#friendly reminder that this is a crack fic

[lisired]

waiting game

pairing: best friend’s dad!johnny x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, dilf au, age gap, unprotected sex (dont b silly wrap yo mf willy!), orgasm denial, edging, half the fic is just johnny & mc teasing each other to death, oral (f receiving), fingering around people

summary: Your best friend’s dad is a smoking hot dilf seeking vengeance after you’ve spent the past couple of years teasing him, but it seems that you can’t handle a taste of your own medicine.

word count: 9.1k

a/n: ¼ of the Temptation series. feedback is appreciated!

Time was something ironic to you. It flew by quickly when you were having fun, yet seemed to drag on when the moments were dull. If you had to give a prime example, it would be now.

This current moment, with you listening impatiently to the vexing sound of your clock ticking while counting down the minutes before you got to see Johnny again. You had a study date with your best friend - his daughter - in over half an hour, and you were beginning to wish that you hadn’t planned your outfit so far in advance. Now you had nothing to distract you from your throbbing heartbeat in the meantime. 

To say the least, every moment with Johnny was nothing short of thrilling, no matter how brief. He had the power to summon a swarm of butterflies in your stomach with a mere smile - unbeknownst to him, of course. As far as you knew, Johnny knew nothing of your silly little crush on him and you wanted to keep it that way. It was fun to imagine what it would be like if he reciprocated your crush, but that’s precisely all it was—your imagination. Hypothetical situations you could only fantasize about. You had to give yourself the tough reminder that he’d never be into his daughter’s best friend. He could never.

Still, you liked Johnny. He was friendly and though he told his dad jokes, he was funny. He was confident. He knew how to cook and he was smart, and you liked that he always knew how to direct conversation. You and Johnny talked sometimes, usually whenever you stayed for dinner, or breakfast. He had never let you feel invisible, or like you were invading a space that wasn’t yours. He welcomed you.

But of course, he was also smoking hot. Smoldering, even. You recalled the first time you laid eyes on him, when you were visiting your best friend and he was in the front yard, mowing the grass. Sweats and a tanktop. Hair stuck to his forehead like a second layer. Drenched in sweat as he battled the summertime heat. Sometimes you still wondered if he caught you gawking, whether it was when you first saw him looking like that or when he told you that he was your best friend’s father and not her brother.

(You were even more surprised to hear that he was in his forties. He could have passed for late-twenties, and you almost scanned his head for a sight of a single grey hair but decided that would have been rude).

Yet as attractive as he was in every sense of the word, there came again the rough reminder that he was equally out-of-bounds. It always slammed roughly against you whenever you daydreamed about him, forcing you to remember that there was a boundary between you both. You could not have Johnny. And even if he were to want you, he couldn’t have you, either. God forbid you thought about how unrequited this was.

None of that ever stopped you from liking him, though. In your heart, there was still an ounce of hope that maybe something could blossom between you, weeding its way through the cracks of the invisible boundary.

What were those cracks? Easy: temptation.

Like any other day, Johnny looked absolutely mouthwatering. He wore a satin shirt and dark jeans, brown hair parted and his skin gleaming beneath the kitchen light. You desperately wanted to make your move right then, but your best friend crashing into your arms forced you to remember why you couldn’t.

“Gosh, I missed you,” Jessica cheered as she wrapped her arms around you firmly.

“It hasn’t even been three days since you last saw me,” you replied amusedly, nonetheless hugging her back. Jessica wasn’t your best friend for no reason. She was closer to you than anyone else, even your own parents. She knew everything there was to know about you. You knew that you could tell her anything, but this was different. You’d rather take this one to the grave.

She rolled her eyes as she loosened her embrace and let you go, “Whatever. Three days, three weeks, it all feels the same,” she said dramatically, making you both snicker. “But for real, my dad was like, just making dinner. Wanna join us?”

It had smelled delicious all the way from the front door. But that was Johnny for you, with cooking being one of his favorite habits. You would feel bad about eating their food though, so you leaned towards declining.

As if he could hear your reply before you said it, Johnny chimed in from the kitchen, “I made your favorite.”

That shut you up before you could reply. Your mouth hang open then closed, and after a moment of self-debate you opened it again. “Shit, pass me a plate,” you’d have to be running a fever or replaced by a shape-shifting alien to turn down Johnny’s chicken Alfredo.

You rested your backpack for now, ignoring their laughter as you strolled inside the kitchen.

By the time dinner ended, Jessica had to unexpectedly leave, mentioning something about a work emergency that you failed to completely catch. You didn’t mind too much, of course. It gave you the perfect excuse to stay in company of Johnny, and you even offered to help him wash the dishes as a thank you for dinner.

“Thank you for helping me with the dishes. You didn’t have to,” Johnny said, stretching his arm to put one final dish away in the cabinet. His sleeves were rolled up so you eyed his biceps like they were the meal, but forced yourself to look away before he could notice.

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do after you made such a wonderful meal, sir,” you replied respectfully. In the same breath, it took everything in you not to let your eyes trail down his body. His shirt was unbuttoned, leaving all the good stuff out in the open.

“Don’t flatter me,” Johnny joked. “Do you know how to cook?”

You couldn’t stop your laughter. “Of course not. I’m a safety hazard in the kitchen.”

Johnny snorted, “Why do you say that?”

“Sir, my expertise extends to instant noodles - hardly even that. One time, I burnt them and nearly killed my microwave.”

Johnny’s eyes crinkled. He knew now to keep you at least six feet away from his microwave, maybe even forbid you from touching his stove or oven. He also thought about giving you lessons. “How in god’s name did you do that?”

“I forgot to put water in them!” You explained, tone laced with shame. “Even if I did know how to cook, my skills are no where near yours. You’re like, the cooking connoisseur. I can’t imagine you forgetting to do something as simple as putting water in noodles.”

“It was an honest mistake,” he replied sympathetically. “But I like hearing about it. Tell me more about your failed cooking escapades.”

“God, where do I even begin? Let me tell you how I got banned from contributing to Thanksgiving dinner,” you said, and went on to explain the whole ordeal.

The way Johnny was snickering at you, it was almost like your conversation had the Victorious laugh track - except his giggles were genuine and the frequency of them didn’t irritate you. He had a beautiful laugh, one that made you simper. It went without saying that Johnny found you entertaining. He knew that he could never drink anything as long as he was around you, in fear that you’d have him spitting out his drink at every funny comment you made.

Johnny also let his eyes linger on your frame. Never had he ever seen anyone make skinny jeans look as stunning as you did, and it helped that your body was highlighted. You could feel his gaze burning into you, but chalked it up to your imagination running wild again. There was no way in hell Johnny Suh was checking you out.

Little did you know, that was exactly what Johnny was as doing. He so desperately wanted to fuck you then and there, but resisted. The opportunity would surface some other day, and to be honest he wanted to see where things would go. You weren’t half as subtle as you thought you were but he was going to play dumb until you quit these little games of your own.

“I’m an excellent cleaner, though,” you added once you concluded your story. Your lips curled into a smirk for the most brief moment, yet Johnny still caught it.

He also didn’t fail to catch the flirtatious undertone. “Yeah? Is that how you secured an extra slice of peach Cobbler versus all your hungry cousins?”

“And siblings. And uncles. And don’t forget my aunt’s seventh husband. But yeah, you get it. Favoritism also goes a long way.”

Johnny was amused, to say the least. He was still stuck on the fact that you had practically just offered yourself as a housewife to him, although it wasn’t necessary. He could think of plenty other ways to use you, other ways that you could put in work for him. It was tempting, but he was more determined to make you wait. He wanted to bottle you up until you exploded, and only then would he bother to clean up your mess.

The sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway ended your conversation abruptly. He seemed quick to wrap things up once he heard the car door lock. “That’s Jess. Thank you, again, for your help. You two are probably about to study now so have fun, and make sure to tell her I’ll be working in my study!”

So typical of Johnny to drown himself in work. A workaholic if you knew one. You were disappointed by the conversation coming to an end, then aroused by a thought in even less time. You knew that he had to be exhausted and could only think about letting him take his stress out on you, bending you over his desk and fucking you with his entire being.

Shaking the thoughts away, you replied, “I will.” Inevitably would you revisit them (or they would revisit you, rather), but for now you had to focus about studying with your best friend.

You weren’t slick at all, and Johnny wondered if you knew that.

In the following week, you had been coming over more often. That in itself wasn’t suspicious, but he noticed that your clothes became shorter by the day. Nothing completely out of line, yet he couldn’t help but catch how the inches decreased day after the next. He noticed that you became less shameless in flirting with him. At one point he thought that the only way you could be any more obvious was if you confessed the truth, but then you started lying to him. You made up silly excuses as to why you showed up when Jessica wasn’t there, and he had a different plan.

As always, excitement flowed through your veins when you walked through his door. You were always eager to see him, and even more thrilled to show off today’s outfit - one of your favorite skirts paired with a cute top. To be honest, you didn’t know why you were doing this when you had nothing but your intuition to support you, but something told you to dress nicely today.

It was no shocker that Johnny did too. His sleeves were rolled up yet again, muscles peeking through the fabric, and you could only wonder if you’d ever have the luxury of seeing him completely shirtless. Jessica had mentioned earlier inviting you and another friend to chill in the pool this Saturday, but that didn’t mean her dad would be involved. You could only hope, though you were pulled away from the thought when you heard him call your name.

Cluelessly you blinked, asking dumbly, “Did you say something?”

The presence of a smirk was on Johnny’s face for a sliver of a second. You had caught it, and felt your cheeks warm at the thought that you had been caught staring - much worse spacing out - at him.

He repeated, “I said, what’s it today?” And you flushed some more. You obviously knew that you had been over more recently, that was the entire point. But something about him acknowledging it was thrilling yet frightening.

“You say that like I come over every day.”

“It sure feels like it. You might as well keep a key and put some of your things in the spare room,” Johnny retorted. Your heart sank a little at the thought that maybe you really were overdoing it, and sensing a drop in your mood, he added, “Hey, I’m just messing with you. How may I help you today, princess?”

Princess. He had no clue, you could be such a sucker for pet names. You didn’t even know if it was the pet name itself that had your knees wobbly or how it sounded rollling off his tongue, but you didn’t care. You were losing your mind and hardly covering it up.

You cleared your throat. “I left my notebook here, and I just wanted to pick it up.”

Johnny furrowed his eyebrows. “Jessica said that she dropped it off at your place this morning.”

Well, that backfired. It was true that you had left your notebook, and intentionally, but it wasn’t apart of the plan for Jessica to bring it back to you. Now you could only play dumb and pretend that you hadn’t known about it.

“Oh, um,” you were caught, and damn Johnny’s suffocating gaze for not helping at all. You felt like wilting beneath him while he stared at you like that - cynical and inscrutable.

Instead of giving you time to form a reply, Johnny only walked forward, and you had no where to run but backwards, until your rear hit the wall and you were grounded in place. “You wanna know what I think?” He crooned, hardly containing a laugh at how bewildered you looked. “I think that you haven’t been forgetting anything this whole time. I think that you wore this pretty little skirt, all for me.”

You gasped when his hand landed against your skin, raking up your thigh and underneath your skirt. In that moment, you were thankful that you had worn it. Johnny had complete access to your body, and you liked it. You liked how his gaze rooted you in place, still as though he would have somehow punished you for making any sudden movements. It was clear that you could have moved if you wanted, but even clearer that you liked the feeling of power he had over you. You wanted him to control you, to maybe push him to any surrounding limit to see just how commanding he could be.

“I think that you just want my attention, baby girl. Is that right?” He asked, as though he wasn’t feeling the answer. With his fingers circling your panties, you knew he was only asking for any other reason than confirmation.

You whimpered, “Sir, please.”

“Please, what?” Johnny questioned, playing clueless. He knew what you wanted. He had definitely known much longer than expected, you realized. All those times where you were so obviously flirting with him, he was choosing to play dumb and ignore your antics.

“Please touch me,” you begged.

Johnny smiled softly - condescendingly - but he still wore that fake confused expression on his face, “I am touching you though, aren’t I?”

Fuck, were you already getting tired of this. He knew damn well what you meant by touching you, and this wasn’t it. You wanted more. You wouldn’t care if he manhandled you right now, you just were in desperate need of his contact so then, and only then, would you be satisfied.

You could sound no more desperate as you whined, “Sir, please, I need more.”

He only laughed - dead in your face. “I don’t think that you deserve it.”

“I’ll do anything,” you knew that you sounded pathetic, but you had been waiting far too damn long for him to be teasing you like this. You couldn’t think of one reason why you wouldn’t deserve it, but there was already a mental list brewing of things you were ready to do to convince him. If a blowjob was what it would take, you’d be on your knees in an instant.

The offer tempted Johnny and he would be lying if he said that it hadn’t. But you had been teasing him for years now, and he wanted you to know how it felt when the tables were turned. If you were going to play games with him, then he was determined to beat you, to push you to every edge until you caved in to defeat. Johnny wanted you on your knees begging, and he was determined to have that. What better way to play than to give you nothing at all?

He liked the premise of you can look, but you can’t touch. There was no better way that he could punish you than by giving you a taste of your own medicine. Restraining himself was much more difficult than he had let on, but he knew you had half his patience at most. With the tricks he had up his sleeve, he’d have you caught inside his net in no time.

He tilted his head. “You want this?”

“Need it,” you replied without missing a beat.

Just as quickly, Johnny pulled his hand away from underneath your skirt, and therefore followed the little relief he had permitted you. An instant whimper fell from your lips, but it was clear as day that he didn’t care. His laugh mocked you, teased you, and you couldn’t fathom why he was playing with you like this. You wanted to ask him why he was toying with you, but he would beat you to any words.

“That’s too bad,” he replied, nonchalantly. “I want you to wait for it.”

You whined, “Haven’t I waited long enough?”

You didn’t realize how close he was to you until then. Nevermind how his eyes pierced holes through your skin and made you swallow hard, instantly making you regret saying anything. How you could feel the warmth of his body radiating onto you without him touching you - even if he practically was. How he towered over you and made you feel so much smaller in comparison to him, how he made you feel frozen in place with nothing but a mere glance. It was power. It was prominent in his eyes, whispering, You’ll do anything for me. You couldn’t tell if it was a simple statement or a demand, but it was true.

“Don’t you think that I’ve waited long enough?” His eyes were cold. You wanted to move backwards, but there was no escape. You were trapped beneath his gaze with no where to run. “Don’t be so selfish. You’ve been playing your little games with me for the past couple of years. Don’t you think it’s my turn now?”

It was then that you realized what this was. It was revenge - sweet to him, yet so bitter to you. Karma really was a bitch.

You heard a car pulling into the driveway, and Johnny finally stepped away from you. “See you later,” a day, two days, a week - whatever amount of time defined the wait of later, it was too much. Call it greed. Call it selfish. But you just couldn’t wait. You wanted him. You needed him. Your body was yearning for touch, but you could feel nothing but cool air.

You needed Johnny now, and yet he refused to give himself to you.

It was finally Saturday, and you were nothing less than thrilled. The days in between now and the last time you’d seen Johnny felt closer to weeks and now that you had an excuse, you were going to be downright insufferable. As if you weren’t going to be insufferable either way. With the way things turned out during your encounter with him, you realized than instead of wallowing in defeat, you needed to play back harder. That meant leveling-up and making it known that you weren’t going down without a fight.

As you hoped, Johnny was also in the backyard. Jess had invited you and her crush Mark over for a pool day, and Johnny insisted on grilling for the three of you. You were ninety-nine percent convinced that you were half the reason, with him simply wanting to get at you - and that he did. He looked more mesmerizing than he usually did, sweat making his skin gleam, and it took you back to the first time that you’d seen him.

You shoved the memory into a dark corner in the back of your brain. Determination filled you to the brim, and you had just the trick up your sleeve to make Johnny lose his mind.

“Ready for the pool?” Jessica asked as you both stepped out onto the patio.

It was difficult to hide your smirk as you replied, “Born ready.” You had been planning this moment out for days, and you refused to let reality not match your expectations.

She rushed to get inside the pool with Mark, but you took your sweet time, waiting for the moment when you could feel Johnny’s eyes on you to drop the towel. It revealed a bright red bikini, and the look on his face when you glanced up to capture his reaction was worth a million bucks. He was looking at you like he wanted you, and that alone was enough to satisfy you.

Don’t burn the food, you mouthed cockily, just before sending him a week and diving into the pool with your two friends.

The rest of the afternoon consisted of mutual stares that lingered far too long, and by the time the day began to fade dull you had been in and out of the pool and Johnny had gone inside. With Mark and Jessica being equally sprung for each other it was easy for your third-wheeling adventure to begin, and you were yearning for more excitement, running out of battery from earlier’s thrilll.

Some time later, you all agreed to end the night here and Mark and Jessica decided to go on a walk before he went home. It being implied that you were going home, you all bid your good farewells to each other and headed out of the pool.

But when they left, there was Johnny standing on the patio, eyeing you as you stood by the edge of the pool. “Heading out?”

“I was,” you replied, but if he intended on staying out here then maybe you’d charge your mind.

“So not anymore,” Johnny smirked as he put the pieces together. “Let me join you.”

You shrugged, as a sign of not caring what he chose to do, in spite of the fact that your heart was racing. You sank back into the water, preferred it over the feeling of freezing air prickling your skin. Johnny’s eyes never left yours as he made move for the pool, but yours left his the moment he tugged his shirt above his head.

Of fucking course, he was ripped.

Feigning nonchalance was becoming difficult - your mouth watered and you could hardly stop your eyes from popping out of their sockets. To make matters worse, he looked even better in the water with his skin golden, water gleaming in the moonlight. The cocky look on his face proved he knew it all too well, and you were struggling now more than ever to restrain yourself.

“Bet you thought you were slick for what you pulled this afternoon.”

You smirked at the memory. Of course, you didn’t. The whole point was to provoke him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about,” Johnny groaned. It sounded hotter than it should’ve, and now you were ready to clip the conversation and cut to the action. “You walking around trying to provoke me.”

You retaliated, “I wouldn’t have to if you would just fuck me.”

It was clearly the wrong answer, you concluded from the way his eyes seemed to darken. He’d put you in your place right then and there if that wasn’t exactly what you wanted. But it was, and Johnny knew that in spite of your front you were crumbling. It wouldn’t be very long before he had you bowing down at his feet.

He seemed calm, though the look in his eye was anything but. “I told you, you don’t deserve it,” Johnny replied patiently. You were a pain in the ass, but he still enjoyed making you wait. It was so obviously driving you crazy, and the day what little patience you had remaining dissipated, he was going to have so much fun with you.

“How can I earn it?” You asked meekly. It was slowly coming to you that Johnny had a resolve of steel, and it would take more than flaunty outfits to get under his skin. You didn’t know what to do and it was making you want to yank your hair.

“Behave,” he said, like you were a toddler. “And maybe I’ll consider it sooner.”

He was climbing out of the pool before you could even think of a response, and even when you called out his name he never turned around. You wondered what he was getting out of this. You knew that all your teasing played a major role, but it seemed to have the opposite effect of what was intended. Instead of wrapping him around your finger, Johnny walked further away from your spell. A part of you kind of liked it. Another part of you wasn’t sure how to adapt. Most boys came to you in a flock at the sight of skin, a little flirting here and there and they were your pawns. But Johnny was so much more complicated, and for once the instructions were unclear to you. You winded up frustrating yourself further instead in your attempts to frustrate him.

He was a puzzle with a million pieces and you couldn’t figure out how to put him together. A stranger you weren’t to challenges, but he was the toughest competition you’d face and the worst part was that he seemed to have you all figured out.

You always used to think that people were exaggerating when they expressed their desire for someone else. No feeling could ever be so strong as to tear someone apart that way. Yet now that you were in a position where something so close to you felt so far away, you finally understood. You finally knew what it meant to yearn for someone, and it was killing you slowly.

You craved Johnny. It didn’t matter if you were in the same room because he’d pretend as though everything was normal between you and you couldn’t fathom how he could ignore the tension so easily. Especially when it was all you could feel whenever you were in the same space together.

Next Friday was when things began to stir up. Jessica had invited you and Mark over for dinner and considering their obvious crush on each other, they sat beside each other. That left one seat remaining - the one across Mark, directly beside Johnny.

That’s how you landed yourself in this predicament. Johnny’s long fingers plunging in and out of you from underneath the table. It started with his hand simply resting on your thigh but then he started rubbing circular patterns, until he inched between them and underneath your skirt. You were fighting back noises and expressions, yet in contrast he joined in enthusiastically on the conversation like there was nothing happening beneath the table.

“Johnny, they’re right there,” you whimpered when no one was watching. You were thankful that Mark and Jessica were so invested in one another, it decreased your chances of getting caught sneaking around with Johnny since they hardly paid full attention.

“Guess that means you’ll have to be quiet then,” he whispered without a care in the world. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

You could only give a casual, slight nod. If you spoke, you were at risk of letting out moans and that was the last thing you wanted.

Johnny purred, “Good girl.”

Fuck, that was hot. If it weren’t for your two friends sitting at the table with you, you would have moaned right then. All the titles and names Johnny called you made your skin feel hot and made your desire for him multiply. It felt like a test on your patience and you were failing.

In his attempt to act as though nothing was wrong, Johnny asked to no one in particular, “Any plans for the weekend?”

Jessica didn’t miss a beat. She announced excitedly, “Mark and I are going bowling. He sucks and wants me to teach him.”

“I do not suck!” Mark instantly protested. “I got a strike once!”

“Once, as in one time,” Jessica giggled.

Any other time, you would have leaped at any opportunity to tease Mark, but you couldn’t even focus on the rest of the conversation. Johnny’s fingers felt too good inside you, reaching impossible places with precise angles. You couldn’t lie, he did a magnificent job at pretending he was completely engaged in whatever conversation, but you could tell he had shifted most of his attention to you. Even without looking at you directly, it was almost like he could see your reaction and Johnny was determined to steer you right off of the edge.

Whenever a moan approached you, you bit your lip, hard. Or shoved a forkful of spaghetti into your mouth. Whatever you could do to prevent yourself from moaning. The brief glimpse of a smirk you saw on Johnny’s lips confirmed that he was enjoying this, but you couldn’t be mad. You were enjoying it too - especially considering this was probably the most you would get from him for a while, you could only be satisfied.

You were only snapped out of this trance when you heard your name called, snapping your head up in the direction of Johnny.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Huh?” Oh how familiar this situation had felt.

“I said, do you have any plans for the weekend?” Johnny reiterated, looking at you so normally that even you started to believe he wasn’t fingering you right now.

Oh, did you. If Johnny insisted on not fucking you any time soon, then you were going to have a good ole time with your pal, your vibrator. You couldn’t exactly say that though, and even if you could you wouldn’t dare speak more than three words at once. Not when you were so close. So you opted for simply shaking your head.

“Perfect. With Jessica gone I’ll need someone to help me repaint the walls,” Johnny joked, yet you could see right through what he was saying.

Jessica grumbled, “Dad, no. I told you I’ll help you when I get back.”

You forced your voice up as front as you could, “I don’t mind. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyways and,” you fought the sound back into your throat before you continued, “-and it’s the least I could do after leeching off you guys.”

“You’re not a leech,” your best friend reassured. “But if you really want to help him then suit yourself.”

If only she knew you couldn’t care less about the walls, not when you were focused on a completely different type. You wanted Johnny to paint your walls, simple as that.

Conversation didn’t die, but neither did the feeling between your thighs. They were trembling as you approached your orgasm, and you could feel it creeping up on you. You were about to duck your head to hide the pleasured expressions on your face until you couldn’t feel it anymore.

You nearly whimpered, staring at Johnny with only shock. It wasn’t really surprising considering everything that had happened since that day, but you were disappointed. Johnny kept dropping you off before you got to your destination, and you were sick of his teasing and being unable to do anything about it.

“Sorry, princess,” Johnny murmured, but he didn’t look the part even slightly, with a grin playing on his lips. “I’ll make it all up to you tomorrow.”

You guessed you could wait one more day.

730 days.

365 days.

2 weeks.

The countdown was done. The stalling and wait was over. The amount of days you had been waiting for this one specifically you had no clue, but none of that would matter to you anymore once you finally tested on your tongue the sweet taste of victory. You were ready.

You could feel nothing but nerves and exhilaration, but you liked it. You liked how you weren’t sure if you were breathing when you rang the doorbell, but you knew that you weren’t the moment Johnny opened the door. If you had a quarter for every time Johnny had left you breathless, you’d be rich. You couldn’t fathom how a man could look so attractive, and it wasn’t like he always put extra effort into it like you sometimes did. It was something raw.

Johnny smiled when he saw you. “You made it.”

“Of course,” you replied. You sounded relaxed, although you were anything but calm. The mere thought of the events bound to happen in the following moments had you overjoyed.

Johnny let you inside and shut the door. You didn’t get far down the hall before he pinned you back against the wall, the way he did the last time you had been in this scenario. But you knew the outcome would be different this time.

His stare was still hard and deep, but his grin never left. “Ready to paint some walls?”

Damn the walls. You weren’t even remotely concerned about anything that wasn’t on Johnny or in between your legs.

You held his gaze and smiled back as you joked, “Isn’t that your job?”

“I see you brought your jokes with you,” Johnny observed. Then his hand scooted underneath your skirt and squished your thigh. “And another pretty skirt.”

Melting into the warmth of his touch was your only option. You were so starved that you weren’t sure if the smallest touch was enough to get your gears in motion, or if your greed for more was insatiable and it would never be enough. Though it was certain that you wanted him, and concluding from the way Johnny was eyeing you like you were his prey, the feeling was mutual.

His hand crawled closer in between your thighs and the whole time you felt as though you were holding your breath. Johnny had a way of effortlessly making you defocus on anything that wasn’t your desire for him. You weren’t concerned about what was right or what was wrong. You weren’t concerned about the consequences. All you cared about was feeling his skin on yours and meeting him inside of the sheets.

“Just for you,” you murmured, somewhere on the verge of breathless. Johnny knew you weren’t lying or saying things just to make the moment. With your history, it was easy to believe you had picked it out especially for his taste.

The skirt was a personal favorite of Johnny’s. He had never stated it outright, but the way his eyes were constantly on you was more than enough confirmation. Of course you would use your speculations to your advantage - the moment had been dragged out enough and by now it was established that you were beyond impatient.

“Yeah?” He cocked his head. “Wanna show me what’s underneath?”

More than anything. You wanted to lift up your skirt right then and there. Instead, you opted for nodding your head, unable to come up with any words let alone a sentence. 

Johnny took no time to toss you up in his arms. He carried you into his bedroom and launched you onto his sheets, eyeing you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you, princess,” he cooed.

For once, you had no smart reply - you just let him move on his own accord. You could feel the tension in the room soaring as he crawled above your body, silent and sly as he slithered between your thighs. Johnny could feel his mouth water as he pushed your skirt up, finally getting a full view of what was underneath. Your panties - pretty, lace, and blue (and drenched.)

He pushed them to the side. “Did you wear these for me, too?”

He honestly didn’t even have to ask. The two of you had been down this road before and it was simply a given that you dressed to impress him particularly. Keeping in mind his favorite color plus how much he fancied your wardrobe on you came naturally when you were this desperate.

You nodded again, then asked, “Do you like them?”

“Love them, baby. You look so pretty in blue,” Johnny murmured. His distracted fingers teased your folds and made your breath hitch. You were already wet, but his touch had you melting into a puddle on the mattress. “You ready?”

There was no hesitance in your voice as you whined, “God, yes.” The moment had already been dragged on too long and though you understood that Johnny would probably want to take his time with you, you needed things to pick up the pace, even if just a little.

“Good, because I wanna taste you.”

Johnny pushed your legs out a little more to give himself the room to roam between them. Then he started with pecks to your inner thigh, gentle and sweet and arousing. As if you weren’t aroused enough already. He admired the way your folds glistened with wetness - he knew that you most likely assumed he was taking his time out of being hell bent on teasing the life out of you, but that was only half of the truth. You were just so pretty that he wanted to savor the moment forever.

His tongue teased back and forth over your slit, almost tentatively as though he was only taste-testing you. When you needily bucked up your hips with a whimper, Johnny decided to quit his games and went in for the kill. He ate you out like there was no tomorrow, slow enough to pay attention to detail yet fast enough so that you weren’t left hanging. You bit your lip when you felt him on your flesh. It didn’t subdue your sounds completely, but enough to where Johnny could tell that they were being muffled.

He drew back, dissatisfied by your lack of volume. “Don’t bite your lip. No one’s hear with us so I wanna hear you.”

You were a little dazed when you nodded, present physically yet mentally beginning to tune out. His lips distracted you, coated with a glossy layer of your slick. Minutes ago it was an image that had only seemed to exist when you closed your eyes, imagining this moment as you had longed for its arrival. Now it had become a reality and you were beyond blissful. You wanted to freeze time and prolong the pleasure for as long as possible.  

The only thing capable of sucking you back out of your mind was the feeling of Johnny’s lips reattaching themselves to your skin. You couldn’t suppress the moan that fell from your mouth then even if you tried, caught off-guard as you were absorbed in your head. You could feel the smug grin dashing upon his lips but it was hard to care when he was practically sucking the life out of you. This was all you had ever wanted and needless to say Johnny didn’t disappoint not one bit. He was everything you imagined he’d be times two.

“F-feels so good,” you stammered. There was nothing to fake even if you wanted to, it genuinely felt good and he was serious competition for anyone that had ever gone down on you before. Your brain felt clouded and your skin felt hot and you liked it. Loved it.

Johnny would have been insufferable with the dirty talk if it wasn’t for the fact that his mouth was currently preoccupied between your thighs. You could already hear the words he’d probably say if he didn’t have a mouthful of pussy, “Yeah? You like that, princess?” Oh, and the never-ending pet names. You were usually fond of them, but he made them seem next level. Maybe it was his voice or some other factor, but you knew that you were attracted to it regardless. 

On his end, Johnny was absolutely wrecked on you. From the way he’s going down on you, with an eagerness that only a starved man could possess (and in a sense, he was one), it’s no secret, either. With how well he managed to hide his desire it got difficult for you to remember that he wanted you as much as you did him, and that was an unsafe amount.

You could feel your orgasm creeping up on you steadily. Your gut was practically screaming it at you, and god you couldn’t wait to cum on his tongue. Every day after the next wasn’t simply edging, but plain orgasm denial. Today was the day the torture was meant to stop.

“Close,” you moaned, as if it weren’t obvious enough, “gonna cum.”

He hummed a muffled, “Yeah?” Johnny knew that you wouldn’t last much longer. Aside from the sensation tearing through your stomach, all the outwardly noticeable clues were the tremble of your thighs and the sounds you made. Though much to your misfortune, the next would be of disappointment instead of delight as he moved away from you yet again.

“Sorry, baby,” he for once sounded decently apologetic. “But I want you to cum when I’m inside you.”

“Fuck me,” you pleaded, although you didn’t have to. Johnny was set on his goal the moment he brought you into his bedroom.

“Trust me, I am. Come here.”

Your movements showed no hesitation as you crawled onto his lap. His lips latched onto your neck and aroused a subtle, soft gasp of surprise from you. You made no attempt to fight his actions though, his hands attacking your skin simultaneously as he tugged at the remaining articles of clothing. As his fingers went for your bra, yours came for his own clothes, unbuttoning his top and slipping it down his shoulders.

Johnny chuckled with amusement at how eager you were. Nevermind himself; he was pinning you back down against the mattress roughly, lips attacking your flesh as his hand slinked beneath your skirt. It wrenched your panties down your thighs and found your clit seconds later, meanwhile his mouth was practically glued to your skin, sucking at your chest, neck, and collarbone. Your neck was most likely covered in hickeys and you knew that, but it felt too good to get concerned over. You figured Johnny would probably have wanted to see them anyways.

The sounds you made each time were cute, but only made Johnny yearn for more. He was going to be an animal the moment he got inside you, wild, untamed, and hunting.

Johnny drew back one final time, knowing what he wanted and that he needed it now. He rummaged throughout the drawers of his dresser swiftly.

You crooked your head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Finding a condom. Practicing safe sex. Unless, you don’t want me to wear one. I’m clean.”

At that, you were chewing at your bottom lip. Your mind was filled to the brim with dirty scenarios you had thought of before, Johnny cumming inside and making you feel full. You knew the sex would be good either way, but damn it, your imagination had won today.

“I’m on the pill. You can go bareback, if you want,” you murmured, in your attempt to appear as though you hadn’t daydreamed about him fucking you raw.

And of course, he saw right through you. But he only grinned smugly and replied, “Say less. Get on your hands and knees.”

As expected, you took no time to comply. You crawled into position as soon as you heard the command, resting on your palms and knees with your back in an arch. Johnny grabbed a pillow and placed it underneath you, ensuring your comfort first. “You good, baby?”

You nodded. “All good.”

Johnny hummed. He positioned himself behind you not much longer, one hand clutching your waist and the other holding his dick as he then slid inside you. The two of you sighed out immediately in relief - you could feel his grip on you tighten the moment he entered you, and he heard the moan you chirped. There was no doubt that the little waiting game only made this moment better for the both of you, wanting each other in a way that was incomparable to any other feeling you’d ever experienced.

“Fuck, so b-big,” you stammered. You were as aroused as you could have possibly been, but Johnny still had a size you knew would leave you breathless once you saw it through more the print against his pants.

Easing in and out of you, Johnny cooed, “Dick too big for you, baby?” He wouldn’t pick up his pace until he was sure that you were entirely comfortable, and would give you the time to adjust if you needed it. He wanted you to enjoy this as much as he would.

You shook your head. “N-no, I can take it.”

Johnny sported a grin, proud. He whispered, “Good girl.”

He had dreamed of moments like this. Moments where it was just you and him, shutting the world out as you felt each other as closely as you possibly could. Moments where he was pressed deeply inside you, making you moan from every thrust. Moments where he would finally taste a slice of the heaven he had wanted for much longer than he could identify. Johnny had known you wanted him since before a couple of weeks ago. Before that evening in the kitchen, before he confronted you in the hallway, and way before your pool shenanigans. You had always been anything but subtle, and even if you weren’t particularly as bold as you were now, there was always a subconscious ache for him in you that he couldn’t help but sense. You didn’t know it, but you just couldn’t hide your lust.

“Such a good girl. Taking me so well, just like you said you would, princess,” he whispered. That was all it took to make you weak. You were too dazed to tell for sure, but you knew you had probably moaned a little at his praise.

You pushed any other thought back into the spider-y corner in the deep shadows at the back of your brain. Thinking about anything other than Johnny and how he felt between your legs was nearly impossible, and you were relaxed in a way that you hadn’t been in a while. He was just so easy to melt into, someone that made you forget about every other minor and major problem and consequence you’d eventfully have to face.

While he was pounding you from behind, Johnny brought his hand right back underneath your skirt and to your clit. You weren’t surprised that he hadn’t taken it off since he was always unsubtle about his favoritism towards it, and he thought you looked lovely like this.

You whimpered needily, “Johnny.” His fingers were fast at work on you, and in the most positive way possible, you weren’t sure if you could handle it.

“You feel so good, baby girl,” Johnny growled. If anything that only made you want it more, although you already him and he had you.

Sex with Johnny was already better than either of you had ever imagined. There had always been this picture in his head, but now that he could feel you taking every inch of him, he wanted to heighten the feeling and surpass the limits. It was the same for you — your fingers and vibrator could never compare to the feeling of having him inside your walls. He was driving you crazy and you were driving him even crazier.

Even if once was already know risky enough, you were already fantasizing about the next time. You were determined that you could do this “under wraps” thing with him if it meant that you could recreate this feeling again. It was too good to pass up, too good to only have once. There was something so intoxicating about how Johnny felt in you, and how he made you feel generally. Being underneath him alone was somehow one of the most pleasurable things you’d ever felt.

Keeping things under wraps, however, was going to be easier said than done. Not only did it mean keeping this a secret from your best friend, you couldn’t afford to have anyone else find out. But with how the bed creaked, and you were moaning his name loud enough for the neighbors to know what was happening in his bedroom, you were going to need more than a good excuse. You could only hope the walls were thick enough to subdue most of your sounds. The only sounds audible in the room were skin-slapping, moans and grunts, heavy breathing and you swore that you could hear your heartbeat in your brain. You wondered if Johnny could hear it too, or if the banging in your chest was something that only you would be able to pick up on.

The force of Johnny’s thrusts knocked your body forward, enough to cause your face to crash into a pillow. He went at a tolerable pace - not too slow, yet not too fast - and yet, your heartbeat was racing. Maybe it was all the action unfolding around you, or maybe it was simply the exhilaration making your blood feel as though it was zipping throughout your veins. Whatever it was, you knew that you liked it.

There was nothing to not like — Johnny fucked you too good for that. It hadn’t surprised you not even a bit, but Johnny was better than anyone who had ever been between your thighs. He was relentless. The pressure your body felt right then was enough to make you implode.

That was when you could feel it approaching again. It was louder, even more prominent, and you were desperate for Johnny to make you cum. Now that you had finally proved to him that you deserved it, you would snap if he edged you even once more. You were tired of being denied pleasure, and you knew Johnny was tired of denying himself the sweet victory.

“C-cumming, Johnny please,” you begged, plea half-muffled into the pillow. You weren’t above it, not when your orgasm was in arms reach. Johnny had tamed you, and whatever shame or face you had to save was discarded ages ago.

“Fuck, yeah? Hold on,” he muttered.

Johnny changed your positions, moving from behind you to above you, and you underneath him. You glanced at him with furrowed eyebrows, wondering what prompted the change.

As if he could read your mind, he said, “Wanna see your face when you cum, baby girl.”

That made your heart flutter.

It was always painfully obviously when you were far from it. As long as whoever was fucking you was doing a good job, there was never a need to question it, and Johnny was doing a phenomenal one. Never had anyone had you as weak as he did and it was dangerous. You were addicted; and now that you were hooked, it was possible for you to take more of him than was safe.

Yet you couldn’t be bothered. Not now, not when you were so, so close to having it all. You didn’t care what was too much, because it didn’t seem like there was even a such thing as enough. You were on the brink of an orgasm, thighs trembling yet again and your face twisting with pleasure. Johnny hissed at how you were clenching around him, tightening his hold on your hips. He wasn’t at all very much far behind you.

“Johnny,” you cried out.

He leaned low, peppering kisses to your neck. “I got you, baby. Cum for me,” he crooned, almost as breathless as you were.

Moans tumbled from your mouth as you did exactly that, wounding your nails in the bare flesh of his back. Johnny was set off only moments after that, either by your expressions or how you were relentlessly clenching around him, painting your walls with his cum as he groaned sexily into your ear. You couldn’t move, barely even breathe as you rested against your sheets. Your chest rose and fell quickly, but Johnny kissing your skin soothed you; it made everything feel okay.

“How do you feel, princess?” He cooed beside your ear.

You answered through a shallow breath, sporting a grin as you replied, “Full.”

Johnny murmured, satisfied, “Good.” He was showing the utmost appreciation to your body and skin, kissing you and holding you and treating you so gently. It was like being beside him alone made the whole world disappear. He was still inside you, softened up, but he wanted to wallow in this feeling a little longer.

“We’ll do this again, right?” You asked. Maybe it was a little desperate, but you needed to know.

“Of course, baby girl. You thought we did all that waiting just to go one time?”

No, you wanted to say. It wasn’t that you had, but Johnny was unpredictable whenever he wanted to be. You needed a little confirmation, just to be safe.

Instead, you opted for shaking your head. “Will you make me wait again?”

“No,” Johnny shook his head back, “not unless you decide to be a brat again and need to be punished. Think you can be a good girl for me, babe?”

You smiled softly, bobbing your head. The last thing you wanted was to be put through that torture ever again, and if all it took to never experience it again was submitting to Johnny, then it was say less.

You had that out of the way. Johnny was accessible to you, and you to him. There was one small conflict now, you remembered as his phone began to ring, with the caller ID being daughter.

There was still another game that you both had to play; hide and seek.

[sh1-n0bu]

can i request something?? can you do modern relationship with scara??

✿ 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑰 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖! ✿

characters: modern!scaramouche x nb!reader

warnings: modern au!!!, fluff, crack, my poor attempt at humor, scara has a bad relationship with his moms, written with high school au in mind, scara being bad at feelings, headcannon format, raiden shogun goes as raiden shino since shogun is a title rather than a name and all…

notes: when that one song u used to religiously listen to when u were younger and cringier suddenly comes rushing back in for a fic idea

oh dear gods, where do we even begin with this one?

tsundere to the max and we all know, his moms knows it, you know it, the entire school knows it, even the online friends he plays games with knows it

which explains on how you knew that scaramouche had a crush on you the moment he started showing small signs of it. waaaaayyyy before he even understood his own emotions and feelings and came to terms with it

safe to say, he is super easy to read. like, a motherfuckin open book that’s full of illustrations made for kids. at least, that’s how it feels to you anyways

has a bad relationship with both of his mothers and his older sister but at least he tolerates his older sister better than his mothers, which is a good thing. at least he has someone to turn to when something goes wrong

him, his mom ei and his older sister are carbon copies of each other alongside his aunt. the first time you went over to scara’s place to prepare for an upcoming exam, you almost got whiplash from just how many similar purple people were there

like… low-key concerning with how you easily mistook his mom ei with his aunt or his older sister with his mom ei

safe to say you made a fool out of yourself for the first few meetings with his family

his other mom, miko, is very… eccentric to say the least. teasing, sly, quick-witted, charming and charismatic. you and scara joke around that miko was a fox or a demon in her former life

his older sister, shino, is quite the sweetheart one the other hand. quiet, reserved, socially awkward and friendly if you go over how her normal face looks so emotionless and dead. reminds you of a soldier or a puppet with how shino is so willing to fulfill ei’s wishes or words to the T

his aunt, baal, is an absolute sweetheart. the ultimate sweetheart actually. such a sweet woman she is with her soft words, warm smiles and motherly affections. she offered you a hand-made cookie when you were about to leave simply because you were scara’s friend!

yes, you cried to the amount of kindness and scara made fun of you for it

you would never peg someone as mean, introverted and arrogant as scaramouche to be friends with the popular, soccer kid from school did ya’? well you are wrong because scara and childe are best friends!!! as childe claims

the ginger-head made a bet with scaramouche saying that you two’s friendship won’t last. cue scaramouche and his over competitive ass coming over and latching himself to you to make sure that your friendship would last

AKA childe’s plan to make scaramouche realize his feelings and come to terms with it has officially started!

likes to occasionally play video games such as wuthering waves, minecraft, resident evil, silent hill etc etc. hates first person shooter games cuz it’s so not his style and he hates the annoying boys that he comes across during the game

will never say it nor mention it but sometimes he plays those ‘using not a single part of your brain’ type of games like playing as dentists or doctors. hell, he even likes to play dress up games from time to time. he just loves the aesthetics and the different designs of the clothes, itches that inner aesthetic lover part of him. but he will NEVER mention it or be caught playing it. scaramouche would rather die

something tells me that his music taste would be more leaning into electronic or scene music. odetari, 6arelyhuman, kets4eki — you name it. sometimes, enjoys those gentle and soothing sounding anime openings too

he has sanrio plushies. more specifically, hello kitty ones

had an obsession with the cute white cat growing up and he never grew out of it

the moment he first found out that you like plushies or pink things or sanrio related things, he knew he gotta gift you anonymous sanrio gifts on your birthday or on special occasions. it was his early stages of courting you

was absolutely appalled when he was found out because whaddaYA MEAN HE LIKES SOFT AND THOSE STUPID PLUSHIES AND SANRIO RELATED THINGS?! NUH-UH, YOU MUST’VE SAW A DIFFERENT PURPLE HAIRED, BOWL HAIRCUT HAVING GUY CUZ SCARAMOUCHE WOULD NEVER LIKE THOSE STUPID THINGS!!!

he aint fooling anyone

takes his relationship slow since he has some big trust issues yet also attachment issues. pick a struggle tbh

had a panic attack after he officially, finally, after years of crushing on you, like literally acting like your boyfriend years later when he asked you out on a date because woohoo!! he asked you for a date \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/ but also shit, what type of a first date would you like ლಠ益ಠ)ლლಠ益ಠ)ლ

yeah, he had to do something he hated the most. ask his moms and sister for advice

after a lot of talk, discussions, secretly stalking your social profiles or you in general to see what you would like, scaramouche decided to take you out for an arcade date

you two had fun, he was glad you had fun, played bunch of different games together and even managed to win a cute matching plushies and keychains!! kuromi for him and melody for you. he was so glad that you liked it but he won’t say it out loud

walked you home after your first date, to your front door and bid you good night and “hope you had fun tonight, idiot” chu!! on your cheek before making a mad dash back home

the type of boyfriend who would lovingly bully you

“why the fuck are you wearing that? it’s making your stupid face look cuter than normal”

“who in their right mind would choose the green one? yellow looks better on you. no, the soft pastel one, not the bright one you idiot”

“you wanna die? who said i was ever gonna stop loving you after you turn into a roach? i’m gonna keep you in a special glass case until you change back dumbass”

yeah… just say you love them already, scara

your contact name on his phone is literally my idiot٩(╬ʘ益ʘ╬)۶

would lovingly call you names as he leaves soft kisses on your face

“you’re a fucking idiot but it’s fine, you’re my idiot”

[bimobuddy]

Cat Got Your Tongue?

Hazbin Tickle Fic

SFW but does have suggestive language and swearing

Switch! Angel, Switch! Husk

Minor spoilers for the show

CW: Brief mention of Valentino and Angel's job, slight angst but it's short I promise, it's only two sentences

Summary: When Angel starts bothering Husk, the bartender discovers an interesting way to make him shut up. Unfortunately for him, Angel is one for revenge, and he has six hands.

Husk's ear twitched when Angel grabbed it for the third time now. He growled and swatted him away. "Fuck off, I'm working." Angel laughed. "No you ain't, we're the only ones here. All you're doin' is playin' cards." He said, his hands finding their way back to Husk's head to scritch between his ears.

An involuntary purr escaped before Husk could swat him off again. "Angel." A final warning. Next time he'd act. "Whatever babe, you love me." Angel grinned, leaning against the counter. He tried to stay quiet this time, and just watch Husk play with his cards, but he got bored quickly. He never intended to annoy Husk- Well sometimes he did, but today he wasn't! He was just restless, bored, and had a lot of energy that came out in bursts.

"Y'know when I was a kid, I tried teachin' myself these fancy card tricks. I went and showed my brother, and he asked me, 'You ever heard of the game 52 Pick-Up?' And I said 'no,' and when I handed him the deck, he tossed 'em everywhere! And then-"

"Angel, for fuck's sake, how hard is it to keep quiet for 60 seconds?" Husk grumbled, reaching out and prodding Angel's side a bit as he spoke. As he did, he noticed Angel stiffen up before taking a breath and relaxing again.

Angel was still trying to get used to friendly contact, especially after all the time he had spent with Val. Husk reaching out to poke him had startled him just a little, but he was quick to remind himself it was Husk. And Husk was safe. They were losers together after all.

"Fuck was that?" Husk asked suddenly. Angel felt his cheeks flush as he refused to speak all of a sudden. The bartender chuckled. "What? Cat got your tongue?" He asked, starting to catch on.

"Not yet, but I wish he would~" Angel said, unable to resist a joke that was practically handed to him.

Husk's ears flattened as he slapped the deck of cards on the counter. He was quick to step forward and start lightly pinching Angel's ribs, right between his upper and lower set of arms. This apparently was a bad spot, as the actor crumbled instantly, falling to his knees with a squeal.

"NO! Ah! Plehehehease!" Angel giggled frantically, his upper arms trying to grab Husk's hands while his lower arms seemed torn between crossing or pushing at his attacker, the confusion resulting in them sort of just hesitantly shaking in mid air before he clenched them into fists.

Husk gently dug his claws into the underarms of Angel's upper set of arms. The spider let go of his wrists and squealed, all four arms pinning themselves to his sides while he just kicked against the floor and giggled freely, shaking his head.

"You wanna rephrase what you said to me earlier?" Husk teased, kneading his thumbs right into Angel's underarms, making him toss his head back in laughter. "I'm sohohorry! I'm sohoho sohohohorry!"

Husk chuckled and stopped, pulling his hands away, letting his friend slump down and breathe, still slightly giggly. "Ahasshole.." He giggled out.

"Hey, not my fault you never said 'stop.' What's up with that, huh Angel?" He teased, gently skittering a claw up his side. Angel squeaked and snatched his hand up.

Instead of answering or trying to come up with a witty comeback, Angel simply raised Husk's arm and used two hands to tickle and spider over his sides and ribs. Husk inhaled sharply and held his breath, his ears flattening into 'airplane ears,' as he heard Vaggie call them one time.

Angel laughed and tickled faster. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue~?" As his hands tickled down his sides, closer to his hips, Husk finally cracked and started to laugh. It was deep, yet awkward and unsure, as he probably hadn't truly laughed like this in years. He couldn't even look at Angel as he laughed like this, he kept his eyes squeezed shut and his head turned away, his shoulders shaking as he laughed.

"Ha- Aheh! A-Ahangel wahaHAit!" He had started leg-kicking when two more hands popped out and started to scritch along his belly. "What's wrong, I thought kitties liked belly rubs." Angel grinned.

"That's dohohogs- FUCK- Nohohoho! Ahahangel-"

FWOOSH!

Husk's wings had suddenly fluffed out from all the adrenaline, causing Angel to momentarily pause. Taking the opportunity, he used one hand to pin Husk's arms over his head, pushing him flat on his back. One hand gently tickled under his chin, and the other four focused purely on his wings.

All hell broke loose.

Husk was laughing harder than Angel had ever heard from him, his legs were kicking, tail thrashing, and his wings flapped and pounded the floor frantically.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHANGEL NOHOHO! HAHA NAHAT THEHERE!"

Angel couldn't help but laugh along, seeing Husk like this was so funny to him. He'd never seen him lose control like this before. Even when he was drunk he could still keep it together, but a little scritch-scratching under his feathers made him absolutely lose it.

"HAHAHAHAHA NOHOHO! STOHOHOP AHAHANGEL STOHOHOP-"

Of course as soon as it was requested, Angel stopped. He let go of his wrists, retracted his third set of arms, and got off of the poor cat, giving him room to breathe.

Husk panted like his afterlife depended on it, taking in air the way he usually took in beer. "Ugh, haha.. Fuhuck yohou.. Dammit..." He chuckled out, his wings trying to fold in but they were too tired and worn out from all the flapping so they just trembled and laid there.

"Damn, you okay? I think you're more ticklish than me." Angel chuckled. Husk groaned and nodded. "'m fine, shuddup.. Just let me lay here. Maybe in silence for once since you couldn't do that earlier." He said, light heartedly.

Angel smiled, reached over and scritched between Husk's ears, making him purr again, and this time the bartender welcomed it.

[lengthofropes]

hey tumblr people 🧡

this is your friendly reminder: commissions for gifsets and videos are always open on this blog! I’m happy to earn some money and donate it for good cause.

you know the drill: you send me a message of request, you send me $ on PayPal and I make a nice gifset for you (pricing starts at 20$).

you know me, I’m not that bad with pretty much anything - I can do blending, transitions, put your fav lyrics over your otp/fav character, find some parallels, create crazy manips, cracks, or even make a supporting gifset for your fic - ANYTHING! you can take a look at some of my shit HERE.

signal boost is very much appreciated! 🧡

#standwith🇺🇦

[sehtoast]

Happy Birthday (Homelander x Reader)

Fluffy drabble in honor of Antony Starr's birthday today. Gender Neutral Reader. Reader has spider powers. | Fic Directory

On the morning of his ‘birthday,’ he’s a grumbling, grouchy mess.

Homelander pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s not even my fucking birthday,” he tells you as if he hadn’t said it every single year since you’d both grown close. “Just what marketing thought would sell me better.”

Not only that, but he has to work on his ‘birthday.’ Run around for TV appearances, do his big, live-streamed save of the day to show the world that heroes don’t take a day off. They’ll always be there to save everyone, even if doing so is nothing more than a sore reminder of just how fabricated their lives really are.

Sure! He’ll zip around the state to appease his corporate overlords. Wave to the masses no matter how torn he is between loving and hating them, lift a car off some poor soul or catch another jumper. It’s what he does, right?

Because he’s a hero.

Right?

He’s not allowed to be like everyone else. Can’t kick his feet up and relax. There would be no day spent with you, no sleeping in, no lazy moments spent listening to your heartbeat before you wake.

He gets pepperings of you throughout his day, though.

You appear, in costume, at his birthday save. It’s the only reason he smiled when he touched down with that bozo who nearly leapt off the roof of an apartment complex. The emotive lenses of your mask let him know your smile reaches your eyes without even having to peer through the fabric.

It was your cheering that made it feel real.

He catches the sight of you blowing a kiss from behind the set camera during an interview. He worried his mask may have cracked on screen from how he smiled wider. He kisses you hungrily afterwards, away from prying eyes, before you’re both due to return to your respective duties.

You swing by during one of his meetings in the conference room, having taken the tray of coffee and stacks of paper from whichever employee was originally heading that way. You set a mug down for him and left the others to retrieve their own. The most you can give him is a friendly pat on the back– secret relationship things, y’know? But it means the world to him. You shoot him a wink before leaving.

It’s the only time he’s ever actually drank a meeting room refreshment.

When all is said and done for his big day, the sun has set. He finds you on top of the Chrysler Building, waiting for him atop one of the eagle perches. You’d set up some sort of picnic. He hears a song playing faintly from your phone– one he remembers you saying reminds you of him.

He lands with a sappy little grin.

You baked him a cake. How you managed to swing it to the top without any damage is a mystery to him, but he supposes most things you do are that way. How you love him, soothe him, free him… How your smile lifts the weight from his shoulders every single time.

“Make a wish!” You giggle before he blows out the candles. He takes a moment to admire the smudgy, wrinkly icing and awkward cursive ‘happy birthday, pumpkin!’ you’d written on top of it. More beautiful than that, there’s also you, bathed in the warm glow of the candles. It never gets old.

Yours are the only birthday cakes he actually likes.

His lips quirk into a lopsided grin when you lean in to kiss his forehead as he blows out the flames. He wasn’t sure what he wished for, but he thinks it must have been that. You tell him that his present has to wait for later since you didn’t trust yourself to carry it and the cake up the tower. He doesn’t care about that.

Not now.

Not when there’s a speck of icing to be dabbed on your nose and serenity to be had.

He takes you up above the clouds. The moon glows bright and full, but he has only eyes for you as you sway together. The music had long since ended, but you two dance nonetheless. Your hand rests in his, his arm wraps around your waist, and he floats you in a slow spin.

He thanks you for wiggling into his day as much as you could.

“S’what I do best,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Johnny. Happy birthday.”

He wraps his other arm around you, pulling you infinitely closer, no longer spinning. He’d rather focus on holding you. Taking in the moment, being here, now, with you.

He’s happy.

Content.

Peaceful.

Loved.

Completely and utterly tranquil in the gravity of you.

“I love you, too.”

A very happy birthday and many, many more to our shining Starr himself <3

[oneofthosebells]

Not managed to pull anything proper together yet for Wille's month, but the Day 11 prompt (Future), reminded me of a crack fic idea I kind of really want to write one day...

Erik gets a vision of his own future somehow (psychic, witch, friendly angel, take your pick) shortly before parents' weekend and the car crash. But it's a limited vision; he gets flashes of his own death, the funeral, the video leak, Simon breaking up with Wille - twice - and lots of flashes of Wille suffering and heartbroken. Disturbed by the vision, Erik drives (slowly and carefully for once) to Hillerska for parents' day where he quickly sees that Wille is head over heels for Simon.

So, of course, he asks his good pal August to give him the lowdown on Simon, and August is more than happy to badmouth the rude, money-grubbing little commoner who shows no respect for his social betters and isn't at all a suitable friend for a prince. And Erik realises that not only was his vision of the future true and that Simon is going to break his little brother's heart, but that it must be Simon who leaks the video, for money or fame.

So Erik, with August's eager help, sets out to get rid of Simon any way they can. But every plan fails. Because they hadn't reckoned with just how far Wille would go to protect Simon and prevent him being kicked out of Hillerska. Wille calls his brother in an outrage that August is trying to get Simon expelled for dealing drugs?! And how DARE he when it was all August's fault in the first place, and he's never actually paid Simon for any of it, and can Erik throw some royal weight around and back Wille up in proving Simon's innocence and getting August expelled instead please? Because they can claim August is just blaming Simon to cover up his own misdeeds in stealing/buying ADHD meds from other students. [Sara can testify August tried to buy meds from her, and there's no actual evidence of Simon's involvement as no money has exchanged hands and there's no second lot of meds with Micke's name on in this timeline]. Erik can't tell Wille he's not on Simon's side, and to his horror, there's enough evidence against August on top of unpaid tuition fees to get him kicked out.

The weeks/months go by and Erik gets more and more desperate without his mole on the inside - because Wille seems blissfully in love and happier than he's ever been whenever he speaks to him, but Erik knows Simon's going to break his heart, he's seen it. And he knows for definite that Simon is a wrong 'un - he got August expelled! He's anti-monarchy and a socialist! He's clearly a bad influence!

Then one day, Wille calls him upset because he had a big row with Simon, and maybe they are just too different to make it work, and he thinks this is it, they've broken up - but then Erik's hopes are dashed when Wille calls him happily the next day to tell him actually they've sorted everything out again.

Erik's frustrated and desperate and maybe losing the plot a little bit by now because he's been obsessed with ending this relationship for so long now he's almost forgotten the original reasons why. But he does remember the one thing from his vision that would definitely break them up - the video leak. Erik doesn't have a video, but he does have revealing photos - (probably August took them, haven't quite worked out the details of that one yet) - and as Erik's obsession with getting rid of Simon at any cost reaches a peak, he clicks send on the anonymous tip off to a journalist...

(@youngroyals-events)

[negans-lucille-tblr]

My Worthless Love || Part Two

Summary: At first, Dean can’t believe his luck that he gets to date a porn star, but soon the cracks start to show, and Dean gets to see a totally different side to the industry that bursts his bubble and leaves him torn. 

Rating: 18+

Part Tags: angst, mentions of sex, being used for sex, hints of foreboding, fluff, romance, heart to heart

Part WC: 2753

My Worthless Love Masterlist || Read this fic in full when you subscribe!

Your POV

You’re still thinking about your date with Dean as you sit yourself down at your dressing table in front of your vanity, reaching for your hairbrush to detangle your freshly washed hair. You sigh heavily, wondering if he’ll get bored of you soon enough, and knowing there’s only so many times you can expect him to be a perfect gentleman before he gets bored and finds a girl who isn’t an idiot and will fuck him on the first date. But you’d promised yourself this time it would be different. This time, the guy you date will be different, and the only way to ensure that is to make him wait. 

You think about that drunk guy you’d walked past who clearly recognised you, and you smile softly when you remember Dean moving to your other side to protect you from him. You remember Dean brushing it off as just a drunk man trying to hit on an attractive woman, and how he didn’t seem to bat an eye at any of the other men whose attention you’d grabbed that night or the two dates before that, either. Either you’ve been extremely lucky and Dean extremely naive, or he knows your little secret, and he’s just biding his time. 

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if the guy that works for him at his workshop – Justin you think you remember him saying – hasn’t pieced it together yet. Maybe Justin being a bit too friendly with a few too many women has been your saving grace this time. But it’s only a matter of time now. Dean’s going to find out eventually, and you’d rather that come from you. So maybe it’s time to come clean, and show him the side of you that you wish you didn’t have to. 

Your phone ringing cuts through the silence of the room and the noise of your mind, and you realise that you’ve only been brushing one section of your hair the entire time you’d been in thought. Clearing your throat, you put your brush down and grab your cell, sighing slightly at the name that’s flashing on the screen. 

“Hey, Dick, what’s up?” you ask, trying to sound more enthusiastic than you are. 

“Hey baby,” he practically cheers down the phone in his usual over enthusiastic patronising tone he always speaks to you in. “Listen, sweetheart, it’s been three days, pressure’s on to take this job.” 

You sigh heavily at the very reminder. You’d been so caught up in Dean recently, you’d actually forgotten about that. 

“C’mon, baby, you know the deal. You refuse this and the company won’t hire you again, that’s half your work gone,” he tries to push. 

“Dick, c’mon, you know I don’t like that guy,” you remind him, playing with a loose strand of cotton on your bathrobe.  

“We’ve all gotta do jobs we don’t like doing, Y/N,” Dick replies a lot more bluntly this time. 

“Dick,” you try to reason, already getting frustrated. “You know what he’s like… you’re meant to be looking out for me, not pushing me to work with assholes like that.” 

“No, I’m meant to be getting you work, but I can’t fuckin’ do that if you’re turning down scenes left, right and centre. This affects my pay too, y’know,” he huffs. “Just be a big girl, suck it up and do one fuckin’ scene with the guy, okay?” 

You purse your lips, not wanting to give in or even compromise, but you know that Dick is right. If you turn down this scene, then the company is less likely to book you for other scenes, and then you’ll barely have any work or money.

“Fine, but I want them to be clear on my limits list, okay?” you press, waiting desperately for Dick’s confirmation. 

“Sure, I’ll make sure they get it. I’ll send you the details for the shoot in the morning, get some rest.” 

You roll your eyes knowing he can’t see it and hang up, throwing your phone back down onto the dresser clumsily as you clench your jaw and try to calm yourself back down. Once again you focus on brushing your hair, moving on to applying your skin care as you try to distract yourself with thoughts about Dean once again. But it’s no use, Dick has officially put you in a bad mood, and the thought of your new upcoming job is keeping you on edge. 

Your phone once again begins to ring, and you’re just annoyed enough that you snatch it up without looking at the screen first. 

“What?” you bark down it. 

“Oh hey, urm, sorry, is this a bad time?” 

Instantly you relax a little upon hearing Dean’s voice on the other end, and you take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose to relieve some of the tension there. 

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else, what’s up?” you pry softly, trying to remain calm. 

“I urm… I know it’s late, but I was hoping we could meet up and talk?” he asks awkwardly. 

“Dean, it’s almost midnight, we were together like two hours ago, what’s going on?”

“I just really think we should talk about something,” he tries again. 

Your mind is too much of a mess to figure out just what Dean might be talking about. Maybe he’s hoping a late night call will change your mind about not fucking him on third date. Maybe he’s finally ready to admit he knows your secret. Maybe there’s something else entirely, but either way, now you’re intrigued, and it’s certainly taking your mind off of Dick and your new job. 

“I don’t wanna get dressed up again,” you argue with a sigh. “Look, just come to my place, I’ll text you the address.” 

You figure your apartment is the best place to be. You can throw him out if the conversation doesn’t go the way you want it to, and it means you don’t have to make too much effort to get ready and go out at this hour. Though as you hang up, you realise you should at least put some clothes on under your robe, and maybe a touch of make up. The guy has never seen you not dressed up for a date, so he doesn’t need that shock at midnight. 

You text him your address as promised and settle for putting on some simple sleep shorts and tank top under your robe, hoping if you look ready for bed, he won’t take too long and will leave again once he’s said whatever it is that’s so important. Pouring yourself a large glass of wine, you figure you’ll need it as you try your best to relax on the couch and await Dean’s arrival, wondering just what the hell he might want to talk about.  

As you sit and watch Dean bouncing his leg and looking around your apartment for what might be the hundredth time, you consider breaking the silence yourself, starting to get a little irritated that he hasn’t just spat it out already. 

“Really is a nice place,” he compliments for the fourth or fifth time; you’ve lost count now. “Much nicer than my apartment. Urm… what do you do again to afford something like this?”

As soon as Dean braves looking you in the eye after his bold question, you know exactly why he’s here and take a deep breath. 

“I think you know,” you reply softly, your heart beginning to thud just a little bit harder as your mind now begins to race, coming up with all the different ways this could go from here. You’re more disappointed than you thought you’d be at the prospect of Dean being just another guy that’s discovered your secret and wants personal gain from it. 

“I might’ve found out,” he confesses, clearing his throat and looking away as a blush begins to stain his cheeks. 

“And?” you prompt, not able to tell from just looking at him exactly how he feels about it. You’re still not even sure how long he’s known. 

“And I figured we should talk about it,” Dean counters. “Can I– Can I get a beer or something, my mouth is like… really dry,” he starts to fluster. 

“Sure,” you nod softly, getting up to head over to the fridge in the kitchen, glancing back over your shoulder as you watch him bouncing his leg even more violently than he had been. 

Clearly the guy is nervous about the whole thing, but he must realise he’s got the upper hand here, right? You’re the one that’s been caught out in a lie here – Not a lie, just a half truth, you remind yourself as you twist off the caps of both beers and make your way back over to the couch. You hand him his beer and smile nervously at him, before sitting back down, telling yourself that you didn’t exactly lie at any point about what you do for a living. 

You’d gotten good at avoiding the subject over time, and that didn’t change on your dates with Dean. You’d let him talk about his garage and fixing cars, and then distract him with more questions about himself before he could ask you what you do in return. And it’s not like you wouldn’t have ever told him. If things were going to start looking like they were getting more serious, you’d have come clean eventually. It’s just not exactly a good first date conversation, and you wanted to be sure that he actually liked you and not just the thought of you. 

“So how long have you known?” you pry, focusing on playing with the edge of the sticker on your bottle. 

“I found out tonight, after our date,” he confesses. 

“Was it that guy that recognised me?” you wonder, wanting to know just how you’d given it away. 

“No, but that and the guy walking into the door does make a lot more sense now…” he half laughs, though you can tell he doesn’t actually find it all that funny, so you’re not off the hook just yet. “I urm… well, I was kinda gonna… y’know… blow off some steam, and I accidentally found you.” 

Dean’s cheeks only turn darker yet, and you almost find it cute that he’d be so embarrassed about that given what you’re talking about and who he’s talking to. 

“I see,” you nod, finally understanding. You’re not exactly one of the big names, so you realised the chances of him finding you accidentally were slim, but not impossible, and if he really had no idea who you were before that, maybe this is some cruel twist of fate that he’s found out this way. “So, let me guess,” you sigh, sitting up a little straighter. “You found out what I do for a living and now you’re wondering why a professional slut wouldn’t even put out for you on the third date?” 

You realise that your accusation is a little crass and a whole lot unfair, but you’ve been down this road with guys before. As soon as they’ve found out about your job, they’ve changed. As much as you’d like Dean to be the exception, you’re not holding your breath that he will be. You bravely look him right in the eyes when he doesn’t immediately answer, noticing them widen at your question as he instantly shakes his head. 

“That’s not why I’m here,” he tries to defend.   

“It’s fine, Dean, you don’t have to pretend to be some Prince Charming, I’ve been here before.” You don’t even mean for your tone to be so aggressive, but it is, and you start to realise just how angry you are to be in this position yet again. Maybe you should give up on dating altogether, just accept that men only want one thing from you. At least then you can’t be disappointed.  

“What?” Dean frowns, his own voice starting to raise, his tone hardening just a little.  “I never said–” he cuts himself off. “Hang on, why are you the one that’s pissed with me? I’m the one that just found out that the girl I’m dating fucks men on camera for the whole world to see and she didn’t even tell me!” 

“But she won’t fuck you, right? That’s what’s bothering you about all this?” you argue back. “You know what, Dean? Fine, I’ll fuck you, let you have something to brag to all your little friends about, but don’t expect a fourth date after this.” 

You rise to your feet and pull the tie on your robe, letting it hang loose to expose your pyjamas underneath, and Dean also rises to his feet, now frowning even deeper than before. 

“No, that’s not why I’m here,” he insists once more. “Does it hurt my ego a little that you didn’t wanna sleep with me? Sure, but I’m a big boy, Y/N, I got over it pretty damn quick. What bothers me, is that you weren’t just honest about it,” he retorts. 

“Can you blame me, Dean?” you implore, feeling pent up frustration turning into something else – something sad and heavy in your chest. “This happens every time. In fact, I don’t know why I’ve not learned my lesson yet, maybe this is all my fault, after all.” 

“What happens, Y/N?” Dean presses, frustrated. “A guy gets upset because you lied to him?” 

“No, a guy I’m dating finds out what I do, and suddenly that’s all he sees… and it’s all he wants from me.” 

Dean opens his mouth, but no sound comes out yet. He shuts it again and takes a deep breath, looking down at the beer bottle in his hand before gently placing it down on the coffee table. He steps closer, and bites down on his plump bottom lip for a moment before opening his mouth and trying again. 

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it like that,” he confesses with another blush. “I guess I was hurt that I’ve been nothing but honest with you, and I thought you’d been the same. I’m not used to dating like this, Y/N. I’m normally the asshole that only wants one thing, but you’re different, and I like you… and I’m not just saying that because I know what you do now. If we’re being completely honest, normally I wouldn’t even have the patience to make it to a third date.” 

You giggle slightly at his brutal honesty, appreciating it far more than all those guys that just pretend to be different to the rest but really only want one thing. And there’s a sincerity about him that makes you believe him when he says he really didn’t know before tonight, and that he really did like you even before he found out. 

“I get it now,” he reassures you, stepping closer again. “You didn’t want me to be like them… and I won’t be… not with you.” 

“Please don’t be,” you beg him quietly, not even thinking about just how fragile and vulnerable it makes you to ask something like that of him. 

“I promise I like you for you, Y/N,” he confirms, “or I wouldn’t be thinking about a fourth date, or how much I wanna kiss you right now and then go straight home afterwards, just so I can prove to you that I’m different.”  

“So my job doesn’t bother you?” you check, feeling your own cheeks heat up. 

“I mean… I’d rather my girlfriend didn’t show everything she owns on camera while sleeping with other men, but… I’m also not going to be the guy that tells you to change for me.” 

“Hang on, girlfriend?” you smirk. “Slow down there, dude, we’ve only been on three dates.” 

Dean instantly blushes violently. “I should go, I’m not used to this kind of rom com crap, I’m trying to be cute, but it’s clearly not working,” he complains, clearly embarrassed.

You laugh softly as you reach out and grab his wrist to stop him from turning away and heading towards the door. 

“You should at least give me that kiss you’ve been thinking about,” you tell him with a gentle smirk, biting down on your bottom lip as a smile begins to flitter over his lips. 

“Are you sure? It’s pretty passionate,” he tries to tease back, clearly getting his confidence back just a little. 

“I think I can handle it, it’s you that you should be worrying about,” you counter, leaning your face closer to his with a quiet giggle.

Please let me know what you think of this fic! Feedback is the fuel to writers' fires! My anon is on if you'd prefer to leave feedback anonymously!

Find out how to get your own commission here!

[ransprang]

thank you @tolkien-fantasy we hope you like your match ups <3

if anyone else wants a personalized fic this is our ko-fi

your bg3 match up is....

HALSIN!!!

SFW

How you met: Halsin was taking a walk through his neighbourhood when your gorgeous garden caught his eye. He was entranced. Never had he seen nature’s bounty bless a land so thoroughly. You caught the man looming over a lovely flower bush. You debated calling the police but settled on walking over to him and cheerfully greeting him good morning. Halsin smiled warmly, and began complimenting your garden. You were happy to share a few techniques with him and invited him inside for tea. He was charmed by your love for nature and wisdom, and started showing up more and more often to chat with you with the excuse of admiring your garden.

In terms of gifts, Halsin would never buy you flowers, only seeds so you could plant them. He would often get you books that he thought you would like or reminded him of you.

Since you are 4”10 Halsin would often accidentally almost step on you. He would be very apologetic about it though. Thanks to his size you would also end up calling him over to reach the top shelves in your house or the grocery store. Sometimes instead of getting you the item himself, he would just pick you up so that you could reach it yourself. 

Both of you being incredibly wise, would never have fights as a couple. All your couples friends would come to you for advice. 

Halsin is the type of person to slow down and appreciate the beauty of the world around him (including you <3).  Your dates would involve long walks in parks and cute picnics. He would make you delicious sandwiches and other baked goods, though they would all probably be vegan.

Halsin respects your work as a death doula since over his 400 year lifespan he has come to appreciate the circle of life. He is always there to offer you support and be a calming presence when things get a little too overwhelming.

Halsin is Oak Daddy and he would often end up somehow unofficially adopting some children who would follow him around. He loves watching you interact with the kids, watching them be put to ease by your bubbly, cheerful and friendly personality the same way he was.

Halsin will never make fun of you or tease you since you don’t like that. Besides, he prefers cracking dad jokes.

He likes engaging in different parts of nature with you. Exploring the lands of Faerun, and trying different activities to interact with the nature. If y’all ever go fishing he’s gonna make this stupid joke: “What do librarians take fishing? Bookworms.”

He’d be very gentle and caring when it comes to your chronic illnesses. Halsin being a powerul and wise druid would know some possible cures or spells to alleviate the pain. He also has a wide network which he’d use for this cause.

NSFW

Halsin is very gentle and uses his years of wisdom and experience to find new sex positions to accommodate your physical illnesses.  

Everytime you go off on tangents about things you have learned from books, Halsin gets horny, he can’t help it. Of course he admires your intelligence, but he also can’t stop imagining how it’d feel to pull his cock out and stuff your mouth with it. 

Because of the height difference, Halsin does have a bit of a size kink. He likes overshadowing your smaller frame with his large body. He’d also love to try standing positions like you giving him a blowie while standing.

Your physical affections are very much encouraged by Halsin. He loves the feel of your arms and lips on his body. Often his mind is filled with innocent love, some other times his mind wanders and he presses your body back against a wall and grabs your ass. 

Halsin has intense animal urges, he growls and grunts. Grits his teeth, as he would hold you by the back of your neck tightly and look into your eyes. His desperation visible as his cock would throb to be released against his pants.

Halsin likes to overstimulate you, he loves to pump you till you are scratching his back or pulling on his hair. “By Oak Father's blessings, you are beautiful like this. Cum for me,” he would say, while he watches you squirm.

He enjoys slow sex too, he would ask to make love to you. He would fuck you side ways so he can kiss you while cuddling and holding you in his arms. 

Halsin picks you up over his shoulder as he would smack your ass cheek and kiss your hips. He would carry you to the bedroom and lay you down gently before playing with your clit while kissing you deeply. You can heel his muscles, and pecks move up and down against your body as his breathing gets heavy.

Sometimes he would like to watch you get undressed or touch yourself as he rubs his cock and strokes it up and down. He will ask you to clean his precum off his red tip before continuing masturbating for you.

Halsin would cook for you after sex, something to get you feeling less tired and energetic again. He would also like to feed you playfully by keeping food on his muscles or taking a bite by keeping small foods on your breasts and licking them off.

your beach waves,

admins sar, sav & san

[irondadfics]

Hello! I was wondering if you could find me a/some fics that have a seriously injured or very sick Peter that also have him going to the hospital? Thank you!

here’s some for you! Some are unfinished but still worth checking out

Friendly Fire by JolinarJackson

Finding a careful truce with the government, the “rogue Avengers” are allowed to return to the Compound where they are put under house arrest. Peter coming to spend one week at the Compound during his summer break couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time as the opportunity to bond a little more with his mentor is overshadowed by a conflict he doesn’t quite understand. When he starts to develop a mysterious medical condition, however, the former team is forced to work together – not just to protect Peter’s identity from the DODC, but also to find the cause for his illness before it’s too late. “He’s my kid,” Tony said, his voice hoarse. “He’s my kid and I failed him.” He covered his eyes and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. “All I ever do is fail him.” Natasha knelt down in front of him and cupped his face in her hands, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she said, “Right now, he doesn’t need you to fix this. He doesn’t need you down here. He needs you over there, in the medbay, by his side.” She thumbed tears from the corners of his eyes and ignored the ones running down her own face. “You haven’t failed him yet.”

A Pair of White Converse by orphan_account

The subway car was quiet. Almost too quiet. Peter’s senses buzzed in the silence. A familiar shiver ran down his spine, and his muscles clenched reflexively. There was danger, his spidey-sense told him that much. But where? Someone sneezed into a tissue before clearing their throat gruffly, and the noise grated in Peter’s over-sensitive ears. A woman in a business suit chattered away on her phone, her voice brusque and commanding. She reminded him of Pepper when she was in a meeting - poised, well-aware of the power she held. Somebody was tapping their nails against the hard plastic of the empty seat beside them in a steady rhythm, almost like a countdown. Tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap. ~~~ TRIGGER WARNING: if something about bombs or explosions on trains triggers you, then please don't read. Take care of yourself.

Happy Binky, the big-ass bunny by Bergen

Even Spider-Man had his limits. One of those limits was a fall from over a hundred feet, that left him with a cracked skull, a broken spine and a severely crushed left leg. Spider-Man is recovering and out of the running. But he gets no rest. Because now, Peter Parker is facing his greatest threat so far: his aunt’s new boyfriend, Happy. And everyone says Happy is a good guy. Happy is a good guy. So Peter isn’t sure why the whole thing makes him feel on edge.

That's why they call me mr. fahrenheit by SparrowFlight246

Peter’s on fire. He wakes up fast, and before he even gets the chance to feel the pain, the aches, the dizziness, he feels the heat. It’s all encompassing, a raging inferno blooming from within him and burning him up from the inside out, and god, it— —god, it hurts. - Peter gets whammied by a 24-hour superbug, and Tony’s left to keep him alive until tomorrow morning. It sounds a hell of a lot easier than it ends up being.

If You Should Die Before Me (Reserve Me A Place In Heaven) by Aurealis

Peter is locked in a flooding cave in and Tony tries to rescue him.

How They Perceive You by ephemeralstark

Peter couldn't finish as the doors to the room they were in flew open and a shaky “you can't go in there,” could be heard.  “Hey, Underoos, fancy meeting you in here!” Mr. Stark said cheerfully, although Peter could see the tenseness in his jaw and the hardness in his eyes that made him mentally groan.  “M-Mr. Star’.” Peter mumbled in greeting.  “Mr. Stark, you can't-”  “-be in here.” Mr. Stark said, interrupting Dr. Kat. “I know, they told me, but judging by what I can see here, it’s a good thing I ignored everyone. That won’t work on him.”  “It’s anaesthetic.”  “I know.” Mr. Stark said. “And it won’t work on him, he’s a funky thing, aren’t you Underoos?”  - Peter's lung spontaneously collapses and Happy does the only thing he can - takes Peter to a regular hospital.

Don't You Let Me Go Tonight by edgeofthegalaxy

In which Tony finds himself taking care of a very sick Peter Parker and things are quickly going downhill.

Peter Parker and Peppermint Don't Mix by spidermanstan

“The reaction seems to be in response to peppermint, boss.” Friday supplied. “Peppermint is known to repel spiders, and can be lethal in large quantities.”  Or In which Peter gives Tony and the gang a rather festive health scare on Christmas Eve

Cyanide? In My Shawarma? by losingmymindtonight

Pepper convinces Tony to bring Peter along on his first dinner with the Rogue Avengers since their pardoning. Poor Tony had thought the whole thing was a recipe for disaster before someone decided to shove some cyanide in his food.

Bohemian Rhapsody by Aurealis, orphan_account

It happened on the route to Avengers Compound for training. Now, Tony Stark lives in the fear of losing the one he would die protecting.

five and one by cinnamontoastcronch

Six times Peter Parker finds himself in a hospital.

A Twisted Upheaval by silentsaebyeok

“I’m afraid, Harrison, you’ve awakened a sleeping giant.” Wilson said. “Tony Stark will do anything and everything to protect those he loves. And with your carelessness, it is inevitable that my criminal empire will be brought to its knees. This is your last opportunity, your last chance to get this right. He is on our radar now.” -- The Kingpin runs the criminal underworld. He is the mastermind and the puppeteer. Tony Stark has been trying to find the elusive gangster for years, but with no luck. But then Peter Parker is kidnapped by an agent of the Kingpin’s, revealing the cracks in an otherwise unshakeable organization. Unlikely alliances form and friendships are made as the criminal underworld begins to unravel.

You always get back up (and I'll catch you when you fall) by SuperHeroTiger

Chapter 1: Day 1: Hanging

Peter Parker always gets back up. But sometimes, he falls, and it hurts, and he breaks. Thankfully Tony Stark is always there to help pull him back to his feet...

[caramelcandycookietwt]

Butter Roll Cookie !! :DD It meant to be simple lazy rough sketch buuuttt..I guess I just zoned out-

Bonus !! Some story (whole fricking fic,,) I made for fun!!! :333

Chars:Caramel Candy Cookie (oc),Affogato Cookie,Butter Roll Cookie,Researcher Cookie (idk which one,,Ig you can pick yourself)

Warnings:Probably bad english (not my native language),long ass text

Notes:Yep,Affo is siren in my AU :D

Footsteps sounded in the very depths of the Laboratorium..Caramel Candy Cookie was walking around it,analyzing everything she sees.What she paid most attention to was the life powder.

"M-miss Caramel Candy Cookie!" - Called her out one of the researchers.

"...!" - She turned to them with a crack and creepy smile.

"..." - They gulps.

Caramel Candy tries to appear less creepy,making her smile more friendly. - "Oh,hello! Did something happened~?"

"N-no,miss Caramel Candy Co-" - The researcher was about to finish their sentence but Candy stopped them.

"Just Caramel Candy,please.Soo..how's research going?" - It was barely noticeable,but Caramel was kind of..pissed off someone add 'Cookie' to her name.

"Great! W-we're already on the 664 step-"

"Puurfect~!" - She suddenly leaned closer to them,grinning teethy again. - "You know,father doesn't like when someone makes him wait for TOOO long~.Finish the research as fast as you can or there will be some..consequences.It's a little warning from me and father,got me~?"

The researcher quickly nodded,sweating heavily.

"Good cookie~" - Candy simply pulled away and patted their head cutely.

"Hmm? Is there someone hereee?" - The voice made Candy's ears perk up as she turned around.

"Ah! I see! You're Caramel Candy,aren't you? Licorice told me much about you!" - He looked curiously at her,but then stopped when he noticed that she stares at him. - "What's wrong,my friend..?"

". . ." - She just continues to stare,seeming to have flashbacks or something.

"Hmm.." - Butter Roll shifts his gaze to the researcher. - "Hey,you! Join the others! Teamwork is the key to success,remember?"

"Y-yes,Director Butter Roll Cookie!" - The researcher cookie left,well..they still didn't want to stay in the same room with this girl.

In that time,Affogato Cookie was wardening around the lab as well,both because of his own curiosity and the fact that it was so amusing to watch those researchers' faces when they fail again.Soon enough,he found them both and immediately payed attention to Caramel Candy and her face..

"Cara..? What that delusional girl doing here,in the place that should reminder her of her past life?? Ugh..Alright,wait here sweetie,your "hot siren twink older brother" (p.s. sorry,It was my life goal to write this,,) is coming to save you.." - He thought as he shaked his head.

"..Hmmm..." - Butter Roll snapped his fingers right in front of Candy's face to 'wake her up',yet there were no use. - "I-" - He notices Affogato. - "Oh,another CoD..! Hmmm..let me guess,you're-"

"Affogato Cookie.Yes." - He simply answered as he come closer to Candy.

"Sooo..do you know what's wrong with her?" - Roll asked with more curiosity in his tone than worry.

"Ah,don't worry,she just..zoned out." - He looked at Candy,making a worried face for a moment. - "..I guess I just take her and leave." - Affo started to drag Candy comedically towards the exit.

"Hmm,so fast already? Prehaps,you could help with the res-"

"No.I prefer not to participate in something so..dirty." - Then,he simply left.

"..Haha! Alright then,I understand! Researching things is not for everyone after all.." - Butter Roll Cookie said,as he came back to the research.

After awhile,when Affogato with Caramel Candy exited Laboratorium,Candy finally 'woke up' and pulled away from Affo.And..accidentally fell on the ground.

"..?" - He turned around in slight surprise when he felt her move.But,when she fell,he couldn't help himself but chuckle slighty..

"Ugh.." - She scratched her head softly,stood up and cleaned her 'dress-coat'. - "Soooo..I did zone out again?"

"..In short..yes."

She blinked twice,slightly embarrassed. - "..Oh." - She then quickly changed her mood back to cocky one. - "You know what..whatever.I'm sure it isn't change any impressions about me~! Hehe.." - Yet,she seems to be still slightly nervous due to her past memories and Butter Roll himself..

"..." - Affogato immediately noticed this,but decided not to tell her about it because he knows there no use to make this stubborn girl open up. - "..Alrighty,if you're already awake..I guess we can simply teleport into our room now.There's no need to waste energy after all.."

"Hmm..you're right..can I get some sweets of yours after~?!" - She started to act more childish as she leaned closer to him with sparkly eyes.

"Haha..yes.Yes you are." - He smirked at her childish behavior,even knowing that most of it all is fake..

P.s. Affogato Cookie the Sillie's protector /hj

[veras1ne]

⋆.࿔“Solicitation.”🦢

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Summary 🕊️: Anakin found himself growing closer with you over the years, even so committing himself to you, and only you. But this time he flew too close to the sun, and you simply followed.

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS🪷: THIS FIC CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED FOR THE FOLLOWING: PIV Sex, Masturbation, Handjob, Stalker!Anakin, kinda Stockholmish, Perverted Anakin, Degrading, Subtle Manipulation, Verbal Consent

Pairing🫧: Padawan!Anakin x Padawan!Reader 🚨BOTH ADULTS, I do not write sexual scenes with underaged characters.🚨

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Hi doves! 🫶🏻 This fic is a little darker than what I usually write but I think it’s pretty good and I hope you all enjoy it! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME! Read at your own risk.

The air was hot and damp, and the silence was replaced with angry grunts and groans of frustration.

Your lightsaber clashed with his, eliciting a nasty clash of electricity as your bodies slid against each other, creating a tango of competition and friendly yet belligerent rivalry. Your face was red; you were panting for breath and trying to remain poised, awaiting his next strike. You were so focused on blocking his attack that you couldn't even sense when he changed direction abruptly, turning his attention elsewhere. His body pressed against yours, pressing down on your back as you were forced to drop your own saber in favor of supporting his weight with your arms, creating distance between your bodies.

He could feel your warmth radiating from you, warming the cool air around him in this little space. It made it harder for you to breathe, and it seemed to make everything slower.

His lightsaber filled the now silent air with buzzing, accompanied by his rushed breaths. You met his eyes with a cold stare opposed to his warm one, forcing him to retract the blade of his saber and smile, "I think this one was a tie.” His voice cracked as his cheeks lit up. "Not this time, Ani.” You returned his smile, slipping through the created distance and regaining possession of your lightsaber. "Besides, you’re going to have to do better than that pickup line, Mister Chosen One."

He shrugged nonchalantly, picking up the robe he had shed earlier in your sparring session. His eyes met yours again with a smirk. "Maybe I will.” Your eyes widened from his snarky comment; you weren’t quite used to his attitude yet when it came to your relationship, or at least, whatever it was.

It was hours after dark, and the both of you should have been in bed ages ago, yet you were both drawn by each other's competitiveness. In Anakin’s mind, it was you that drew him into this rivalry, but he knew you would never let that happen. In some ways, he saw a lot of Master Kenobi in you, down to the way the both of you are sticklers for rules and follow the Jedi Code.

In almost all ways, however, you and Anakin were opposites, which only made you two more alike. His blatant disregard for most rules was infuriating, but you missed the intoxicating feeling of discord and his disobedience whenever you were apart, whereas your obedience made him roll his eyes and tease you, but truly he was entranced by your commitment to the Jedi Order.

It reminded him of how much you were different from himself and from anyone else. You were different, but not in the way everyone else was different; no, you were special to Anakin, and he made it a point in his life to make you his one goal. His one priority His only devotion

He would protect you with all that he had, even if it meant sacrificing his happiness, his peace of mind, and his allegiance to the Jedi Order.

For you, he would be happy with anything, and anything you asked of him, he would comply wholeheartedly.

He followed you around like a shadow, memorizing your routine and what you liked to do and what you hated. He learned what your favorite items of clothing were, and especially what pants you cherished more than the others. His actions were perverted, and he knew it, but to him, it didn’t matter. He wanted to know every inch of your very mind and soul, to stick like an urchin in the back of your mind, consuming it all. He would gladly sacrifice everything for you, but you wouldn’t accept any of it. Even so, Anakin would still fight tooth and nail to get you to trust him enough to open up to him. To see things from his perspective, even though his heart and intentions weren’t as pure as he would want them to be.

The rain outside fastened as raindrops raced against each other on the windows, bashing them with a satisfying ‘thunk.’ Your mind was racing as you hurried down the hall to meet the door of your quarters. You knew staying out this late and being caught would have resulted in a nasty earful from your master, and that was one you could do without for the rest of your life.

Tonight, though, you felt a presence near you, watching you. Following you. It wasn’t just a typical presence; this one had a presence within the force. The watchful eye was not concerning but rather comforting, almost like someone you were familiar with. Yet you couldn’t place who. It didn’t seem to be malicious, but perhaps just confused, or maybe it was merely curious about you, or maybe it was your own subconscious playing tricks on you? Either way, you had chosen to ignore it, entering your quarters, swiftly undressing yourself, and walking into your steamer.

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. The steam began to flow, enveloping you in its warm embrace. You leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor and wrapping your arms around yourself. As you continued to lay there, listening to your heavy breathing, the presence beside you became stronger, almost uneasy, but just as you had noticed it, it had vanished. The warm water overtook your body, clouding your mind as it took you into a deep sleep.

When you awoke, you found yourself under your comforter, dressed in a large shirt and your favorite underwear, neither of which you can remember putting on. In fact, all you could remember was taking a shower, never getting out, or putting on new clothes. Your room was now clean, and everything was restored to its previous place, almost as if it were brand new. You rose from the bed, glancing at the chrono on your nightstand, to discover your tardiness for the meeting with your master and the council—somewhat of a performance check-up, they insisted.

Your eyebrow twitched as you found your robe and underclothing neatly laid out for you, exactly where you leave them every night. As you donned your uniform clothing, the smell of linen and soap filled your nose, reminiscent of freshly cleaned laundry and your favorite scent of dryer sheets. You paced down the hall, fumbling with your lightsaber as you tried to hurriedly put it back in its holster.

While your focus was on your saber, you failed to notice the person in front of you as you found yourself hitting a rather large and, frankly, quite muscular back. "Apologies, I didn’t see where I was—Anakin?"

He had turned to meet your flustered face, flushed with embarrassment from the moment before. "Excuse me one moment, Master." He dismissed his previous conversation, now focusing on you with a smirk, saying, "I see you’re in quite the hurry. You frowned, now attempting to catch your breath, and rustled around with your robes, attempting to look right again. "Ani, I don’t have time for our quarrels right now; I have a meeting to attend. He paused your rushed explanations with his hand. "It’s already been taken care of; your master was quite understanding when I told them you were under the weather.” Your frown turned into curiosity, then anger. “Anakin, you can’t do this. I have a reputation to uphold; I’m a value to this order, and I won’t let you ruin it.” Your tantrum was short-lived as he grabbed your wrist, took you into the holomap room, and force-slammed the door shut. "I did all of this for you, and you still won’t let me in.” Why won’t you let me in? His eyes were filled with sorrow and misery; it almost seemed pitiful. “Anakin, please help me understand. I don’t get what’s wrong; why are you doing this?” Your voice snapped with confusion as you took his hands in yours, trying to provide some comforting aid to his obvious temper tantrum. "I love you; I’ve done everything for you. I know everything about you; I clothed you, I cared for you, I need you.” His words left you stunned. How could he say something like that? You watched him as his eyes darkened. Anakin, I can’t do this. You know it’s not right. It never will be. "If it’s wrong, then I would rather be caught dead than be right. If you are a curse, then you’re the only curse I would ever wish to be cursed with. I don’t want to live if it’s without you.” He responded, looking into your eyes with such confidence, yet sadness still lied as one truth he wished went untouched.

Your legs felt weak as you placed your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating as his hand caressed the side of your neck. You could feel the tension between the two of you, and you knew, without a doubt, that he loved you, and maybe you loved him too. There was something about his confession that ignited your soul. Something about the passion that burned inside of you and the tenderness that radiated in his words Maybe it was guilt or the knowledge that he wouldn’t give up; either way, something drew you to him in that moment. You lifted your head off of his chest, looking directly into his eyes. "I want you too, Ani.” Your words were simple, straightforward, and sweet.

His lips parted to meet yours, his kiss calm but obviously frustrated and angry as it turned harsh rather quickly, but you welcomed him, welcoming his tongue into your mouth, tasting every last bit of him, devouring him completely.

You kissed him harder, pulling him closer, wrapping your arms around his waist, and letting out soft moans from deep in your throat. Your core came closer to his cock as you brought yourself closer to his body, feeling the length of him press tightly against you. He groaned as your tongues met once again, fighting for dominance as you tugged on his hair.

His strong grip on your hips tightened as he pushed against you, his erection hardening and pushing against you with increasing force. You released a small gasp, causing him to pull away and attack your neck, leaving tingling spots of passion in their wake as they flushed your skin.

A moan escaped from your lips as he began to trail kisses along your jaw line until reaching your earlobe, his teeth biting on the flesh and his tongue licking the sweet spot. He nipped at it lightly, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin, making you gasp. When you finally opened your mouth to give him another kiss, looping your thumb into his holster, you slowly undressed him as his hands made their way to your own pants as you undressed each other, using your heartbeats as a background to your melody.

You unbuttoned his shirt as he removed your belt. He pulled your tunic over your head, his hand trailing down your bare back and pressing against your ass. He kissed you deeply once more as he brought you to a nearby table, your naked body relishing in the cool temperature of the abandoned table. You pulled apart from the heated, passionate kiss and looked down at his fat cock, your fingers beginning to work their way down towards him. You gripped his dick with your free hand, giving it a light squeeze as he gasped, gripped onto your shoulders, and began thrusting into your hand. He moved faster, thrusting himself deeper into your hand as you began to move faster. His kisses were gentle but pleasurable as he ran his hands down your chest, tweaking your nipples and pinching them.

His thrusts grew in ferocity and speed as you held him close to your face as your other hand pressed against your swollen clitoral area, bringing you pleasure with each passing stroke of your finger. He groaned softly, his body becoming tense as his climax neared, his grip becoming tighter. "Ani, please. I want you, please. Your voice was mimicking a whisper, conserving your voice as if it were the last words you would ever speak.

His hands landed at your hips, massaging your skin before taking your hands and preparing himself to enter your tight cunt. He pushed gently against you, sliding in and out as slowly as possible. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him intensely, encouraging him to give you more.

Soon, his thrusts became rougher, his hands moving up your sides as he entered you fully. "I spent months following you, loving you, and desiring you, and now you belong to me. You’ll only ever belong to me.” He groaned, moving faster inside of you, driving himself deeper and deeper. "Maker, it’s just like I imagined every night. So warm and tight, my own little ragdoll. You were moaning louder as he began slamming harder and faster, both of you breathing heavily as your nails clawed at his back, praying and hoping for every single last drop of his love.

His blood, sweat, and tears were never something you knew you needed, and now that they were given to you, you never wanted to let go. "What a perfect little pussy. You’re going to be a good whore, right? Take all of my cum like the precious little bitch you are.” His words kept you panting and moaning as he kept going until his entire body shuddered, releasing into your begging pussy as you cried out, crying his name as he continued to come down from his orgasm, but needlessly pounding into you, racing against time to meet your own climax.

You pulled him close by the back of his thighs, burying your face into his shoulder and desperately kissing his neck. His cum was painted deep inside your hole as you convulsed and shook once you found release, your thick cream making a mess of your thighs and his lower half.

The warm liquid was quickly absorbed into the table, creating an uncomfortable coldness against your legs. After a few moments of blissful silence, you broke it with your quiet words. "You did all of this just to be with me, Ani? Your voice was hoarse and scratchy, a gross display of the events that had just played out.

He pulled away slightly to glance at your eyes, giving a smile of admiration to you, saying, "I’d be nothing without you. Everything I do is for you; all I ever wanted was you.” He leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on the valley between your chest, his warm lips igniting your body as you lay there, both satisfied and more worried than ever, but the other parts of you felt loved and appreciated. His breath hitched as he looked at you once more, tired and nearly lifeless, only whispering to himself what no one else would hear, only him.

“I will kill for you, Angel.”

[mushyblushyredhead]

Cure For a Bad Day—MCU

No thots. Just a silly fluffy Irondad thought I had to turn into a story. :3 If you don’t like, don’t read. But if you’re here for Irondad fluff or just fluffy Marvel tickles, then come on in! OvO

Word Count: 5,000

Summary: After a rough week of school mishaps, Peter starts to doubt his future at being a good student and even being Spider-Man. It’s up to Tony Stark to remind Peter he’s still worth it, and bring back his mentor’s favorite smile. (This is a tickle fic duh, purely platonic)

Lee! Peter

Ler! Tony

If there was one thing Peter Parker was good at, was multitasking. How many other teens could juggle the responsibilities of high school while fighting crime almost every night in the not-so-friendly-neighborhood, and still manage to finish their homework on time for the next day?

Somehow he was able to do both.

But like any other student, he had his challenges. Like today, for example. Peter was in the middle of trying to finish a lab report essay for chemistry class. He was pretty stressed out, as he hadn’t had so much time to work on it for the past three weeks stopping midnight crimes and shenanigans almost four nights a week.

Now, here he was, hunched over at his desk, typing away at his laptop attempting to finish his lab report that was due tomorrow. He was mid-paragraph, stuck on page three out of the required five.

Normally, Peter would rack his science loving brain and throw something together quick, but tonight was different. He was having trouble figuring out more words and what to say in the report.

His eyes were starting to hurt from staring at his computer screen so long. His spine ached from being hunched over like a shrimp in his chair for hours. And his stomach growled; he had skipped dinner and was insistent with himself that he could have time to eat after he got his report done.

He looked at his bedside clock. 10:37pm. Oh come on! I’ll have to go to bed soon and I’m not even close to being done.

Peter sighed. Sometimes, his full time job being Spider-Man could really put a dent into his student life.

There was a knock at his door. “Peter? You alright?” the soft voice of his Aunt asked.

“I’m okay, Aunt May,” Peter stifled a yawn. “Just finishing up homework.”

“You said you were finishing up two hours ago.”

“Well this time, I mean it. I am almost done.”

“Alright if I come in?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

The sight of her tired, stressed, hunched over nephew saddened May. “Oh, Peter, you’ve been at that science report of yours all afternoon. Why not call it a night and get some rest?”

“I can’t,” Peter’s eyes stayed glued to his screen. The blinking curser that sat there unmoving for hours seemed to mock him. “I have to finish this tonight. This thing is worth a lot of my grade this semester.”

“Hmm, okay how about this?” May offered. “I’ll let you knock off school tomorrow, and send a note to your teachers that you’re out sick. It’ll give you an extra day to finish your report.” Her lips ruled into a soft grin. “Maybe after that, you and I can head off to the mall and buy you some more of those Squishables things you secretly like.”

Normally, Peter would laugh and jokingly say what a bad influence she was letting him cut school like that. But tonight, he didn’t even crack a smile. “No thanks. I’ll get this done before I go to sleep. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Aunt May saw that tonight would be one of those nights where Peter wouldn’t budge out of his zombie induced state. So she decided to let him be. “Alright then,” she sighed. “Just please don’t stay up past midnight. I don’t want to get another phone call saying you slept through class and other kids decided to draw on your face.”

“Yeah, will do.”

And with that, she shut the door.

Peter rubbed his eyes with a sigh. “C’mon…c’mon…gotta finish. Ugh! Why can’t I finish?” The teen was just about to give up and call it quits when the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood out on end. His Spidey tingle was going off!

Despite feeling achy and sluggish, he quickly stood up and tore off his clothes, slipping into his Spider-Man costume. He pulled his mask over his face and was about to jump out the window when he stopped himself.

Aunt May might come back to check if I really did go to sleep. Dang it! Ok uhh…oh wait! That’ll work!

Peter grabbed some day old clothes off the floor and shoved them under his blanket, pushing them into a sort of Peter-shaped lump. Hopefully, if his aunt came to check on him she wouldn’t look too closely.

Grabbing his phone, he hopped off the windowsill and swung out into the night.

By the time Peter managed to sneak back into his room through the window, he was exhausted. He felt like he was about to pass out as soon as he stepped into his bedroom.

He flopped onto his bed, lifting his Spidey mask off his sweaty face. He didn’t have the energy to take off his costume just yet. He was so tired.

He had stopped a home break-in coordinated by three criminals. Normally, a crime like a break-in was child’s play to Peter. But after spending the whole week fighting off crime and running on four hours of sleep, and topped with the stress of his recent assignment, Spider-Man suddenly didn’t have the energy to do a lot of fighting tonight.

His web-shooting was uncoordinated, one punch nearly knocked him out, and he appeared to be wobbly when he landed.

Even the criminals seemed to noticed how he wasn’t putting much of a fight, and taunted him while having their weapons pointed at the sleepy hero.

Peter barely managed to stop those three criminals, and earned himself a bruise on his jaw and knee. So by the time the boy made it home, the clock read 1:55am.

Peter wanted to scream in frustration. Well there goes another sleepless night, he thought as he quietly stripped himself out of his Spidey suit and grabbed a T-shirt from his floor pile.

He cringed as his brain calculated the few hours of sleep he would be getting again.

The next day at school turned out to be so much worse. First, Peter was late to his first class due to him sleeping through his many alarms he set for that morning. Next, he ended up forgetting his lunch—and even emergency lunch money—from rushing to get ready earlier. And then, as if that wasn’t enough to put him in a bad mood, he completely forgot about his lab report.

His stomach churned as he heard the teacher announce for everyone to hand in their reports to the front.

“Peter?” The voice of his best friend made him whip around.

“What is it, Ned?”

“What’s up with you?” Ned asked in a hushed whisper. “You look like you haven’t slept in a month, and you’re acting way jittery than normal.” Ned’s eyes widened. “Is it the spider sense?! Is there danger somewhere right now? Do you need me to come up with an excuse so you can get out of here?”

Peter could barely register his friend’s overlapping questions. “No, Ned, I don’t need anything. And it’s not that. I just…” he sighed, burying his face into his sweater covered arms. “Trouble in the neighborhood late at night, and I completely forgot to finish my lab report.”

“What?!” Ned whisper-shouted. “Y’know normally I’d scold you like your aunt does, but you look like you’ve been through enough already.” He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Need me to make up some excuse? Save your skin at least a little?”

Peter shook his head miserably. “No point. I’m screwed enough as is here. Total failure.”

“Are you su—“

Their conversation was interrupted by the teacher snapping at them. “Parker? Your report, please.”

Uneasiness filled Peter’s stomach again. It felt borderline nauseous. He slowly walked up to the front desk. “I uh…don’t really have it physically with me right now.” He pointed towards his lab table. “I-It’s on my laptop.”

“Trouble printing it out?” The teacher asked.

“Something like that.” Peter could feel his cheeks growing warm.

The teacher sighed with a head shake. “Well then if you email it to me in the next three minutes, I’ll still give you credit. But next time, Peter, make sure you are able to find a reliable printing source ahead of time when you’re printing your reports. Don’t just try to print them last minute, that’s when these incidents happen.”

“Yes, of course.” Peter swallowed dryly as he shuffled back to his table. His fingers trembled as he opened his laptop, the unfinished pages of his lab report staring back at him. It felt like a punch to the gut. Well…something is better than nothing, right?

After school, the poor exhausted teen wanted nothing more than to go home, face plant onto his bed, and hope his mattress would swallow him up.

He was surprised to see a text message from Happy on his phone screen. Meet at the Avenger’s facility right after school. Your ride is waiting for you out front. New missions are heading your way. :) -Happy

New mission? That perked Peter up a little. At least he could forget about school for the weekend. Sulking in his room would have to wait. Right now, he was curious as to what sort of new mission awaited him at the Avengers’ headquarters!

The car trip didn’t take so much time. It did, however, leave the boy to replay the events that had just happened prior. He slumped in his seat. Suddenly, a new mission with the Avengers didn’t seem to excite him anymore.

Why can’t I just be more responsible? Peter bitterly asked himself. The other Avengers are able to juggle their normal lives and jobs and still manage to fight bad guys all without breaking a sweat. Heck, even Mr. Stark can do it. So why can’t I? *sigh* Am I really that bad of a student? What’s my future going to look like if I can’t even make it through high school?

Ugh! Why is your entire self worth and future determined by one stupid grade?!

Upon arrival, Peter didn’t seem as starry-eyed or ecstatic anymore. At least, that was the noticeable vibe Tony Stark noticed with his young mentee. He, in fact, looked in bad shape. Dark rings circled under his eyes, he looked disheveled like he had been sleeping under a bridge the whole week, and he seemed very anxious. Not the typical anxious-excitement Peter normally projected whenever he heard any mention of a potential new mission.

Tony wrapped an arm around the silently depressed teen. “So how goes it, kid? Survived another week of school?”

Peter scoffed. “Just barely.”

“I hear ya. But hey, cheer up. It looks like a certain web-slinging hero will be tagging along on more serious world-saving missions with the rest of us. Now how’s that upgrade for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?”

The boy merely shrugged. “I guess it could be good for my rep. So long as I don’t screw anything up again.”

“Hey, look. You just made a couple mistakes, underoos. It happens to all of us when we’re starting out as heroes. But this a fresh start; a chance to really show the others and the world that your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man protects more than just the neighborhood and supermarkets. He protects the world, too.” He gave Peter’s shoulder a shake.

“Okay,” Peter said with a small sigh. Oh how he wished he could get back to sulking in his room right about now.

Tony started to grow more worried about his mentee that afternoon. He assumed the kid had a bad day at school or was simply tired after a long week, but this seemed much worse.

Peter didn’t go on mini gush-rants about random things. He didn’t spit out any science jokes or puns. He didn’t even quote any old movies. Peter Parker always quoted his vintage iconic quips and lines. It was like his second vocabulary—first vocabulary being talking in only Star Wars lines.

Something was really wrong. And Stark was not going to wait around any longer to find out.

When Tony finally found Peter, he was sitting upside down from the corner of the ceiling, the hood of his sweater almost covering his face, earbuds in and mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

“Peter?”

Said teen took his earbuds out. His gaze softened when he met eyes with his mentor. “Oh, hey Mr. Stark. What brings you here?”

“That’s just what I want to ask you, kid. What are you doing up there by yourself?”

Peter shrugged. “Bored.”

“Bored?! In the freakin’ Avengers’ facility?”

“Well, sorry. Guess I’m just a little too tired today.”

He’s trying to avoid my question, Tony thought. “A better question would be, why have you been moping around since you got here? Happy even said that you were so quiet in the car ride here. No offense, kid, but you’re never the quiet type. Especially around Happy. So what gives?”

The boy averted his game. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just tired like I said. Y’know, keeping the neighborhood safe almost every night really drains your energy.”

“Cut the charades, kid,” Tony said firmly. “I wanna know what’s up with you. I’ve known you long enough to know that even with your nighttime gig as Spider-Man, you somehow always have enough energy to set Happy’s blood pressure spiraling, and annoy the rest of the Avengers with your weird vine refreshes and those picture things you call memes.”

Peter averted his gaze. How could he tell his mentor and biggest idol all the crappy events that took place that week? It wasn’t like it was a serious topic. It was just his own failure to be responsible.

“I don’t know,” he answered quietly.”

“Hmm…let me guess. Trouble at school?”

Peter looked up.” Maybe?”

“Alright, give me names here. A description of the punk. Who’s organs do I have to obliterate?”

“What? No, no, no, it’s not like that, Mr. Stark,” Peter quickly objected. “It’s just…rough days at school is all. And my student life.”

“I see. Want to come down from there and talk about it? I’ll have Happy make us some hot chocolate.”

“Alright.”

The warm hot chocolate was very comforting. After the long harsh week of events, a hot comforting drink was just what Peter needed. And it helped ease the hesitance he had earlier so he was able to come clean about what had happened.

“Wow,” Tony said, finally breaking the silence. “It sounds like the week really treated you terribly.”

“Tell me about it.” Peter fixed his gaze on his cup.

“Hey, listen, kid. You just had a bad week. Things will get better. You gotta believe that.”

The teen hero frowned. “How do you know I won’t keep failing? I’ve been screwing up nonstop this entire week. And even when I try to do better, everything always turns out worse. It’s like the universe hates me because I’m Spider-Man.”

Before Tony could respond, Peter kept talking. “And its so dumb, too. This whole situation. I’m sitting here whining about something that could’ve been avoidable if I had been a more responsible student. There’s no one to blame but me. And look at you, Mr. Stark. If you were in my shoes, you wouldn’t be a failing student just because you’re Ironman. I just want to do better, but I don’t feel like I can. And I know the school system doesn’t believe I can either.”

“Hey now, don’t say that,” Tony protested. “You’re a brilliant kid, Peter. Yes, you’re going to hit roadblocks along the way with your full time gig as Spider-Man and as a full time student, but you’re going to be fine. You just need a little encouragement. When you’re out there saving the neighborhood and face-to-face with an enemy that makes you feel like it’s hopeless, I’ve noticed that you never back down. No matter how difficult it is. This right here isn’t any different.

And if the crappy school system that’s been putting too much pressure on their students and treating them like garbage doesn’t believe in you, I do. I believe you can do it, Peter. You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

Peter almost wanted to tear up at the words his mentor was telling him. Damn, he really was good at this inspirational uplifting speech thing. Maybe even better than Captain America.

He couldn’t stop the tears, though. He had been feeling so emotional this entire week and after hearing Tony freakin’ Stark rant about how he was worth it despite everything he was feeling, Peter really needed to let some tears out.

Seeing the boy’s eyes fill with tears made Tony panic. Had he made the kid feel worse with his words? “Oh god, are you alright? Did i go too far with that?”

Peter let out a breathy laugh. “No, no, you’re good.” He sniffed, and wiped his tears with his sweater sleeve. “Sorry I got emotional back there. Your uplifting speech just got me teary-eyed. Thanks, Mr. Stark. I guess I really needed to hear that.”

Tony gave the teen’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Anytime, kiddo. Glad I could help. Now, I do want to help out with your school problem a little so you’re not feeling traumatized Monday morning.”

The boy tilted his head like a curious puppy. “Huh? What do you mean help out?”

“Well I sort of did a little research on what your next assignments for the week are going to be on for your classes. And I took the liberty to have FRIDAY complete next week’s assignments so you’ll have the entire week off to not worry about your homework.”

“You…wait, are you saying that you had FRIDAY hack into my teachers’ lesson plans and did all my homework for me?!”

Tony nodded, stirring his half drunk mug with a spoon. “Yup. Your homework’s done with all the right answers so it’ll guarantee to bring your grades back up to an A+.” He paused. “Well, an A- to make it seem like you did it.”

Peter didn’t know if he should feel grateful or disbelief. “I-I…thank you? I guess?”

Tony smirked. “What, that’s it? I do you a favor here so you can have the week off. You can have more time to focus on your web-slinging career, or use the extra time to take a nap in home room, or stare at girls more between classes.”

Peter blushed at that last comment. “Okay, fine. Thank you, Mr. Stark. I really appreciate it.” For the first time that week, Peter smiled. A genuine warm smile. Then his face melted to concern. “Wait…do you think that it’s cheating?”

“Uhh….nah,” Tony assured him with a wave of his hand. “Hey, as long as it gets you the grades you deserve. Besides, you aren’t even going to use 90% of the crap they teach you in school. You’re gonna forget it immediately anyways.”

Peter giggled, covering his mouth with his sleeve. “Oh my god, Mr. Stark. You’re just as a bad influence as May.”

“Good! Maybe you can learn something here about all the shortcuts and loopholes to high school.”

“There are noho loopholes or shortcuhuhuts to high school!”

“Hell yeah there are! How do you think I got to where I am today?” Tony gestured to himself. “You think all of this happened by being a full time student? No way. High school did nothing to help me be who I am today. All it did was give me anxiety, student debt, and unrealistic expectations on what I needed to thrive in the real world. Oh yeah, high school teaches you nothing on how to adult or pay your bills. But hey, at least they teach you that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, right?”

Peter could not stop his giggles anymore. His giggles turned to laughter, and even while trying to muffle them through his sleeves, Tony could see the corner of his smile and the blush that dusted his cheeks.

It was always so easy to make the kid laugh, and Tony always liked to take advantage of it every time.

“Y-You’re terrihihible, Mr. Stark!” Peter said through his bright laughter. “A bahahad influence! Y-You’re even worse thahahn Loki!”

“Excuuuuse me?!” Tony pretended to be offended. He sat up, scraping the chair back, which made Peter’s eyes widen in alarm.

“Wait, no!” Peter surprised Tony by flipping onto the ceiling. “Don’t—Don’t tickle me, Mr. Stark!” Peter had had enough recent experience knowing what that look meant every time Tony got up from his seat. Having his own mentor know of his one dreaded weakness—the fact that he was insanely ticklish—and using that to mess with him anytime he got depressed or a little too snarky always flustered him to bits.

Tony grinned up at the spider teen on the ceiling. “Huh? Tickle you? Now why on earth would I do that? Oh right, because your ticklishness got dialed up to eleven from the spider bite. Isn’t that what you told me?”

Peter’s blush darkened. “S-Stop saying that so casually! I now what you’re up to!”

“Hey, I’m not up to anything. And honestly, I wasn’t going to tickle you.” A sinister smirk spread across his mentor’s face. “But since that was the first thought that crossed your mind…”

Peter’s tummy did fluttery flip flops. “Oh c’mon!! Mr. Stark nohoho! Dohohon’t you dare!”

“Too late. FRIDAY, a little help?”

“Yep. On it.”

The poor flustered teen squealed in alarm as one of Tony’s Ironman suits came flying over to him, trying to pry him off the ceiling. It was surprisingly easy, as Peter was already too giggly and flustered to concentrate on his sticking to the ceiling.

With Peter off the ceiling, he was dumped ungracefully onto the floor in front of Tony where the Iron suit immediately grabbed and pinned the kid’s wrists above his head.

“What the—FRIDAY you traitohohor!” Peter squawked. He pulled on his wrists, internally pouting that his spider strength wasn’t working in that moment.

“Hey now, don’t you insult FRIDAY,” Tony playfully scolded with a poke to the boy’s stomach. Peter squeaked at the touch. “We’re just here to help you out. I know how rough it’s been with school lately, and I don’t want to lose my underoos just because of that. You’ve been real upset ever since you got here and I know you’ve been upset all week. So no more of that now. You should know the Avengers’ facility is a no-sadness zone!”

And with that said, Tony right away scribbled both hands into his kid’s belly, making Peter screech.

“EeeAAAHAAaahahaaa! HeHEHE—Heyyyy! No faHAHAhahair!” Peter thrashed and kicked, instinctively trying to pull his arms down to no avail. “Mr. Stahahark! Nohoho pleasHEEAheeheehease!”

“Sorry, no can do, kiddo,” Tony casually answered over his mentee’s squeaky laughter. “I haven’t seen my underoos’ favorite smile in forever so I’m making up for lost time!”

“B-But nohohot like tha—HAAAHA! Heheheyyy!” Peter arched his back as Tony’s fingers crept up to his ribs. His blush now spread to the tips of his ears. He was cursing internally at how his Spidey strength was suddenly no longer there as he was laughing like a maniac.

Any other intense situation, Spider-Man would be able to easily get himself out of, but this was different. The ticklish sensations buzzing throughout his nervous system plus all his laughing was sapping any strength he had left, including his spider strength.

As Tony let his fingers inch closer to the teen’s underarms, he was playfully shocked when Peter tried to bite him. He pulled his hands back with a gasp.

“Whoa! What the heck was that?! What are you, a biting tarantula now?”

“You were getting too close to my armpits!” Peter shot back.

“Ohhhh I see.” Tony flashed him an evil grin that reminded Peter of that creepy, murderous knife-hiding doll from that 80s movie that always came back from the dead. “That’s your death spot, isn’t it?”

Peter shifted uncomfortably, his blush darkening. “N-No..?”

“Wrong answer.”

“AAAAAAHHERRHWHRHFEAAHAAAAAHAAAHA!! No Mr. Stahahahark!! NAAAHAHAHAO!!” Peter squirmed like a fish out of water, his body instinctively trying to twist away from Tony’s evil scribbling fingers. But no matter which way he turned, it didn’t help much. Tony’s fingers seemed glued to his hollows.

“EEEEAAAAHEHEEHHAAAA!! M-MR STAHAHARK!! IT…IHIHIT REALLY TIHIHAHAHA TIHIHICKLES BAAAAHAHAHD!!”

“That’s the point, kiddo! It’s more—whoa! You are just extra kicky today, aren’t you? FRIDAY, a little help here?”

“NOOOHOHOHO!”

Tony and FRIDAY had switched places; FRIDAY grabbing ahold of Peter’s flailing legs while Tony grabbed the boy’s wrists in one hand. Even as the two switched places, Tony couldn’t help but notice how Peter wasn’t putting up a fight to get away. He could’ve easily gotten up and bolted the second they let go of his limbs, or curl up with his arms wrapped around his torso so they couldn’t bring his arms up anymore, but he just laid there with a silly smile and blushy cheeks. Almost as if he secretly wanted this to keep going.

Tony had to ask the billion dollar question. “Y’know Pete, despite all your complaints, you’re not even putting up a fight to stop me or FRIDAY. Could it be because…you actually like this? You like getting tickled?”

Peter fell silent. He looked anywhere but his mentor’s eyes. He opened his mouth to answer but all that came out was stutters and keyboard smashes.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Really? Look, I’m barely holding down your arms here and you’re not even trying to get away!” Peter’s face felt like was on fire now. “You know you can easily break out of my grip—even FRIDAY’s—and hightail it outta here, buuuut…I’m starting to think you don’t want to. Am I right or what?”

“I-I…” was all that came out of Peter’s mouth. Finally, he sighed and locked eyes with his mentor. His flustered, trembling lip suddenly curled into a crap-eating grin. With a defiant smirk, Peter stuck his tongue out. “Bite me, old man!”

Tony’s mouth formed a perfect O. Oh the kid was so asking for it! Recovering in a millisecond, Tony cracked his knuckled for dramatic effect. “That’s it! You’re finished, kid! You know I’m sensitive about my age!”

Peter actually had the nerve to stick his tongue out at him again.

Okay, so maybe truthfully he didn’t want this playful attack to cease. It was a great stress reliever after the rough week he endured. And if Peter wanted to dig a little deeper into it, while he was being tickled to pieces and screeching at frequencies only dogs should hear, he couldn’t think of all the bad things that had happened—his lab report incident, academic pressure, or even any general insecurities he had as Peter Parker and Spider-Man.

All he could think about in the heat of the moment was the playful ticklish feeling, the waves of dopamine, and the pure fun bonding vibe. So despite all the squealing and squirming, Peter was genuinely having fun. He’d be bummed if Tony stopped so soon. So he had to provoke his mentor some more to keep the fun going.

And that’s just what he did.

Oh, but if only FRIDAY hadn’t been traitorous enough to actually look up other sorts of tickling methods and suggest them to Tony to use against Peter.

“W-Wait! Wahahahit!! NonononoAAAAAAHAHAHEEHEHAHAAAA!! EEEEEHHAAAHAEHE!! THAT FEEHEEHEEHEELS AHAHA—AWFUFUFUL!! *snort* NAAAAAAHEHEAAHAAAAHAHAAA!!”

“Did you just snort, kid?!”

“N-Nohoho!! Shuhuhut uhuhup!! AAAAH! Waitwaitwait!! I tahahahake it baHAAAAAAHAHAAAAA!!”

Better hope that none of the Avengers nor his enemies finds out about Spider-Man’s adorable little weakness.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Punish You With Pleasure (Pleasure You With Pain)

A/N: happy belated birthday @moodymelanist! This is a super late gift, but hopefully the absolutely filthy smut will make up for it. And hoo boy is it filthy! 😉 I know this is a crackship and not everyone's cup of tea, so this is your friendly reminder to simply don't read if you don't like. Also, the consent in this fic is a bit dubious so please read with care! Special shout out to @witch-and-her-witcher for reading this for me and assuring me it was the right side of insane

Read on AO3

Five hundred gold marks.

She'd spent five hundred gold marks on her little escapade the previous night.

He'd seen the way Feyre's eyes would go distant mid-paint stroke sometimes. The way she'd start to wring her fingers together and worry at her bottom lip as her thoughts trailed to her eldest sister. He'd seen the dark circles that clung to the skin beneath Cassian's eyes even well after they'd returned home to peace. He knew his brother was almost constantly perched on that rooftop, praying to the Mother and the Cauldron for anything other than another rejection from a female who clearly never thought twice about him. Rhys had to order him away to Illyria just so his brother might finally get some sleep.

But Feyre's expression this morning when the bill from the previous night arrived had been the final straw. Those soft blue eyes he loved so much had misted over, heat creeping up her neck in shame, as she started forlornly down at her breakfast. A single tear had slipped down across her cheek and into her eggs.

Rhys had been done then. Done with his family hurting. Done with the cause being this cruel, stubborn, selfish female. This is his Court, his city, and he won't allow for this to go on any longer. He intends to put Nesta Archeron in her place.

He can't remember the last time he's been to this part of Velaris. Many of the cobblestones beneath his shoes are cracked, some even fully broken or missing. Paint chips and peels off many of the buildings, but it doesn't stop any of the taverns lining the streets. Doesn't stop the patrons entering their doors or stumbling out of them.

The unfortunate building Nesta Archeron has chosen as a home is as unassuming as it is rundown. Dull gray stone and broken shutters line the outside, and as Rhys steps through the doors, it's rickety stairs that greets him. He follows them up to the third floor, his feet carrying him down the winding hall.

There's a distinct scent that seems to permeate the whole space around him. Stale alcohol. Food gone bad. Unbathed residents. Rhys can't help but grimace, can't help but turn his nose up to that scent, to all the grime that seems to bleed from the walls. He'll certainly need a long soak after this, and almost instinctively, his fingers move to his sleeve, picking and brushing at the fabric.

There’s nothing particularly remarkable about the door at the end of the hall. Nothing of note either. Old nails in the wood may have held up rusted numbers or letters at some point, but not any longer. Raising his fist, Rhys knocks twice, hard and curt, against the wood. There’s rustling on the other side, the slide of locks, and then the door pulls open, Nesta Archeron standing before him.

She has on some male’s shirt, but judging by the scent behind her, or lack thereof, whoever was in the apartment is long gone now. She’s barely bothered to do up the few buttons at the bottom of the shirt. It leaves a deep v of skin exposed and on full display. The expanse of her collarbones, down through the valley of her breasts, all the way down to her navel. Dark circles cling to the pallor skin beneath her eyes, but they’re still a piercing, stormy blue, still narrowed in a glare in greeting.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Nesta sneers, her appearance doing nothing to damper the bite to her tone.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Rhys asks coolly instead of answering.

“No.”

Nesta tries to slam the door in his face, but Rhys is quicker. His hand shoots out, catching the wood and stopping its momentum with ease. It doesn't take much effort to force the door open again, to shoulder his way past Nesta and into her apartment. The lingering scents of males is especially potent inside, a mingled, stale mix of sweat and sex. Rhys doesn't bother swallowing down his blatant sniff nor his frown, reveling in the way Nesta's gaze hardens even more at the reaction.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta demands again, crossing her arms over her chest. The gesture only draws further emphasis to the swell of her breasts, threatening to send them spilling through the opening in the shirt she wears.

Rhys tears his gaze away from her, eying the bedroom and the rumbled sheets he can see through the open doorway instead. “Company left already? Perhaps consider washing your sheets. I’m sure the scent of revolving males is quite off putting and would send any sane male running.”

“Fuck you,” Nesta seethes, practically snarling as she spits the words at him.

“And what number male was that last night? Or have you already lost track?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Rhys chuckles darkly, stepping closer to her again and using the few inches he has on her to look down and offer a smile that’s all teeth. “It is when it’s in my city.”

For her credit, Nesta doesn’t allow the proximity or his height to cow her. She holds her ground, raising her chin defiantly. “I didn’t realize that was part of your job description, keeping tabs on all the fucking that happens. That must be exhausting.”

“If I were you, I’d keep that smart mouth of yours closed.”

“And if I were you, I’d get out of my apartment,” Nesta fires back, gesturing toward the door.

“Yours? Did you forget who pays the rent for this shit hole?” Rhys chuckles dryly, making his disgust clear as he pointedly looks around. When he finally meets Nesta’s gaze again, her hands are clenched into fists, that defiance burning as bright as the flames he knows skitter just beneath her skin. “Although, clearly you have no issue with whose money you’re spending considering what you spent last night.”

The barest hint of a smirk tugs up the corner of Nesta’s lips. “What can I say? All the bar patrons were all too happy to raise a toast to their High Lord when they heard drinks were on him.”

“Do you think this is a joke? You spent five hundred gold marks last night!”

“Only five hundred?”

The growl is escaping the back of Rhys’s throat before he can stop it. “Do you take joy in being a selfish bitch?”

“Does it get you off playing big, bad High Lord? I’m sure Feyre loves this little act.”

“Don’t speak about your sister, your High Lady, that way.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. “So much talk, and yet I’m not seeing any sort of action.”

Rhys surges forward, his hand coming up between them to grasp at her jaw, to hold her in place while he glares and seethes at her face. He can feel her pulse just beneath his fingers, the way it flutters and stutters, but it’s not fear burning in those blue eyes.

“You want to see action? Give me a reason. I dare you. You will speak of your sister with respect. You will speak to me with respect.”

“What are you? My father?”

Rhys realizes too late how close they’re standing. Realizes too late that her already kiss bitten lips are parted as she stares up at him beneath long lashes. Realizes too late that her full breasts are pressed firmly against his chest, peaked nipples noticeable even through the two layers of fabric between them. Realizes too late the way his cock twitches in interest at this turn of events, this turn in the conversation.

“Really? Does that get you off? Do you want me to call you Daddy?”

Despite her taunting words, the sweet scent of her arousal permeates the air, swirling around him and flooding his senses. The magic deep within his chest thrums to life, rising in interest to meet the well of power stolen from the Cauldron itself. He squeezes his hand a bit tighter, relishing in the way Nesta’s breath catches, the way her eyes flutter, casting piercing blue in shadow as her eyelashes kiss her cheeks.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Rhys warns lowly, even as he shifts his hand enough that he can drag the pad of his thumb across her lips.

“I’m quite confident the only person’s ability to finish currently in question is yours.”

“There’s that smart mouth again. How about we put it to better use.”

Rhys slides his hand down, the tips of his fingers grazing across the skin of her neck. He can feel the shiver that skitters up her spine at the touch, the goosebumps that pebble beneath. His fingers continue down to her collarbone, following the delicate line all the way to her shoulder. It doesn’t take much pressure for him to push her down to the floor, her legs spreading wide to hold her weight comfortably.

In this position, Rhys has a perfect view to leer down the front of Nesta’s shirt. He can see the large swell of her breasts and pink peaked nipples perfectly, can watch the way they heave with each panting breath that tumbles past her parted lips. And just beyond, he can see the dusting of dark curls begging for his touch, for his cock.

As if sensing where his thoughts have gone, Nesta’s eyes dance to the growing tent in the front of his pants. Already his cock is hard and straining against the laces and fabric, his blood heating with every passing second. The sight of Nesta licking her lips forces him to swallow down a groan. The stubborn, eldest Archeron. The Kingslayer. The female who sneered at every High Lord when they all gathered.

“Now, that’s much better. On your knees before your High Lord,” Rhys comments, slowly but surely untying the laces of his pants. He tugs his cock free, fisting it and spreading the precum pooled at the tip down the length of it. Nesta tracks the movement, and Rhys smirks at the reaction. “Is this what you want?”

Nesta looks at him through her eyelashes, nodding her head. The scent of her arousal becomes stronger, headier, the female clearly as turned on as he is. He can already imagine how she must be dripping down her thighs, but the shirt still hides that from view. Because he can, Rhys uses his free hand and tugs hard at the offending thing, wanting to hear the buttons clattering against the wood, the feel of fabric tearing beneath his grip, rather than magicing it away.

The sight presented before him is certainly worth it, and he half wonders if he should fuck her tits instead.

“Open,” Rhys demands coldly, letting a low rumble of his power to bleed into his tone. Almost on cue, Nesta’s lips part wider, her tongue pressing forward in waiting. “Well, would you look at that. You can behave after all.”

Before Nesta can respond or get another remark out, Rhys presses his cock forward into the wet heat of her mouth. He’s not gentle about it, feeding her half his length in one crude thrust until he hits the back of her throat. She chokes around him, but then she’s moaning, the vibration paired with her throat working and swallowing around him finally pulling a groan free from his chest.

Her tongue laves at the underside of his cock, the tip flicking and catching on the ridge of the head as he pulls back only to push right back in. He digs a hand in her hair, threading the brassy strands around his fingers and tugging hard. It pulls another choked, spluttering moan from Nesta, and Rhys using his grip to begin fucking her mouth in earnest. With each hard snap of his hips, he tries to feed her even more of his cock, to bury himself deeper down her throat.

“You know, your mouth is much sweeter when it’s stuffed full of cock instead of mouthing off.”

Nesta blinks up at him with watery eyes as he continues to move. Tears track down her cheeks, mixing with the drool that spills past her lips and splashing across her chest. There’s a pretty, pink flush spread across the skin there, matching the color of her cheeks. Even with the wide stretch of her lips around him, she hollows those same cheeks.

“Fuck,” Rhys groans, pleasure buzzing through his veins and threatening to send him teetering over the edge quicker than he’d prefer.

He pulls out of her mouth with a wet pop, a line of drool still connecting them. He watches the way Nesta swallows, the way she licks her lips now swollen and red from sucking his cock. Her eyes are glassy as she peers up at him, but that fire still burns behind the blue of them.

“Close already?” Nesta asks, the taunt still clear despite the rasp of her voice. “That’s disappointing.”

With a growl, Rhys uses the grip he still has on her hair to yank her to her feet, the rest of her shirt falling away with the movement. He doesn’t bother with the bedroom, with the rumpled sheets and the ghosts of males embedded within the fabric. Instead, he spins Nesta around and pushes her against the ragged, fraying sofa that takes up space in her sorry excuse for a living room.

“So much hatred,” Rhys comments, using his feet to kick her legs further apart. He presses himself along her spine, curling an arm around her. He slides his hand down her chest, down her stomach, all the way down until he finds the lips of her cunt already slick and fluttering from the barest of touches. “And yet you’re already drenched for me.”

He keeps his touch light, drawing the tips of his fingers back and forth. When he reaches her clit, he draws the barest hint of a circle against it before pulling away again. A high pitched sound somewhere between a whine and a whimper tumbles past Nesta's lips, and she tries to shift her hips down, chasing the pressure, but he keeps her firmly pinned in place.

“Beg for it,” Rhys tells her, teasing at her entrance in a promise of the pressure to come and gathering the wetness there between his fingers.

Nesta moans softly, her hips stuttering again, but she turns her head over her shoulder enough to still glare at him. “You know you want to fuck me, so just do it already.”

“And yet you’re the one with your legs spread and desperate for me,” Rhys reminds her, skimming over her clit again, her cunt fluttering beneath his ministrations as if in agreement of his words. “Beg for it. And maybe I’ll be a generous High Lord and give it to you.”

Nesta huffs, turning her head back around and dropping it down between her shoulders. She doesn’t say anything, but Rhys is confident that her stubborn will won’t win out this time. He continues his teasing and taunting touches, daring to slip and press just the pad of his finger past her entrance.

“I’m waiting…”

“Please,” Nesta finally whispers. “Please. I need it.”

“That’s more like it.”

Rhys wastes no time sinking two fingers into her cunt, hard and deep. Nesta lets out a loud moan at the sudden intrusion, slumping forward even more against the sofa. Her cunt is warm and wet, practically inviting him in with the way it seems to pull his fingers even deeper, the way her walls flutter and clench around them. He drives his fingers in a rough, fast pace, scissoring and curling them. Every wanton sound he draws out of the female before him goes straight to his cock, his length somehow hardening even more.

“All these males in and out of here, and have you ever even been properly fucked? You’re so tight.”

“Fuck,” Nesta gasps out between moans. “You.”

“Oh, I intend to. I’ll show you what it’s like to take a real male’s cock.”

Rhys curls his fingers, finding that spot within her that has Nesta keening, has her back arching with the pleasure. Already, her skin has started to glisten, beads of moisture beginning to pool along her spine. Pressed this close together, her sweet scent engulfs him, making him dizzy. It drives him to work his fingers harder. To squeeze in a third finger. To press his thumb hard to her clit.

Every slide of his fingers is wet and hard. Each forceful thrust in sends Nesta’s hips jostling against the back of the sofa, and each time he drives his fingers back out, more of her arousal is drawn out too. It makes a mess of his hand, slicking between his fingers. Leaves the wet sounds of sex echoing through the apartment, a perfect harmony to the melody of Nesta’s moans.

He can tell she’s close from the way she starts to squeeze tighter around his fingers, her walls fluttering and pulsing in a steady pace. From the way her keens grow into a higher, breathier pitch. Her fists clench hard into the fabric of the sofa, and Rhys uses that exact moment to withdraw his hand completely.

“Please,” Nesta whispers again, letting out what sounds almost like a sob. It’s broken and needy, and Rhys’s cock twitches again in interest. “Please…”

“You forget that this is a punishment.” Rhys lifts his hand toward her face, dragging his fingers and her own arousal across her lips. “Clean them.”

Nesta dutifully sucks his fingers into her mouth, sliding her tongue around each digit. She moans around them, around the taste of herself, and Rhys presses his fingers even deeper, until she’s gagging against his touch. He slips his fingers free, but he doesn’t pull them far. Instead he grips her jaw, still sticky, wet fingertips digging into her skin. He yanks her face to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes are unfocused, the blue of them swallowed by her pupils in their blown out, lust addled state.

“But this is what you want, isn’t it?” Rhys asks in a mocking tone. “You like to be punished, to be put in your place.”

He releases his hold on her with enough force that Nesta’s head merely sags back between her shoulders. Rhys knows that he could leave her just like this, desperate and keyed up and wanting. Knows that it would be punishment enough. He knows that he should leave her just like this, a voice tickling along the back of his mind to remind him of such.

But his own desire and need is a throbbing and wanting thing writhing inside his chest. Her cunt is the prettiest shade of pink, still fluttering and pulsing from his previous ministrations, practically begging for him to take take take. His power rumbles beneath his skin and echoes the chant, and Rhys slides a tantalizing hand down her spine, Nesta arching even more beneath his touch.

“Take it,” Nesta breathes softly as though reading his own thoughts. “Take me.”

Rhys focuses his attention back on his pants, tugging them further down his hips. He fists his cocks again, the pump of his hand already providing some relief for the ache burning low in his gut. He slides the head of his cock along her, gathering the wetness there and spreading it down the length of him. Nesta shudders and moans each time his cockhead catches on her clit, trying to rock further against him, and while the temptation to make her beg again is there, Rhys isn’t sure he’ll be able to wait much longer. For once, he wants to be selfish, and who better to be selfish with than the most selfish female he’s ever met.

He shifts his free hand to grip her hip, to hold her in place exactly how he wants her, and then he buries his cock inside her in one hard, clean thrust. The warmth and squeeze of her around him is indescribable, a groan escaping his clenched jaw. He can’t stop staring at where they’re joined. Can’t stop staring at the way her cunt opens for him, the way it swallows him.

“Rhysand,” Nesta’s voice brings him back to the present. “Move.”

“You’re the one who’s so desperate for cock. So you can fuck yourself on mine.”

Nesta whimpers at his harsh words, but there’s no denying the way she clenches down harder around him, the way her walls flutter still adjusting to his size. She spreads her legs wider, resetting her stance, and then she starts to move her hips. With the limited space between the sofa and Rhys’s body, she can do nothing but create shallow thrusts, but even still her sweet cunt somehow pulls Rhys even deeper, the drag of her walls enough that he has to tighten his grip against her hip.

He allows her control for just a few more thrusts before taking it back with a hard snap of his hips. He sets a punishing pace, his hand sliding up her back and shoving her down hard until she’s bent in half over the sofa. His hand traces along her shoulder, down her arm to her wrist. It takes some maneuvering around the way their bodies jostle with each rough thrust, but he’s able to move her hand down to her own cunt, move it so he’s fucking through her splayed fingers.

“Do you feel that?” Rhys growls out, his voice barely audible over the moans and cries of the female beneath him. “Do you feel how drenched you are for me? Feel how well you take your High Lord’s cock?”

He leaves her hand there and shifts his own to her breasts. They overflow in his palms, heavy and bouncing as he continues to fuck her hard. He pinches and tugs at her nipples, relishing in the way her cunt seems to respond each time he does. It doesn’t take long before Nesta begins to tighten even more around him on each inward thrust, before she’s practically trembling against him, clearly teetering right on that edge.

“Do you want to come?” Rhys teases one hand down just past her navel but no further. “Scream my name. Let all of Velaris know how good their High Lord is. And maybe I’ll be generous and fill you up.”

Nesta is all too happy to oblige, shouting his name until she’s practically hoarse between her choked off moans and high pitched whines. Rhys finally slips his hand lower and spreads her wider still. Her clit is slippery and swollen, and it only takes a few swipes of the pad of his fingers before Nesta is wailing brokenly, her whole body tensing as she finds her release.

Feeling her coming on his cock, the way she clamps around him, steals the breath straight from Rhys’s lungs. Despite the tightness of her still fluttering and pulsing cunt, Rhys doubles his efforts, fucking in harder and deeper and chasing his own release. His balls slap against her skin, filling the apartment and mixing with the sounds of his own grunts and Nesta’s whimpers.

“It’s… it’s too much…”

“You can take it,” Rhys tells her harshly, not stopping his movements. “I know you can take it. Don’t you want me to fill you up? Fill you up nice and deep until you’ll be dripping for days. Until every male in this city will know whose bitch you really are. Until you’ll always remember this cock.”

Nesta lets out another sob as another orgasm tears through her unbidden, clenching so hard that Rhys sees stars. He groans and buries himself as deep as he can go, his cock twitching as he spills inside her. He offers a few more shallow thrusts, riding out the last tendrils of his own release and taking a final moment to relish in the tight heat of Nesta’s still fluttering cunt.

She whimpers when he pulls his softening cock out, slumping against the sofa in a boneless heap. Rhys can’t help but fist his cock again, dragging the head through the absolute mess he’s made of her cunt. He gathers his seed that starts to dribble out of her, shallowing forcing it right back where it belongs, chuckling darkly at the way her knees give out at the action, the way she shudders.

“Perhaps now, you’ll remember your place in this Court,” Rhys whispers in her ear, both a threat and a promise.

He straightens back to his full height, carefully tucking himself back into his pants and tugging the cuffs of his sleeves back into place. He offers Nesta Archeron one last look, the female still naked and unmoving save for her still gasping breaths against the sofa, before turning and striding toward the door.

“I expect to see you at the next family dinner.”

[pricegouge]

hello hello, have an emoji! 🎁

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

hi hi and thanks!

hm, what i'm mostly working on rn is from another fandom so i won't post here, and I already posted a snippet from my next cod fic here...

so have a snippet of a mostly abandoned free use cleaning maid one shot! dub con below

You falter as you step through the door and find the assembled group of soldiers staring back at you. Blushing, you apologize profusely for the intrusion and stammer something about not realizing the room was in use. (That's because they forgot to mark it as such - again -, but it's no use mentioning that when you suspect they're doing it on purpose.)

"No trouble, pet." Captain Price's smile is warm, but his tone is far too dark to be strictly friendly. "We're nearly done now anyway. C'mon in." 

You bite back a frown, reminding yourself this job is not dissimilar to customer service insofar as your attitude can definitely affect your pay. So you thank him prettily and roll your cart in, hugging to the walls and trying to stay out of their line of sight. It's no use, of course, but worth a shot. 

It's not that you don't like your job, necessarily, and if anyone was going to be in here, you're almost glad it's them; but sometimes you just want to get your shift over with as few interactions as possible. 

Never possible with this lot, though. The sergeants are the worst, maybe. Or at least the most obnoxious. They're both too cocky, but you suppose you would be too if you looked like either of them - could fuck like either of them. MacTavish ('Call me Soap, hen') is the first to press his luck, no surprise. He keeps his eyes trained on the captain as if he's listening but his hand finds the buttons of your blouse, toys with the edge as if he has no ulterior motive. You don't correct him - can't -, but you keep on dusting as if you don't even notice. 

Unfortunately, Price pretends the same, carries on about exfil strategies you're pretty sure you could even puzzle out just having watched your share of action movies. Emboldened, MacTavish pops a button and you feel half the eyes in the room slide to you. It's not exactly a bad feeling, this, just one that's taken some getting used to.  Garrick is the next to crack, predictable. He murmurs a quiet 'C'mere, lovie,' and hooks a finger into your belt loop, maneuvering you to stand between him and his fellow sergeant. You oblige, hold your dusting rag awkwardly until Ghost (just Ghost - you were too afraid to contradict him) leans across the table to tap at the area in front of you and you get to work. It's the wrong cleaning agent for the material, but you're not about to say anything about wood right now, thank you, not with MacTavish humming appreciatively at the view of your ass he gets when you bend to do your job.

[prettymrswright]

drake & drive

tank full of gas

fill up my cup

see, where could i function?

can i pull up?

i need a buddy

it don’t hit home

‘til i’m alone, now

you know wassup, drake’n & driving..

pairing: riri williams x black!fem reader

content: angst under-tones, smut-leaning (18+),slightly toxic!riri, substance use (weed & liqs people, no hard drugs), flashbacks, intoxicated confessions, emotional conversations, riri is a lover-girl indenial, reader can make ri jump through a cheerio with little to no effort.

background: riri tugs with her feelings after the dragged out will-they-won't-they troupe going on between you two. her trust issues won't allow her to fully commit, but now she's wondering if she'll be regretting that decision.

a/n: my first ri fic, this is my baby! speaking of, shout out to my baby @dejaonline for the collaborative efforts on the picture as well as her input on the plot. this was made with her in mind, fully inspired by her (she's a riri girl🤭) and this song that has crack ROCK in it. i hope you guys luvvv, and as usual, i gotta remind y'all;

taglist is pinned to my page! if you want to be tagged for someone specific OR if you wanna opt out of any tags, gone fill out that form for me. taglist: @dejaonline @inmyheadimobsessed @kisskourt @ventingfanfics @saintwrld @vampzxi @vixentheplanet @pinkwright @sapphicvqmpires @verachii @shuriszn @shurislover "aight, nigga, you gone be upset when i take your money again," ri laughed, taunting her bestfriend, key. "yeah, yeah just put up, mf." key takes out his cash and begins counting it. every year at the fair, the two of them would place a bet on who would win at balloon darts, a tradition stemming from a conversation on who has better 'aim'. they walk up to the post and place their tickets down. "yo my man, set us up real quick," ri called out to the older gentlemen behind the counter. he turned around, eyes meeting with the two, and laughed aloud dropping his head. "you two, again. y'all are something else," he says, still smiling, setting down two pairs of 6 darts for them each. "this is for my redemption, unc, this is personal," key says, picking up a dart and practicing his form. "i won't be losing again." "yea, we'll see about that." ri laughs. "you know the drill," key starts. "most balloons in 5 rounds wins. price goes up by 5, we at 20 bills this year." ri picks up a dart and tosses it straight through the middle, popping her first balloon. "yo!" key exclaims. "you on some cheating shit, we ain't even count down!" "you talking too much, nigga," ri shrugs him off, making the attendant laugh once again. the two of them went head to head, leading up to them being neck to neck in the final round. going back and forth through both hits and misses, key set off his final dart, popping a bright blue balloon right at the top, ultimately beating ri. "let's fucking go!" key yelled out, doing his lil victory dance. ri stood with a strong, angsty pout rested on her face, as the sore loser she was. "whatever, nigga," ri rolled her eyes and slapped the andrew jackson faced bill in key's hand. key takes his prize and extends it out to ri, mocking her pouting. "you can have this bear!" she smacks his hand away from in front of her, almost making him drop it, causing him to burst into laughter. .. the two of them walked around the park, snacks in hand, taking a break from their previous festivities. after hearing/feeling a ping, key takes his phone out his jean pocket and opens the text.

“come on,” key motions ri.

“where we going?” asks a puzzled riri.

“over by the ring toss,” he points. “i got a good friend of mine i want you to meet.”

“ughhh,” ri heavily groans. “your social, friendly ass. why we always gotta be around people, why can’t we just kick it, just us two?”

“i know, i know, my bad, ri,” key says throwing his hands up. “but i promised her i would link her once we were in the same area, and it so happens that was this. it won’t be for long.”

“man, whatever,” an aggravated riri puffs out. “just don’t expect me to be miss congeniality or no shit.”

“you a trip, ri,” key lets out a hearty laugh. “be nice, please.”

the two made their way over, meeting with two girls, one brownskin, sitting at about 5’5, one darkskin at 5’3.

“wassup, key!” you smiled warmly, embracing your old childhood friend.

“it’s been a long time,” key smiles back.

“yes it has,” the girl beside you intercepts. it was your best friend val. she went to school with the two of you as well, and has a had a crush on key since then.

“oh, shit, val!” key basically runs over to hug her. “damn, girl, where you been!”

she giggles at his excitement. “i’ve been around! back and forth from study-abroad in italy.”

“okay, i see you, you on your shit! that’s wassup,” he daps her up.

“thank you.” she smiles, the two of them allowing their hands to linger in holding position.

feeling the tension building, you clear your throat, not being able to conceal the smile that was creeping up. the two finally pull apart and pretend to straighten themselves out. your eyes shift their attention from key and val and found themselves attached to a small girl with braids, standing to the left of key and directly across from you.

“oh, shit, my bad,” he apologizes and places his hand on the girl’s back. “this is my best friend, ri. ri this is val and y/n.”

she didn’t seem very interested. her eyes were glued to her phone in her hand, and her body language was very stand off-ish.

“hey, wassup.” she says without looking up. that was very rude of her. key didn’t roll with rude people. to give her the benefit of the doubt, you just summed it up to possible shyness.

key aggressively taps her back, forcing her to look up, a stern look on his face.

ri finally looked up and could feel her entire body freeze in place in the middle of the 95 degree weather. you were the most beautiful person the young engineer had ever laid her eyes on. your glowy, rich, melanated skin, your mocha brown eyes, the long, thick lash follicles that decorated them. your thick, curly hair that surrounded your skull in but a very small fro. it was as if you came straight out of a magazine, 90s edition. you being taller than her didn't help the fact that she felt as though she was looking up at a goddess. "hi," you gave a nervous laugh, in attempts to mask the awkwardness of the situation. your smile. so big and so warm. could light up an entire room. your lips, the perfect shape. they even had a brown tint around the circumference of them, naturally being lined. everything about you was mesmerizing to ri. if she stared any harder or any longer, she probably could count each follicle of hair rested on top of your head. "hi-i, um.. my bad, I'm--" ri frantically began looking for the words to appease the awkwardness, and stumbled on almost all of 'em. "ri. right? key just said it," you help her out, quietly giggling to yourself. not the strongest start. but she was cute. "right. and um--" she begins, and you already know she's getting ready to ask you to announce your name.. again. "Y/N. you aren't the best listener, are you?" you taunt her, a smile on your face. "oh-- nah, my bad, i just.. got a lot on my mind, today, that's all." ri lies, wiping the sweat forming on the back of her neck off with her palm. "right," you laughed, somewhat condescendingly. you turned your attention back to key. "y'all got plans for the rest of the night?" "yes," ri rushed out. "nah," key answered simultaneously, both of the friends' responses mending over each other. key shot ri a look before continuing his sentence. "we just freeballing, doing shit as we go."

ri was irritated. she wanted to spend time w her boy, and not only is their one on one time being interrupted, here was this pretty, saddity chick getting smart at the mouth. making her look somewhat of a fool. not knowing, the young prodigy could do that all on her own. she'd be lying however, if she said she wasn't intrigued. "have you guys gotten on the ferris yet? i gotta get some good selfies at the top. you know, influencer shit," val says, comedically. "nah we haven't, we could head over now before the line gets long," key suggests. "sounds good. don't worry, ri, after this, we'll be out your hair." you flashed her a quick smirk, letting her know you were aware of her irritation. and out of her hair, you weren't. you were in her hair. in her brain. in her life. in her room. in her bed. she couldn't escape you. but this time, she didn't even want to.

the follow months after your initial meeting, the two of you had quickly became inseparable. it started out with exchanges of memes, followed by texting all day, then tying up the phone, falling asleep on facetime. eventually those things led to dates, and sleepovers..and hookups. the two of you were enjoying yourselves, no doubt. it was as especially hard for ri, however. ri didn't do the relationship thing. she did it once, got her heartbroken, decided that wouldn't happen again. and it didn't. miss love 'em, and leave 'em she was. but you. you made her think. you made her learn and explore parts of herself she didn't even know existed. you made her feel important. powerful, even. naturally, she didn't know what to do with that influx of new feelings and information. so she did what any confused and slightly scared person would do; run. it was hot and cold with riana williams. one day, she made you feel loved and on top of the world. other days, she made you feel like you killed her cat. and you'd think the mixed signals would be enough for you to do way with it altogether. but when riri loved on you, it felt as if there wasn't anything you could not do. it was very clear and obvious that the two of you brought the absolutely best out of each other. you complimented each other so well, in every way. same interests, same ambitions. you even mimicked each other's mannerisms. when it was good, it was so good. but the more serious it got, the more at stake your feelings were.

she would constantly remind you. how much she would not, could not, be in a relationship. how much she didn't see the point. how much of a waste of it time it was. besides, she couldn't have no love shit fucking up her focus. what was understood, didn't need to be explained. and if she didn't remind you with her words, she sure as hell reminded you with her actions. until one day, you were pushed past your limits.

a half-asleep, sluggish riri, lugged her body to the door after hearing a 4th round of hard knocks ricocheting off of her door.

“who the fuck is bangin’ down my shit,” she cussed to herself.

“i’m comin’, damn!”

she swung the door open to be met with a drenched from rain, and very angry you.

“what the fuck, riri.” you semi-yell.

“woah. what happened to you?” she genuinely asked, moving over to let you inside.

“what happened to me?” you scoff, with shock at her audacity. “you were supposed to pick me up over an hour and a half ago, ri.”

“oh, shit.” ri’s face dropped at her realization. she was supposed to pick you up from school, as she promised. all public transportation was delayed, and it was entirely too pricey to uber. “my bad.”

this is the 3rd time she forgot.

“your bad? it’s horrible outside ri. you weren’t even a little concerned about my whereabouts?”

“I said my bad, y/n, damn, what you want, a love letter?” ri spat at you.

“I can’t believe you.” you laughed to yourself, almost fully in disbelief of what was going on right at that moment.

“it’s common fucking courtesy, to come to your girl’s aid when in need, but your promise? which I didn’t ask for by the way, then made it a responsibility. and you failed to show or do either.”

“man, whatever. you got here all on your own just fine, ain’t it? what, your side nigga came and got you, hm?”

“you are un-fucking believable. naturally this is my fault. you know what I am sick and tired of your shit, you must think I’m some sort of d—“

you were interrupted by a voice following behind riri, accompanied by footsteps.

“ri, who’s at the door? come back to bed.”

immediately your entire body froze in place and your eyes began to well up on command, against your will. everything went still. the silence that filled the room could be sliced with a razor. your eyes met with the girl standing behind riri, her tall, slim, athletic build wrapped around in a silk robe. then shifted to a guilty riri, staring at the floor in shame. "fuck." she let out a guilty whisper. so this is what she had been doing. why you had been left out in the cold rain, damn near across town. fucking other girls, occupying her time with things that were clearly more important than you. "i-is, this your gi-" "nah, she not." ri says rather quickly, not even letting whoever this girl was finish her question. your bloodshot-red eyes darted to the young engineer with a piercing glance. she gave you back a shrugged off look, seemingly in attempt to double down on her answer, just this time with way less confidence. once processed what she'd done, guilt sprung onto her again. you turned around to head bolt out the door. "y/n--" ri attempted to stop you, to say god knows what. the pain you felt was venomous. you just needed to get out of there. "fuck you, riana." your harsh and emphasized words slicing through her one syllable at a time. you left and never turned back. as hurt as you were, you refused to put yourself back through the emotional turmoil again. you were aware the two of you weren't in a relationship, and be that as it may, if that were the case, boundaries should have been set on what you two should and should have not been doing. and being that they weren't, you and your feelings got wrapped in all of ri's sweet words, and dramatic love professions and believed that maybe her mind would change. you'd been hurt before by her, but never like this. you'd never dream she'd go as far as this. ri's guilt and regret was eating her alive, bit by bit, piece by piece. she loved you. she knew it, you knew it. however, her self-sabotaging ways would not allow her to flourish in love, or damn near anywhere else. she called and called, and texted and texted till her phone glitched out. she sent letters to your house. once you blocked her, she texted and called from other numbers. she even popped up at your house on a couple occasions to no success. she looked crazy, hell, she FELT crazy. after awhile, she decided it'd be best to leave you alone, give you your space.

i mean, maybe this just proved it. how unworthy she was of love, of you. so she did what she knew best. she slept around, girls in and out her house. she sold promises and dreams. she did any and everything to distract herself from the fact that she is downright, indubitably, outrageously, in love with you. and no matter how or how much she tried to fill that y/n shaped void, it would never suffice. months would go by, and all her shenanigans would come to a cease. no matter what she did, or where she would go, she would think of you. everything reminded her of you. every song, every show. as much as she had fucked this one over, she so badly wished to just see you once more. at least to apologize properly. ri wasn't the type to vent or be vulnerable, but if it was anybody she would do for, it was you, and key. key wouldn't hear the end of it. but he would never fail to let her know how bad she messed that one up. key was supportive always, but he would always hold you accountable for your shit. you'd been away on a study-abroad trip in germany, growing, flourishing, in more ways than one. you weren't really tripping about love. you'd been seeing people here and there, but it really wasn't your focus. this past weekend would be your last weekend, and you'd be heading back home to your city. ri and key were chilling in her living room the day of your return, having a regular weekend kickback, talking shit, shooting dice, you know, regular best friend shit. "how many times i'mma tell you, you can't beat me in no strategic shit, no day," key says laughing, picking the money they had both put up from off the ground. "man, whatever, you just got lucky," she playfully nudges key's shoulder. ri takes out her phone, and opens her instagram, going through some stories, when she gets to val's story. when she clicks the pink/orange ombré circle, she sees a boomerang of you, throwing your hands up, jumping next to your suitcase, right in front of the airport, with the caption, 'my best friend's back in town!!! mimosas on me :)'. it had been posted 4 hours ago, so you had been back for a little time. she wondered if she should mention it. just in the case that key knew anything. "so um.." she started. " i hear y/n's back in town from her trip.." "aw man, don't start that shit, leave that girl alone" key says shaking his head. ri immediately sucks her teeth, in annoyance, as if she wasn't trying to pry. "nigga, what you mean, I can't make a statement? I just said I hear she was back, not I was gone go hunt her down, damn." defensive she was. cuz it didn't all the way sound like a bad idea. "yeah..aight," key semi-chuckled at the defensive girl. "yea i think she just got back this morning."

"from a school trip, or some shit, right? that's wassup." ri plainly expresses her pride for you.

she looks back down at the post being held captive by her thumb, just examining you. you were glowing. your skin was radiant, hair growing, shape filling out; you truly looked— happy.

riri didn’t wanna get in the way of that. she just.. wanted to be another reason that you were happy— for real this time.

“fuck it,” ri thought to herself, deciding that she would finally reach out. on some calm shit though, you know. if she got rejected, she got rejected, at least she tried.

looking at the time it was 9 almost 10 o’clock, and she decided that if she was gonna make any type of move, it would have to be right now and while she was by her lonesome.

“ahhh,” ri stood up, fake yawning into a fake stretch. “aight my nigga, i’mma head out. i’m super tired, I’mma make it a early night.”

“naaa, already? you whack! what happened, can’t hang no more?” key teased, initially not realizing why it was she really was eager to leave.

“it’s not even like that,” the small girl started. “i just got stuff to do, that’s all.” she got up and gathered her things before semi-rushing out the door.

“mhm. leave her alone, ri!” key says mid chuckle. he could always figure her out.

“bye!” ri slammed the door shut and rushed down the steps and over and into to her black 2022 kia sedan.

she takes a deep breath and huffs out an exhausted sigh, juggling the thoughts of you through her mind. she unlocks her phone and goes to your contact, examining the details with her warm cocoa brown eyes, the same name and picture there from when you were ‘hers’.

after going back and forth for 20 minutes she finally presses the ‘imessage button’ and goes to text you.

5, 10 minutes go by and she’s a nervous wreck. ‘fuck,” she thought to herself. “i should’ve listened to key, i should’ve just left her alone.’

she goes to delete her message and the thread until she saw your text bubble pop up.

you, 1 not having her blocked, and 2 responding in the first place was a green enough flag for her. she decided she needed to see you. she had to see you. all this courage being built up by her own delusion needed to be acted on immediately, without a second wasted, or else it would continue eating at her.

‘can i pull up on you?,” she sent. before you could even respond, she came anyway, and parked a few houses down.

as she awaited your response, she reached in the back seat, bringing in front the black plastic bag with a bottle of don julio, a carton of lemonade, and two ice cups she had previously bought that afternoon for her and key.

her nerves were certainly jumpy, so she decided she would sip a lil something, just to take the edge off. she poured the liquid courage and the citrusy chaser into her ice cup, and sipped directly from the rim, neverminding the straw that was placed in the bag.

remembering the j she rolled that afternoon also, she takes it out her pre-roll case rested in her cup holder and lights it ablaze. after blowing out the potent flame, she lifts it to her aquaphor’d lips, cl and welcomes the wavelength of smoke through her mouth/nose and into her bloodstream, french inhaling with shut lids.

no matter how badly she wanted to see you and talk to you, she wasn’t confident in having too sober of a conversation, in fear of her thoughts consuming her and her fucking this up once again.

she felt all her muscles and joints slowly relax into each other, the smoke parading through her system. involuntarily, it was beginning to arouse her as well, but those feelings would have to take a backseat on this one. she wasn’t on that, tonight. I mean shit, if you was, but her main focus was getting her lady back. at least the best friend portion of you.

after her 4th pull, her phone buzzes in her lap, and she almosts drops the blunt trying to get to it.

you lived about 10 to 12 minutes away from her, so that’s roughly how long she lingered down your block, trying not to look so desperate, but fuck it— she was.

desperate to hear your voice again, to smell your warm vanilla and musk scent, to hear your laugh, to hear you call her, ‘riana.’ in that stern, warning voice.

‘i’m out front.’ she sent her final text before she would see you for the first time in months.

ri began to get even more jittery, her hands and the back of her neck producing sweat quicker than normal, awaiting your arrival. she couldn’t tell if it was her nerves surrounding the situation, her being cross-faded, or both.

after what felt like forever, there you were. even more beautiful than remembered. she watched intently as your toned figured came walking down your brownstone, and forward to her car.

your now grown out, awkward length hair, tucked away into knotless braids fell down to the small of your back. a light grey short-sleeved cropped tee, lettered ‘brat’ in black letters, decorated your torso, black cotton shorts hugging your hips. your feet placed in white socks and dark grey yeezy slides.

you approached the vehicle, more at ease being that she had illegally dark tints on her windows, preventing you from seeing her see you.

you opened the door, and as soon as you entered, all the memories came floating back instantly. the lights on the roof, the smell of weed and baccarat rouge mixed together, her hand rested on her lap, thumb and ring finger through silver ring bands. her seat laid all the way back. her looking at you like— that.

“hello, riana,” you say plainly, in a joking way.

“hello, y/n,” she replied, smirking inbetween the sentence.”

it’s silent for a second, before you decide you didn’t want this to be awkward, no matter how you felt previously. you made the conscious decision to fill up the air.

“so,” you began. “i’ve been summoned. what’s going on?”

“well don’t say it like that,” she replied. “I just wanted to check in, make sure you was ‘aight.”

“oh please, riana williams, check in?” she laughed in disbelief. “checking in tonight of all nights? it’s been months.”

“i mean shit, iono what you got going on,” she began, slowly leaning into what she knows best. mess. “you probably been up under some nigga or some, why would i interfere in that?”

“okay,” and that was your cue. immediately you get irritated and reach for the door, preventing this from going any further down the sinkhole.

“okay, okay, wait, wait,” she tugged on your arm restricting you from moving.

“no, riana, it’s always the same shit with you. this is what you called me outside for?” you spat.

“no! no, i’m sorry, I— i’m just,” she breathed for a second, trying to get herself and her words together. “I’m working on it. I’m a work in progress.”

you scoffed and folded your arms, leaning back in your seat. “yeah, okay.”

“i’m serious, y/n/n,” she called your nickname given by her. one you haven’t heard in so long, yet the sound of it was so familiar and so sweet on your ears.

“I did, and said a lot of fucked up shit to you, when we were together, I can admit that,” her intoxication began to aid the word flow out of her brain and through her vocal cords.

“together? i was never your girl. remember? those were your words.” you shut down her insinuation.

“and that was another mistake I made, if not the biggest. i should’ve made you a priority and stayed consistent, I’m sorry, y/n/n. you deserved way more than I gave you,” her confessions began to roll out slowly but surely.

hearing her words and the sincerity in them made your eyes fill up with tears, playing tug of war with your need to stay tough and the need for release. to take that weight off your chest.

immediately she senses the tension around you and places her hand on your thigh and grips firmly.

“well, why’d you take so long!” the jig is up. the pain is all throughout your voice, tears beginning to flow out. “why’d you take so fucking long to realize that, riana?”

“y/n—“ she begins, fighting her own tears herself.

“i loved you. i love you, I’d give my last to you, you made me look like a fool and I STILL chose you. you’d make me feel like I was on top of the world and the next minute you’d rip the ground right from underneath me. and crashing down I came. still wanting you. still needing you.” you express, each word lifting a brick off of your chest.

“i don’t know, okay!” ri blurted out, choking on her words. “i’m fucked up, i’ve been fucked up for a long time. i could never keep or maintain a good thing in my life because i’d be waiting for it to end or for it to be thrown in my face. i’d want one thing in my mind and something totally different comes out my mouth. but it’s you, it’s always been you,” you stared through her bloodshot red eyes, finally receiving the truth and holding onto every word.

“you lit a fire under my ass, you forced me to look at myself. no one has ever done that to me—FOR me before. you make me crazy. you make me want to be a better person. you make me want to destroy ever person even SLIGHTLY responsible for causing you pain, including myself,” her face was glistening, wet tears reflecting off the brake lights of the car parked in front of her. she didn’t give a fuck how she looked anymore.

“i spent every night since we parted ways replaying all the things i’ve done to cause our separation over and over and over, drowning in my reality. I’d take it all back, good and bad, just to see you smile at me the first time you ever did. there was so much love in your eyes. and i watched it wither away, piece by piece. And i’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

you reached over and held her by the sides of her face, wiping her tears with your thumbs and gently kissing her lips. the sensation of your soft, warm lips made her cry even harder. the first time she felt that hug in months. nobody felt like you.

you hopped over into her seat and straddled her, not breaking the kiss. her hands roamed down your sides and over your ass as she pulled you closer to her. if she was dreaming, she’d be taking advantage of every moment.

you began to slightly move your hips along her leg, whining in her mouth, her mimicking your sounds in equal bliss and pain.

she wrapped her hand around the end of your braids and tugged slightly, exposing your neck and leaving soft, french kisses all along the middle.

“riana,” you breathed out.

“baby, please,” she pleaded. “let me fix it.”

you wanted to let her tear you apart. destroy your clothes and do away with them. you wanted to take out all your hate and love for her out on her body. you wanted to go right back to the every day you knew it as.

but you knew better. you learned better. y/n today is not the same y/n from months ago.

“i love you, riana.” you confessed aloud and hopped back into the passenger side.

“but I can’t let you back in. not this way. not right now.” you set your boundary, no matter how much it hurt. and decided it was time to go. you had overstayed your stay.

head down, eyes low, she just woefully nodded. she understood and she had to respect it. she made her bed, it was time to lay in it. but she would never give up.

“hey,” you bent down in her vision after stepping out the car. “we’ll see each other again. under better circumstances. bye, ri.”

you closed the door and headed back to your apartment, shedding more and more silent tears.

ri layed in the driver side seat in agony. counting down the days until that day. the last thing she wanted to say to you playing over and over in her head.

“i love you too, y/n. so fucking much.”

[softguarnere]

Passed Me a Note Saying, "Meet Me Tonight"

Floyd Talbert x reader

A/N: Hey there @typical-simplelove 😁I was the person chosen to write you a story for the HBO War Daily Short Story Exchange! It's my first time writing a fic with Tab, so I hope it turned out okay and that you like it! 💕 Word Count: 846 Warnings: brief mention of war

It’s smooth – just like him.

Passing you in one of the hallways, Talbert smiles at you as he approaches. To anyone watching, the gesture seems friendly enough. But somehow, even with Nixon – of all people – walking with you, Talbert manages to press the slip of paper into your hand without detection. When you feel the edge of the folded paper poke your palm, you can barely suppress your smile until you’re alone.

Meet me tonight, the note says in Tab’s handwriting.

The rest of the day can’t pass quickly enough. Still, you try to pace yourself. You attend meetings, diligently taking notes for Colonel Sink and typing up letters as you normally would. Maybe your foot taps a bit impatiently under the table – but if anyone notices, they have the decency not to point it out. Besides, you keep having to remind yourself, Talbert is just a friend.

“Is there a reason that you’re risking losing your pass over fraternizing with me, Floyd?”

At the sound of your voice, Talbert glances up, smiling at you. He smiles at a lot of girls. You can’t help but wonder if the smiles that he throws their way are this bright, though.

Talbert extends a hand to you. Without hesitation, you take it, and he leads you to the edge of the huge, sprawling camp. “Didn’t want you to miss this.”

Through the trees, dusk is setting in. Humidity rises from the day’s heat, turning the atmosphere a soft shade of blue. A few last golden rays of sunlight are softening now, fading into the clouds as the bright orb sinks below the horizon. After a moment, in the distance far above, a few twinkling lights emerge in the darkening sky. The scene, this transition from day to night, is beautiful. It probably looks just as pretty as this every evening, but you’re ashamed to realize that if that’s true, you’ve never noticed it before. But Talbert did.

Another realization hits you at the same time: he’s still holding your hand.

His skin is warm and soft against yours. Maybe you should say nothing, at the risk of ending this moment too soon.

“This is beautiful,” you whisper.

He turns to you, his smile as bright as the stars. “I thought you might like that.”

Hands still joined, you squeeze his. He looks down, eyes widening as he comes to the same conclusion that you did a few moments before. “I like this,” you say.

. . .

The war might be over, but its conclusion has brought you nothing but a flurry of time sensitive paperwork. Still, if one good thing has happened, it’s that the rules barely apply in Austria these days, and no one seems to have a problem with Talbert stopping in to visit you. The handsome paratrooper sitting on the corner of your desk, cracking jokes, flashing those striking smiles at anyone who passes by, becomes a common sight in the office. If you can’t be out there having a good time with everyone else, you’re grateful that you get to spend time with him in here.

It's getting late. Even the colonel has turned in for the night. Aside from the clacking of the keys on your typewriter as you diligently finish typing up a letter for him, the building that has been commandeered for these offices is quite – except for the sound of approaching footsteps.

Footsteps that you would recognize anywhere. You smile before you even glance up, even hear his voice call out to you in greeting.

“You’re brave, (Y/N),” Talbert says. “Being alone in here.”

You sit back in your chair, smiling. “I was just waiting for you.” It’s been so long ago now that you can’t be sure if he remembers that evening in Toccoa, but you do. You incline your head toward a door behind you that leads out to a balcony. “I want to show you something.”

Outside, the soft glow of the stars that light the sky are diminished by the lights of the city down below. Like stars fallen to earth, the buildings are lit up with soldiers staying up late, celebrating the day they’ve waited years for. You noticed the scene a few evenings before, on another day of industriously working late. It had reminded you of that evening, all that time ago. Not the same scene you once enjoyed together, but beautiful in its own way. But really, everything beautiful reminds you of Tab.

“Didn’t want you to miss this,” you say, a callback.

Floyd smiles, and you know then that he remembers, too. On cue, he squeezes your hand. “It’s beautiful. Like you.”

You smile, no longer having to hide affections like that; not after everything the two of you have been through in this war. “I thought you might like that.”

He leans in, close, so that even in the darkness you can make out his every feature. “I like this,” he says, then closes the gap between you.

This, you think as he kisses you, is more beautiful than even the stars.