he’s jealous!”

The group ponders this hypothetical.

“Why would Kiyoomi get jealous, though?” Hinata asks. “It’s not like he’s dating her or anything.”

“Unless they had some weird situationship shit goin’ on.” Atsumu suggests. “Should we ask? Shoyo, go ask him.”

“Why do I have to ask?”

“Nope. She didn’t post anything with a boyfriend…” Bokuto mumbles, scrolling through your feed.

“Lemme see.” Atsumu snatches the phone from Bokuto’s hands and lets out a wolf whistle. “She’s hot. No wonder Omi-Omi’s pissed off.”

“Huh?” Hinata whines. “Let me see, too!”

Atsumu faces the screen towards Hinata. “She’s the type of pretty that makes you mad just ‘cause ya can’t have her.”

The girl on the screen is you. Posted not even an hour ago but already generating over six hundred thousand likes, Hinata understands what Atsumu means. Your back is turned towards the stage you’re on, but you’re looking back, giving the camera a coy smirk. You’ve got a rhinestone bedazzled microphone in one hand, and you’re wearing the shortest baby-blue minidress in existence; so short, in fact, that because your knees are bent just a bit, the current pose you’re sporting causes the fabric of your dress to rise, giving everyone viewing the image an unfiltered view of the built-in panties of the dress. The caption speaks volumes: too much for you to handle?.

“You realize I could hear you idiots the whole entire time, right?” Sakusa doesn’t sound very happy, and Atsumu is quick to shove the phone back into Bokuto’s hands. “I’m not in a bad mood, and I’m not mad, and I don’t care about [Name] [Surname].” He grabs his gym bag, making a face at the trio, before storming out of the locker room.

Sakusa’s upset, and his bad mood only sours more whenever he realizes that his idiotic teammates are more perceptive than he would like. Yes, he was mad at practice the minute he saw your latest post. And why wouldn’t he be? It’s clear that you’re fucking sub-posting him. You would’ve been better off just DM’ing him yourself and asking that stupid question.

Too much for you to handle?

Fuck you, he thinks bitterly. Before realizing that, yes, that’s exactly what he wants to do to you.

Everyone knows it, including you, which makes the whole situation even worse. Your mutual friends keep trying to persuade the two of you to finally ease the tension and just get a room, but Sakusa’s always been a touch too prideful.

The two of you have always been constantly warring with each other; you’ve got the coy, flirty, cocky personality that doesn’t mesh well with his own stoic, cold, perpetually unimpressed one. You always flirt with him, but he’s seen you flirt with everyone — it’s basically your whole brand. It’s precisely what your popstar image is built upon — the fun, flirty idol who’s carefree and the poster girl for no-strings-attached.

And Sakusa, for what it’s worth, is a very strings-and-all type of man.

The reason why he won’t pursue you is because you’re the first person to catch him off guard. He can’t get a good read on you. He has no clue what your intentions actually are, and he’s not about to make a fool of himself by asking you if you’re serious when you told him you were.

That stupid fucking party — he knew he shoudn’t have attended. It was another teammate’s birthday, and he was hosting it at his place, and since it wasn’t a nightclub or anything, Sakusa assumed it was safe enough to attend. Too bad he forgot that his teammate was dating some other singer, someone who happens to be one of your friends.

Everyone there kept pushing the two of you together, and as the night progressed and everyone was getting drunker and drunker, there was intoxicated, slurred commentary on how the two of you just needed to fuck once and get each other out of your systems.

“It’s true.” Even with heels, you’re still shorter than Sakusa, and you have to get on the tips of your toes to whisper in his ear. “You wanna know the reason why we haven’t had sex yet?”

“Because I’m not interested.” He tells you flatly. He’s lying, and you know it.

You pout, your plush bottom lip on display. “It’s because I don’t want you out of my system, and I’m hoping you don’t want to get rid of me either.”

He snorts, even though his heart jumps at the thought. He wants to tell you to quit playing these games and be serious, but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps himself guarded. “Like I said. Not interested.”

“Why won’t you just give in?” You tilt your head. “You scared? Or maybe…” The dress you’re wearing makes your legs look even longer. Every centimeter of bare skin you expose has him spiraling into overdrive. He maintains his facade of nonchalance and looks you in the eyes, looking entirely unimpressed with your antics. “I’m too much for you to handle? Wouldn’t want to go around breaking Japan’s favorite outside hitter, after all.”

You smile at him, giving a tiny giggle. “Yeah. I think that’s exactly the reason.”

Sakusa is many things, and you somehow negate everything. He’s blunt; you either leave him speechless or determined to lie to save face. He’s generally unaffected by most people; you get under his skin. He doesn’t like being made out to be a fool; you make him feel like the biggest idiot, and other people know it too. He likes to have everything in his life sorted out properly; you and him have nothing but unfinished business.

Let it be known that Kiyoomi Sakusa only came to your concert rehearsal purely because he wanted to get closure. When he walked into the stadium, hands in his pockets, watching you dance on the stage, he did not intend for you to immediately halt practice. He did not intend for you to gesture for him to follow you, and he did not intend to be taken backstage. There’s surprisingly less people back here than he thought, and you explain to him that it’s because rehearsal technically starts two hours later. You just wanted to run through it beforehand, to warm up.

(Sakusa admires that about you; no one ever seems to acknowledge the hard work you put in, and it’s your work ethic, really, that slowly started to endear you to him.)

Let it be known that Kiyoomi Sakusa had absolutely no intention of fucking you backstage. Because, in his defense, you have a way of making him act entirely out of character.

The constant teasing, the back and forth, your coy smiles and flirtatious remarks that he can never truly decipher. And here you are, standing all pretty in your sparkly minidress, and you just keep taunting him. Even when he’s trying to have a serious conversation with you, all you do is skate around his questions. It’s like your default mode is set to toying with men.

“Seriously,” he grits his teeth, backing you into one of the walls. You’re completely cornered by him now. It’s easy to forget how much bigger Sakusa truly is. He towers over you, makes you feel like a little kitten backed into an alleyway by a big dog. “You can’t take me seriously for one fucking second?”

His brows are furrowed, and he’s frowning. Somehow, the sight of him angry only gets you more excited. You like Sakusa. You like him much more than you originally anticipated, and this whole cat-and-mouse charade is just that: a charade. Of course you meant it when you kept flirting with him. But you’re not used to being the one who has to chase after someone, and you refuse to give in now. With both of you having too much of an ego to give in, it’s a battle of individual pride now.

A battle that you think you might lose once you and him both realize that you’re pressing your thighs together to apply some pressure to the growing need between your legs.

“Are you—?” He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Fucking slut. You really did want me to fuck you this whole entire time.” He takes another step towards you; there’s no more space for you to back into. You’re already pressed against the wall, and now he’s looming over you, an impossible obstacle to get over. Somehow, you don’t mind being trapped, as long as it’s Kiyoomi Sakusa that’s holding you down.

“You wish.” You try to sound snarky, but it’s hard when Sakusa is looking down at you like that. Dark eyes, strands of hair hanging down his forehead, a cold, calculating smile on his face as he watches the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you struggle to breathe normally. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s capable of hearing how fast your heart is beating.

“So you don’t want me to fuck you?” It should be illegal for his voice to get this low, to sound this husky. He’s leaning down far enough to where he can whisper this question in your ear, and your breath hitches as you feel thick fingers toying with the waistband of your panties.

Right now, you are backstage, and your employees and team could be coming in any second now, and you don’t care. You don’t care, because all you care about is the fact that Kiyoomi Sakusa has you pressed against the wall, and his hand is up your dress, and he’s about to make his way into your panties.

You gasp as you feel two of his fingers press directly against your clit, before traveling downwards and toying with your folds. There’s no actual penetration, just the tantalizing touch of his fingers rubbing against you, gathering up your slick.

You make a tiny noise, and Sakusa chuckles softly. “You’re so wet, it feels like you want me, though.” The tips of his fingers prod at your entrance, only for him to abruptly remove his hand altogether, leaving your needy hole clenching and grasping at nothing. You whine as he examines his fingers, separating his index and middle fingers, allowing the both of you to watch closely as viscous strands of your juices coat his digits. He shrugs nonchalantly, leaning away from you. “I’ll let you get back to your rehearsal.”

“No!” You shut your eyes, cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. You bite down on your lip before opening your eyes, peering up at him through thick lashes. “I-I do want you.” You’re mumbling, but it’s clear Sakusa’s heard you, loud and clear.

“Sorry, what was that?”

You’re wet, unsatisfied, and absolutely down bad for Kiyoomi. You’ve wanted him for months now, and he has you right where he wants you: so needy that you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you backstage. The thrill of potentially being caught, the excitement of finally just giving in to your desires…

“I want you, Sakusa. Please.” You beg him, rubbing your thighs together to try and get some sort of friction. “I need you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sakusa might sound cocky, but there’s something equally needy in his touch. He’s back to pressing you against the wall, leaving practically no space between the two of you. He plants his hand right back into your panties, stroking your folds a few times, gathering the slick only to insert two fingers right where you need him most. He watches your expression, the way you try to tilt your head back, your little moans of pleasure as he starts to thrust his fingers in and out.

“You could’ve had me sooner if you weren’t busy playing coy all the damn time.” Sakusa frowns, as if the memory of how long you’ve had him chasing after you has suddenly been brought back to his attention. When he says this, he picks up speed, pistoning his digits. You’re getting even wetter now, the lewd sound of him toying with your cunt the only noise in this empty backstage. He’s adding a third finger into the mix, now, and your cunt tries to resist, fails to adapt to the thickness of three of his fingers.

“Mmph — ‘Kusa, slow — fuck!” You whine out, unable to speak properly as your walls clamp down on his digits. He presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing rough, unforgiving circles on the nub, never slowing down the pace of his fingers, even when you beg him to take it easy. “I’m gonna— I’m gonna cum!” You wail out, legs almost failing you from the force of your orgasm.

The only thing keeping you upright is Sakusa himself. He wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you steady, but even after watching you fall apart from just his fingers, Sakusa isn’t satisfied. You little brat — you’ve been depriving him of seeing your precious, pretty face you make when you cum, and as a result, you’ve also been depriving yourself of all the pleasure that could’ve been yours, that’s rightfully yours, all because you wanted him to chase after you.

Well, he’s got you now.

And he’s going to want to give you both what the two of you have been missing out on, plus interest.

You’re still recovering from your climax, legs feeling like jelly, vision blurry as you try to blink out the haze of pleasure from your vision, when you feel him shove the fabric of the skirt of your dress into your open mouth.

“Bite down on this.” He grunts out, and you follow his command as if it’s simply second nature to. “Be a good girl, and keep holding it up, okay?”

You nod weakly, but it’s easier said than done when you almost let out a gasp as you feel the tip of his cock prodding at your soaked entrance. Your eyes go wide, and he smirks at the sight of the country’s most beloved pop star reduced to nothing but his little slut. Your mouth is shoved with the fabric of your dress, keeping it up so he can continue to admire the sight of your wrecked pussy, still sensitive from when he banged you with his fingers. Your panties are pulled down, a crumpled mess around your ankles, and there’s drool gathering ‘round the corners of your mouth, your lipgloss staining the fabric of your dress. Messy girl. His messy girl.

It’s easy for him to slide into your needy hole, and he hisses when he feels the way your walls clench around his cock, squeezing him. There’s no better feeling, he decides, than the feel of your pretty, needy pussy yielding to him with absolutely no resistance. Even your cunt knows who owns it now.

A soft whine, muffled by the dress occupying your mouth, slips from your lips. Sakusa’s cock is thick. Thicker than anyone else’s you’ve ever taken. It sinks into your snug cunt with a push forward that you feel entirely unprepared for, even though you’re so wet, it’s easy work for him to make himself at home in your pussy.

His pace is unforgiving. He gives you no time to adjust, and he doesn’t seem to care about the way your pussy is still recovering from his fingers. He wastes no time in pounding into you, and even he’s panting at the exertion he’s exercising. Some tiny strands of his black curls are stuck on his forehead from the sweat, and you can’t help but think that Sakusa is beautiful, even when he’s scowling and fucking into you with a fervor that feels like he’s treating this like the only time he’s going to fuck you.

You hope that isn’t true. You knew that the minute you’d get a taste of Sakusa, you’d never want to let him go.

“Fuck.” He hisses, never slowing down his pace. He’s being rough, almost brutal. It’s like he’s chasing after his own pleasure, forcing you to find your release all on your own. But the thing is, it’s so easy to come apart. It’s so easy to come apart when you think about how this is Sakusa’s cock battering into you, how it’s Sakusa that’s panting and groaning from pleasure, how it’s Sakusa that is making your pussy his. You keep clenching down on his length, making it harder for him to continuously thrust in and out of you. “Fuck.” He repeats. “It’s like you don’t want to let me go.”

You can’t speak, can’t tell him that it’s the truth, that you want him here forever.

The echoing sound of the entrance of the building opening and then slamming close has your eyes going wide with fear. Someone has just entered.

You’re now acutely aware of how loud the noises the two of you are making. The constant wet, slapping noises of his skin against yours, your messy pussy making a mess between your thighs and on his dick, his groans, your weak whimpers. All of it is now suddenly amplified as you listen in fear — and excitement — as footsteps echo around the hall.

“[Name]?” Someone calls out. Your assistant. Fuck.

You look up at Sakusa, curious as to why he’s still not stopping, but he only holds a finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet. “I haven’t finished yet.” He whispers into your ear, and you shake your head, panicking.

“No? You want me to stop?” He buries his cock to the fucking hilt, shoving himself so deeply inside of you, you let out a surprised, pleasured squeal. “I’ll stop if you cum on my cock. For a slut like you, that should be easy.”

You want to protest, you want to snap back that you are not a slut, but it’s hard to prove him wrong when his words, his cock, only have you tightening around him. He chuckles as he feels the pressure of your pussy clamping down on his dick, and he resumes fucking into you.

Your hips start to buck needily against his, the pleasure making you feel delirious and reckless. You seem to have ditched all common sense, and as the footsteps continue to echo throughout the building, sounding closer and closer to where the two of you are currently fucking like rabbits in heat, you only succumb to the delirious, delicious heat of pleasure. Legs wrapping around his tight waist, you succumb hopelessly and happily to the pleasure he seems to effortlessly wring out of you, your body needily twisting and pushing against him, needing more of him. Your moan is long and would’ve been drawn out had he not pressed a calloused palm against your mouth. The dress fabric falls from your lips, and your moan is silenced as you stare up at him. He doesn’t look angry, just pleased.

He’s turned you into such a little fucked out mess that he made you cum on his cock, despite the fact that there is someone else roaming this place, calling out for you.

If only he got here sooner; then, he could’ve played with you for a bit longer, toy with you the way you’ve been toying with him. You’re lucky that he doesn’t plan on getting caught being balls deep in you, even though the idea of announcing to the world that you’re his gets him off.

Muffling his own moan of pleasure by biting down on the soft skin between your neck and shoulder, Sakusa finishes deep into your wrecked cunt, letting out ropes and ropes of hot, white spurts of cum. He’s panting, removing his mouth from your skin, licking at the bite he left on your soft skin, as if to apologize.

Both of your chests are rising and falling, the two of you greedily gulping for more air. He pulls out, a few drops of his cum already leaking out of your cunt.

“This isn’t over.” He mutters, pulling up your panties, a puddle of his cum starting to pool into the seat of your underwear. He fixes your dress, smooths the fabric, and plants a surprisingly chaste kiss on your spit-slick lips. “Unless this really was a one time thing?”

“As if this was ever going to be a one time thing.” You’re too tired to roll your eyes, but when he smiles, you find enough energy to smile back. “There’s a backdoor over there that you can leave. No one will see you.”

“I’ll text you later.” He tells you, straightening his back and walking to the exit you just directed him to. “Like I said, this isn’t over.”

Everyone on your team is worried when, during rehearsals, you complain that your legs are too sore to do the choreography.

#kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #smut #one shot #kinktober 2024

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maybanksprincess · 2 months ago

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let me make it up to you. // j.m

warnings: 18+ MDNI!! smut! make up sex, fingering, f receiving, smoking, kissing, pet names, female reader, JJ and reader are aged up (bf, gf relationship)

summary: JJ and reader are in a disagreement, and JJ overreacts thinking he's going to lose her over it.

pairings: boyfriend!jj x girlfriend!reader

JJ had just gotten into an argument with you. your first real argument, well as he thought was a real argument. he was flipping out. so, the only logical thing in his mind to do was talk to pope and JB. They were all in the twinkie. John b is in the front, JJ and Pope in the back. He was a mess; his mind was a mess. Everything he did following that argument you two had, was all wrong.

He couldn't even roll his weed correctly, and that was something he never failed at. He sighed and just prepared to smoke the poorly rolled blunt. he grabs a lighter from the pocket of his cargo shorts, puts the blunt in his mouth, and lights the end of it, inhaling some of the smoke.

"Yeah man, she just got pissed off, but I didn't mean anything by it, bro. she should know that"

"jj, maybe she just wants space." john b says, taking the blunt away from jj's fingers

"Yeah, but that's the thing dude, we've never had... space. that doesn't exist to us."

pope chimes in "yeah john b, horrible idea. jj follows her like a lost puppy."

"Not my fault I can treat my girl right, man." jj says, in a matter of a fact tone. he rolls his eyes, and throws his head back, shutting his eyes. then an idea pops into his head. "You know what, I'll catch y'all later."

he uses his fingers to push his hair back into his favorite hat, then he hops onto his motorcycle and drives through the path to your house. about 10 minutes later, he gets to your house and parks his motorcycle in your driveway, he gets off his bike and walks up to your front door. knocking with his secret knock you two share.

You had some shorts, and one of jjs shirts on. you hadn't been super mad about the little disagreement you had with him, you just didn't wanna give him the satisfaction of forgiving him so easily.

you open your front door to see your boyfriend fiddling with his hands and looking anywhere but your eyes, you almost felt bad. jj looked at you with those ocean eyes, "baby im sorry just..let me make it up to you. please?"

an hour ago, you never would've thought jj would have been eating you out for 30 minutes straight, to show u how sorry he is. he has his middle and ring finger in your slippery wet cunt, while his tongue laps at your sensitive bud, his tongue licks figure 8's over and over on your clit.

after giving you three orgasms from his tongue, he pulls his shorts and boxers down in one swift movement, his girthy cock springing free and slapping his stomach. he enters you slowly, but once he's in, he's thrusting, and mumbling "im sorry baby," and "let me show you how much i love you" over and over again.

after you both finish, he cleans you up with a warm rag, and changes ur shirt and underwear to help u be more comfortable. he turns your fan on and brings u some water, and you two cuddle under your blankets.

"i love you jay"

"i love you more, cupcake"

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guummy · 3 months ago

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YOU’RE HERE, THAT’S THE THING

pairing : jason todd ⠀𝒙⠀ fem!reader | words : 0.77k

request : “jason todd x reader where he’s all clingy after coming back from patrol”

contents. allusions to injury, mentions of death + fire

#. main masterlist. | dc masterlist. | jason todd masterlist.

JASON WAS ODDLY best at filling his life as a distraction from the thoughts that were incapable of escaping his mind. He was seemingly an expert at prying out criminals from the alleyways, intervening fights that could turn bloody and posing such a big influence that many were even scared to commit the smallest crimes when he was on patrol.

Lawbreakers were terrified of him, and he hated them.

Yet, what he hated more was leaving you as he had equally sworn himself to the protection of the city, to his oath to you. So, now that he was making his way through the open window you always left ajar for him, all he wanted was to crawl into bed with you and smother you with kisses: however, you were deep in slumber.

It was inherently selfish, but he looked forward to finding you awake, missing out on sleep because you were waiting for him as you help him take off his suit. Looking at you now, he saw how peaceful you were, how it looked when you weren’t worrying over him, how beautiful you looked when your mind was at rest.

The fact that he had to remove his clothes himself reminded me of a time when you didn’t exist in the comfort of his bed, when your clothes or toothbrush were never beside his. The soft thuds of his armour echoed through the room, the sound causing you to stir in your slumber.

“Baby,” you whispered, your voice soft with sleep as you propped yourself up against your elbows.

“Shit, did I wake you up?” He whispered, looking over at your peeping expression, your gaze watching him struggle to pull his sweatpants up.

“Are you hurt?” You asked, your curiosity suddenly hooked when you noticed his stumble.

“I’m okay,” he groaned, making his way over towards the bed, laying down beside you before resting his arm on your torso and his head in the crook of your neck.

The warm humidity of his breath ghosted your skin, causing you to let out a small laugh, resting in his touch when he began to kiss your neck.

“Someone’s clingy,” you teased, closing your eyes as you smiled.

“I’m not clingy, just missed you,” he corrected, pulling you into his hold, resting his chin against the crown of your head.

“What if I need to piss?” You asked, poking at the remaining strength he had to deal with your jokes.

“You can’t leave,” he replied, his voice low with sleep.

“What if there is an emergency? What if a fire starts?” You tried.

“Well, you’ll have to burn to death in my arms,” he replied, shifting his body as he held you tighter, pressing a doting kiss to the back of your head.

“How romantic,” you whispered, smiling though he couldn’t see in the hue of the dark room only illuminated by the lights of the city.

For a few minutes, between the four walls of your bedroom, there was no echoing sound but of soft breathing and quiet shuffling here.

In restlessness, you rolled onto your other side in Jason’s arm, your face barely inches away from his. Your eyes lingered open as you watched his tired expression whilst he attempted to fall asleep. Soon, you felt his hand shift down your body as he found yours, interlocking your fingers with his.

Shifted closer, you pressed a small kiss to his agape lips, letting out a quiet laugh at his drowsy mumbling.

“I can’t move,” you laughed, both your legs intertwined under the silk sheets.

“Too bad,” he replied, earning yet another kiss from you. Releasing his hand from your grip, he held the back of your head, his lips perfectly moulding around yours. He tasted of mint, and the lingering scent of his cologne invaded your senses as his hand roamed across your body, finally resting on your hip.

It was a lazy but passionate kiss, one that revealed how much he had longed to have you in his arms again. You knew that he wasn’t going to let you go either.

Parting from your lips, he let out a tired and deep sigh, his hands securing you once more in his touch as his palm cascaded across your bare skin.

You were now lying on your back, his arm against your stomach as his head was once again, in the curve of your neck.

“I love you, Jason,” you whispered, your voice barely heard. Perhaps in fear of embarrassment or simply your tiredness.

“I love you too,” he replied, sleep lulling over his aching, yet, comforted body.

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loveindefinitely · 1 year ago

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01 — 𝘎𝘖 𝘈𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘊𝘙𝘠, 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘎𝘐𝘙𝘓

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, virgin reader, corruption kink, slight power imbalance, praise, degradation, light dom/sub, slight daddy kink, oral, vaginal sex, your father's a dick, very minor soapghost, aftercare

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

Stay in your room, your father had said. Don't bother us tonight, your father had said. They are dangerous men that do dangerous things, your father had said.

Yet, here you were, standing at the bottom step of the stairwell, hiding behind the wall adjoined to the living room, listening in to the men on the other side.

You were bored out of your brains. It was a Friday night, and like hell was your over-protective father going to let you go out or party. And the fact that he wouldn't even introduce you to his only friends? Or let you leave your fucking room?

It had left you pissed off to no end, so.

Here you were.

"Bloody close," you hear a voice grunt, deep and gravelly. It sends heat to your stomach immediately, and it's almost embarrassing.

You hear the sound of a hand slapping a shoulder, and the bark of a laugh. "Aye, still got the cash you're gonna owe me?" This voice has a -- Irish? Scottish, maybe? -- lilt to it, humour and kindness embedded into its layers.

"He'll find a way outta paying," a third voice chimes, laughter in its tone.

Someone else clears their throat. "You're all gonna get yourselves indebted to each other at this rate," a fourth voice says, sounding almost resigned.

"You all need to shut the fuck up before she sticks her nose down 'ere."

Your spine straightens, and fury simmers in your blood. Did he have to be such an asshole? Why was your father so... so anti your existence? Why was he so ashamed of you, yet so overbeating?

"She's not a kid anymore, you really oughtta to lay off," the man with the scottish accent says, slightly stern in his delivery.

"If you met her, you'd understand how fuckin' annoying she is. Always wants me to deal with her emotions, as if they're my fuckin' problem," your father replies venomously. Your stomach has dropped to your feet, you're sure of it.

There's a low whistle in response, and a silence settles behind the wall. An unsettling one, full of animosity. The fact that you can tell that from behind the wall says a lot.

"I'm gonna go out and get some drinks. Maybe some dinner. Needa get out of this fuckin' house for a bit," your father says with a grunt, sounding like he's gotten up from the couch. "Call if you lot need anythin' while I'm out."

A few grunts of agreement, and after a few seconds, the front door opens and slams shut.

You let out a small breath of tense relief, eyes fluttering shut as you deeply exhale. The immediate relief of having your father out of the house is immense.

"I feel bad for her," you hear the third man speak, voice quiet and low. "You hear how he speaks about her -- what's he like with her?"

"Gaz, whatever you're thinkin', drop it," the first speaker grits out, impatient and tight.

"He's right," the scottish one says with a huff, "Poor kid. She's legal and he isn't letting her out on a Friday night? 'Nd he fuckin' wonders why she's upset."

"He must have his... reasons," the fatherly voice of the fourth speaker says, although his tone says otherwise.

You swallow, slowly creeping off of the bottom step and onto the wooden floors. Front pressed to the wall, you move just the slightest bit, to allow yourself a small peak into the loungeroom.

There are four men, like you'd expected, and they're...

They're big. There's no other word that comes to mind, except for big. Tall, broad, packed with muscle. Military-grade men.

Your mouth is suddenly parched of any moisture, and your brain turns to putty.

Selfishly, stupidly, you spend another dangerous moment to admire the four. The couch curves, the four of them seated on it, facing the TV hung on the wall. They're backs are to you.

Or.

One second, they're all blissfully turned the other way, and in the next, one's head turns, and deep brown eyes meet yours.

Your eyes go wide, and you immediately dart for the stairs, heart in your throat.

Rushing up, trying to stay quiet but still hurrying, you make it to your room in record time. You shut the door behind you, chest tight and breaths harried as your back presses to the wood.

Stupid, stupid girl, you think.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

That's what your father had said, wasn't it? So what were you thinking, risking a look? For what purpose?

Then, there's a knock on your door.

Your eyes go impossibly wide, and your lips purse together as you slowly move away from the door. With one breath, you train your face into a pleasant, kind smile as you slowly open the door, only allowing a bit of your room to be shown.

"You're his daughter, ain't ya?"

You have to crane your neck, eyes going up, and up, and up, until you meet the man's eyes.

The skull balaclava shouldn't cause your face to heat, or your breaths to quicken, but they do.

"I -- um, yes, I'm really sorry for eavesdropping," you mumble, eyes flitting to the floor and hand squeezing the door in an anxious gesture.

A hand grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to meet the man's chocolate eyes once more. They're imploring, impossibly so, and your thighs squeeze together against your better judgement.

"Come watch the game with us," he says, and although the sentence isn't a demand, it feels like one.

So, like the good girl you are, you nod, his grip loosening as you do.

You forget that you're in your tiniest sleep shorts and your thinnest tank top as you follow him down the stairs, his large hand resting on your lower back.

This was the most touch you'd ever felt from a man that wasn't in a familial way, and your nerve-endings feel like they've been electrocuted.

Whatever conversation that was happening silences as soon as the two of you walk into the lounge room, your hands squeezing each other painfully tight.

Your anxiety was warranted in this situation, wasn't it? Surely, it was okay to be scared of four men whom you'd never met.

Four sets of eyes are trained to your body, and there's a slight tremble in your hands as you sit in the spot balaclava had gestured towards.

It seats you in the middle of the four of them, and your heart beats impossibly faster as you settle into the leather, feeling so small in comparison to the men surrounding you.

It's a new, albeit not entirely terrible, feeling.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" The man furthest to your left asks, and when you meet his eyes, they're warm and kind. His lower face is mostly covered in a beard, and he's wearing a light brown hat.

You bite at your inner cheek, gaze flicking back to your thighs as you weakly say your name.

Their gazes burn your skin, like a living force, and your hands form nervous fists in your lap. The warm yellow light of the living room lamp creates a warm, safe ambience that doesn't exactly fit the emotions swirling inside of you.

You flinch only slightly when a warm hand moves to rest on your knee, the thumb rubbing comforting circles on it that ease your tight muscles slightly.

When you look to the owner of the hand, it's to see a warm grin and a faux mohawk.

"You're so tense, lass," he says, his mouth quirking into a knowing smirk. "We don't bite."

"Don't speak for all of us, Soap," the man sitting on your close left says with a charming grin, his eyes meeting yours when you turn to him. "I'll ask nicely, love, don't worry."

You nod, slowly, in some sort of trance. This entire situation doesn't feel entirely real, more like a figment of your deepest desires.

Ones you've never let yourself think about, except for the darkest of nights and the dirtiest of feelings.

"Don't scare the girl," the man with the balaclava says, eyes narrowing on the two men beside you.

"Says the one with the fuckin' mask, ya weirdo," the scottish one says with a scoff of a chuckle. Your mouth pulls into a soft grin without you realising, and the hand on your knee tightens ever so slightly.

"I'm Price," the man who you've deemed the most sensible of the group says with a warm smile. His head gestures to each of the other three men respectively. "That's Gaz, Soap, and Ghost."

You can't say that you're all too familiar with the names, nor how...different they are, but you nod nonetheless, reserving the names in your memory.

"Father dearest never talked about us?" Gaz asks, eyebrows softly furrowing in question.

You shake your head, almost apologetic in the movement. "He doesn't like to tell me much, he's, ah... private."

There's a few returning grunts of understanding, and they settle your nerves just a little bit more. For men of their size, they were surprisingly good at keeping you feeling safe and comfortable.

"What're you doin' all alone on a Friday night? Pretty young thing like you, 'nd you're not at a club? A date?" Soap asks, and if you notice that he's moved just the slightest bit closer to you, you don't say a word.

You feel your face heat, and you murmur out your reply. "Never been to either," you admit, pulling at a thread in your sleep shorts with nervous jerks.

Ghost settles further into his chair, legs spread in an almost dominant way. "Surely you've at least had your first kiss?"

If you could get anymore embarrassed, you're sure you'll combust on the spot.

You softly shake your head.

"Aw, love, you're adorable," Gaz says, a hint of a smirk on his features. His dark eyes glimmer in the light, and you lick your bottom lip to wet it.

Price's arms rest on his knees, and his eyes seem trained on you, debating some sort of inner conflict, before they firm with some kind of resolution. "Y'know, we've been training rookies lately," he states, but with a knowing undertone that everyone in the room seems to pick up on except for you.

"That we have," Ghost says, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he nods in agreement with Price.

"How about we train you, bonnie?" Soap asks, his hand moving just the slightest bit higher on your thigh.

You swallow, mouth dry.

"Um. Like, train me... how?" You ask, although there's some part of your brain that knows all too well what area they're thinking of.

Gaz's hand moves to sit at the nape of your neck, stroking in soothing movements that leave your eyes half-closed and glassy. "How about I show you how to kiss, love?"

Your stomach hollows, and your chest rises and falls in heavy beats. Nervously looking around the room, you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod shortly.

Soap's hand tightens around your thigh, a barely hidden warning. "Words, baby, or you're goin' back to your room."

The threat instantly has words flying out of your mouth. "Yes. Please. Just... be gentle?"

All four men seem to huff a laugh at that, but Gaz nods, dimples showing as his smirk deepens. "I can do that."

He pulls you in, and your eyes flutter shut as his lips meet yours.

The feeling leaves you entirely dazed, your nervous system alighting with signals as your thoughts seem to pause, if only for a second. It's nothing like you'd expected, and butterflies erupt in your lower stomach.

He pulls away, not having breached your mouth, and you must look as out of it as you feel because he laughs.

"That good, love?" He asks, teasing and entirely prideful.

You nod, a bit too fast and enthusiastic, before his hand pulls away from your nape. The loss is mourned, briefly, before your attention pulls away from Gaz and instead to Soap.

"Gotta learn from all of us," is all he says, before his lips crush against your own. Where Gaz was tentative and soft, Soap is all energy and desperation.

His hand squeezes your thigh, and when it had moved from your knee to pushing against your tiny shorts, you haven't an idea.

You can't find it in yourself to care, with his relentless attack on your mouth, your lips, your mind.

When he pulls away, you realise it's because Ghost's moved to stand, and his hand is in a tight fist in Soap's hair, pulling his face away from yours.

"Actin' like a fuckin' mutt," Ghost mutters, tone laced with vitriol. It's degrading, and yet Soap doesn't seem phased in the slightest.

You're about to inquire about that when your attention's caught by Price, his knees spread and patting his thigh. "C'mere, sweetheart," he says, and like a dog on a leash, you do.

His unbelievably large hands grab your hips as he seats you in his lap, and with how he's got his legs spread, it forces you to sit over his groin.

It's a compromising position, and the heat that rushes to your core is an entirely unknown feeling.

He doesn't move his hands from your body as his eyes devour it, before they meet your gaze with a warmth to them that has you shivering.

"Show me what the boys have taught you, hm?" He says, and with shut eyes and a stiff movement, you press your lips to his.

He groans, pleased, his thumbs rubbing circles where your skin's been revealed by your tank top. No one's ever touched you there, not in this way, and it has your pussy wet.

When he pulls away, he licks at his lips, as if he's devouring your taste.

"You're so pretty, sweetheart, mm? No wonder your father's got you all locked up," he says, and the reminder of the source of your anger has you wanting to do entirely too reckless things.

Like kissing the four men he warned you about.

Like doing more, maybe.

...Maybe.

His hands force your hips down, and you let out a small whimper when your clit presses against his belt buckle, the action sending pleasure shooting up your spine.

He raises a brow, catching the change in expression and your small sound. "What's wrong, pretty?"

And then, he pulls you down again, deeper this time, and the movement has your breath hitching, core burning with need.

"Oh, you naughty little girl," he says, and the words have your mind turning into some sort of mouldable clay, entirely able to be controlled by whatever these men wanted to make of it. "So needy, ain't ya?"

Someone presses against you from behind, and a belt buckle presses against your lower back.

"My turn to feel those lips, innit?" Ghost says from behind, leaning down to whisper his next words next to your ear. "See what all the fuss 's about."

The idea that you're being passed around, like you're some kind of... of whore has you entirely speechless in the most positive of ways.

You feel filthy, and you love it.

Leaning your head back, you manage to make eye contact with the large man, before his lips press to yours, upside down.

He devours, all encompassing, his tongue slipping into yours without any hesitance. You're clumsy, unsure, but he makes up for it with experience and dominance. The entire act has you woozy, needy for more of them, more of their touch.

You don't expect for Price to start forcibly rotating your hips, forcing you to grind against his lap, but it forces a moan from your mouth, the sound getting devoured by Ghost's overpowering tongue.

"Who knew she'd be such a desperate slut?" Gaz asks, as if you're not there, as if you're just something to be observed. It causes another moan to leave your mouth, and Ghost detaches himself from you with a grunt of his own.

"Think she liked that," Soap says, amused and proud, in a strange sort of way. "Wanna be used, baby? Taken by men nearly twice your age?"

"Yes," you say, on a groan as Price's motions speed up, the pleasure so new and different and good.

Then, he stops, and a whine comes out of you before you can stop it.

Price makes a condescending noise in response. "Poor babygirl needs all the attention, hey? Needs her little pussy played with?"

"She looks like a goddamn mess, cap," Gaz says, his hand coming up to rest on your head. He gives comforting pats, not unlike one would with an obedient puppy.

Ghost's hands come around your waist, and before you even process what he's doing, he rips your sleep shorts in half, leaving you completely bare.

"Didn't think to wear panties, dumb girl?" Ghost asks with an appreciative groan, his large hand cupping your now exposed pussy.

With a whimper, you shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut at the embarrassment and nudity. No one had ever seen it before, and now, four of your father's friends were getting an eyeful.

"Lemme see if she's nice 'n wet for us," Soap murmurs, picking you up from Price's lap in a princess carry.

It doesn't even last two seconds before he's splaying you over the now empty couch, your hands pathetically covering your most private of areas.

"None of that, sweetheart," Price says with a 'tsk', grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to the couch above your head, leaving you effectively defenceless to the men.

Soap's hand moves down your stomach, before he pauses for just a moment. "This okay, baby?"

You nod, because yes, this is most definitely okay.

Gaz gives you a stern look, so you quickly fix your mistake. "I -- yes, sir, it's okay."

There's a surrounding sound of approval, and Soap smirks from where he stands beside your hips. "Sir, aye? Like the sound of that."

With that, his finger slides down your pussy, and your eyes shut with a soft moan. His hands are rough, scarred, calloused from years of work on the field, and they're so much larger than your own.

"Think she likes it, sir," Ghost says, taunting Soap, whose eyes are completely transfixed on your glistening pussy.

"Not the only one," Price says with an approving murmur, his hand tightening around your wrists. The sense of powerlessness has you aching with desire.

Soap's finger continues to rub against your slit, not breaching your entrance, instead continuing to tease and amplify his touch. Your eyes are shut, too embarrassed to look at the mess you're likely causing on the fabric, and too nervous to see the expression on the men's faces.

"Do you play with your lil cunt often, princess?" Ghost says, voice darkened with lust.

Your face feels like it's burning, but you nod. "Sometimes. I -- ah," you break off with a moan as Soap's thumb presses against your swollen clit.

"Be a good girl and answer when spoken to, love," Gaz says with a sound of disappointment that has you aching to amend your mistake.

"I'm sorry, sir, I, yes. Sometimes 'm just needing to, um, y'know..." You trail off, trying to preserve any amounts of dignity you had left. You were aware that masturbation was normal, but you'd never discussed it with a single soul, and talking about it felt like laying your soul bare.

Price's other hand moves to gently brush your hair from your face, the gesture so at odds with Soap's sensual movements.

You're about to say something, what, you aren't exactly sure, when Soap's finger roughly enters your soaked pussy. A loud whimper escapes your lips at the sudden intrusion, and the sheer size difference of his finger compared to your own.

"Aww, baby, it's alright," Soap coos, and it's so fucking condescending. It's cruel, almost, as if you're so dumb that you can't even form your own thoughts.

Which is, honestly, more true than you're willing to admit.

"'Atta girl," Ghost groans when your whimpers only increase with every thrust of Soap's finger.

Gaz's hand moves down to replace Soap's thumb on your clit, using the pads of his fingers to roughly circle around it. That sensation, mixed with Soap's intrusion, has your back arching slightly from the couch.

"Think she's close, Cap," Gaz says, conversationally, again treating you like you're not entirely capable of voicing your own feelings or thoughts.

"Mm, that right, sweetheart? Close already?" Price echoes, the hand not around your wrists going to squish your cheeks together, causing your lips to pucker. "What a pathetic girl, hm?"

Those words, those demeaning, humiliating words, only stoke the fire in your stomach, and your eyes burn with unshed tears as you shakily nod.

As soon as you do, however, Gaz pulls away, and Soap's finger leaves your pussy entirely. You groan, eyes opening slightly to see what could've possibly caused them to stop.

"You look so upset, baby," Soap laughs, and his smile is no longer the jovial one it had been mere minutes before -- no, it's been replaced with something much more predatory, something much more dangerous.

Dangerous men.

Ghost moves, then, moving your legs with much more care than you'd expected from the large man, before moving to kneel at the end of the couch where your legs had been. Hooking your knees over his shoulder, he effectively folds you in half.

"W-what are you doing?" You ask, almost frantic, utterly confused at your current state.

He leans down, hooking his balaclava over the tip of his nose, before there's searing wet heat at your core, causing you to throw your head back with a loud moan.

Gaz chuckles, "So dirty, love. Like having the big bad Ghost with his head between your legs, huh? Like having the attention of men with blood on their hands?"

Oh, and the confirmation -- the proper, hard proof, that they killed, that they truly were as dangerous as your father had said --

"Yes, fuck, please, oh my god," you ramble, almost incoherent with your words as you body trembles with the feeling of a mouth at your pussy. "Jesus, don't stop."

You can hear laughter around you, some words being passed between the men, but your focus is entirely on the tongue dipping into your folds, licking at your essence like a man starved. Like you're his only salvation.

Soap's hand is in Ghost's hair, a complete parallel to the kiss the two of you had shared, and he's pushing Ghost further against you, manhandling him like a toy for you to grind against, for you to take advantage of.

"I'm gonna, oh, please, I'm close," you cry out, eyes squeezed shut yet again as Ghost's ministrations only double in enthusiasm.

"Yeah, sweetheart? Gonna cum all over his face? Go on, ride it, there we go," Price eggs you on, his hand patting down your hair, massaging at your scalp as you lose yourself to the pleasure of it all.

You cum with a desperate keen, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you ride out the high, embracing this moment for the beauty it is.

It doesn't hit you, not at first, the full extent of your actions.

Ghost pulls away after your whimpers turn into ones of overstimulation, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, your twitching pussy, and then your inner knee as he carefully sets your legs back down on the couch.

"Such a good girl, aye?" Soap asks, rubbing at your tense calves with expert strokes and pressure. "Did so well for us, darlin'."

Your head feels like it's been filled with cotton, and your mouth is in a similar state as you nod dazedly.

You're not sure when, but at some point, Price gently moves you to lay your back against the cushion of the couch. "Need you to drink something for us, sweetheart, okay?"

Gods, this part? Them treating you like a princess, like you're something worthy of taking care of, it's almost as good as the orgasm they'd given you.

Gaz comes into view with a glass of water, and when he gently moves your chin to open your mouth, you let him pour it down your throat.

It feels almost like you're entirely too weak to do anything by yourself, like your ability to function has been completely removed by these men. It's intoxicating, the kind of feeling that could be as addictive as the most threatening of drugs.

The water slides down your throat, and it's as if it cools you from the inside out, your heartbeat slowly coming down from the quickened pace it was previously at.

Price picks you up, cradling your head to his chest as he sits down, the other three settling down on the couch as well. Gaz, sitting beside Price, moves your legs to sit over his lap, your feet in Soap's. Ghost sits to Soap's left, his eyes focused on you as you get comfortable, burrowing your head closer to Price.

If you could stay in this moment forever, you think that you'll be a very happy woman.

Closing your eyes, you drift into a space between sleep and awareness, and when they flutter open again, you realise that your previously exposed pussy and legs are now hidden by your sweatpants that had been laid on your bed, ready to be put away.

Price's hand is in your hair, softly playing with the strands. His hand encompasses your entire scalp, almost, and if you weren't completely exhausted, that fact alone would have you ready to get on your knees.

"What're we gonna do?" Gaz whispers, and you realise with a start that they must all think you're still dozing. "I mean, we seriously fucked this up."

"Not yet we haven't," Ghost interrupts, voice still gravelly and low, but with a hint of warmth. "This doesn't change anything."

"This changes everything!" Soap hisses back, incredulous, his hands stilling from where they were rubbing into your feet with practiced movements. Were they all trained masseuses, or something?

No. Trained killers, your mind unhelpfully supplies, and a chill runs down your spine.

Oh god. Oh god. What had you done? Seriously, what the actual fuck had you done? You just.

You just lost your virginity to four of your father's very lethal, very dangerous friends. Friends who are nearly twice your age, at that.

Oh. God.

"Laswell will be expecting correspondence by three," Price mutters in a voice akin to a whisper. "You boys know what we have to do."

What? What were they talking about? Who was Laswell? What did they have to do by three?

Your mind whirrs, like a hamster in a wheel, before the sound of keys jingling on the other side of your front door has your entire body freezing.

Oh god.

Oh. God.

"Shit," Gaz grumbles, and between one thought and the next, you've been bundled up into a warm chest, the movement fluid and shockingly quick. A hand at the base of skull softly pushes your head against a warm neck, and your legs hang over a muscled arm. "I'll take her upstairs. Be quiet and quick."

There's murmurs too quiet between the other three as you're taken up the stairs, two steps at a time, by the man whose fingers had been on your pussy, at most, only an hour ago.

You're aware that you've been taken to your room when the door clicks behind you, the familiar path to it engrained in your memory, even with your eyes closed and in someone else's arms.

The smell of vanilla and caramel is a comforting and familiar one, and you realise that you'd left your candle burning all night.

It's really the least of your worries, but that thought manages to snag at your conscious like an annoying fly.

"I'm so sorry, kid," Gaz whispers, gently laying you down underneath your bedsheets, before pulling them up and over your lazed form. "I'll try my best to talk some sense into 'em."

You're not sure what he could possible mean -- what the fuck was even happening, what your life was even becoming, but his words are nothing if not sincere.

His tone is almost... apologetic, in a way, and you reserve that thought for later. When you're not pretending to be awake, when you're still not slightly out of it from your first orgasm caused by someone else, when you're not in the middle of the worst moral conflict of your life.

Your window's slightly open, allowing a soft breeze to brush over your still slightly heated skin as Gaz presses a soft kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair back.

"Get off me!"

Your father. That's your father's voice, and it sounds panicked, angry -- not unusual, but still, the cause of it was nearly always you.

And those specific words, what --

"Y'know, Laswell found out somethin' pretty interestin' the other day," a voice that you recognise as Ghost's says, tone mocking interest.

Gaz moves away from you, before going to the window and looking out at whatever scene is happening down there. Somehow, he hasn't realised you're not asleep -- you'd kept your breathing pattern the same as it usually was when you're asleep, some youtube video you'd watched months ago finally coming in handy.

You can hear them all clear as day through the small opening of the window, and Gaz can too.

"Aye. Somethin' 'bout some info bein' leaked," Soap continues Ghost's train of thought, and you're so lost it's almost pathetic.

But, you continue to listen, desperate for any source of understanding for whatever the fuck was happening down there.

"You can't possibly think it was me!" Your father yells, his voice full of venom and rage. To have it not be directed at you is a rare moment, and you allow yourself a small breath of reprieve.

"We know it was you," Price says, before sighing loud enough for it to be heard from your room. "The way you spoke about that kid of yours was enough to cement the idea."

"She's a fuckin' waste of space, and where do you get off on caring how I treat my kid? Has nothin' to do with the job!"

Those words hurt. Like an actual, physical wound, almost.

Gaz swears under his breath, and you can feel the tension ooze out of him like a wave. It's... oddly comforting.

There's the sound of a fist hitting a jaw, and it takes everything in you not to race to the window and look at what's going on yourself.

"Jesus fucking christ!" Your father hisses, and you put two and two together. One of the three men down there had punched him -- if you had to take a guess, it was Ghost.

"You've never been one of us, and you'll never be one of us. You sellin' us out was the last straw, mate," Soap snarls. You can hear him spit on the ground, before another sound of fists flying makes your heart race.

There's a moment of silence, until two things happen in the span of five seconds.

First, your father screams, "Please! Don't --"

And then...

A bullet.

The sound of a trigger being pulled.

The sound of a bullet ringing through the air.

The sound of a final breath.

Your eyes fly wide, and you immediately stumble out of bed.

Gaz's gaze meets yours, and there's nothing but apology in them. No guilt, just apology.

He doesn't stop you from looking out the window, where your father's body lays in the grass, blood leaking from the wound now sitting between his eyes.

And when you turn to him, he doesn't stop you as you land a punch to his jaw.

a/n. CROSS-POSTED TO AO3 ummm so did i PLAN for this to become an actual fic? no. not in the slightest. but i was writing the fingering bit and was like. what if her dad died? and there's an actual plot? so uhhh here we are! anyways hope yall enjoyedddd if u guys know me u know polyamory is my SHIT so there will very likely be more poly!tf141 x reader to come. ty for reading mwah mwah mwah

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solelifauna · 21 days ago

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GUYS THIS COMMENT FROM @silken-moons ON THE WEREWOLF AU HAS ME LOCKED IN.

silken-moons:

Wait....so what happened to Kon or Conner in this au ? Was he the one eaten since he was basically half human and kryptonian too assuming lex is human in this au too.

I am more than happy to elaborate.

Lex is a half-human half-werewolf hybrid like the reader. So Conner would be half-kryptonian and only a fourth werewolf. When Clark finds out about his existence he’s pissed (at first). Superman doesn’t hesitate before finding Luthor and melting his skull in with his laser vision. It’s quite the graphic scene, Conner unfortunately being there to witness it all.

Conner is pressed back into some crevice in Luthor's office, doing his best to calm his heart beat, stave off his on-coming panic attack, and pray that Superman won’t kill him. Clark of course finds him curled in on himself, hyperventilating, tears streaming down his teenage face.

Conner is blubbering, he thinks, trying to communicate some type of garbled “please” and “I’m sorry” and “don’t hurt me please”. Superman just critically eyes him before knocking the clone out. Now, in the beginning he was just planning on taking the clone to the Watch Tower to interrogate him and then kill him. Perhaps Jon would like the extra meat?

But after watching the clone wake up alone in one of the containment units, crying quietly to himself as he rocked back and forth, he started to feel a little bad. He thought back onto the way the clone had practically begged him for mercy through his own panic attack. He's read Lex Luthor's files on "Superboy", how this clone had no flight, was not invulnerable, and couldn't even throw out half of Clark's strength.

This clone was no threat, no, in fact he was a gift. Another Kryptonian (even if the clone was only half with human DNA in his mix). And even better, the clone boy had no ill intentions towards the JL, hell, the boy looked afraid that anyone even considered the idea. No, no, no, this boy, his boy, was so sweet.

From the way he leaned into Clarks palm when he caressed the sleeping boys face, to the way he clung to Clark and his approval like a touch starved puppy, Clark couldn't help himself. The only problem now was getting his Wife and Son on the same page. He knew werewolf customs, he knew what it meant for Conner (a name his new son had previously picked out).

It would probably be easier to convince Jon considering the poor kid's been wanting a sibling for a long time now (Jon is 8 right now, but still all the same crazy). Lois might take a bit more time, considering pack bonds and the human part of Conner. So with a heavy heart, he kisses his new baby goodnight, as he flies home for he night. Yes, its been a couple of weeks since Connors arrival and he still hasn't told his family. he plans to amend that today.

He expects growling and demands for flesh. he expects outrage from his wife, or even a calm cool collected "bring him to me". What he gets instead are demands from Lois to see Conner, her new son. Clark blinks in surprise before he's fumbling with his phone, opening up his camera role where has has a million new pictures of Conner. Lois only grabs his phone, cooing over the pictures with adoration in her eyes. Well, Clark is pleasantly surprised.

"You're not mad are you Lois?" Clark asks gently.

"Oh I'm not mad Smallville, I'm livid." She all but growls, a smile still etched on her face as she continues scrolling. "You knew about him for weeks, and didn't even bother letting me know. I had a son for weeks, and he's been by himself."

Clark winces. "I know Lois, I know. I just-I was just afraid that you wouldn't want him the way I do. That you'd rip him open, hell, even I considered it in the beginning!"

Lois looks up from his phone, a knowing smile, a soft one, on her face. "I know farm boy, I know. But its important that you remember we don't always kill and eat the weak. Sometimes, its nice to have something that you can love and take care of, something that relies on you and only you."

"is that what you have planned for Connor?"

"Of course. He's our son now, and after everything he's been through, its out job to keep him and Jon safe. Until he can prove himself capable, he's not leaving the den."

A content grin makes its way onto Clarks face. Oh how he loved his wife. "I wouldn't have it any other way Lois. I'll bring him here tomorrow. Now, lets go let our other little rascal know."

Lois smirks. "I agree. Lord knows he's been waiting to have a-"

"-I have a new brother!" Comes the familiar voice of Jon Kent, cutting his mother off in his excitement.

Clark raises his eyebrow fondly, feigning exasperation. "Did you listen in on our conversation Jonathan Samuel Lane-Kent?"

"Of course I did! Well-I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help it! You said I have a brother and I wanna see him!" Jon all but whines.

"Well honey, dad said he'd bring him home tomorrow okay."

"Really!?"

"You betcha. But Jon, you have to be gentle with him okay? He doesn't know werewolf or Kryptonian customs okay?" His dad says.

"Okay, I promise i'll be gentle." Jon swears, nodding up and down.

Lois sighs fondly. "And its important to know that he is part human, do you know what that means?"

"Mhm! It means that he's not allowed out the den or the house, and that its our job to protect him 'cause he's weak." Jon repeats from his memory.

"Good job Jon! You're going to be the best brother, I just know you are." His mom says.

Jon preens under the praise.

He can't wait to meet his new brother!

~~~~~

The next day arrives slower than anyone would have liked.

The morning sunlight filters through the sky as Clark flies Conner to him penthouse in Metropolis, cradling the boy carefully as he slumbers. Conner stirs in his arms, eyes fluttering open, a brief panic flashing in them until he meets Clark’s calm gaze.

“Where-where are we?” Conner mumbles, clutching at Clark’s shirt with a grip that feels hesitant, almost reluctant.

“We’re going home,” Clark replies, a small smile on his face. “Your new home. Your family’s waiting for you, Conner.”

Conner’s eyes widen, his mouth opening as if to protest, but the words die on his lips. His gaze shifts away, and he nods mutely, not quite daring to believe that this “family” will truly accept him. He’s felt so disposable for so long; he almost can’t imagine what it’s like to be wanted.

The penthouse doors open, and Lois stands there, her sharp gaze softening the instant she sees Conner. She steps forward, reaching out a hand in a silent invitation. Conner hesitates, clinging to Clark a little tighter, and Clark gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, Conner,” he murmurs. “I'm here for you.”

With a slow, tentative step, Conner reaches out, letting Lois pull him into a gentle hug. Her arms are firm around him, warm but unyielding, a silent promise of protection, though he senses the fierce strength just below the surface. She smooths his hair with surprising gentleness, her voice soft as she whispers, “Welcome home, Conner.”

Conner relaxes, allowing himself to take a deep, shuddering breath. This feels strange. He's never really had a home before. Luthor's compound was last place he felt safe, let alone a place he'd call home. And that word, that feeling-safe. He isn’t sure he's ever felt it outside Superman, sorry, his Dad's arms.

And isn't that a crazy thing, he has a Dad now. Superman, Clark Kent was his Dad.

Jon, standing just a few steps away, is practically vibrating with excitement. When Lois finally releases Conner, Jon bounds over, a wide grin on his face.

“Hi! I’m Jon, your brother!” He pauses, then adds, almost reverently, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Conner blinks in surprise, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he mumbles, “I-thank you, Jon.”

Lois places a hand on Jon’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Remember what we talked about, Jon. Conner’s still adjusting. Be patient with him.”

Jon nods enthusiastically, but there’s a possessive glint in his eyes as he looks at Conner, a silent vow to protect his new brother from anything—or anyone—that might threaten him. Conner notices this look, a strange chill running down his spine, but he says nothing.

As the day unfolds, Conner tries to settle into this new life, though it feels almost too good to be true. Lois and Clark are attentive, constantly ensuring he’s comfortable, while Jon barely leaves his side, eager to show him every corner of the penthouse, as if staking his claim. Meals are filled with warmth and laughter, and yet Conner can’t shake the feeling of being watched, almost obsessively.

That night, as Conner lies in the bed they’ve prepared for him, he hears the soft creak of footsteps outside his door. It opens quietly, and Clark steps inside, his face illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. He walks over to the bed, looking down at Conner with an intense, unreadable expression.

“You’re part of this family now, Conner,” Clark says quietly, brushing a hand over Conner’s forehead in a strangely tender gesture. “Nothing will take you from us. Not anyone. You’re ours, do you understand?”

Conner nods, his throat tightening, unable to find words. Clark’s gaze softens, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to Conner’s forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving Conner alone with a flurry of conflicted feelings. For the first time in his life, he feels wanted, cherished, trapped, as though he’s become a prized possession in a family he can never escape.

But, maybe, a small voice inside him whispers, he doesn’t want to escape at all.

Well folks, here's more lore on relationships outside of the Batfam. Let me know chat, am I cooking? New chap, out soon!

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perseidlion · 2 months ago

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Streaming in Kaos

Well, it happened. I can't say that I'm surprised that KAOS has been cancelled by Netflix. I am a little surprised at the speed at which it was axed. Only a month after it aired, and it's already gone.

That has me wondering if the decision to cancel was made before the show even aired. We have to remember that marketing is the biggest cost after production. If the Netflix brass looked at the show and either decided (through audience testing, AI stuff or just their own biases) that it wasn't going to be a Stranger Things-level hit, they probably chose at that moment to slash its marketing budget.

That meant there was pretty much no way that KAOS was ever going to hit the metrics Netflix required of it to get a season 2.

What makes me so angry about this (other than the survival of a show relying on peoples' biases or AI) is that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you decide before a show is ever going to air that it won't be a success, then it probably won't be. If you rely on metrics and algorithms and AI to analyze art, you will never let something surprise you. You'll never let it grow. You'll never nurture the cult hits of the future or the next franchise.

Netflix desperately needs people behind the scenes that believe in stories and potential over metrics. Nothing except the same old predictable dreck is ever going to be allowed to survive if you don't believe in the stories you're telling.

The networks and streamers have a huge problem on their hands. They need big hits and to build the franchises of the future to sustain their current model (which is horribly broken.) But people have franchise fatigue and aren't showing up for known IPs like they used to. The fact that Marvel content is definitely not a sure thing anymore is a huge canary in the coal mine for franchise fatigue. People aren't just tired of Marvel, they're tired of the existing worlds both on the big screen and the small one. Audiences are hungry for something new.

It is telling that the most successful Marvel properties of the last few years have been the ones that do something different. Marvel is smart to finally pull out The X-Men because that is a breath of fresh air and something people are hungry to see more of.

There's pretty much no one behind the scenes (except for maybe AMC building The Immortal Universe) that is committing to really taking the time to build these new worlds. Marvel built the MCU by playing the long game. That paid dividends for a solid decade even if it's dropping off now. That empire was built not with nostalgia for existing IP (don't forget the MCU was built with B and C tier heroes) but with patience. Marvel itself seems to have forgotten this in recent years.

Aside from that, I think people really want stories that aren't connected to a billion other things. That takes commitment on the part of the audience to follow and to get attached to. People WANT three to five excellent seasons of a show that tells its own story and isn't leaving threads out there for a dozen spinoffs. We're craving tight storytelling.

KAOS could have been that. Dead Boy Detectives could have been that. So could Our Flag Means Death, Lockwood and Co, Shadow and Bone, The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, Willow, and a dozen other shows with great potential or were excellent out of the gate.

If you look at past metrics, you only learn what people used to like, not what they want now. People are notoriously bad about articulating what they want, but boy do they know it when they see it. Networks have to go back to having a dozen moderate successes instead of constantly churning through one-season shows that get axed and pissing off the people who did like it in a hamfisted attempt to stumble on the next big thing.

The networks desperately need to go back to believing in their shows. Instead, they keep cutting them off at the knees before they ever get a chance because some algorithm told them the numbers weren't there.

#fandom commentary #fandom meta #streaming #streaming collapse #netflix #kaos #kaos on netflix #dead boy detectives #interview with the vampire #marvel #mcu #the dark crystal #our flag means death #cancellation #netflix cancellation

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palmettoshenanigans · 2 months ago

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Is this an unpopular opinion? Is this a hot take??? I don't know if it is but I'm going to say it anyway,

I've read several AU!AFTG fics where writers try to mimic Neil's cut throat tongue lashings. They try to create their own "You know, I get it moment" whether with existing characters or OCs or whatever

Rarely do they pull it off. In fact, most miss the mark by a mile.

And it's not because they're bad at writing insults, they aren't. They can craft insults just like the rest of us, with varying degrees of success and scathing derogatory language. It's that the insults they use are generally applicable to most people and get their punch by being rife with curse words.

That's not how Neil does it.

Neil's insults are bespoke!!! (A bespoke suit is one where fabric isn't even cut until we know your exact measurements, this suit is for you, so let me write down every tidbit of relevant information about you and your body before I even start picking out thread)

Neil basically psychoanalyzed someone, noticed all their strengths, weaknesses, fears, hopes and dreams, complexes and traumas that he could get his little hands on, and honed the perfect sentence to bypass all their surface layer feelings and find their Inner Child like a fucking sniper and shot that crying baby in the forehead

That's why it hurts!!! Neil wouldn't call some one ugly as an insult even though that's an insult that has a wide AOE - it'll hit lots of folks. Neil would only call some ugly if it would strike home at their inner most traumatic childhood issues - Neil would call you ugly if he knew your mother called you ugly since birth and told you your only chance at earning love is by becoming hot and your dad told you you were so unskilled you couldn't even make a supermodel pretty if you tried giving them a makeover cus you're just that useless at making change. Yeah, Neil would call you ugly at that point.

Kevin didn't try to strangle Neil cus he called him a slur for disabled people, it pissed him off but it didn't really strike a nerve.

Kevin tried to strangle Neil cus he called him a "deadweight has been" and that struck all his nerves.

If you wanna write your own "You know, I get it" you can't just be insulting. You gotta be traumatizing. You can't just be mean to an adult being an asshole. You gotta be mean to a little kid who's already crying.

Only a couple of fic writers have pulled it off as far as I've read.

#all for the game #neil josten

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successfulgoddess333 · 8 months ago

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MY LONG AWAITED SUCCESS STORY PLUS RANT/YALL NEED THIS STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND READ

First things first

I’m tired of being nice

I have took time out of MY day to help you guys

EVERY DAY

I have given tips methods

Advice answered questions

Replied to countless amounts of DMs

Etc etc I’m not providing false hope here I AM trying to help you guys

I’m getting so many different suggestions and asks

Let me say this

STOP

from now on

No more questions

If it’s urgent

Like you really wanna know something

DM me

I WILL respond

No more questions asking how to enter the void

My account is literally talking about HOW TO ENTER THE VOID STATE

Are instructions not clear?????

Get off your butt and fucking do it!!!!

Stop procrastinating stop being lazy stop asking questions you spreads know the answers to

And for the love of God

STOP ASKING ME TO ENTER FOR YOU!!!!!!!!!

I’m doing what I can to help you all manifest

But it’s YOUR job to make it happen

Y’all used my kindness against me and it’s pissing me off I’m tired of people not even asking anymore

Just begging me

I AM NOT A MAGICIAN

I was literally YOU

not too long ago

I am a nice person but I am at my limits

Stop repeating questions

Look at my page for the answers you need

Stop asking me to enter for you

If it’s not happening

DM me for ADVICE

I used to be the kid that got asked by others to do their homework for them

If I didn’t put my foot down

Y’all were gonna drive me insane

Literally

I love y’all but stop depending on me

Just ask

For advice

But stop treating me like a Genie

And I manifested for someone and it doesn’t work

Then what

Am I a liar now???

Am I fake??

Like are you serious

Bruh I’m serious when I say

I’ve had enough

Read this story to see how YOU CAN ALSO

Transform your life

I literally went from

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

I went from slitting my own wrists and going in my closet trying to hang myself EVERY FUCKING NIGHT

I used to stare in the mirror

Crying about how my body looked

I used to go to school scared because I was getting abused by guys there and bullied by girls

All my friends turned their backs on me and I literally said

FUCK IT

I don’t deserve this fucking life so you know what I did????

I changed it

It’s so easy it’s insane

I too over complicated it

I too was desperate

But your desires are yours

They just are

Ignore them MF negative thoughts

Matter of a fact don’t even call it that

You are giving your “intrusive” thoughts power by saying they are negative

Don’t label them as intrusive thoughts

THEY DO NOT EXIST

THEY WILL NEVER MANIFEST

And I’m not just saying that it’s true

It’s soooo fucking true

By labeling them as “intrusive” or “negative” you’re giving them power

To take over and control your life

When this is not what you want

Don’t fear your own head

Bitch it’s YOUR BRAIN

It can’t NOT listen to you

Change your goddamn assumptions

You are a bad bitch you’re hot beautiful

You’re THAT bitch

Bad bitches don’t beg we make shit happen

Get off your cute ass and go get your dream fucking life

Bitch you can have it all

You can marry Shawn Mendez

Be the sexiest model on the planet (but you’re only 5’3) OK ANDDDDD

Marissa Rose is the first 4’11 runway model

You mean to tell me it’s not possible???

They have plus size models

Shirt models

Models with tig ol biddies

Models with tattoos models with piercings models with scars etc

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

You can get a call back from that job

Better yet fuck 9 to 5s

Bitch YOU ARE RICH

You are literally Jeff Bezos

Don’t manifest “small shit�� cuz if you can get an apartment and a job

You can also manifest $100 million and 2500 square feet mansion

You can have superpowers

You can be a master manifestor

You can become a celebrity and overnight

You can meet your favorite celebrities at awards shows

You can sit next to Ice Spice at the Grammys

EVEN SHE MANIFESTED HER DREAM LIFE

There’s proof in her old tweets and in your interviews

YOU CAN HAVE HARRY STYLES TICKETS FOR WHENEVER HE DECIDES TO DROP AN ALBUM

YOU CAN BE THE NEXT BEYONCÉ

YOU CAN MEET OR EVEN PERFORM WITH TAYLOR SWIFT

YOU CAN HAVE ALL THE MONEY YOU WANT

YOU CAN SHIFT TO ANOTHER REALITY AND MEET MICHAEL JACKSON

YOU CAN HAVE THE SINGING VOICE OF AALIYAH OR MF MARIAH CAREY

YOU CAN MANIFEST THAT YOUR DOG NEVER DIED OR THAT

YOUR EX STILL MISSES YOU

KANYE WEST MANIFESTED KIM K

TOM HOLLAND MANIFESTED ZENDAYA

YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU CANT HAVE

MICHAEL B JORDAN WAITING ON YOU HAND AND FOOT????

YOU CAN ENTER THE VOID MANIFEST YOUR Sp

AND WAKE UP NEXT TO YOUR CRUSH

YOU CAN MANIFEST BEING IMMUNE TO BAD SHIT BEING A GODDESS BEING SO BEAUTIFUL THAT PEOPLE FORGET MEGAN FOX EXISTS

YOU CAN MANIFEST LOOKING LIKE MARILYN MONROE

OR MADISON BEER

YOU CAN MANIFEST TALENT

BITCH ITS ALL POSSIBLE

You OWN THIS SHIT THIS IS YOUR LIFE BOO

Go fucking get it!!!!!!!

SUCCESS STORY

I was tired of own shit so I used the method that I created

I already posted it

Go read it

Here’s what I manifested

1. SP

I manifested a girlfriend because I’m bisexual asf

And I created her on my phone

Just write if list of what she looks and acts like

I manifested my dream career

I manifested platonic SPs

As in friendships

Money

A strong intuition

More knowledge

A better self concept

Immunity

The ability to hypnotize with my eyes(OK I HAVENT TESTED THIS OUT BUT IM EXCITED TO)

Meeting a celebrity

Can’t say who but I manifested it for the future

I even got pets now!!! A puppy two kittens and two snakes!!

I manifested lots of cool talents

I improved my dancing!!!!!!

I was insecure about my voice

So I changed it

Deadass I sound kinda sexy now

I wanted a whispery ass voice😭😭

So I got oneeee

I also manifested a LOT of personal stuff that I won’t share

Unfortunately I’m SUPER protective of my soul and just overall self

And I’m not posting a face reveal

This might seem surprising to most

My passive aggressive behavior but this is literally how I am daily

I really am nice but y’all just make me ANXIOUS

But still

I love you darlings soooo much

Like for real

But please just pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Don’t make me your wish granter

Make your own wishes come true

If it’s cool with y’all

I’ll manifest tonight

That entering the void will be easy for you guys

But you HAVE to do it yourself I can only guide you

You got this babe

If you got offended it’s working

That means you needed this

Take this tough love and go use it for good

I better see some goddamn success stories this month or we gon fight

(Not literally that’s just my humor talking)

Love you bitches

Now go meditate before I appear under your bed tonight and yank yo shit

Love youuuu💗💗💗💗💗

#void state #law of assumption #law of attraction #void #law of manifestation #manifesting #manifesation #subliminals #loassblog #loassumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #loa success #loablr #success story #reality shifting #desired reality #guided meditation

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weneeya · 9 months ago

Note

Hear me outttttttttt

the Gojo scene with Hanami.. but imagine him being that unhinged and pissed because someone touched you.. like 🥴 Please bless us with your work with this!! I’m begging

overprotective w/ gojo m.list | rules

note. ur brain 🤝 my brain I've literally thought about this a thousand times omg thank u for requesting this

You were supposed to be alone on this mission. Everyone had faith in you and they were right to think that way: you were a strong sorcerer. But Satoru had a bad feeling about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in you, in fact he was probably the one who believed in you the most ; but something was off and he couldn’t find what.

He couldn’t just follow you there, because he knew it would hurt you. You were an overthinker and he didn’t want to put this weight on your mind. So he simply waited for you to come back to Jujutsu Tech, still worried that something could go wrong.

The first thing that got him out of his mind was his phone ringing. When he saw your name, his heart skipped a beat. It was unusual from you to call him in the middle of a mission, especially as hard as this one. He didn’t hesitate before he picked up the phone. When he heard your trembling voice asking for help, the world stopped around him. Nothing else mattered or even existed right now, except you.

He had never been this fast in his entire life before. He knew where you were for the mission, so he didn’t have to ask anyone else to come with him. He didn’t need anyone actually, because he was going to destroy the thing that touched you all by himself.

When he finally arrived where you were, he really thought about going crazy. You were almost on the floor, as way too much blood was leaving your body. You were so pale, he could tell that you were just about to pass out. He reached your height in a second, carrying you to put you on the floor behind him, where you would be safe. He left a kiss on your forehead, sounding way too calm for it to be normal.

“It’s okay, my love. Stay awake, it’s gonna be quick.” he sounded so soft to your ears, as you closed your eyes and finally breathed again. Everything was going to be fine now that he was here, you knew it.

When Satoru stood up again, facing the creature that did that to you, a smile appeared on his lips. The last time he felt this angry, he was completely out of control. The only thing that was able to calm him down was when he was sure that his opponent had suffered twice more than what he had done. And this one, it hurted you ; so it needed to suffer even more. His piercing blue eyes were looking at the curse who soon rushed on the exorcist.

Or at least it tried to. The curse was quickly stopped in his movement, not able to move at all. As it started to panic, trying to fight back, Satoru kind of appeared in front of it. His psycho smile was even more terrifying than before as he slowly tilted his head to the side.

“Now, we can play,” was the last thing you heard before losing consciousness. The sight of Satoru being feral like this worried you a little, because you knew the man was unstoppable when he was like this. But at the same time, you knew that the mission was going to be handled just right. There was nothing to worry about anymore.

OMG FERAL GOJO he's really driving me crazy I don't even have the words anymore with this man

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo hcs #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs

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sinnaminsuga · 22 days ago

Text

𝖆 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 - mob boss!chan x reader

wc: 3,519

cw: some threats of violence, a little angsty but happy ending, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you loved him, more than anything. but being a secret was never what you wanted. the gilded cage you seemed to exist exclusively in was suffocating you, so you decided it was time to get out. but chan wont let you go that easily.

a/n: i was driving and clearly i was not paying attention because thats when this idea was born. as usual this was beta'd by bestie @httpdwaekki and she sourced the pretty pictures for me too. enjoy!

sw: dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), breeding kink if you squint, general roughness, threats of violence (not toward the reader), chan has a gun. idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

the creak of the church doors flying open should have startled you like it did everyone else, but you knew better. it was only a matter of time before he came for you. he didn't like his things to go missing. truthfully, you were shocked it even took this long.

the click of his (no doubt expensive) shoes on the shiny wooden floor of the church hung in the air like the ticking of a clock, counting down to either your demise or your bliss you weren't sure which one. after a long pause you turned your head just enough to face him.

“can we help you?” you asked, more nonchalant than anyone else would have been in a situation like this. the muffled gasps and muttering from the crowd in front of you almost made you laugh but you held it in.

the charged energy in the room was due to the fact that the man interrupting your wedding was none other than the most fearsome businessman and gangster this city had ever seen. but to you? he was your asshole ex boyfriend.

“oh can you help me? that's what you're going to say? isn't this a little much, yeobo?” he replied, voice dripping with condescension and his hand over his heart in mock surprise.

“a little much? god you're so out of touch it's actually insane christopher. news flash, you're not the groom, you're not even supposed to be here!” you seethed, fully turning to face him. your groom (hand selected by your parents) stood next to you shaking like a leaf. you could feel the nervous sweat from his hand slicking the surface of your palm and it made your skin crawl so you dropped his hold as you stared fiercely down the aisle.

chan's face split into the wide grin you’d once been accustomed to seeing. “are you done now? you've gotten your attention and you've pissed me off, the job is done. let's go.” he said, walking further down the aisle toward you.

“jesus christ, you really are insane! i should have listened when people told me you were a full on fucking basket case but no. i was stupid enough to fall in love with you. fat lot of good that did for me!” you shouted at his approaching form.

you could feel your skin heating up and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears you were so mad. who the hell did he think he was, intruding on your life like this?! it's his fault you were in this situation anyway!

***

you had been with chan for 3 years, and in that time he made it a point to keep your relationship a secret. it hurt seeing his face splashed on newspapers and tabloids all over the city speculating on who he might be dating or who he’d been seen with recently. it hurt even more when he recapped nights where he was out to dinner with his men or allies and their wives. you couldn't help but feel like it was because you weren't enough. you felt like you weren't pretty enough, weren't tough enough, weren't worthy to be seen outside his penthouse apartment. and a girl can only take so much of that for so long.

so a few months ago on a particularly lonely night of chan being out doing god knows what with lord knows who, you packed only your sentimental personal belongings (nothing he purchased for you, which was a hell of a lot of your things), wrote a note saying nothing more than “no one took me, not that you'd care even if they did. i’ll be a bird in a gilded cage no longer. goodbye.” and walked out his door for the last time.

the fancy things he could provide for you behind closed doors weren't enough to soothe the searing pain in your soul of feeling like the man you loved was ashamed of you. three years together and not even a hint at things changing any time soon was enough to make you return home to your parents and agree to the arranged marriage they had been working on as they had no knowledge of the relationship you were already in. and who knows, maybe you could learn to love your soon-to-be husband Seo-jun.

***

you grabbed the skirt of your simple wedding dress and stomped down the few stairs of the platform, heading toward chan. when you finally stood in front of him you could see the darkness under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping. his hair was gorgeous as usual but a little longer than he was used to wearing it. and his knuckles were raw and bruised. you almost felt bad for him but then, you remembered he made the bed he was lying in so why should you care about how uncomfortable it might be?

“why are you so upset with me yeobo? hmm? what did i do that was so bad you had to leave me in the middle of the night? i took care of you didn't i? anything you asked for, i gave it to you.” chan asked, grabbing your hand. something dark flashed in his eyes and his upper lip curled when his fingers felt Seo-jun's ring on your finger. “what made you hate me so much that you ran off to be with this fucking nobody?”

“you just don't get it. and you never did. that's part of the problem chris. you don't see me. you don't know me. no one did.” you murmured, taking your hand back and smoothing the fabric of your dress, eyes cast down. “with Seo-jun we can walk down the street holding hands and he doesn't think twice about it. we can have dinner in a restaurant, one that has other people in it. not one that's been emptied out and all the blinds closed and the staff paid to keep their mouths shut.” you inhaled a shaky breath before continuing. “i couldn't do that with you. and the worst part is, i don't think you even wanted to. you were happy to exclude me from things. happy to hide me. but i don't want that. i never did. and if you had no intentions of marrying me, it was my responsibility to myself to find someone who would.” you dabbed your fingers under your eyes and sniffled before straightening your back and meeting his eyes. you weren't prepared to see the agony in his face.

“i- i don't...i didn't know...i didn't know that is how you saw it all, how you saw me. i'm so sorry sweetheart. i wish you had talked to me.” chan breathed. he reached out his right hand and set it on your shoulder, rubbing soothing little circles with his thumb. after a moment he slid it up to cradle the back of your neck and tug you closer to him.

“i should have explained. i should have been more perceptive. i never wanted you to feel this way, i swear i didnt.” chan’s voice shook as he spoke to you.

“well it's too late now. please just go. please.” you whispered, trying to back away from him. you couldn't talk about this anymore. but in your attempt to move away from him, his grip on you tightened. he pulled you toward him forcefully enough that you were now chest to chest.

“you think that i will ever let you go again? i stayed away when you left, i thought maybe you needed time to be angry at me for whatever it was and then you'd come back when you were ready. but then i saw your face in the newspaper, the wedding announcement section no less. and i laughed. i laughed because surely that couldn't be true.” a bitter laugh rattled out of chan's mouth, flames of wild jealousy flickering in his eyes.

“as long as there is air in my lungs and my heart is beating in my chest, you will never belong to another man. ever. do you understand me?” he growled.

“i told you in my note and i'll tell you again now to your face, i wont be in a cage anymore. i cant do that to myself chris. i won’t. besides, you never would have married me. you just want to possess me, but you don't want anyone to know that you do.” you said softly, tears finally slipping down your cheeks unrestrained.

“why do you keep saying that? why do you think i'm ashamed of you?” he pleaded, his brows drawing together in confusion.

“what else am i left to think when you keep me hidden away in your penthouse? i'm not invited to dinners. i'm not invited to parties. no one you know, knows i exist! that's why every person in this room is so shocked to see you here! no one had any idea we were together, because that's what you wanted. i was a toy for you and now that someone else has me you're upset. don't you understand how painful that is for me?!” you wailed, not wanting to keep talking about it. you pleaded with your eyes for him to stop this torture but he was having none of it.

“are you insane? you think i wanted to keep us a secret? i wanted to tip toe around with you? no! but i had to! i know you think you know what i do but you have no idea the dangers that come with it. you are my most prized possession and the very knowledge of that is ammunition for some people in my world.” chan cried. “i would have loved nothing more than to scream it from the rooftops how much i fucking love you but i knew that would put you in danger and if anything ever happened to you i would have burned the world to ash. but the idea of your safety is out the window now, you forced my hand with this wedding bullshit and now it's all out in the open. everybody fucking knows now!” he bellowed.

realization washed over you like a bucket of ice water. he was right. you never considered that you might be in harms way if his enemies knew of your existence.

“i couldn't fucking marry you because then our marriage would be public record. anyone digging into me would find you that way. i wasn't willing to lay your life on the fucking line like that. is a wedding what you want? you wanna marry me?” chan asked, a mischievous air suddenly surrounding him. your subconscious overrode any sort of common sense and forced you to nod yes like some kind of sick twisted muscle memory.

the next thing you knew he was pulling you back down the aisle toward the small raised platform, the audience whispering behind you. as he approached your groom you held your breath, worried about what he would say.

“seo-jun is it?” he asked and seo-jun nodded. the fear was coming off of him in waves, why your parents paired you with this man you would never understand. you were far too argumentative to be with a weak man. “okay, so seo-jun what's going to happen now is i'm going to marry your fiance okay? get out of my way please, i'll only ask the one time so remember that.” chan said, his voice sickly sweet with a hint of ominous threat. seo-jun just nodded and ran off to cower behind his parents in the first row of seats. chan turned to face the officiant before speaking again. “alright let's start.”

the officiant gulped before he spoke with a shaky voice, “sir i can't marry you two. you don't even have a marriage license with the correct names on it.” this was obviously the incorrect response because chan reached into his coat and pulled out his gun, pressing it to the underside of the officiant's jaw. the rabid look in his eyes was one you were familiar with, he was incredibly worked up now.

“i don't recall asking for your sage advice, did anyone hear me ask for his advice?” he addressed the audience with his question. the crowd murmured a chorus of no’s and chan turned back to the man at gunpoint. “open your stupid fucking book and marry us or i'll blow your fucking brains out, got it? okay, good.” the officiant nodded frantically as chan pulled the gun away, tucking it back into the holster you knew he wore on his side.

you were very much in shock, and oddly enough very much turned on by his public display of aggression. you were finally getting what you always dreamed of with chan but you weren't totally happy. you didn't get to plan the wedding of your dreams with him, and this small event just didnt feel right.

“chris we can't do this. not like this. i want to plan something real, something with you. can we do that? please?” you asked, tugging on his hands.

“oh. of course we can do that sweetheart. but can we do this too? just like a practice? we’re already here and you look so pretty.” he said with his lopsided grin you could never say no to. so you giggled and nodded, and proceeded with the ceremony.

after the exchanging of vows, a cutting look at seo-jun from chan about the wedding band he’d chosen for you, and some muttering from chan about ‘none of this is good enough' the officiant pronounced you man and wife. the crowd reaction was mild as they were all still so confused and terrified, but you didn't care. you were floating. and soon as he heard the words “you may now kiss your bride” chan tugged you to him and planted his lips on yours. he swept his tongue into your mouth and you whined into the kiss. god you'd missed this, no one kissed you like chan did. he broke away for a moment just to stare at you.

“everybody get the fuck out.” every person in the church fled at chan's command, some squealing as they left. the two men he arrived with left as well, closing the doors behind them. you looked around confused, not sure why he would do that as you hadn't gotten your chance to walk down the aisle hand in hand. “channie what are you doing?” you asked.

a wicked smile appeared on his face as he replied “my wife and i need to consummate this marriage, i didn't want them here for that.” heat settled low in your belly at his words and you felt your face flush. surely he couldn't be serious! but evidently he was as he pulled you further across the platform to the altar.

he lifted you and set you down on top of the altar and pushed your legs apart to slot himself in between, yanking your dress up your legs to pool around your hips. chan planted open mouthed kisses across your exposed collarbone, one hand kneading your breast, the other reaching between you to grind against your clit. you threw your head back at the sudden pleasure.

“you let him in here? you let seo-jun touch you like i do?” he grunted against your mouth.

“nuh-uh. told him i wanted to wait. wasn't ready to give myself to another man.” you said, choking down a moan.

“good. he seems nice, i really didn't want to have to kill him.” chan laughed out into your neck. you pawed at his chest in an attempt to open his shirt but the buttons proved to be too difficult for your lust addled brain so you tore it open instead. and what you saw made you stop short.

right over his heart swooped dark black strokes of ink in your handwriting, the tattoo reading “i’ll be a bird in a gilded cage no longer.” it took your breath away and tears welled in your eyes. the weight of everything that had transpired hung heavy in the air between you and chan knew that so instead of speaking right away he leaned in, cupped your face in both hands, and kissed you with the most passion he could. so many words unspoken poured out of your mouths and into that kiss.

“here's what's going to happen now sweetheart. i'm gonna flip you around, bend you over, and fuck you until you see stars okay? it's been too long.” he explained as he maneuvered your body to the position he was describing. his big hand pressed between your shoulder blades and you submitted to him like you always did, leaning forward until your cheek was pressed to the marble of the altar.

the jingling of his belt behind you made you clench around nothing, the ache of being empty taking over. chan bunched your skirt up once again before savagely tearing your panties from your body. two of his big fingers slid through your wetness before sinking into you, punching a moan from your chest.

“gonna make it hurt baby, stretch you out jus’ the way you like okay? daddy’s gonna take such good care of you. always remember i love you okay sweetheart? because im going to fuck you like i really really don't.” he whispered into your ear, planting a kiss on the side of your head. then he was lining up with your entrance and sliding all the way in without stopping.

and he was right, the stretch hurt but really it always did. he was just so big, but you liked the burn. you liked still feeling him the next day. you could feel your eyelids drooping and your body relaxing as he started to move.

“fucking hell sweetheart. a few months away from me and i have to retrain this pussy to take me. so fucking tight.” chan ground out as his powerful hips slammed him in and out of you over and over again. your cunt was drooling all over his cock, almost as much as your mouth was all over the altar.

“still can't believe you ran from me. how about i put a baby in you, then you can't go anywhere. there's not a single place on this earth where i won't fucking find you, you got that?” he spat, lacing his hand into your hair and yanking your head up. all you could get out was a measly “uh-huh” but it seemed to be enough because he growled and started pistoning his thick length into you at a new angle, slamming the head into your g-spot.

chan reached down and wrapped a big hand around the back of your left thigh, lifting your leg and laying it flat on the altar, opening you up more for him. he slid his fingertips down between your legs and rubbed at your clit. if you weren't already sweating and drooling, surely that would have been the thing to do it.

“slutty little pussy missed me huh? she was all lonely and empty without daddy to take care of her. c’mon baby, keep squeezing me, yeah just like that pretty girl. so perfect.” he groaned as he did his best to bruise you from the inside.

at this point you were as boneless as you'd ever been, you truly did miss getting dicked down like this. chan had always been the best fuck of your life and you hadn't realized how much you missed it until now. “please make me cum daddy. need it so bad.” you mumbled incoherently, eyes glazed over.

chan laughed, a bitter sound tumbling from his lips. “those little fingers of yours couldn't even come close to treating you like my dick huh? bet you were riding that dildo i got you, wishing it was me.” he hissed out between his clenched teeth. all you could do was moan and nod because he was right.

“go on then. cum for me pretty baby. do it for me, need to feel it. then i'll fill you up just like you like.” he said, throwing his head back as he thrust into you with the harshest force you'd ever experienced. a few more direct hits to your g-spot and it was over, you were screaming and spasming around him, trapping him inside you for a moment.

“jesus fucking christ- oh god fuck that feels so good. keep squeezing me, yessss just like that baby yeah. fuck you're so beautiful like this. ah- ah- fuck fuck fuck 'm gonna cum. gonna cum in this perfect little cunt baby. FUCK!” chan gasped out, hips stilling as he spilled inside of you, warming you from the inside out. he collapsed over your back and breathed hard against your spine.

after gathering his breath and his thoughts he leaned forward, licking up a rivulet of sweat rolling down the side of your neck before whispering into your ear “cmon mama, lets get you home. i have a lot of apologizing to do.”

THE END

#jd's archive #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan fanfic #chan smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #skz smut #stray kids fanfiction #skx x reader #skz imagins #skz fic

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illiterateaffairs · 18 days ago

Text

a simple favor | stiles x reader

masterlist

pairing: stiles stilinski x f!reader (enemy/witch)

word count: 7,120

warnings: language, banter, minor blood, allusions to sex *gasp* but no smut (sorry!)

summary: despite being self-proclaimed "enemies", you manage to drag stiles to your house for help with a spell...and maybe more.

author's note: hi friends! hope everyone is doing as well as they can be, and hope i can offer up a small distraction. i'm back with another witch!reader x stiles fic but this exists in a universe in which you are a "bad guy" and stiles can't stand you...for now ;) more deets at the end! also please just roll with me on any witch stuff idk if anything is accurate to witch lore, i feel as if with magic the rules are made up anyway so i'm doing what i want :)

“Hi!”

“AH- Jesus, what the hell are you doing here?” Stiles jumps before his face contorted in annoyance.

He was on his way to pick up Scott. For some god forsaken reason his best friend wanted to get a tattoo before they started junior year and Stiles was meant to “supervise”. However, just as Stiles hops into the driver’s seat of his jeep, he’s greeted in the passenger seat by you.

And you may or may not be Stiles’s least favorite person in the world.

“I was waiting for you,” you state, point blankly like it was normal for you to have broken into his car.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “God, do I want to know why?”

“Doubtful,” you sigh, turning in the seat to start putting on the seatbelt, “You should probably start driving.”

Stiles slowly narrows his eyes, “Why?”

“I need your help with a spell.”

“My help? What makes you think I’m going to help you?”

“Because you know I could kill you with the snap of my fingers.” you roll your head in his direction with a pointed look, “Besides, you owe me.”

Oh yeah. Because you saved his life this past spring when Gerard Argent kidnapped him after his lacrosse game.

Stiles inwardly groans. You had a point. He had a feeling though no matter how many favors he paid you, you’d never let that go.

You may have saved his life, but the thing was, to him and his friends you were still the “bad guy”. You were still the same witch that pretended to befriend him and Scott when Scott first became a werewolf, just for them to find out you were playing them to help Peter, who had enlisted your help to regain his strength and heal from the Hale fire. Stiles had barely tolerated you since the day you met, but after that, any ounce of trust and respect he had for you vanished.

From that point on, Stiles decided he hated you. And despite defeating Peter, your presence loomed. For some reason, Derek leaned on you when he was building his pack of betas, giving Stiles more reason to despise you. But shortly after that, out of nowhere, Scott sought your help to try to stop Jackson as the Kanima and figure out who was controlling him. There was a brief moment where Stiles thought you could become an ally but admittedly he fucked that up when Peter came back from the dead and he jumped to the conclusion that you, once again, aided and abetted him. Turns out, in fact, he was wrong, and it was actually Lydia - his hopeless crush for nearly a decade - and he had accused and berated you for nothing. So any shot at you guys finding common ground was dead in the water. And you had decided to be petty and align yourself with the Argents just to piss him off.

He hadn’t seen you since that night. He’d heard off hand from Isaac who’d heard from Derek you were spending the summer on the East Coast, doing some witch training or coven bonding shit with your family.

That was until right now, in the front seat of his jeep.

“Scott is waiting for me.” Stiles finally responds; a half-hearted attempt to get you to go away.

You make a face, “Scott can go one night without being codependent.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but he finds himself starting the engine. “Where are we going?”

“My house.”

“You’re taking me to your lair?”

“Ha ha.”

“I don’t even know where you live.”

“I’ll give you directions as we go. It's just right on the outskirts of the preserve.”

“You live in the woods?”

“Just drive.”

Stiles should question how quickly he concedes but there is in fact the possibility of you hexing him or something. Which you’ve yet to do in any serious or fatal way. But another part of him is admittedly curious; to know what exactly you want, to see how you actually live.

From the little information he’s learned about you the past year, he knows you live with your aunt and were home schooled up until recently when you enrolled in Beacon Hills High during the winter semester. But other than that, you were just the mysterious witch he hardly knew anything about. Aside from knowing you were a pain in his ass and someone he’s hesitant to trust.

But he thinks he can survive one evening with you.

The drive is quiet with just you providing simple directions. At one point he tries to make a feeble attempt at small talk, but you instantly lunge forward to turn on the radio.

You turn to look at him in disbelief when the channel that’s on is the police scanner he rigged up. He shrugs sheepishly before you shake your head and turn the dial to some indie station.

Stiles puckers his lips and nods as soft music fills the car. “Arctic Monkeys, nice-”

“Turn left at the stop sign.”

“Right.”

You turn to him with an amused look. “You don’t know how to act when we’re not at each other’s throats.”

Stiles scoffs, “Can you blame me? I barely think of you as a real person half the time, I don’t know what to say to you.”

You chuckle as you stare out the window, “Well we’re almost there.”

“What kind of spell do you need my help with anyway? And why me?”

“Because you’re a human.”

“Okay…?”

“And I need your blood.”

“Oh great.”

“It’s a spell to make a protection amulet. So I can wear it and not be found by other witches.”

“And why do you need that?”

“Now that is none of your business.” You sigh, unbuckling your seatbelt, “And we’re here.”

Stiles observes the road they’re coming to the end of. Your house is indeed at the edge of the woods: a modest victorian-gothic style home hidden by trees.

“I didn’t even know there were houses out here.”

“Not many,” you reply as the two of you hop out of the jeep.

Stiles glances between you and his phone as you lead him to the front door, also texting Scott that he’ll need a raincheck on the tattoo adventure and he’ll explain later.

“Is your aunt home?”

“Nope, she’ll be gone until late.” You answer, unlocking the door for you both to enter.

Stiles takes in what he can from the foyer. He can’t get a full view of the space but he can definitely tell witches live here. The living room is lined with wooden bookshelves and candles and trinkets. He doesn’t have much time to observe when he watches you head for the staircase.

“Um, where are we going exactly?”

“My room,” You call without turning around.

“Woah,” Stiles huffs nervously, “We’re doing this in your bedroom?”

“Don’t get too excited Stilinski, you’re here for business not pleasure.”

Stiles is grateful you still haven’t bothered turning around to look at him, because he feels his face heat up as he finally follows you up the stairs.

No surprise, your room also fits right in with the aesthetic of the house. Moody colors, wooden bed posts, and candles on every surface. He watches you flick your wrist and every candle lights up, casting a warm glow around the room. It's the first time he’s thought your powers were cool, but he’d never admit that out loud.

“Is this the lair you were expecting?” you ask, turning around to face him while standing in front of your desk, which is littered with books, potion bottles, and a large pot.

Stiles shrugs, “It’s a little underwhelming.”

“Were you expecting me to live in an underground dungeon?”

“Something like that.”

You hum and turn back to face your desk, taking stock of the potion ingredients on hand.

Stiles wanders over to stand beside you, his hands in his pockets. “So explain to me what you mean by needing my blood.”

You pick up a necklace from your desk: a silver chain with an empty vial hanging on it. “I’m essentially making a potion to put in here. And if I wear it, it will make it harder for witches searching for me to track me or my magic. And human blood is on the recipe.”

“But why me?”

“I told you, because you’re human. Not a werewolf or a witch; a human. And humans have the purest form of blood. It's basically the secret ingredient.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at your nonchalance. “Okay I get that I guess, but why me? Couldn’t you have found some other schmuck to help you? Or have you scared off every other person in Beacon Hills with your shining personality.”

You turn to Stiles with a tight smirk, “As you may know, not many people are even aware that the supernatural is real. I know you do, and unfortunately you’re my best option. Allison is still in France from what I’ve gathered, Lydia is something but I haven’t quite figured that out yet, and using my aunt would require me having to explain what I’m doing and why. So you’re it buddy.”

“Oh so I’m literally your last choice. Boy am I honored.”

“You should be.”

“Wait, do you mean your aunt isn’t a witch like you?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, focusing back on the bottles on your desk, starting to add ingredients to the pot. “She’s not even technically my aunt. She was a family friend that took me in when I was young.”

“Why? What happened to your parents?”

You swallow, “You’re nosy.”

“Fine don’t tell me, but I think it's fair I get a little information since I’m the one helping you.”

“You’re the one who owes me, remember?”

“Yeah but it sounds like you can’t complete this spell without me and it seems pretty important so…thinking that gives me some leverage.”

You glance over at him with a glare and Stiles shoots you an innocent smile that makes you want to wipe it off his face.

You let out a deep breath, “My parents fled to god knows where when I was five. Apparently, my family has a centuries long feud with another coven and they’d evaded them for years until then. They decided leaving me with Jules was better for my safety. So I’ve been in Beacon Hills ever since. I actually didn’t know most of that until this summer. I sort of…had a run in with a member of that coven without realizing and now I’m afraid they’re going to find me here. Hence the protection amulet we’re making. Is that enough background information for you?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows as he absorbs everything. “Wow that’s…heavy. There’s some witch coven out there that's been trying to kill your family for centuries. No wonder you’re the way that you are.”

I let out an unamused huff as I add the last of the pre-prepared ingredients.

“Wait, is that unicorn dust- are unicorns real?”

I smirk as I pour it in, “Like I’d give away that information to you for free.”

I bite back a laugh as Stiles mutters dammit.

Turning back to him, I hold up a tiny needle. “Your turn.”

Stiles’ eyes widen briefly, holding up his hands as he steps back from you, “Woah, woah, be careful with that thing.”

You scoff, “Stiles, it's a sewing needle.”

“Well, I still haven’t completely agreed to this. How do I know you’re not tricking me into draining all of my blood?”

You roll your eyes, “Stiles I just need one drop. And then you’re free to go off on your date with Scott.”

Stiles rolls his eyes this time.

I try to fix him with a genuine look for the first time in the months we’ve known each other. “Come on. Haven’t I made it clear enough that this is important to me? I seriously would not have brought you here if it wasn’t. Don’t make me beg.”

“I’d kind of like to see-”

“Reminder, I can kill you.”

“Alright,” he groans, “Let’s just get this over with. Did I mention I hate needles?”

“Aw poor baby’s scared of a tiny needle,” you fake pout.

“Oh my god shut up, like you’re not afraid of anything.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid of admitting something embarrassing like that.”

“Okay, just stab me already.”

You chuckle and take another step closer to him, holding out your left hand. Stiles takes a deep breath and apprehensively places his hand upwards into yours, and you gently hold the tip of his pointer finger. Stiles glances around the room, wanting to look anywhere but you pricking him with the needle, as minor as it is.

“Jesus, I can feel your pulse, you need to calm down.” you comment.

“Sorry that I’m a generally anxious person.”

“Yeah I gathered that over the last year from the fact that you literally never stop talking,” you snicker, “Have you always been like this?”

“As long as I can remember.”

“And it doesn’t drive Scott crazy?”

“Well, I think Scott, like most sane people, finds it endearing.”

“Oh. Does Lydia find your constant yammering endearing?”

“Woah, okay, there’s no need to bring her into this,” Stiles sighs rubbing his head, “Can you just prick me?”

“I already did,” I reply, making Stiles whip his head back, staring at his finger between yours, and sure enough, a red drop of blood was already forming.

“When did you…” Stiles whispers.

I shrug, dropping the needle into a bin beside my desk. “I kept you distracted.”

Stiles watches you quietly, his lips slightly parted in disbelief, while you guide his hand over the pot and gently squeeze his finger so three drops of his blood fall into the potion with a hiss. Stiles grimaces at the pressure but it's not as bad as he thought. He’s trying to get over the fact that you tried to make this a little less painful for him by pricking him with the needle while he wasn’t thinking about it. It was surprisingly…thoughtful?

“There, the final touch,” you murmur. You turn back to face him, his hand still in yours.

“Great. Do you happen to have a bandaid for the patient?” He asks.

“No need,” I reply, grabbing a small piece of gauze from the table and placing it over his finger to stop the blood.

Stiles once again watches you carefully. As you apply the pressure to his finger, he takes note of the way you bite your lip while you concentrate. After a few more quiet moments, you toss the piece of gauze away and gently press your thumb into his pointer finger and close your eyes, murmuring something under your breath. Once you open your eyes, you look back down at his finger and suddenly there is no puncture wound.

“There, good as new.”

You finally look back up at him - his face closer to yours than you remember - and he’s still staring at you silently.

“What? Were you expecting me to kiss it better?”

Stiles shakes his head, snapping out of his stupor. “Wha- no! No. Just…not used to you using your powers for good.”

I shake my head and finally release his hand, turning back to the pot and start mixing it all together.

Stiles clears his throat and glances over your shoulder. “So what now? You mix everything together in the pot and boom, you’re good to go?”

“Cauldron,” you correct, “And I also have to pour it into the vial and cast an incantation to activate it.”

Stiles nods, genuinely intrigued by the process. He watches you quietly mix everything for another minute or so, before you reach for the tiny vial, and then you basically ladle an ounce of it into the small tube.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of potion you’re not using. Do witches care about waste?”

I fix Stiles with a hard look and he holds up his hands in surrender. He continues watching you close your hand around the vial tightly and hold it to your chest, once again quietly reciting an incantation. Stiles is almost certain the words you are saying are in Latin, and again, he’d never admit it to anyone, but he was kind of impressed.

When you are finished, you open your hand and look down to study the vial. From over your shoulder, Stiles sees the vial now has a slight green glow to it.

“Assuming it worked?” Stiles comments.

You shrug, “I guess the only way to truly find out if it didn’t is if one of those witches show up here.”

Stiles nods and then proceeds to stand there and watch you struggle to get the chain clasped around your neck.

He snorts, “What, is there no spell to put on a necklace?”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he stands up straighter. “Look, do you- I mean, would you want…I could..”

You groan, tired of listening to him ramble, “What?”

“I could help you, you know!” Stiles exclaims in annoyance. “God I don’t even know why I offer.”

You frown, too stubborn to stop trying but also too frustrated to keep going. Sighing, you remove your hands from around your neck and forcefully place it in his hands, “It's one of those stupid, teeny tiny clasps that aren’t meant for human sized fingers.”

Stiles chuckles as he takes each end of the necklace into his hands, while you turn around and move your hair out of the way. “Are you saying you know of non-human fingers that handle necklaces because if so I’m crossing my fingers for a tiny mouse because that would be adorable.”

You bite back a smile, thankful you’re not facing him, “Shut up.”

Stiles keeps chuckling to himself as he brings the necklace around your neck, and carefully works to clasp it. He definitely also doesn’t use the time to inhale your scent and start to wonder if you use some kind of fragrance or if witches have a naturally alluring smell.

As you impatiently hold your hair and try not to think about the cramp forming in your arm, you also definitely aren’t thinking about the feeling of his warm breath on the back of your neck and praying he doesn’t see any goosebumps form on your skin.

“There,” Stiles whispers unintentionally soft, making him clear his throat in surprise, taking a steep step back, “All done.”

You let out a quiet sigh of relief, dropping your hair and turning around. “Thanks. For the assist and the blood donation.”

Stiles snorts with a nod, “Yeah.”

I look down at the amulet I created and gently hold it in my hands, “Seriously though. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. So…thank you.”

Stiles swallows and nods firmly, a little unsettled by the sincerity of the last few minutes, “...You’re welcome.”

You nod as well, unsure of where to go from here. “Well, I guess now your services are no longer needed and you are free to go, and we are free to proceed with business as usual; only speaking when we see each other against our will.”

Stiles huffs, crossing his arms, “What if I want to stay a little longer?”

You raise your eyebrows, “Why?”

“I have a few more questions.”

“Haven’t I told you enough?”

“I think I’m entitled to some more information,” Before you retort, he barrels on, “Look if some evil coven could potentially be invading Beacon Hills - ideally not since that spell should prevent that from happening, so you say - I think I have the right to know more about what's going on so I can be prepared for it.”

“And how exactly will you, Stiles Stilinski, prepare for that?”

“By…telling Scott…”

You snort and nod. Well fair enough I guess. “What else do you want to know?”

“How dangerous are we talking? Like, how badly do these people want you dead?”

You shrug, “I’ve only heard stories about how the feud originated. Supposedly, my family at some point in time, did something to steal powers from this other family.”

“Well it sounds like you guys are the bad guys in this scenario. Which tracks knowing you.”

“Well I’m pretty sure they did it in retaliation to them killing someone in my family in cold blood.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. So this thing goes back generations but I’m pretty sure something must have happened between my mom and this woman from that coven. I don’t know what, but she in particular has a vendetta against her and our family.”

“Is she the witch you had a run in with this summer?”

“No,” you frown looking down, “It was her son.”

Stiles’s eyebrows raise, “Oh. And did he immediately try to kill you with some spell at first sight?”

I shake my head, “Nope. He just…pretended to be someone else to gain my trust and subsequently asked me out just for me to find out none of it was real and he was trying to get to my magic the whole time.”

Stiles widens his eyes with each new piece of information, his stomach dropping as he learns that this guy used and manipulated you. Yeah you definitely weren’t the bad guy in this scenario.

“So, fun summer for me. How was yours?” You ask looking back up at him with a blank look on your face.

Stiles ignores your attempt to diffuse the conversation. “So you were seeing this guy all summer thinking he was some innocent…fling…and the whole time he was actually plotting to, what, kill you? Take your powers?”

“Something like that,” You shrug, “I didn’t stick around long enough to find out the end game with that one.”

“How did he even track you down in the first place if you’ve been hiding away here your whole life.”

“Apparently they’ve been biding time in Salem, hoping one day I’d find my way there to train with other witches. And I didn’t even know there were people to look out for until a few days ago, when I was talking to another witch I had met, who recognized his mom in a picture. I left on the spot and haven’t seen him since.”

“Did you tell him where you were from?”

“Nope, was trying to go for the whole, casual, mysterious summer fling thing.” you chuckle humorlessly. “That worked out so well for me.”

Stiles sighs, “So he has no idea where to look for you, and that amulet should keep him from getting any hints.”

“Yup.”

“And after all this…your parents are still out there hiding from them, too?”

You nod, looking down again, “Yeah…sometimes I wonder if they’re even still alive.”

Stiles frowns, “Jesus…now I’m almost sorry for…”

“No, no,” You shake your head, your face twisting in discomfort. “Don’t do that. This isn't what we do. You don’t feel sorry for me. You despise me. And honestly I prefer that version of us, I can’t stand the thought of you sympathizing with me.”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles holds his hands up, “I get it. You know maybe I’m not sorry, because a fucked up childhood doesn’t excuse the shit you did to us last year with Peter, and the generally annoying shit you’ve done since.”

You make a face but don’t argue with him.

Stiles continues staring you down, with an unfamiliar look on his face. “But…that shit that guy pulled on you this summer…even you don’t deserve to be taken advantage of like that.”

Your eyes slowly revert back to looking at his face, trying not to give away how vulnerable you felt sharing that information; not to mention how vulnerable you were this summer just to have that blow up in your face. You shift slightly, still uncomfortable with the atmosphere surrounding you two right now. You cross your arms tightly across your chest.

“Thanks…”

The two of you let the moment hang in the air for another few seconds before you clear your throat, not being able to stand the sincerity any longer.

“Well I guess next time I try to have a casual fling, I shouldn’t do it with a stranger I knew for all of a day before going out with him.”

Stiles chuckles dryly, “Guess not. Maybe you’d be better off getting to know a guy for a while first. If you can keep one around long enough without driving them up the wall.”

“Ha ha. Because you’re the picture of a guy with a successful love life. Remind me of the last time Lydia gave you a second look?”

Stiles glares at you, as he starts to sputter, “She…was looking at me when I was playing in that lacrosse game.”

“Oh so over three months ago? Wow you’re making huge strides.”

“Look, I’m playing the long game alright?”

I shake my head, “God, I don’t know why you even bother.”

Stiles' jaw teeters open and closed, “What? Is it that out of the realm of possibility that she could ever like me?”

“No, I just meant you could do better.”

Stiles stutters but no words immediately form in response to that. He stares at you blankly for a few beats. “I can do better? Me? Can do better than Lydia Martin?”

You roll your eyes, “You say that like she’s God's gift to this Earth.”

“Yeah, well…she’s still nice - sometimes - and highly intelligent, not to mention gorgeous.”

“Stiles, I’m not trying to disparage your precious Lydia, I just think you could do better than someone who doesn’t give you the time of day.”

“What…What do you mean?”

“Well for one it's kind of pathetic you’ve been hung up on her for so long with no reciprocation whatsoever.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t say-”

“And second, I don’t understand why a guy like you can’t find a girl who actually likes him back.”

“Well you say that like I’ve got a parade of girls waiting in line to date me.”

You shrug, “Trust me, there are some.”

Stiles scoffs, “Yeah right.”

“I think you're underestimating how many girls just want a sweet guy who will treat them well with a moderately nice face.”

Stiles shifts awkwardly, “Is that your type?”

“My tastes are a little more refined than that.”

“Well how do you know most girls see me that way?”

“Because objectively speaking, you do have a moderately nice face. Maybe even a step above that. And look at you, you grew your hair out this summer. Do that to impress Lydia?”

Stiles flushes, “Well not just…”

“Because I’m sure it will work on plenty of other girls when they see you at school next week.”

Stiles lets out a deep breath, looking at you curiously, “Why are you saying all this?”

You uncross your arms and sigh, taking a step towards him, “Look I’m just stating facts, and maybe I can spare you a compliment since you helped me out tonight. You deserve better than waiting for someone who may never come around. And maybe, who knows, I’m wrong and one day Lydia will come to her senses and see what's right there in front of her. But don’t waste all your time doing nothing. You could at least have fun in the meantime. And I’m sure there are plenty of girls who would jump at the chance.”

You give Stiles’ shoulder what should be a supportive squeeze, but because it's the two of you it feels wrong. You awkwardly lift your hand and pat him a couple times before retracting your arm all together.

Stiles stares at you, once again in awe, confused why you’re being so civil with him…let alone…kind? His eyes hone in on the way your nose scrunches up when you instantly regret touching his shoulder, and the way your lip curves up in amusement as you look back up at him. Your eyes have a warm glow amidst the candles lighting up your room. And he’s once again in close enough proximity to you to inhale your scent; a mix of vanilla, berries, and amber.

Yeah it definitely must be a witch thing, because he somehow finds himself being drawn closer to you. And before he knows it, he’s leaning completely in and kissing you.

It's a rare occurrence for you to be taken by surprise, but you do jump slightly when his lips touch yours. He did it so fast you didn’t even have a chance to process it, let alone prevent it from happening. You don’t immediately kiss back but you don’t immediately pull away either, chalking it up to the shock.

Stiles very quickly realizes what he’s doing and the fact that you’re not reciprocating as he pulls away slightly to take in your full reaction.

You narrow your eyes at him slightly, “I didn’t mean me.”

Stiles’ eyes widen and his lips part, once again struggling to form words as he starts to pull back.

For some reason you’ll probably never understand, you instinctively reach out to hold his arms to keep him in place. He looks at your hands and then back to your face curiously.

You quietly breathe out, “I also didn’t say to stop.”

Stiles breath hitches, his lips curving up just slightly before he dives towards your lips again.

This time you instantly kiss back, pulling him closer by cupping either side of his face, as his arms come to snake around your waist.

As the kiss becomes more intense, Stiles reluctantly pulls away for oxygen.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs breathlessly, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You started it,” you muse, chasing after his lips.

He laughs softly, letting you kiss him deeply another few minutes before he gently caresses your face, pulling away.

“And I don’t hate what we’re doing but it's also very out of character. For both of us.”

“To make out with a hot person?”

“No,” Stiles sighs, but can’t fight the blood rushing to his cheeks, “I mean making out with each other. Honestly, this whole night has been out of character. We normally can’t stomach being in each other’s vicinity for more than five minutes.”

“Well if you haven’t noticed, this activity doesn’t require a whole lot of talking so I’m finding it easier to tolerate you.”

You watch Stiles roll his eyes, trying to rationalize what’s happening between you two. So you take a deep breath.

“Look, we’re not going to suddenly stop despising each other but there’s nothing wrong with two consenting people having a little fun. And you know…probably never speaking about it again.”

Stiles shifts the weight between his feet, becoming overwhelmed by the situation and the possibilities of where it could go; possibilities that both scare and excite him. And he can’t figure out what emotion is winning out.

“This probably won’t come as a shock to you,” Stiles speaks up again quietly, not meeting your eyes, “But I’ve never really…been with a girl…like this.”

The corner of your lips curl up. It wasn’t new information, but there was something about seeing this boy who usually goes toe to toe in insults with you be so open and honest with you.

You place your hands over his where they still rest on either side of your face. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can go as far as you want. Or we can stop now and pretend like this never happened. You are more than welcome to go.”

“I don’t think I want to go,” Stiles whispers hoarsely.

“Then don’t go,” You whisper back, leaning closer again.

“You’d really want to do this too?”

“Yes-”

“Because I know why I want to but why do you want to? After the guy you were with this summer I would have thought you’d be more…selective.”

“Oh that's exactly what I’m doing.”

“And you want to be with me? Why?”

“Because unlike the last guy, I know what I’m getting with you Stiles,” You state simply, “You’re a good guy. This has no chance of going anywhere. Absolutely no feelings whatsoever to get in the way. It’s perfect.”

Stiles stares at you, taking in your expression for any sign of uneasiness or lies. But he can tell you’re dead serious. His skin starts to burn in anticipation.

“So we’re doing this,” He says softly, somewhere between a question or a statement.

“I’m in if you’re in.”

“We do this once and we never talk about it again.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And no one, and I mean no one finds out about this. I mean it, you can’t tell anyone.”

You scoff, “Trust me, I plan to take this to the grave. You should be more concerned with yourself. I can’t see you going five minutes without squealing to Scott that you’ve finally seen a girl naked.”

Stiles closes his eyes and groans, praying you can’t see him blush again. He also can’t even process the fact that he is indeed about to see a girl naked.

After a moment, Stiles finally says, “I don’t have to tell Scott everything.”

“Okay, if you really believe that.” He rolls his eyes, making you chuckle. “So are you game, Stilinski?”

Stiles’ eyes flit across your face, before settling back on your lips. “Fuck it.”

He kisses you deeply and the two of you tug at each other like your bodies are never close enough. Your hands wander over his body until they end up at the buttons of his flannel, and you haphazardly start to undo them before he pulls away briefly to help you get it off of him. He shivers as your cold fingertips trace the contours of his chest and stomach, but he doesn’t get a chance to linger on the feeling as you kiss him again. He takes his turn to pull off your jacket, before sliding his fingers under the hem of your shirt, which you help him maneuver over your head. You once again only let him have a few seconds to take in your exposed skin, only your bra separating you two from complete skin to skin contact, before you’re pulling him back to you again.

“Do you have…” you mutter against his skin as you start to kiss down his jaw and neck, “Protection?”

Stiles’ stomach twists with nerves and excitement as he nods. “Yeah, I have a condom in my wallet.”

You smile against his skin, trailing down to his collarbone, “Been hoping one day Lydia would want to jump your bones?”

Stiles groans, tangling his fingers into your hair, “God, shut up.”

You chuckle darkly before gently pushing against his chest so you can move onto your bed.

Time passes in a hazy blur as you and Stiles finish undressing each other between sloppy and heated kisses. You try to go at a moderate pace with him, despite your own eagerness. To your pleasant surprise, Stiles is a quick learner as you talk him through how to touch you and make you feel good. And he makes you feel very good. And despite his own timidness and learning curve, he is very attentive to your needs as well as your comfort levels, constantly checking in and making sure you’re okay.

You’re more than okay by the time you’re done, the two of you collapsing back onto the bed, sweaty and panting.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out staring at the ceiling.

You smirk, pulling the sheet up to cover yourself, “Yup.”

You lay in silence for a few moments as you catch your breaths before Stiles speaks again.

“I hope tonight makes us even, because I think that counts as two additional favors,” He says teasingly, but when you don’t immediately respond, his head turns to you quickly, “You finished both times right?”

You chuckle softly and nod, turning your head towards him as well, “I did.”

“Good,” he sighs in relief, “I did, too.”

“I know you did.”

Stiles rolls his eyes but laughs softly, “Right.”

“And I’d say I was the one doing the favor,” You muse, “Now the next time you find a girl willing to sleep with you, you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve.”

He huffs with a nod, “I guess you’re right.” Another few moments of silence pass between you when Stiles looks at you again, and asks softly, “But seriously, it was good for you?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes.”

“Like, you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“When have I ever worried about preserving your feelings? Trust me, if it was bad or you were doing something wrong I would have told you.”

“Yeah I guess that’s true,” he sighs. Another beat. “But like on a scale of one to ten?”

“Stiles!”

“I know, I know.” he regresses. “Can I ask for real though - and full permission to punch me if this is insensitive - but compared to the last guy…was I better?”

He watches you stare at him blankly for a few seconds before he starts to back pedal. “Probably not right? He was probably way more experienced even if he..”

“This was better.”

He turns to you again in surprise.

“You were better.”

Stiles stutters, “R-really?”

You nod, “You’re not an asshole who only thinks about himself. Don’t ever lose that quality.”

Stiles smiles softly, his cheeks warming up again.

“Seriously, it was good. Great even,” You continue, “If that’s what you’re like with me, I can’t imagine how good it would be with a girl you actually like.”

That last statement was like a bucket of cold water splashing over him. Right. You guys hated each other. And you were still the same girl who made his life inexplicably harder this year. But those things were easy to forget while he stared at you, your messy hair splayed across your pillow, your bare skin lit by the soft glow of the candles in your room, with a few noticeable marks across your collarbone that he was responsible for.

But this would be the first and last time this ever happened. And he will probably have complicated feelings about it for the foreseeable future, knowing the memory of his first time will always connect him to you. But he surprisingly feels less guilty than he would have thought.

“I should probably go,” He whispers after another few seconds of taking her and the moment in. Part of him wishes he didn’t have to leave at all and continue living in this bubble of false reality and denial. But he thinks his brain takes over in an act of self preservation to get out of there before he gets in too deep.

“Yeah, you probably should,” You whisper back, taking a deep breath.

He watches you sit up, dragging the sheet covering you up with you. He sucks in a breath as you grab a dark purple robe off of your bedpost and slip it on, covering the rest of your body and taking the image away from him. With that, he also forces himself up, locating his boxers and jeans on the floor and pulling them on.

You circle your bed as he starts to pull on his flannel again. He feels nervous under your gaze, and about how to act right now, making him fumble with the buttons. Without a word, you reach out and slowly and quietly help him finish buttoning it. He takes this one last opportunity to watch your face at this level of proximity, knowing he’ll probably never have the chance to do that again.

As you finish the top button, you look up at his gaze still laser focused on you, and for some reason he doesn’t feel compelled to look away.

“Thank you for tonight,” You say softly with a small smirk playing at your lips, “Thought I just needed a protection spell after the summer I had, but I guess I needed that as well.”

Stiles feels himself smirk too, “Happy to be of service to both.”

You slide your hands across his chest, smoothing out his shirt before taking a deep breath and step back.

“So, business as usual? I’m sure we’ll run into each other again once Scott gets himself into some more supernatural shit, and we’ll be back at each other’s throats in no time.”

Stiles chuckles, “I look forward to it.”

You give him your version of a tiny genuine smile. “Do you need me to walk you out?”

He shakes his head, “I’m sure I can find my way.”

You nod, also taking in his appearance under the glow of the candles while you can. You decide to take the opportunity to close the distance between the two of you and kissing him chastely one last time.

Stiles closes his eyes and reciprocates automatically, but the kiss is over before its even begun. He watches you pull away from him, unable to tear his eyes away from yours.

“Goodnight, Stiles,” you whisper before stepping away and walking around him towards your desk again to clean up.

With his back towards you now, he smiles to himself, huffing in disbelief at the night he’s had.

“Goodnight,” He says back softly as he takes steps towards your door. He glances back at you one last time, before leaving and finding his way back downstairs and out your front door.

Once he shut the door after sliding into the driver's seat, he lets out a long deep breath and rubs his face. Losing his virginity to his self-proclaimed mortal enemy was not on his bingo card for the night - or ever. But the more he sits with it, the more he’s weirdly pleased that it happened. Honestly, it was like best case scenario. Figuring out sex with someone he’s not trying to impress - well, to a certain degree - took some of the pressure off. And now he doesn't have to think about it anymore. Unfortunately, it was really good. Extremely good. Too good to just have been a one time thing, and part of him is disappointed there’s no chance of ever experiencing it again.

It was for the best. The moment hell freezes over is when he’d have actual feelings past irritation and mild rage when it came to you. So he shakes his head, putting their night together behind him as he pulls out of your driveway.

Still in your bedroom, you lean against the wall watching him drive away from the window. You smile to yourself, having a sneaking feeling this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you do this. Stiles just didn’t know it yet.

author's note: dying to know what people think of this, not the type of stuff i usually write. firstly, sorry for the lack of steam, i've never written smut and not sure i ever will but hope it alluded to enough for yall. also again, took my witch idea and flipped it into an alternate universe where the reader is a lil evil. there are elements of the other pieces i'm writing that assumes similar lore/backstory for the witch, but in this version, you don't grow up as stiles & scott's bff, you're isolated leading to some villianous tendancies. i also know i hinted at a lot of back story with some pieces from seasons 1-2, with this ultimately taking place right before season 3. so i have some ideas of writing other parts that dive into some of those moments, plus more parts that come after this of course. so let me know what kind of stuff you're interested in seeing from evil!witch x stiles (evil being used pretty loosely) THANK YOU FOR READING!

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