#if i just made it up in my head i will be so pissed off

[callsign-datura]

a/n: sorry for the long wait! 4.7k words, the result of my last poll, simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p-in-v, creampie, hair-pulling, degradation, talking to the pussy

ghost didn't have many hobbies, but he did have a few he liked the most. His third favorite was being at the shooting range, his second favorite was cleaning his guns, and his first favorite was sparring.

he often sparred to ensure he wasn't getting rusty with certain hand-to-hand techniques. usually with soap, or gaz. late at night when he had energy to expel, or unwanted emotions to get out.

that's why he found himself in the gym, this time off the mat, wrapping his busted knuckles with bandages. he was dressed in gray sweats, a black wife-beater, and the mask. he flexed his fingers as he tucked the edge of the bandage beneath the edge of another at his wrist, bringing both arms above his head. he stretched, grunting quietly before letting his arms drop to his sides, squinting at the way the fluorescent lights made his head ache.

the door creaked open slowly. he tilted his head, watching you enter. you looked up and met his gaze, and he turned his head away and began wrapping his other hand with the same bandages.

you and ghost were cordial at the very least and hostile at the most. it wasn't that you got along-- sometimes his demeanor just pissed you off. so closed off, and for what? working with another person was better than working alone, to you, and you didn't understand why in the hell he was so rude to you.

you huffed under your breath, not expecting him to be in the gym so late. you watched his shoulders flex, the wife-beater a darker shade around his neck with the sweat that dampened it. he looked like he'd been hard at work for a few hours, the bandages around his knuckles tainted with a deep shade of red.

"what's the point of wrapping your hands after you've busted them on the bag?" you call, watching his shoulders shift a bit as he stops wrapping.

"i forgot to do it before." he retorts, not bothering to face you.

"didn't nurse sullivan tell you to do it before?" you put your hands on your hips. your tone is concerned, and partially, you are, but the other part of you is just looking to get on his nerves. you came here to train yourself, but messing with him seemed a bit more fun. "thought you'd remember what a nurse told you to do."

"didn't ask ya to remind me what sullivan said, i know what m'doin'." he finishes wrapping his other hand and goes back to the bag, getting into position and bringing his fists up. he starts throwing punches, the jangle of the chain and the thuds of his fists hitting the bag echoing in the room.

you approach him. "you know, sparring might be better than boxing." you offer, folding your arms behind your back as your gaze flickers over his stature. he's by no means a small man, and it's been a while since you've had the chance to spar with the other guys on base.

ghost's hands shoot out to still the bag, and his head tilts to the left. brown eyes peer at you from beneath the mask, and he huffs through his nose, looking you up and down. "tch. y'got a death wish? i've got a few inches on ya... not to mention pounds."

"i know you do. it'd be good training for me." you hum, looking to the side, then back to him. "for you too, maybe. having an agile opponent might be a bit challenging for someone so... lumbering."

"lumbering?" he asks, tilting his head as he turns to you completely. "and you... agile? got an ego, don't ya?" though he's excited at the prospect of sparring at all, so he's considering it.

you can tell you're piquing his interest, so you push it, ignoring the little jabs. "maybe a small one. sounds fun though, doesn't it? I heard it's been a while since you've got the chance."

he sighs. he feigns resignation, but there's a sparkle in his eye that you don't miss. he considers it for a few moments before he starts skulking in your direction. "you're gonna regret that," he huffs, stopping just short from you. "i've got some rules. one, you lose after i've pinned ya for 10 seconds. two, no dirty shots. i don't pull y'r hair, you don't kick me in the nuts. got it?"

he sounds so serious, you chuckle. "alright," you nod, agreeing to his terms. then you take your position on the furthest end of the mat while he takes position at the other end.

"ya ready?" he gruffs, and you nod, putting your fists up.

"alright then, you get the first shot."

"really?" you tilt your head, taking a few steps forward as you begin circling in the center of the mat.

"mm-hmm." he hums, rubbing his arms before putting his fists up. "wanna see what you can do."

you huff, then you go towards him, side-stepping and reaching out to grab his arm. you yanked on it, and he barely moved. he almost paused, somewhat amused that you even tried that. you let go and move away from him and he follows-- throwing a few punches without expecting them to land.

they don't. one disadvantage of him being so much bigger than you is the speed difference. you're so much faster than him. you can dodge faster, but if he finally gets his hands on you, you're done.

you're moving around the mat, dodging his punches and dodging it when he reaches for you, and he's growing increasingly frustrated.

"godammit, quit fuckin' moving." he hisses, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you in. he lets go to grab you by the shoulders, but before he can, you duck and use most of your strength to kick his shins, trying to debilitate him so you can get away. it doesn't work. you scramble away and he follows, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you close. he turns around to throw you off before shoving you to the ground and pinning you there by your shoulders, his body coming down on yours as his knees cage you in on either side of your hips.

you're squirming, hips lifting and hands clawing at his wrists in an effort to get him to let you go. his eyes narrow, getting some sort of satisfaction at seeing you squirm beneath him.

"one," he begins counting, signaling to you that you only have a few seconds to get away. his grip on you tightens, and you're almost sure he's gonna win when you get an idea. your grip tightens on his wrist before you drag your hand up it, digging your nails into the surface of his skin. you apply enough pressure to cut the skin, and his grip releases at the same time he hisses. he doesn't let go, but you take the opportunity to throw his hands off of you and turn around in his hold, tucking your legs in against yourself and pushing the bottoms of your feet against him to throw him off. then you scramble out from beneath him, getting up and putting distance between the both of you.

"hmm," he says, eyes focusing on you before he gets to his feet. "slippery fuckin' thing." he laughs, looking at the arm you cut up. crimson dribbles from the thin red lines you've left behind, and he rolls his head, cracking his neck as he goes towards you again.

there's something different in his eyes-- he's surprised that you're putting up such a fight.

"never expected a little thing like you to fight so dirty." he says, his voice low and husky as he stops a few feet away from him, intense eyes following you as you circle him. it's obvious to him you have no intention of making the first move again, so he opts to play with you a bit instead.

"y'r crafty too, huh?" he says, his voice mocking somewhat. "didn't expect you to claw me up like that. i mean, it worked..." he turns as you do, and your eyes narrow.

"i'm enjoyin' this one, that's for sure. maybe i should make sure that you're gonna keep comin' back?" he says, his voice husky again. there's a tone in it. it's almost like he's taunting you, or-- no, that isn't it...

"it's a shame they won't scar, though." he takes another step towards you, and you look behind you to gauge how much space you have until you step off the mat. you stay where you are.

"i like having trophies from my fights... reminds me how much i enjoyed it." he keeps rambling, and you're not sure what the point of all this is. it makes you feel fuzzy inside, kind of, like he's complimenting you.

he gets closer, and his eyes narrow further. you know he's smirking beneath the mask. you look meek-- is he flirting with you? is your lieutenant flirting with you? is simon "ghost" riley flirting with you??? he throws a few lazy punches, knowing you'll dodge them.

"not at all. it's a compliment, actually. small, nimble. i bet you rarely get into any sticky situations, huh? like a rabbit," he chuckles, his voice amused as he lets go, then shoves your shoulders hard enough to make you stumble. then, to make you lose your footing, he kicks your feet out from under you.

"ain't very often i get to fight people like you, after all." he hums, not even sounding like he's taking it seriously. you're visibly nervous, and you hold your fists up defensively. he leans forward, grabbing your arm and pulling you close. the rational part of you is laughing at your idiocy, but the other part of you is melting because-- he is flirting.

"ugh-- people like me? is that an insult?" you say, your chest close to his as he leans down. his face is inches from yours, and you can feel his breath against you.

you yelp, and you fall on your ass. the sudden tone shift is enough to send you spiraling. the way he talks to you makes something heat in your stomach. he gets on top of you again, one of his legs between yours and the other on the outside of you. he puts his hands on the mat between your arms, and he stays leaned over you.

"well... not really fighting back now, are you? that's a shame..." he huffs, his gaze drifting from your face down... your chest is heaving, and your eyes are shut. your hips shift, and he moves his leg up at the same time. the curve of his thigh bumps against your clothed cunt, and it makes you jolt.

"hey!" you hiss, not expecting the contact or the look in his eyes when you finally look at him.

"what?"

"i... i thought you said no dirty shots," you retort, your voice somewhat weak. you look away, your body flooding with some sort of warmth that his closeness produced in you.

he snorts, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "ain't a dirty shot if you're already on the ground and you've already lost. it's just... overkill." but he stays over you, despite the fact he just won. his gaze rakes over you in a hungry manner, and you can hear him suck in a breath when your back arches up off the ground.

"...you can get off me now," you murmur, avoiding eye contact. you feel shy, all of a sudden, and kind of pissed. he just won because he was toying with you on purpose to win. he was messing with your feelings! "get off me." you hiss, trying to get out from under him.

his eyebrows go up, sensing your sudden hostility. his eyes narrow. he lifts a hand and pins your shoulder down. "ah ah ah, the fuck are you doing? did i say you could get up?" he was enjoying this before, but now that you're fighting back like this he's a bit irritated.

your squirming just results in you unintentionally grinding yourself against his thigh. you suck in a breath when it happens, and your eyes narrow.

"you're such an asshole" you grumble. despite your arguing and your resistance, you press yourself against his leg.

he looks down when your hips shift. he watches the way they move, and when you finally relax, he moves above you and intentionally moves his leg to see your reaction.

your face flushes, and you whimper, looking away.

"well... look at that." he murmurs, his voice lilted and knowing. he looks up at you and makes eye contact, pushing it against you again to elicit another noise from you. you moan once again and your lips curl, eyebrows knitting in response to the jolt of pleasure he causes.

"isn't that cute?" he teases. "does that feel good?" he says, his voice almost mocking as he lifts his thigh and presses it against you, gently pushing it against you in an even motion to make you squirm even more.

"g-god, you're such an ass," you moan, body falling limp and losing whatever ounce of fight you had. you still mouth off. "do you do this with everyone you spar with? i-is that why soap is always asking you to spar with him?"

he rolls his eyes. "shut up, girl. i'm surprised you have the audacity t' speak to me that way when you're gettin' off on my fuckin' thigh." his voice is almost scolding, but he doesn't grind his leg against you any harder. just goes slow... it's almost torturous. you can already feel yourself drenching your panties. it's a culmination of this entire thing. the way he smells, how close he is to you, the way he's staring at you so hungrily... all of it is making you salivate, except your mouth isn't the only thing drooling.

your head falls back, and your breathing is already so heavy. he tilts his head forward, and his lips are on your neck. you feel the wetness of his lips, the itching brush of peach fuzz, the fabric of his mask rolled up over his nose against your neck-- all of it makes you shudder beneath him. he nips at the flesh of your neck, pulling gently and kissing at the reddened flesh afterward. he puts his leg down, and places himself between your legs, one hand cupping the back of your thigh and lifting it to press himself against you. you feel the outline of his dick through his sweats, semi-hard but at attention. the girth of it catches your attention, and when he feels your body stiffen he chuckles.

"hush. we'll make sure it fits, doll." he murmurs, his voice husky and low, sending shudders through you with how close he is to you. he doesn't grind into you from that position. rather, his hands travel up and down your sides as he kisses your neck, sucking small hickeys and trailing them down. his hands shove your shirt up and over your chest, doing the same with your bra. he's intense, and very aware of what he wants-

you.

his eyes focus on your tits. round, perky and the perfect size for him to hold. so he slides one hand up to cup and fondle your tit, his thumb quickly traveling over your nipple. it pebbles and perks beneath his touch and against the cool air, and he hums. he salivates. he wants to taste your skin. drag his tongue over your flesh, feel the goosebumps that raise beneath his tongue. but he can't. he has to make sure you come back for more and that's exactly how he will.

and as always, he'll get what he wants, one way or another. you squirm beneath him, and noises attempt to claw out of your throat but you keep quiet. you don't want to let on how much you're enjoying this, but the subtle rock of your hips gives it away.

"tsk tsk tsk. are you really this impatient? haven't even done anything yet." he snickers, pulling back to look down at you. he pulls his mask back down before you can see anything, and he leans forward with his hips a bit. your legs still hover against his hips, your knees drawing together as a result of your embarrassment. your lips part and you pant, chest heaving once again.

his other hand slips down to your hip, lifting your legs up and together, over his shoulder so he can pull your pants and panties up your thighs.

"such a pretty girl. you know, i've had my eyes on you for a bit..." he starts. once your pants are around your thighs and he has enough access to you, he brings the hand that was on your boob, to your mouth. he eases his pointer and middle finger into it and your eyebrows knit at the taste of sweat. "suck," he instructs. you do, cheeks hollowing briefly as your tongue laves along his fingers, coating them in spit.

"hmm... always wondered whether or not you were the obedient type, but i never got a chance to break you in and find out." he chuckles, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and bringing that hand between your legs. he drags the tips of his fingers through your folds, humming when he feels how wet you are. you can hear how sloppy it is, and he laughs.

"i guess i wouldn't be breaking you in as much as her," he snickers. your face reddens and you look to the side, panting once again as he starts easing those two fingers into your sopping cunt. you comprehend then that the her was your pussy.

"mm-hm, tight, as i thought. are you that nervous?" he teases, tilting his head as he scissors those two fingers inside you. the feeling knocks the air from your lungs, and you gasp, bringing both hands to your face to hide how embarrassed you are. despite that, your body gives away how excited you are, your hips shifting and your back arching as his thick fingers curl inside you.

if you're moaning, your pussy is screaming. the wet noises of his fingers working you out is embarrassing and brings heat to your face, but you can't really focus on that.

it sounds so lewd, and it is. you let out a gasp as he pushes them deeper, the sheer girth of his fingers causing your gummy walls to strain. your thighs clench and your hands ball into fists. his other hand pulls your pants and panties off completely, humming as your legs fall apart.

"s'it that good, doll?" his voice is husky and low, teasing. he's getting off on your reaction to his touch. "c'mon, girl, look at me..." his fingers stop, and you whine, shifting to look at him. they start moving as soon as your eyes fix on his, and your lips part. you moan again, your lips curling.

"c'mon, talk to me." he encourages, and his touch is downright sinful in comparison to his tone. "does it feel good? this what you wanted when you started grinding yourself on my leg?" he chuckles to himself. "never woulda thought you were this kinda girl if i hadn't of seen it myself..."

his thumb moves, and flattens over your clit once he turned his wrist over. he rolls circles over it slowly, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on the outside of your thigh.

you squirm and whimper, and it takes everything in him not to just pounce on you. instead he opts to listen to your moans and the sound of his fingers inside you. he curls his fingers and inches them deeper until your body jolts, and he hums in approval at your reaction.

"s'that the spot...?" he asks, leaning forward as he curls his fingers against that spot again. you jump, the coil in your stomach growing ever tighter as you moan in affirmation. the pleasure is making your head feel light, your eyes fluttering shut again and your head falling back against the mat. you're squirming and shifting again, and you feel sweat on your neck and chest. you whimper a bit, the air feeling sticky and humid between you both. it's hard to tell whether that's just your body heat, or it's him.

and you whimper at him. you can feel your orgasm encroaching, and he can feel it too. your cunt squeezes around his fingers and he can feel you throbbing. your body tenses, and your orgasm is right there--

he removes his fingers. you slump down, tilting your head to the side and huffing in frustration when you feel so suddenly empty.

"...this proves that you're just... an asshole..." you grumble, bringing your legs together.

he's thick. slight upward curve, blushing tip and definitely not lacking in length.

there's silence on his end, and when you look at him, he's pulling his sweats and boxers down.

"can't be much of an asshole if m'gonna dick you down," he purrs. you don't look, but you feel his cock hit the side of your thigh once he takes it out. a hand wrapped around the base, he gives a few lazy pumps, smirking to himself beneath the mask when you lift up to look.

"hmm? s'this good enough for you? such a rude girl, calling me names," his voice is teasing. he shifts forward a bit and then lines himself up with you before he moves both hands to cup the back of your knees and lift them. he moves you just a bit closer. He shifts his hips, then without warning, pushing himself into you up to the hilt.

you gasp. he's big, and you wish he had told you he was going to do it so quickly, because you weren't expecting it. his size takes a bit for you to adjust to, the sting and the stretch causing you to squirm once again. he grips your hips to still you, and he hums. "shh... you can take it, can't you?" you continue to whimper, and he laughs. "so pathetic. s'it too big for you?" he mocks, leaning over you once again.

"so fuckin' messy. look at you, girl. maybe this-" he emphasizes that with another particularly hard thrust that causes his tip to attack your g-spot-- "is what you wanted all along. maybe you asked me to spar cause you wanted me to fuck the shit out of you," he huffs, his voice low and raspy and his movements aggressive. you can barely speak aside from squeaks and squeals, the feeling of his hips slamming into yours causing your vision to go white. you couldn't respond outside of gasps.

god. yes. yes, it was too big-- and it took you a while to adjust to it. he started moving once your hips started shifting into his. he tilted his head forward, tucking it into your neck and grunting quietly. you're still sensitive, so when your lips part in a moan, it all feels so intense. your back arches and your legs push apart, welcoming him. his thrusts are shallow, yet careful, (for now), and he grunts into your ear. you squeeze around him, and your head tilts back as you moan out, hands finding his shoulders and digging your nails into it. Your eyebrows knit and you whine.

"y'r pussy's noisier than you are. listen to her," he goes quiet and fucks into you harder just to emphasize the paps of his hips hitting the back of your thighs and the squelches of your pussy clenching around his cock. your slick dripped down your cunt, getting his sweats damp a bit with it-- he moved one hand up to pull your hair, tilting your head back so he could talk in your ear.

"fuck," he cursed, pulling your hair again and chuckling when you cried out. you were lost in the feeling. the feeling of him, the feeling of his cock and how roughly he fucked you.

"hah!" you mewled, your back arching up off the mat. you grabbed at his shoulders in utter desperation. your eyes crossed and you tilted your head to the side, your body jolting with each thrust he offered you- getting gradually rougher.

"y'sound so slutty, moaning for me like that... keep doin' it, pretty," he hummed, staying close as he rutted into you with a force that might as well have caused you to shriek. he let go of your leg, and both of them closed around his waist, ankles locking at his lower back.

"m'gonna cum," you whimpered, your voice soft and meek. he chuckled, and his movements got a bit more aggressive. he lifted himself up onto his hands, keeping them just over your shoulders and looking down to where your bodies met. his fat cock was pounding into you over and over, the squeezes of your pussy enough to make him moan a little bit himself. he looked up, meeting your gaze.

when he finally came, you were still on cloud nine, wailing and squirming beneath him when his hips slammed into yours and he spilled spurts of hot cum into your pussy. the sensation was almost enough to make you cum again-- especially when he ground his hips into yours, his tip grinding into your g-spot. plus his lovely groans were sending you straight to heaven. the noises he made were mostly groans as he fucked into you, making your entire body shudder from the feeling and the sensations flooding your body.

your eyes were glazed over. visibly lost in the pleasure and focused on nothing but your impending orgasm, he took that as encouragement. he took your legs again, sitting up and pulling them together but pushing them against your front. the angle allowed him to get impossibly deeper. each time he slammed into you, his tip hit your g-spot, applying enough pressure to graze the plug of your womb and create more tingling, burning pleasure.

"oh! oh, fuck--" you gasped, folding a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. your heart was pounding in your ears, and you swore you almost fainted when your orgasm finally fell over you. the feeling of the pressure releasing had you seeing stars, shaky crying moans leaving your mouth. your back arched and tears pricked the corners of your eyes. you were sure you'd be bruised on the inside by the next day.

"that's it baby," he hissed, his grip on your legs tightening. "atta girl..." he purred, his tone tense with his own incoming orgasm. he wanted to help you ride out yours first, so he did. his hips kept that brutal, hungry pace, slamming into your drooling pussy with a fervor he didn't even know he had. he wasn't much of a talker in the midst... you didn't notice that he'd gone quiet, though, too absorbed in the aftermath of your orgasm.

he groaned out, his eyebrows knitting beneath the mask as he tilted his head forward to watch himself pound you. "take it... that's it, fuck..." his tone was still encouraging, but it faded as his pace started to slow. your entire body was still ebbing with pleasure and tingling with the overstimulation of your orgasm, and you were almost struggling to come back to the earth. you were both still panting.

when he pulled out of you and tucked his cock away and fixed his sweats, he looked at you-- his tone was full of pride. "well... fuck... look at you, huh?" he tilted his head, sounding awfully smug. he retrieved your pants and panties and helped you get re-dressed.

"you know... that wasn't the kind of session i was expecting, but damn... i think that was the best i've had in a while." he stood up and helped you to your feet, patting your ass once or twice as he held you up while you regained your bearings.

"...whatever, ghost," you grumbled, still holding onto your stubbornness even after you'd been sent to heaven and brought back.

"you know where to find me. don't be afraid to come get some if you're in need," he hummed, "not like i'm in a position to deny ya."

[gudfornuthin]

Hate is a strong word

Dae ho x gn!reader

Summary: you’re not easily annoyed, but player 388 has been getting on your nerves. Is it hate, or something more intense?

A/N: I want to preface☝🏻I’m not good at writing anything too smutty. I’ve tried my best and hope you all enjoy but yeah this is as far as smut goes for me lmao. Based on this and this request. Feedback is appreciated :)

You hate his guts. Player 388 (you don’t care enough to learn his name) has made it his mission to piss you off any chance he gets. The very first game. Tripping you over. Bumping into your back causing you to almost get killed. Apparently both times were accidents. Then it seemed to get more personal.

He acts surprised and mad that you pass the second game. Rolling his eyes and slow clapping. Hitting your shoulder with his whenever you walk by to vote or get food. You can’t even think about ‘mingle’ without wanting to punch someone. He made it incredibly clear that the group he was in was not picking you. They needed an extra person? No chance, as he does his best to block you from the other players.

You want to confront him about it all. In general, he seemed like a reasonable guy. To everyone else at least. Very polite, enthusiastic and willing to get to know people better. Except for you. There was a target on your back, and player 388 was aiming right for it. Two can play at that game.

It’s late, and you’re in the bathroom leaning over the sink and splashing some water on your face. Like most people, the games have been getting to you mentally, and the only time you have a chance to think is when everyone else is asleep.

Unfortunately, the door opens, forcing you out of your moment of peace. You turn and see the smiling face of the man who’s been causing you trouble.

“Fantastic,” you huff and mumble under your breath.

He spots you by the sinks, the smile on his face quickly dropping. “Oh. Didn’t realise there was anyone else in here.”

“Just needed some time by myself to think,” you respond, hoping he’ll leave the conversation at that.

He doesn’t, as he moves and enters one of the stalls, his voice now slightly muffled. “Why? You ready to give up?”

You ignore him, knowing he’s trying to get a rise out of you. It’s not worth it. Don’t give him what he wants.

Player 388 exits the stall, walking over to the sinks and washing his hands. “If I were you I’d give up. Someone like you will never make it to the end.”

You finally snap. “Alright,” you back up from the sinks, glaring at the back of his head. “Have I done something to piss you off?”

Player 388 turns around, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. He shrugs, looking shocked as if he didn’t expect the confrontation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” you respond. “Since the first game it’s like you’ve had a vendetta against me. For what?”

Player 388 doesn’t say anything, almost lost for words. He shifts uncomfortably, looking you up and down several times. You’re still unsure of his reasons, why he may have formed a dislike for you. But if he wants to get under your skin, then you’ll have to go deeper.

You move closer to where he stands. “Oh I get it now,” he looks up. “You’re threatened.”

“Am not,” he says, sounding like an angry child.

You shake your head, staring at him in the most patronising way you can. “You definitely are. Ex marine, acting all tough, wanting the respect he so desperately craves.”

You can tell your words are getting to him, as his nostrils flare and his brow furrows. You carry on talking.

“You see someone like me, doing just as if not better than you. Braver, stronger, more resilient. It kills you.”

You’ve moved closer, now toe to toe. You can practically feel his breath on your face.

“All that training, and deep down you’re still that terrified little bitch that had to join the marines because you weren’t good enough for anything else.”

Thump!

Player 388’s fist slams right into your jaw, knocking you sideways. You’re shocked, grabbing the side of your face and feeling a painful throbbing. You look up at player 388, a similar expression on his face.

“Oh shit-”

He doesn’t have time to say much else before you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist and pushed him to the ground. You both yell out as you crawl on top of him, throwing punch after punch, hoping one will hit. It feels messy and awkward, and you can already feel the bruises forming all over your body, but this was the breaking point.

You continue hitting player 388, your hips bucking slightly from him writhing underneath you. He lets out a small moan, loud enough for you to hear. You still, as the pair of you look at each other with shock. You move your hips harder this time, another moan coming from player 388.

“Does this turn you on?” You whisper, leaning down closer to his face. “Me beating the shit out of you, or me sitting on you like this?”

You move once more, player 388 now moving his hands to rest on your legs, halting your back and forth rocking. You can already feel something hard poking at your inner thigh, instead taking your hand and moving it to the space in between you. Pressing down, he whines, as you stroke over the fabric of his pants.

Your mouth is hovering over his, as you smirk slightly. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me?”

Player 388 nods his head rapidly, as you lean down and kiss him, teeth clashing and lips devouring each other. The taste of blood falls on your tongue, not sure if it’s from the make out session or the aftermath of punching him until he bled. You can’t believe this is how things turned out. Not that you’re one to complain.

Your hand moves into his pants, gripping him strongly and continuing the stroking motion. Player 388 tries to grab your hips, but you swat him away with your other hand.

“Put your hands above your head,” you say in between kisses.

He does so, as your free hand follows them up and grabs both his wrists. You hold them in place as you pump his shaft, his none stop whining rumbling from his throat.

“Pl-please,” player 388 whimpers. “I n-need to-”

You pump him faster now, not letting him say anything else. “You wanna cum?”

Tears well up in his eyes, as your kisses trail down from his mouth to his neck. His legs are shaking and he tries desperately to move his hips higher, thrusting his member further into your hand. You’re both breathless, and you can tell player 388 is reaching his limit.

Just as he’s about to release into ecstasy, you quickly pull both your hands away, leaning back and staring down at him. He lets out a shocked gasp, raising his head as best as he can to look at you. He looks lost and you smile.

“This was fun,” you say, standing up and towering over his body. “I’m sure you can finish without me.”

You can’t help but laugh, as you slowly walk out of the bathroom, looking back briefly to see his disheveled and angry expression piercing into your figure. You still hate his guts, but he definitely hates yours more now.

- - -

Taglist:

@h3ll0k1ttyx @ivanttier @shewanfsrevenge @sugalump3d

(Sorry if it didn’t tag everyone)

[lordprettyflackotara]

what a heavenly way to die || the proxies

‘forever is in your eyes, but forever ain’t half the time’

sum: after being stranded in the middle of a snow storm, you’re forced to take shelter with masky, hoodie, and toby. you need to stay warm, by any means necessary

tw:SMUT, FILTHY, LONG, AGGRESSIVE SMUT, foursome kinda? idk?, sub!reader, soft dom!masky, hard dom!hoodie, sub!toby, gun play, overstimulation, exhibitionism, lowkey throat fucking, praise, humiliation, power dynamics lowkey do be in place

a/n: FOR ALL OF MY OG HITCHHIKER BABIES <3

“But I don’t wanna wear gloves!”

“Toby if you don’t wear gloves, your fingers are gonna fall off.”

Masky’s voice was hoarse, his patience thinning the longer he walked. Not even a fresh cigarette could make this situation any better. Only some shit like this would happen to him.

On the way back from an assignment the car ran out of gas, courtesy of allowing Hoodie to drive for more than five minutes. Now with the tank on E, the four of you were stranded in the middle of no where. Snow fell from the sky, coating each of you more and more by the second. Hoodie seemed perfectly content with his offense, minus the occasional shiver. Toby couldn’t comprehend the need to wear so many layers, the kid practically fighting for the right to freeze to death. Masky found himself silently regretting his choice of a mask, his gaze landing on you.

Normally he discounted your presence, you being the newest member of the group. But he’d be lying to himself if he shrugged you off. Although you had only been around for a few years now, for such a tiny little thing you sure pulled your weight. He never thought much of you at first, your small stature and loud mouth telling him everything he could ever want to know. But over the years of enslavement together you simmered down, sometimes more quiet than Hoodie. Masky could deal with his silence, having been dragged into this shit show by his hand.

But you? He couldn’t handle it.

His dark gaze landed on you, looming over your shaking form like a dark cloud. You always wore skimpy clothing, even if not practical. This happened to be one of those times, your skirt riding up your thighs and knee high socks failing to conceal the goosebumps that littered your skin. “Cold, kid?” Masky asked, ignoring his own shaky fingertips as he took a drag of his cigarette. The four of you had been hiking for what felt like hours, more and more of your limbs becoming numb by the second. “T-Told ya life wasn’t a f-fashion show,” Toby chimed in, clearly enjoying the weather.

“Can it, you ticking time bomb,” Masky interjected, frowning. He noted the way you avoided his gaze, as if you were afraid of judgment. But why? You had never given a shit about his opinion before. He grunted to himself as he shrugged off his signature mustard jacket, forcefully shoving it on your shoulders.

“But you’ll freeze-”

“Put it on and don’t bitch about it.”

His voice was stern and full of authority, threatening you to question it. His mask hid his satisfied expression as he watched you put it on. “Any plans here boss? Or do we plan on camping out here?” Hoodie asked sarcastically. It was in moments like these Masky was thankful the two of them wore mask, his distain written all over his face. “We just need to keep heading south like boss ordered,” Masky huffed, blowing cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Tensions were arising quickly, the freezing cold fizzling out any trust that had been formed.

“Head south? Are you on crack or delusional? Toby’s fingers are so frost bitten they’re about to snap off and the kid is so fuckin cold i’m surprised she’s able to stand at all,” Hoodie barked, his words laced with venom. Masky didn’t like to go off schedule. He didn’t like to piss off The Operator. If it were him and him alone, he’d continue walking south until he either made it or The Operator himself found him. However, as his eyes raked in the sight of his companions, he realized Hoodie was right.

“Fine, we’ll have a sleepover. Follow me. I saw smoke over this way,” Masky agreed reluctantly, tossing his cigarette bud carelessly onto the ground. Toby began to yap about Masky being a litter bug, earning him a knock upside the head from Hoodie. The silent proxy gritted his teeth, annoyed with Masky neglecting to tend to them sooner.

“You saw signs of civilization and just now told us? How long would you have let us walk before we fuckin froze to death?” Hoodie questioned, his gaze so deadly Masky could feel holes burning into his back. You awkwardly tugged his jacket closer to you, your breath shallow. “He’s k-kinda right, kinda an asshole move,” You said softly, completely exhausted from marching in a borderline snow storm. Masky’s gaze softened for a moment, before noticing Toby had taken off his gloves. “We need to get going before this dipshit loses his fingers,” Masky grumbled, shrugging off the issue at hand. The three of you trailed behind him, satisfaction washing over you as a cabin came into sight.

You weren’t an advocate for death, but you quite literally would’ve killed someone for a warm spot in that cabin. The four of you burst inside, scanning the room for any sign of human life. None of you could deny your eagerness to be warm. A small fire crackled in the background in the fireplace, providing a soft orange glow to the room. Masky gestured Toby to follow him upstairs, leaving you and Hoodie to scope out the remainder of the first floor. “Any guesses on why it’s abandoned like this?” You asked the taller proxy, avoiding his lingering gaze. Hoodie tended to be a bit unsettling sometimes, whether he meant to be or not.

“My guess? Some rich couple cut their honeymoon short and hauled ass once they saw the forecast,” Hoodie said blandly, shrugging off his ski mask. It had been a while since you had seen his face, his stubble grown out more than you could remember. “Good for us then,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. You stared at the ground so much you tended to forget what your fellow proxies faces looked like. Footsteps trampling down the stairs regained your attention, your head snapping in the direction. “Good news, place is ours. Bad news, the only heat source is that lovely fireplace right there,” Masky said, sitting down in front of the small couch. The three of you followed his lead, crowding around the tiny fireplace.

“This is your grand plan?” Hoodie questioned, his distrust visible on his face with his mask off. Masky fought the urge to light another cigarette, bringing his knees to his chest. “The fireplace as well as our body heat is enough to survive. Unless you have a better idea, be quiet,” Masky replied dryly. Toby took the opportunity to lay his head in your lap, a place he had been time and time again. You had taken on this role long ago, stroking his chestnut hair until the unpredictable ticking time bomb fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, even as you settled in next to Masky.

You ignored the ever growing tension that sprouted with each second as your arms touched, the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco flooding your nostrils. Tensions were ever growing as your arm brushed against his, your energies so magnetic it made you unmistakably nervous. Nervous. You never felt nervous in any other situation. But around Masky? Especially close like this? You might as well have been a flirty high school girl. Hoodie ignored the three of you, jumping over the arm of the couch and making himself comfortable. He was always reserved like that, refusing to touch any of you unless he was back handing Toby. The couch squeaked under his weight, the squeaks continuing until the older proxy got settled.

You continued to play with Toby’s hair, swirling your fingers around his scalp. “Warm enough kid?” Masky asked, his voice more rough than usual. You tried to avoid staring, noticing him taking off his mask out of the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to soak in his features, especially since his mask was practically glued to his face a majority of the time. Instead you forced yourself gaze to remain forward, watching the fire flicker. “I suppose,” You mumbled, catching a knot in Toby’s hair. You refrained from cringing as you brushed it through with your fingers, thankful he couldn’t feel pain as he slept soundly. The sound of Hoodie’s soft snores put Masky a little more at ease, his next words something he wouldn’t admit to the other two men next to you.

“You were right about earlier. I was an asshole, I should’ve had us head here to begin with,” Masky admitted timidly. He didn’t like being the leader, that role automatically assigned to him like it was his birth right. What he didn’t like even more than that, was admitting that he was wrong. He expected ridicule, which he would’ve gotten if you were Hoodie or Toby. But instead you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the fabric of his sweater. “I know you were just trying to please The Operator,” You whispered. You continued playing with Toby’s hair, ensuring your hand didn’t stop. You glanced up in his direction, soaking in his thick eyebrows and awkward side burns. His chocolate eyes met yours unsurely, an eyebrow raising.

“What are you doing to me kid?” Masky grumbled, his own heart beginning to race. This was bad news, feeling this way towards you. But the orange glow against your skin had him reeling in his own skin. “You tell me boss,” You whispered back, edging your lips towards his. It caught you off guard that Masky made the first move, planting his lips against yours. His lips were as chapped as yours, his taste a recognized mixture of mint and cigarettes. You melted under his touch, eagerly kissing him back. He was intoxicating, his large hand slipping into your hair.

You could feel your core throbbing with desire, your cheeks flushing pink as you realized this. Being a proxy didn’t exactly equate a productive sex life, your body longing for the touch of another human. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, his desperation. It was just as passionate as yours, both of you longing for human compassion. You shuddered as his large hand slithered down to your thigh, your legs parting instantly. His cold fingertips trailed up your sensitive skin, tracing your skin teasingly. You held back a soft groan, Masky eager to hear you make sinful noise for him. He was so close to your core, your body shuddering at the idea-

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Hoodies voice was sharp, abruptly interrupting your lustful daze. Love affairs between proxies was forbidden, a strict rule made clear to you by The Operator. While he gave the same speech to Kate, he knew that her feralness would unintentionally have her follow his rule to a T. You, however, were semi more mentally stable, with a knack for fashion and semi put together appearances. For the first time you saw panic across Masky’s eyes, causing you to clear your throat. “Sharing body warmth obviously, you cold Hoodie?” You asked, the lie leaving your lips before you had time to consider the repercussions. For a second you could’ve swore you saw a glimpse of Brian, a playful smirk crawling up his lips.

Your hand abandoned Toby’s hair, grabbing a handful of Hoodies coat to drag him closer to you. You managed to spare a moment of hesitation, dragging his lips to clash into yours. You were tense at first, unsure what the proxy would do. You were surprised to feel him meet your desperation all the same, the nagging realization of his similar loneliness crashing over you. Teeth clashed with teeth, his desperation resulting in a deeper kiss than you expected. You found yourself getting even more flushed, knowing Masky’s eyes were burning into yours. He took the opportunity to press his hand against your core, noting how damp your panties were already.

“You’re gonna wake the kid up,” Hoodie grunted, reluctant to pull away from your lips to begin with. Masky rubbed against your swollen slick, earning a small whimper from you. “I’m a-a-already up,” Toby said groggily, sitting up. You avoided his gaze as he soaked in the sinful sight in front him, Masky’s hand on your cunt and Hoodie’s lips mere centimeters from yours. You swallowed, your core throbbing at the idea of taking all three of them at once. After all, you had to convince yourself you weren’t lying. This entanglement was nothing more than an exchange of body heat, a way to keep warm.

Right?

You turned your head towards Toby swallowing nervously as you leaned forward to kiss him. It caught him off guard, his light grey cheeks forming a tint of pink as he matched your actions. Two sets of large hands rearranged you as you lost yourself into the kiss, your ass in the air as your skirt got flipped up. “Fuck,” Masky mumbled, his cold hand sending goosebumps across your skin. You could hear Hoodie moving on the couch, causing you to pull away from sucking on Toby’s bottom lip. The clinking of his belt fully caught your attention, your eyebrows raised. “Do you um, not wanna be warm?” You asked slowly. A pang of embarrassment shot through you, a creeping worry of his lack of desire for you arising. The taller proxy smirked, unzipping his jeans.

“I just wanna watch you get knocked down a few pegs, now go on and kiss Masky again,” Hoodie ordered, palming himself through his jeans. You turned to Masky, cheeks flushed red and heart pounding as you met his gaze. His pupils were blown with lust, his face in the softest state you had ever seen it. You met his lips eagerly, obeying Hoodies demand. Toby took the opportunity to come up behind you, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. Your hand slithered its way down to Masky’s crotch, palming his hard boner. You were satisfied to hear a small groan claw its way out of his throat, your lips eagerly swallowing it. You arched your back as Toby’s curious fingertips found their way to your breast, squeezing harshly at your perky nipples.

“N-No bra? You’re just d-d-dying to get fucked huh?” Toby snickered. Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you whimpered, nibbling on Masky’s bottom lip. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, soaking in his facial expression. “Let me suck you off,” You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek as Toby harshly twisted your left nipple. Masky seemed at a loss of words, something that rarely occurred to him. He looked over you, eyeing a mischievous Toby. “Hey kid, make yourself useful and let her ride your face,” He said, his words laced with authority. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread over you as Toby laid on his back, nuzzling himself between your knees.

“Sit back on his face princess,” Hoodie ordered, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Masky clenched his jaw, having momentarily forgotten Hoodie was even there. He watched your shaky hands fiddle with his belt, slowly lowering yourself onto Toby’s eager mouth. You nervously glanced down at the younger proxy, licking your dry lips. “You can uh, touch yourself you know, or something,” You offered unsurely, feeling him shove your panties to the side with his cold fingertips. Masky placed his hand on the back of your head, gently reminding you to focus. “He’ll figure it out kid, stop worryin’ so much,” Masky grumbled. You continued to focus on undressing him, whimpering as you felt Toby’s warm tongue dart in between your folds.

“This is taking way too fuckin long. Let’s speed things up shall we?” Hoodie asked, his cock already exposed and in hand. Your eyes widened as he took out his hand gun, clicking off the safety. “Get to sucking princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby continued to lap at your folds, his tongue messily flicking your clit. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Masky argued. His attention was diverted once you took him in your mouth, eagerly bobbing your head up and down on his hard cock. Hoodie smirked at your reaction, noting the way your thighs squeezed Toby’s head harder. “Look at her Mask. You think a girl like us isn’t into some freaky shit? Now shut up and enjoy it,” Hoodie snickered, stroking himself to the sight.

Toby was eager, his hand pumping his own shaft as he devoured your cunt. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, his soft groans muffled by your soaked folds. Your hips involuntarily grinded against his face, your own moans sending vibrations around Masky’s cock. The brunette tried to hide his own sinful noises, but you taking him to the base cancelled out any possibility of him being able to do so. His hand grabbed a handful of your hair, assertively guiding you up and down his cock. Hoodie couldn’t get enough of the sinful sight, your knees digging into the hard wood as you struggled to hold yourself up. He wouldn’t stop watching even if the world collapsed.

Meanwhile Masky was struggling to hold on, having spent years and years with his hand as his only companion. Your mouth was so warm and wet, your throat only making it harder to resist cumming right then and there. “Fuck kid, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip. Your eyes were already flooded with tears, your gaze meeting his as you deep throated him. It was embarrassing to Masky how fast he knew he was going to cum, your sweet face only bringing him closer to the edge. Hoodie noted this as well, noticing the way Masky’s hips began slowly stuttering. A sadistic thought came to mind, one that he knew would ensure a good time for every party involved.

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, your thighs squeezing Toby’s head so tightly you were almost worried about him. “Go on princess, that’s it. Ride Toby’s face like the good whore you are,” Hoodie purred, stroking himself. He enjoyed watching your micro expressions, your mannerisms. The way your eyebrows furrowed when Toby licked you just right. Masky momentarily pulled out of your mouth, craving to hear your moans. Your spare hand was tugging at Toby’s hair, whimpers clawing their way out of your throat. “Fuck, feels so good T-Toby-” You whined, tilting your head back. Precum and saliva covered your swollen lips, your gaze meeting Masky’s. “Can I cum? Fuck, please let me cum,” You whined, struggling to contain yourself. Masky smirked at your request, briefly giving Hoodie a cocky glance.

“Go on kid, cum for us,” He cooed. Words couldn’t describe the satisfaction he felt as you came on Tobys face, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking. You planned to get off, a click from Hoodies gun ripping you away from your ride of euphoria. “I didn’t tell you to get off, did I? Keep riding princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby was still as eager as ever, his mouth gratefully accepting you as you lowered back down onto him. He lapped at your slick, devouring your cum. “Nobody’s stopping until everyone cums. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” Hoodie asked mockingly. You rolled your tongue out across your bottom lip, presenting yourself for Masky to use. “Masky, please, let me taste you,” You pleaded, struggling to stay upright. The overstimulation was making your body twitch, the brunette quick to shove himself back in your mouth.

Something about this, watching you be overstimulated and cumming, drove Masky feral.

He was more aggressive this time, pulling your hair and forcing your jaw to go slack. You whined as you struggled to keep up, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth. “Such a good hole for me to use, fuck,” Masky groaned. He could feel himself coming closer to his orgasm, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time down your throat. His warm seed made you gag as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped his thighs, swallowing him whole. He pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp for air. You were so pretty like this, your face fucked out and sounds nothing more than incoherent babbles. You could hear Toby’s groans growing louder as well, your thighs squeezing around his head as he came on his stomach. The three of you were spent, Toby’s tongue momentarily coming yo a pause.

The sound of Hoodies gun clicking caught all three of your attention, the taller proxy not hiding his sadistic grin. “Not all of us have cum, have we?” He asked, sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine. “Keep sucking princess,” He barked. His gaze landed on Toby, whose eyes were barely visible from between your thighs.

“And keep eating her out kid, I wanna see her squirm.”

[cherry-hulu]

greetings...i respectfully would like to place down my 2 cents for diamond life

reader is hard at work under the desk in woozi's studio, whenever a member-specifically shua and minghao or honestly whichever member wants to blow off some steam while recording, all woozi has to do is pull them off him, hold them by the hair and let said member go nuts...the sadists that they are 🤐

— Accelerando!

Warnings: woozi x free use!reader x joshua x the8, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), tears, gagging, lots of cum, voyeurism, filming

More like this... Diamond Life : The Series

Recordings can either be the smoothest sailing days or the harshest battles against the flow. Sometimes it would be over in a few hours, sometimes it could take up the whole day.

When the members said Woozi practically lived in his Universe Factory, they meant in. He even had his own foldable bed in it and everything. All his amenities at one place for his comfort.

Out of all the members, Woozi would argue that he benefited from you the most. He had always loved the idea of cockwarming, especially while he worked on his chair. The idea of someone keeping his cock warm and hard while he made music was magical.

You sat under his desk, legs crossed, eyes closed, head resting on his hard muscle packed thigh, mouth occupied with his heavy thick dick in your mouth. You may seem at rest but your tongue definitely wasn't. Occasionally moving, licking the veins from the sides of his cock. Throat constricting at carefully calculated times.

"Lets do one more run towards the end. I wasn't satisfied with the last part, I think both of you can do more." Woozi spoke, his fingers pressing on the button talking to Joshua and Minghao who was in the booth recording for a duet.

Minghao sighed and nodded, Joshua just held his headphones in understanding. The two calmest members of the group, but the last person they'd want to piss off. An enigma of the saying 'The calm before the storm.'

The two went for a few more rounds in the studio, before slowly, the frustration started creeping in, tension building up in the booth until it was showing in their voices.

Truth is, Woozi was doing this on purpose, he believes that there's no better view than you choking and crying on a dick. He would always do it to you, loving the bulge his cock would imprint on your throat, the way your glassy eyes look up at him showing no signs of thinking, completely dumb and cock drunk.

As much as he loves seeing it in first person, he can't help but wonder what it'd look like in second. The boys really have spending alot more time together, Seungkwan's enthusiasm over exhibitionism was starting to get to him.

"Hyung.. I don't think I can do it anymore, it's getting overwhelming. We've been here for hours repeating the same line over and over again. I need a break." Minghao complained, ever so well thought out and collected, but his body language says otherwise. He looked stiff, eyes tired and basically begging for rest.

"I agree, I think it would be better for us to have a break and recollect ourselves, maybe it's the exhaustion that's causing the bad outcomes." Joshua nodded, looking back and forth between his friends.

You open your eyes at the sound of their voice, looking up to Woozi with a hopeful look. He told you of his plans asking for consent, and you eagerly nodded not even a second after the words left his mouth making him chuckle and call you a slut.. which you ultimately got heated up over, and no, you didn't beat him to death, but your pussy may say otherwise.

The pale man was silent for a minute as if he was thinking, before ultimately agreeing and letting the boys out. As the duo leave the booth, Woozi pulls his dick out of your mouth making your saliva drip all over the floor and off his dick.

Rolling his chair to the side, he reveals you to the boys, looking pretty all wet and open wide for the two. "It would be better for you two to release your frustrations rather than have them bottled up, 'no?" Woozi said, dick standing up and and as proud as himself for his plan execution.

"Yeah, definitely." Joshua sighed, pulling his dick out of his pants, getting harder and harder each passing second as you crawl on your fours to get to him. He gives his dick a few strokes before shoving himself in all the way in your mouth.

Joshua, Seventeen's Gentleman, was nothing like the man the public perceives of him. He was anything but gentle, always leaving you bruised and nearly unconscious after fucking you. Cuffing you down, pressing you hard against the bed, everything but being gentle.

Minghao was silent, but he wasn't non threatening, situating himself behind you, his focus immediately zeroed in on your exposed cunt. You were wearing only a thin oversized shirt — probably from Mingyu — and nothing else. What was the point of wearing under wear when it's just gonna be put aside anyways?

The chinese man was known for his relentless and often unfiltered mouth. He wasn't any different in sex, seemingly having developed an oral fixation on your pussy, always eating you out whenever given the chance to. He usually starts off slow, before adding his fingers, and going feral using you.

Your whimpers were muffled by the dick inside your mouth, heavy and big. Joshua surprisingly was starting off slow as well, probably due to the younger kneeling behind you. But his pace doesn't stop him from going rough. Giving you deep, hard thrusts, that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Tears were already rolling of your face, muted gagging sounds emmited from you as he sensually fucked your mouth as if it was your cunt.

Woozi felt like he was in a real life porno. Sitting like a king in his chair with his legs in a manspread, slowly jerking off his hard on. From his perspective, the bulge on your mouth was extremely evident. Him and Joshua were pretty similar in girth, having only an inch difference in length.

From behind you, Minghao was finally starting to quicken his pace. Slender fingers now toying with your cunt, tongue lapping and licking all over you resulting in nasty slurping sounds. He didn't knew whose cum was mixxed with yours, but whoever it was, his diet must be healthy for it to taste this good. Or maybe it was just your magic.

His tongue slides in and out of you, practically cleaning you up to get you ready for a fresh new batch of cum inside of you.

Joshua was now collecting your hair and putting it up in a pony tail, his big hands giving him no struggle with the task. You mentally prepare yourself as this was his ritual before losing all his mercy on you. He groaned as he gives you a deep hard thrust, before pulling out and pushing back in, this time with a much faster, deeper, pace.

Minghao moves his face away from your cunt, opting to finger you instead. His dick was getting painfully hard, having been ignored for too long. His patience runs thin when he's horny.

Finally taking his dick out, he pushes in inside of you, immediately matching with his hyungs pace in a way that he was in fucking into you at the same time Joshua was. Two dicks pressing deeply inside of you at the same time, at the same intervals.

You sounded and looked like a mess. Torn between gagging and moaning. Your face was flushed, full on crying now. Had it not been for Joshua in front of you, your face would be on the floor planted flat right now.

Woozi was shamelessly jerking off while watching the whole thing. His mind has orchestrated alot of masterpieces throughout his life, this was no doubt one of them.

"Agh.. fuck." Joshua strangled out as he came in your mouth, forcing your face into his dick, nose pressing against his pelvis. He was a heavy heavy cummer, emphasize on heavy if it hadn't been yet. Always leaving you full or choking even more on his cum, not just his dick.

Sweat was dripping of his forehead as he look down on you, panting with veins visible all over his arms and face. "Good girl, good job. Take it all. All of it." Joshua praised in a husky voice, clearly worn out from todays activities. But no matter how tired he was, he would never pass out on your hole.

Minghao followed soon after, filling up your other hole with his own cum. He rocks his hip back and forth into you creating a ring of cum around his dick. "Hyung.. look at this." Minghao called out, eyes focused on where the two of you connect.

It was all Woozi needed for him to cum as well. Cursing under his breath as a string of cum spurts out his dick, landing all over his chair, shirt, and even on the floor.

Joshua reached out to his back pocket for his phone. Opening the camera, he hit the record button making surs to catch your face in the frame.

Slowly, he pulled his dick out of you, a flow of his cum dripping out of your mouth. You were panting like a dog, eyes blown out, all fucked out to realize that there was a camera in front of you. Joshua pressed a thumb on your tongue, prompting you to open up more.

He dragged his thumb from your tongue to your lip, spreading cum all over. Angling his phone to where it catches the both of you, he pulled you into a kiss, tasting and cleaning his cum from your mouth. Tongues lapping all over each other, dirty sounds coming from the two of you. Alternating between open mouth kisses to French kissing.

"Fuck, hyung." Minghao whispered when he felt his dick getting hard again. Looks like it won't be just the three of them who'll be working hard in the studio today.

[spoiledprincessbratspostsblog]

needing

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Warnings: English isn't my first language so I apologize for any and all mistakes. All GIF credits to the owner. Heavy implications of smut but no actual smut. Kind of Toxic!Rafe but idk??This is lowkey rushed but I needed it to get out there lol.

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚

Being JJ’s sister already meant people had a bad perception of you, but your attitude did not help the rumors anyway. You weren’t known for being nice to everyone, and that was fine because it scared the weirdos away most of the time.

You’ve always seemed strong and independent. Insults usually rolled right off you, and situations didn’t seem to bother you. Being hard-headed and having an attitude all the time was a good cover. But it was all a front. At home, your dad would constantly abuse alcohol, and you and JJ often bore the brunt of his rage. When JJ started sleeping at John B’s house and only saw you once a week, you ended up taking most of the hits.

You were friends with the Pogues, but not as close as JJ was, so you didn’t feel comfortable staying at John B’s house.

You met Rafe almost a year ago at a party. It was meant to be an emotionless hook-up and nothing more. But over time, what started as frequent, meaningless sex evolved into a friends-with-benefits situation. You two began spending a lot of time together, both with and without there being sex involved. He started taking you out to places and even to parties with his friends and others around.

But he wasn’t your boyfriend. And every time you attempted to bring it up he'd claimed he “couldn’t be the man you needed.” Despite that, as you grew closer, he eventually learned about your home life. Rafe wasn’t stupid—he knew Pogues had it hard—but he hadn’t realized how much your situation affected you. How you were really a sweet and caring person who had just been hurt by your situation. Once he did learn, he started spending more time with you at his house, claiming, “Look, I know this is just sex, but come on, I can’t have you around that bullshit, ‘kay?”

You didn’t complain—free days at Tannyhill with him were a welcome escape!

Everything was fine until Rafe started treating you like an actual girlfriend. You wanted to be his, but was he really capable? Anyway, it wasn’t what he wanted—he’d made that very clear—so it didn’t matter.

Then, you two got into a bad argument last week. You’d started feeling very dependent on Rafe, and you hated it. So you began to pull back, which only made him care more. One comment led to another, and…

“Rafe, stop. If you’re not my boyfriend, stop acting like you care about me like one.”

“My god! You don’t want me to care about you just ‘cause I don’t wanna be your boyfriend? S’pathetic.”

“Fuck you!” you yelled before storming out.

You hadn’t seen or talked to him since. He was pissed but still wanted to fix things; he just didn’t know how.

That’s when you called.

Your dad had come home drunk, yelling and throwing things. You could no longer bear it. So you called Rafe.

“Hey, I’ll be at yours in like half an hour,” you told him, not waiting for a response.

When you arrived, Wheezie let you in. (She already knew the procedure and wouldn’t snitch,) but she stopped you.

“Hey, you okay? You don’t look okay,” she asked.

You put on your best smile. “Yeah! M’fine! Rafe’s here, right?” She nodded and let you pass.

When you reached Rafe’s room, he was sitting on his bed. His eyes instantly met yours. You climbed onto the bed, inching towards him, and eventually straddled him without saying a word while he stared at you.

“Hi,” you whispered before kissing him.

Rafe, being a man with needs, initially kissed you back. But after sensing something was wrong, he pulled back.

“Nah, nah, you were just over here yelling at me. I’m not mad, okay, but you’re not okay,” he said, concern in his voice.

You frowned as tears welled up in your eyes. “Rafe, m’fine. I’m sorry. You’re forgiven. Please just kiss me. Come on, I just need to forget.”

He kissed you again but stopped when he felt you begin to cry lightly, your breath hitching out of sadness.

“Nah, baby, come on,” he said, pulling you into a hug and holding you tight.

You couldn’t cry in front of him. You couldn’t be so attached to him. It freaked you out, and you tried to push him off.

“Rafe, stop!” you cried, but his grip only tightened.

“What is it? Is it me?” he asked softly, stroking your hair to calm you down. “Your parents?” he whispered.

Finally, you broke down, crying into his chest and wetting his shirt with your tears. Although you had previously confided in him, it had never been like this. He whispered a series of “M’sorrys” as he stroked your hair.

When you finally calmed down, you pulled back and got off him, heading to his mirror to clean yourself up. He stared at you with concern.

“Shit, sorry. Okay, well, m’gonna go now,” you said quickly.

He immediately got up and walked over, towering over you. “The fuck you are. You haven’t told me what’s wrong or why you tried to forget by fucking me.”

“I just needed to forget, okay? No point crying over something I can’t change.”

“Something you can’t change?”

“What?”

“What is the something you can’t change?”

“The situation with my dad and your feelings toward me,” you calmly explained.

“Now, why’d you think fucking was gonna make everything better, huh?” he scolded, switching the topic.

You looked away. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“What?”

“I thought you’d no longer be mad at me or wouldn’t care if I was crying if you got to fuck,” you said lightly.

He scoffed in disbelief. “You think that’s the kind of person I am? Baby, I care so much more for you than I’ll ever let on, okay? And this isn’t just sex. You are so much more to me as a person. It’s important to me that you know that, ‘kay?”

You nodded, still waiting for him to respond to your earlier comment.

His face softened. “Look, I wanna be your boyfriend, ‘kay? More than anything, fuck, believe me. But I can’t be the man you deserve. You deserve so much better.”

You scoffed lightly. “But I want you.”

He sighed. “Let me better myself. Then I promise.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead softly. “Stay here tonight, yeah?”

You nodded.

Later that night, as you drifted off to sleep, he kissed your arms, shoulders, and face with gentle affection. “I love you,” he whispered before the both of you fell asleep.

[pinejayy]

╰➤ Petite Lover uwu

featuring: trafalgar law x petite f!reader

a/n: this was a request by!! @periwinklepuff !! sorry for the wait girl!! I hope you enjoy this!! hugs and kisses to you uwu uwu!!

summary: law loves how tiny you are compared to him, he loves the size difference between you two, especially in the bedroom.

warnings: nsfw content, size differences, law being a tease,

✦•·················• 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃!! •·················•✦

Law always enjoyed how tiny you were compared to him, honestly he loved comparing the both of you. You were barely 5 feet tall while he was 6’3. Yes he wasn’t tall as other pirates or enemies in the pirate world but you were still very tiny and petite compared to him. And it made him feel very protective over you. Law loves how you have to look up to speak to him or to anyone.

Law loves when you wear his clothes, especially that black and yellow hoodie of his. And if you’re wearing nothing but his hoodie he’s definitely going to pounce you like some kind of animal.

Law loves holding his hand up against yours, comparing the size difference between them. “Look at how tiny you are, so tiny compared to me.”

Your hands are so tiny compared to his, this dirty boy especially loves when you have to wrap both hands around his dick to stroke him off. It’s a huge ego boost for him.

I can him resting an arm on your head. While he teases you. “Aww how’s my little princess doing?”

And also!! Whenever you’re mad at him, Law will grab your personal items and put them on high places. “Aw do you need help grabbing that princess? All you have to do is ask nicely.”

And also with you being tiny, he feels more protective around you. And honestly it’s kinda overwhelming, because he’s literally breathing down your neck. “I have to protect you…at all cost.”

Law loves how he can hold you close against his body, it could be either in just cuddles or during sex. He loves how easily he can wrap his arms around your body. How close to can against you, and how easily he can carry you.

Oh boy…sex with Law is very interesting. Before getting intimate with him, he was all talk. He was talking about how good he is, how skilled his fingers and tongue are. But when it came to the day you two first had sex he was a shy boy. Probably a virgin…nevermind IS A VIRGIN.

But of course you two have gotten closer so which means sex has gotten a lot more intense between the two of you. And Law loves exploring your body, with his hands and tongue.

And with your small body he can hold you against the wall and fuck you like a wild animal in heat. “So good, so tight..”

He loves whenever you ride his dick, the way your prefect chest bounces against the movements. And how big he looks compared against your pussy. And it especially makes him hard when he can see the outline of dick against your stomach.

Since you are tiny you can fit into cramped spaces right? So his favorite thing to do is get you on your knees and into the small space of his desk where his legs go. And you better get to sucking his pretty cock up.

He loves carrying you as he’s balls deep in you. “Mm light as a feather.”

Whenever you’re sucking him off, he can’t help but bite his lip. How your lips wrap around him. God everything about is prefect.

And Law loves returning the favor. Wrap your legs around his head and let him eat away. He can spend hours between your legs and eat your pussy all day.

So!! Since you are short the crew does tend to tease you slightly. And sometimes it doesn’t bother Law but sometimes they do tend to push your boundaries and that’s what gets him. No one is allowed to mock you for being short.

One time Penguin and Shachi were being their usual selfs and they wanted to mess around with you and it lead them to grabbing your favorite book and holding it high so you wouldn’t be able to reach it. And of course Law saw this and of course he was pissed off. Let’s just say that those two were scrubbing the deck with toothbrushes.

Law does not tolerate anyone picking on you for your height. One time Kid called you a ‘Shrimp�� and Law saw red. That day Eustass Kid was threaten that he was gonna be dickless.

Law doesn’t like anyone teasing you, but he’s fair game. He’s allowed to tease you. Well in his eyes. Whenever you don’t wanna give him a kiss he’ll grab whatever you have and hold it up high. And of course you’re on your tippy toes trying to grab on whatever he has and once close enough, he grab your hands and pin them above your head and lean in for a kiss.

Law loves mocking you when you have to tippy toe to kiss him on the lips. And if he’s being a little shit just grab him by the goatee.

Law behind close doors with you is very lovable towards you. He treats you like a princess. And of course he’s not that rough with you because of course he’s afraid of hurting you in any form.

Once you guys are alone he’s a huge lovable guy. He loves to hold you against his body. He must protect you. No matter what.

Loves being the big spoon. Because you’re so tiny and ahh he just wants to hold you. And occasionally he loves being the small spoon. He loves seeing you hold him.

He loves calling you sweet names. Such as… Princess, Peanut, Small Fry and if he’s being a little head he’s call call you shorty.

He also loves to pat your head. And he also loves to bend down and kiss your forehead.

[grimsonandclover]

Write write write

filthier the better

Sending all the love 🫶🍑

What He's Made For

Sub!Patrick Zweig x Dom!Fem!Reader

Eeuuuhhhhhh I'm sorry, just been thinking a LOT about just having enough of Patrick's shit and taking it out on him. Turns out, it's exactly what he was aiming for.

I'm writing this in a horny, ovulation-fueled daze so it's not going to be great or even good but its what I need. not proofread at alllll

consider this a foreplay part one since it ends abruptly because i need to post this before i pass out (im so tired). i need the horny freaks of this fandom to let me know if a part two is desired because I WILL write it

MDNI

1.1k words

This is entirely self serving and I'm opening up to you guys. This is me sharing. No more 600 word angst and fluff it's time for PERSONAL FANTASIES. kind of a 180 after i JUST posted that little la chimera fic lmao

You're fighting, you don't even know what for. Patrick's been pushing your buttons, getting on your nerves, and testing your limits all night. God, fuck, he won't stop. Every little word from him, all day and now night, is spoken with the pure intention of pissing you off.

"Did you really ask him about the weather?" He'd scoff on the drive home from a party. "You're miserable at small talk. Really, it's embarrassing."

The walk to the apartment elevator: "And those shoes. You've been whining all night like a fucking baby. I told you not to wear them, but you'd rather be a prissy little princess than listen to me." You're silent, breaths quickening as your fist clench around your apartment keys in the elevator, watching the floor numbers tick up. "They're ugly, anyway. I don't really get why you insist on wearing them."

Unlocking the front door, fumbling and struggling because it's hard to see through the boiling water behind your eyes. "Do you need help with that? You had, like, what- one shot of tequila the entire party? Didn't think you were such a lightweight, can't even open a door. God, you're a mess."

Once the door is open, and a sickly smug smirk is plastered on that stupid face of his, you shove him in. The action is abrupt and unexpected, Patrick stumbling back and catching himself on the entryway wall. You almost miss the smirk returning to his lips. Who cares, it's time to speak your peace.

His back is on the wall and he stays where you threw him as you rip off your coat. "What the fuck is your problem, huh?" The coat is thrown to the floor and he blinks as you fist the collar of his stupid button up. Since when does he wear these, anyway? "All fucking night, you're in my ear like a bitch. Do you need a leash?"

He's been playing with fire so far. "Woof." Patrick grins.

The taunt makes your eyes narrow and glare harden. "You think it's funny? I've got a migrain because of it. I'd be in the middle of talking to someone and you'd start your shit again. That's what's embarrassing, not my small talk."

"You're like a child, how you beg for my attention. A dog. Is that what you are, Patrick?" You tug his collar and his breath catches. Drool pools in his mouth and he swallows, eyes zeroed in on his mouth while he still smirks. "Are you a misbehaving dog?"

He doesn't answer you, just giggles. In a sudden move, your hands are on his shoulders and you're pushing him forcefully to his knees. It's only because he doesn't anticipate it that it works. In a flash, your hand is gripping a fistful of curls at the back of Patrick's head, yanking it to make him look up at you. His mouth falls open, a soft gasp escaping from it. Yes. Finally.

"Are you," The words are spoken through your teeth, and this time he really is on the brink of drooling. "A fucking dog? Or are you going to start behaving like a man?"

His grin spreads again from ear to ear as Patrick slowly shakes his head. "Uh-uh."

Oh, that does it.

Your fingers tug his head further back and he gasps again at the slight sting of his scalp. Your other hand comes up, and before he can blink, a crack is heard through the entryway.

Patrick's cheek is red and stings so badly he can't feel the pain on his scalp anymore. It's so delicious he moans. He never knew until this exact moment that he liked to be slapped, lucky you.

"Wrong answer." He shivers at your tone, the blood in his body rushing to his cheek and to his dick. "Are you going to behave?"

"No." He whispers, eyes fluttering as he anticipates the next stri-

Oh, fuck. Patrick can feel a wet patch form in his boxers when you do it again-- he hasn't cum in five days, and Patrick's hyper aware of it now. The sound that comes from his mouth is almost pornographic and anyone else listening would swear that he must be at least getting his dick sucked and not just slapped around. The hand that slaps him moves to his mouth, index and middle finger shoved forcefully until you hit the back of his tongue. He wants to suck them, so he does, but then you shove them even further back until he gags a little. This isn't for him to enjoy (though he is anyway).

"Shut the fuck up." You sneer, fingers in his throat and hair, taking back the power he's had over you all night. They way he looks on his knees, peering up at you like you're his god with tears in his waterline and-- shit, that smile is still there. "I'll make you behave, then."

The hand in his hair lets go, pushing him back by the forehead till he hits the wall with a thunk. "Look at me."

He already was, but Patrick angles his head again, this time on his own, to better suit your needs-- especially when you tell him to open his mouth and you have a grip on his cheeks. You lean down the tiniest bit for better aim before collecting spit in your mouth, then spitting it into his. "My fucking mouth. Don't ruin it with all that cheap talk, acting like you don't know who owns it.

"Who owns it."

Patrick's got stars in his eyes as he swallows, so lost in you he forgets to answer-

A smack across his cheek again, another filthy moan. "You- you own it."

"Own what?"

"Me-- my mouth, my body, fucking all of it. It's yours."

"It's mine." You nod, gripping his cheeks again until his lips pucker. Patrick's drooling. "Mine. Don't use it against me, or I won't be so nice."

If this is you being nice, Patrick doesn't know what he'd be willing to do for mean. Every word you say, every tug, your spit in his mouth-- it all sends shivers of pleasure down his spine and through to his dick, aching and tenting in the shorts he wore to practice and then to a party. He truly is as filthy as you make him out to be.

You grab his hair again just to shove him in between your thighs, the material of your jeans rubbing harshly against his face and the irritated skin of his cheek. Patrick can smell you through it. He feels punch-drunk. This is what he was made for. This is his true purpose, not tennis.

His large palms slide up and down your thighs, hungry fingers begging at the button of your jeans. Off. He needs them off.

You let him peel them off you, not for him but for yourself. You need him to show you what he's actually good for. Why you keep him around.

[ally1uvsu]

Way better than drugs. | Choi su-bong (Thanos) x Nam-gyu

Summary; Maybe it’s on purpose that Nam-gyu looks too fucking handsome for his own good, maybe it’s involuntary how he’s so touchy with Thanos and can’t keep his hands to himself, or maybe Thanos is just insane for wanting to fuck his closest friend in this hell of a game, while everyone is asleep.

Info; cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, shameless smut, trans!nam-gyu, bottom!nam-gyu, top!thanos, dirty talking, p in v sex, public sex, voyuerism, wet dreams, drugs, hickeys, nam-gyu with a praise kink, name calling, face riding, clit pinching, messy and sloppy kissing, pulling out method.. don’t trust it guys, missionary, petnames, Nam-gyu whimpers and whines idc, tit sucking, Thanos is a thighs guy, overall just real fucking shameless smut, again 😭.

Notes; one of my first smuts without them being bots, I hope y’all like it 🙏 lmk if I need to change/improve anything, ALSO PLS DON’T HATE I’LL ACTUALLY CRY 💀.. AND TELL ME WHY I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINCE LIKE 9AM.. but it’s fine cuz trust, this is a deleted scene from the show.

Thanos swore he was bound to lose his fucking mind.

No, not because of the games, because of his drugs he could handle them. But because of a certain raven haired man whom Thanos became friends with. At first, Thanos brushed off how he was so touchy, how he always wanted to be near him. But.. it all started during that pentathlon game, when Nam-gyu first took one of his drugs and was cheering for some team, Thanos seriously couldn’t help but admire him. He had beautiful features, his smile was enough to make his heart actually falter as cheesy as it is.

Thanos brushed it off as some sort of adrenaline at the time, but it kept nagging him on even after they went. His gaze was locked onto Nam-gyu, he noticed how he made sweater paws and didn’t like really touching shit with his hands, it was endearing. And Thanos made sure to make a mental note about that- since hell, he’s been making a lot.

Thanos’ own enemy was his mind, he knew it very well. So while eating, his mind wandered around while the little group he formed chatted. It seemed like his subconscious wasn’t happy with normal scenarios of Nam-gyu, without even noticing, his mind began formulating pictures of the other in the dirtiest and yet most breathtaking, positions.

Maybe it’s on purpose that Nam-gyu looks too fucking handsome for his own good, maybe it’s involuntary how he’s so touchy with Thanos and can’t keep his hands to himself, or maybe Thanos is just insane for wanting to fuck his closest friend in this hell of a game, while everyone is asleep. Thanos would be lying if he said it didn’t piss him the fuck off, it was as if Nam-gyu was doing it on purpose, challenging him, daring him to do anything. Nam-gyu was riling Thanos up without even trying or knowing.

But Thanos sadly couldn’t act on it, what would be his excuse if he dragged Nam-gyu to a bathroom? Well, not like he thought the other would question him much over it but still. He would have to deal with his brain creating these scenarios until he got out of this place.

His mind seemed to be nagging him even in his sleep, he tossed and turned without even knowing, meanwhile he was having the dream of his life. Nam-gyu under him, moaning, and then- he woke up. He was fucking pissed, who the hell would be waking him up from such a heavenly dream in the middle of the night?

He groaned as he turned to the side, only to find Nam-gyu with his head looking down to him from his bunk on top. Well, at least it was who he liked. "I can’t sleep." Nam-gyu said and Thanos snorted, he really just needed to go back to that dream. "And what do i have to do with that?"

Nam-gyu sighed, shaking his head. "Give me one more, I can’t sleep for the life of me." Thanos paused, well, he could. But he was saving the drugs for any other rounds or things that could happen later. "I already gave you two today, hell no."

Nam-gyu furrowed his brows, it was true, but one more couldn’t possibly hurt, right? "Please, man. I swear I’ll leave you alone after this." Thanos sighed, but then, an idea clicked on his head the second he heard Nam-gyu grunt and move to push himself back up. "Wait."

Thanos said as he motioned for Nam-gyu to get down, and he heard the soft thud of his feet hitting the floor as he stood in front of Thanos’ bunk. The purple haired man grinned, opening the locket and putting a pill on his tongue. He saw Nam-gyu furrow his brows, again. He found that habit of his weirdly cute.

"Are you going to give it to me or not?" Thanos swore he could feel his heart thudding with excitement. "Come and get it."

Nam-gyu froze, was Thanos serious or just high? "You mean in your?.." he said with evident shock, and Thanos nodded. Nam-gyu scoffed, he needed the stupid pill anyways. "Whatever, fucking idiot." He mumbled as he kneeled down in front of Thanos, going in for a kiss.

Thanos was practically electrified inside when he felt the lips he had been craving so much press against his, he grinned against the other’s lips and pushed the pill that had already been dissolving in his tongue into Nam-gyu’s own, and yet to his surprise, Nam-gyu didn’t break apart the kiss like he expected him to.

Thanos swore he was having another wet dream about Nam-gyu. He wasn’t.

So, who was he to break it first? His hands made quick use of themselves and reached for his hips to pull him closer, having the raven haired one practically sit on one of his thighs, his own spread to sit on his. And Nam-gyu didn’t pull himself away or break the kiss, so Thanos just got a whole confirmation. He felt a hand tangle in his hair, tugging his head back and Thanos groaned as the kiss was broken.

"Asshole, all this work just to kiss me. You really need to get creative." Nam-gyu said, deadpanning. Thanos simply chuckled, not really paying any mind. What really mattered to him was that Nam-gyu kissed him. "I got the kiss, didn’t I?" Thanos said teasingly, and he swore he could see the faintest hint of a blush coloring his cheeks even in the darkness of the room.

But Thanos was too focused on chasing Nam-gyu’s lips to pry any further. He kissed him again, it was messy, sloppy even. But it wasn’t like Thanos could hold himself back, he has been craving it.

Thanos slipped a hand under Nam-gyu’s shirt, and he could feel him shudder. Thanos’ hands were warm, warm and surprisingly comforting over his cold skin. He could feel it caressing his skin, he wanted- no, he needed more. Taking advantage of how he was situated on Thanos’ thigh, Nam-gyu slowly rocked his hips forward, giving himself some friction where he craved the most, making him moan against Thanos’ lips.

The kiss was broken again, this time, he was met with a teasing smirk from Thanos as he tried to catch his breath, panting quietly. "Nam-s-" "It’s Nam-gyu." He interrupted before Thanos could even get his name wrong, this bastard knew his name but still preferred to call him by the wrong fucking name. "Whatever." Was the reply he got, but the silence didn’t last long before he felt a hand in his own hair, tugging his head back. "You’ll have to be real quiet, do whatever you want to shut yourself up."

Nam-gyu would have nodded in another case scenario, but his head was being held back as he felt Thanos’ lips go from his jaw to his neck, biting, fuck, sucking. His lips were so fucking soft, it made Nam-gyu’s mind fog up. He gripped his shoulders as he kept that same pace, grinding against Thanos’ thigh until he lost his patience and began speeding up.

Thanos just let Nam-gyu be, focused on his neck, really. Nam-gyu’s skin was lighter than his, when he pulled back a bit, he found that Nam-gyu was light enough that his skin almost effortlessly got marked, little red circles appearing where he sucked, even if not hard. He would definitely take advantage of this, being the shitty asshole he was.

Thanos took his sweet time to suck two hickeys into Nam-gyu’s neck, until they became purple. A plus was how Nam-gyu’s breath was ragged, how he rubbed himself against his thigh. Thanos’ only question was why wasn’t Nam-gyu hard, did he do something wrong? Both of his hands stilled the other’s hips, earning a whine from it. Thanos’ lips parted, he figured he wanted more of those.

"Asshole, why’d you stop?" Nam-gyu said with a frown, and Thanos wasn’t entirely sure how to put this. "Are you sure you want this?"

The question threw Nam-gyu overboard, of course he did! Jesus, he could feel his underwear stick to his cunt, he could feel it actually fucking throb to the point it hurt just from how badly he wanted it. It took him a bit to realize why Thanos was asking him that, and then his brain finally processed it, he was grinding against Thanos previously. Thanos who didn’t know he’s transgender.

But hell, he needed this. He just crossed his fingers and hoped Thanos wouldn’t judge. A good part of him knew he wouldn’t, for fucks sake he was kissing a guy. But the other small part of him insisted in nagging him.

"I’ll fucking punch you if you mock me for this." Nam-gyu threatened, but the shakiness in his voice when he initially spoke was easily heard, and his words didn’t have his usual confidence and bite to them. "Jeez, you oughta relax, Nam-su." Thanos said as he raised his hands up in the air, and Nam-gyu simply glared at him for that stupid name, but he didn’t have the patience to correct Thanos, not now, anyways.

Nam-gyu took a shuddering sigh, he felt nervous. But he spoke either way, he would need to speak if he wanted this. "I uh.. I’m trans. And I don’t have any surgeries because you know, I’m here for a reason."

Oh.

So that was the reason? Well, at least he knew Nam-gyu didn’t have a boner because of something that didn’t involve arousal, he took it surprisingly well- it was still Nam-gyu, the same Nam-gyu who was infuriatingly handsome. "Oh, okay." Thanos shrugged, and Nam-gyu seemed taken aback, he really didn’t care? "Still want you on my dick." Thanos said bluntly, and Nam-gyu didn’t even have time to blush before another kiss was initiated.

It was the same sloppy kiss from before, except this time, before Nam-gyu could even grind against him, Thanos had him beneath himself with a surprising ease. His hands were halfway down his pants and already onto the waistband of his underwear before Thanos broke the kiss to stare into Nam-gyu’s eyes, a silent ask for consent. Thanos wasn’t an asshole, afterall.

Nam-gyu nodded, sucking in a breath. "Hurry the fuck up.." he mumbled, and he didn’t have to ask for it any further before he felt Thanos’ hand sneak down and past his underwear, one of his fingers tapping his clit, enough to make him shudder.

"Jesus, you’re already so fuckin’ wet, bet you’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?" Thanos mocked, and Nam-gyu only did as much as utter a curse under his breath. Circling the other man’s clit with his thumb as he wasted no time in sliding his ring finger in, pumping it in and out slowly at first with a shit eating grin in his face Nam-gyu chose to ignore, because hell, it felt good.

Thanos couldn’t help but let out a groan himself as he eyed Nam-gyu’s neck, he was so fucking easy to leave marks on, Thanos decided that he should take the most advantage of it as he could. He dove back in, biting and sucking into his neck as he slid another finger, lazily pumping them in and out of his cunt.

"D-dickhead, go fucking faster." Nam-gyu stuttered our slightly, he hated himself for being so fucking needy right now. "Wow, I’m hurt, sweetheart." Thanos said before his fingers picked up the speed, earning moans that were music to his ears, but he couldn’t let anyone else hear them. One, they’d probably get in trouble, two, Nam-gyu’s sweet, sweet noises were for his ears only.

So, using his free hand, he put a palm over Nam-gyu’s mouth so he could moan as much as he could, muffling those sounds enough, at least in Thanos’ brain. He could feel Nam-gyu clench around his digits, hell, if he felt this good around his fingers, imagine around his dick?

Nam-gyu moaned, his mind was foggy and spinning, even. He couldn’t stop his moans, they came our involuntarily because it felt too fucking good. Thanos had long and slim fingers, and he knew how to make him feel extremely good around them. And god, the way his mouth sucked hickeys in all the right fucking spots had him floating to another universe. It had been a while since.. he had done this, not that he really ever had sex, he wasn’t one with a huge sex drive. So it was safe to assume this was the best fuck of his life so far.

"I can feel you fucking clench around my fingers like you don’t ever wanna let me go," Thanos murmured against Nam-gyu’s neck, pulling back to observe his handiwork, purple and red hickeys littered his neck and down to the joint of his neck and shoulders, followed by marks of his teeth. "And you look so handsome around them too, hell, if I had a camera I’d take a picture of you and keep it just so I could stare at your face all scrunched up in pleasure when I jerk off."

Nam-gyu fucking clenched around his fingers hard at his words, he was so fucking close. His words uselessly jumbling up against one another, only distinctive phrases like 'i’m close’ and ‘don’t stop’ could be made out of that mess.

Nam-gyu felt like his brain melted for the time being, everything felt like it was spinning and he couldn’t take his mind off how good Thanos’ fingers felt, and then just as he was about to cum, Thanos stopped.

"Hey!- why the fuck did you stop?!" Nam-gyu whisper yelled as he propped himself up on his elbows, only to be met with the sight of Thanos fucking smirking while he cleaned his fingers with.. his mouth. Nam-gyu’s lips parted, it was an erotic fucking sight, but he was still pissed. "Jeez, relax. Be patient." Thanos said once he got his fingers out of his mouth, kissing Nam-gyu’s lips briefly before trailing down until he reached his shirt. "I wouldn’t let you go without getting a taste."

And then Thanos reached for the hem of Nam-gyu’s shirt, they were both fucking lucky their bunks were right in the very back of the room, and plus, the guards didn’t give two fucks about them fucking, well.. probably didn’t. Again, Nam-gyu nodded and Thanos made quick work of getting his shirt off, kissing his collarbone before mumbling; "You can keep this on, I don’t mind."

“You can take it off.” Nam-gyu said after a few seconds, and neither one of them mentioned too much about it. Nam-gyu let out a sigh as he took off his binder with the help of the other, sighing as he felt his breathing definitely ease. And Thanos also made quick work to get his pants off, tugging them down hastily along with his underwear until they pooled around Nam-gyu’s ankles.

The sight made Thanos’ mouth go fucking dry, even in the dark, he could make out how Nam-gyu looked. He was lean, had a considerable amount of muscle, but what called his attention were his thighs, they looked plush, comfortable. But he decided to take his sweet time with this.

He pressed kisses down to Nam-gyu’s chest, wrapping his lips around a nipple while his thumb rolled the other, the whimpers that fell from Nam-gyu’s mouth only spurring him on.

He trailed kisses until he had his face between Nam-gyu’s thighs, breath fanning over his cunt in a way that had Nam-gyu shuddering. Thanos placed a kiss on one of his inner thighs, biting it softly and earning a whimper. Thanos didn’t take much longer to wrap both of his arms around Nam-gyu’s thighs to keep them apart, burying his face in his cunt.

The taste of his arousal was dizzying, Thanos groaned as he licked a stripe up his slit, eyeing Nam-gyu who clasped both hands over his mouth, shutting his eyes. The taste burst into his mouth, god, it was addicting. He wrapped his mouth around his clit, sucking on it as he let out quiet groans, muffled by the skin. God, he was eating Nam-gyu like he was and had been starving, like he was the best meal he could find out here. And Thanos swore he could do this for fucking hours.

He moved his mouth to his entrance, his thrusting his tongue as he tried his best to keep Nam-gyu still as his hips bucked.

Nam-gyu, meanwhile, was on cloud nine. His mind was hazy, and he felt so fucking good. Thanos’ mouth was on him, his hands were on him. It was addictive, making his brain become putty. The way his thumb pressed and rolled his clit, shit, Nam-gyu was going to lose his shit.

One of his hands tangled into Thanos’ hair, pressing his face closer, hips moving onto their own accord as he rode his face, head thrown back as he felt Thanos double his efforts. "Shit, oh my fucking- yes.. oh fuck," were what could be made out, well, he had long given up on staying quiet, he was just making half assed attempts to stay quiet.

Nam-gyu let his eyes flutter shut as he felt the coil in his belly, head thrown back as he began getting increasingly more sensitive, his moans became more like whines, rising in pitch every time he felt Thanos do any movement, really. "Thanos, fuck, I’m going to cum." Nam-gyu warned, breathless as he did so. And he earned a grunt of approval from him, and then, with one final brush on his clit, he came.

Fuck, he had to hold back a scream just from how intense it all felt. His back arched slightly, his thighs trembled and he still could feel Thanos’ hands on him, holding him as still as he could as his orgasm crashed over him.

Thanos kept up his work as Nam-gyu came, dedicated to catch every single drop, he was addicted to how Nam-gyu tasted. Only when he was sure that Nam-gyu finally came down from his high that Thanos straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning in for another kiss, letting Nam-gyu taste himself in his lips. "You’re so fucking hot" He said, something Nam-gyu couldn’t quite catch because it was in English, but then again he just assumed it was something good.

He pulled back seconds after, a smirk coming to his face, "I might as well keep you, Jesus, you’re so addicting I could eat you like this for hours." He then leaned in to whisper on Nam-gyu’s ear; "I’ll even dare to say, you relax me more than those drugs, could get high while eating you out."

Nam-gyu wasn’t entirely sure on how Thanos could speak so dirtily and also say the sweetest things, but seriously, even if he didn’t know how to reply, he liked it. Both of his hands cupped his cheeks as he pulled him in for another kiss, Nam-gyu was addicted to Thanos’ lips just as he wss to how he tasted.

While at it, Nam-gyu brushed his knee against Thanos’ crotch, or what he assumed to be it. Earning a hiss from Thanos against his lips that he greedily drank. He was definitely hard, that he could tell. Perhaps even painfully so.

"Shit, you’ll maybe me lose my fucking mind, baby." Thanos said as the kiss broke, tugging his sweatpants down along with his boxers. "Kind of the point." Nam-gyu said back, from where he was lying, he could definitely make out how Thanos’ dick looked, and fuck, he was considerably big. "You might as well rip me in half." Nam-gyu mumbled out what was supposed to be an internal thought, and Thanos chuckled. "I’ll make it fit and make you feel good, just relax and keep calm." Again with that stupid English in the, but this time, Nam-gyu caught onto what he had said, something about him staying calm. And Nam-gyu nodded.

Thanos jerked himself once, twice, before rubbing his cock between the slick folds of the other’s cunt, gathering as much lubricant as he could. After coating it in a considerable amount, he rubbed the tip against his entrance and pushed in, and shit, they both saw stars.

Nam-gyu had to hold back a loud moan as he felt Thanos’ tip slide in, instead, a whimper came out. It had been a while since he last took someone, and Thanos was big and had a good girth. He took a deep breath as he bit onto his palm, feeling Thanos slowly slide in. Giving shallow thrusts to bottom out, his groans made his stomach fucking flutter, he could cum from the sounds alone again.

"Holy shit.. you’re so fucking big," he breathed out, closing his eyes. And Thanos opened his own that had been closed.

The sight, albeit obscured, was an erotic one. One that made Thanos’ mouth go dry. He was barely halfway in and Nam-gyu looked completely drunk on his cock, his eyes closed, already sweating with some hair sticking to his face while the rest fell into a small mess on the pillow beneath his head. His neck had vivid hickeys that bloomed there, in different shades. His thighs spread apart and fuck, his pussy weakly fluttering around him as it fought to accommodate him. "I can cum from this fucking sight alone, Jesus Christ, you’re fucking handsome." Thanos said, technically star-struck.

Nam-gyu let out a shuddering sigh, the words of praise made him melt, made him involuntarily clench around Thanos, he liked being praise despite degrading others, and Thanos had noticed, he would definitely use it to his pleasure later.

Nam-gyu only opened his eyes again when he felt his ass press flush against Thanos’ hips, he felt stuffed so full of his dick, he swore he could feel Thanos all the way up in his throat. Not that he was complaining, if anything, he found it fucking hot.

"You’re so fucking tight, how long has it been since you last done this?" Thanos said as he gripped Nam-gyu’s hips, looking at him to see if he could finally move.

"Shit.. I don’t know, maybe five months?" Nam-gyu managed out, nodding at Thanos rather than using his own words. He bit down on his bottom lip as he felt Thanos finally move, slow and deep. A moan would leave his lips every time he thrusted back in, the feeling was nothing short of heavenly.

"Fucking.. oh my fucking god I can feel you all the way up in my guts.. shit!" Nam-gyu moaned, eyes half-lidded, his hands moved to hold firmly onto Thanos’ shoulders, staring into his eyes as the other man let out low groans "fuck, go faster, I’ll lose my fucking mind if you don’t" he nearly begged, shit, as demanding as he sounded, the desperation in his voice was unmistakable.

Thanos gripped Nam-gyu’s thighs firmly, he was sure he would leave marks but who fucking cared? Only Thanos would see those anyways. "You’re so fucking impatient, but who am I to deny such a handsome guy my dick?" Thanos tilted his head before he changed his pace from slow and deep to hard and fast, the sudden change in pace having Nam-gyu’s eyes rolling back, scratching Thanos’ back from pleasure.

"Ah.. fuck, shit! This feels so fuckin’.. good, Than-" he was cut off before he could even say the name, this time, Thanos was the one correcting Nam-gyu. "Su-bong."

Nam-gyu swore he could cum from the tone of voice alone, Thanos’ voice was strained, almost as if he was holding back sounds. Unlike Nam-gyu who had long given up on doing so. He felt Thanos lean against him, mouth pressing open kisses around one of his boobs before wrapping around his nipple one again, pace never faltering for once.

"Shit.. you look so beautiful like this, moaning like you’re being pounded into oblivion, which you are, just so the others can hear you." Thanos murmured, chuckling. "You going to cum on my cock, hm?" And Nam-gyu nodded, clenching around him at the praise.

"Fucking hell- oh, shit.. yes I’ll- mm.. cum on your cock, s-su-bong." Nam-gyu whined, closing his eyes as he tried to calm down the intense feeling that seemed to want to consume him whole.

"Good boy, doing so well for me.. taking me so well, go on, cum on my dick like the handsome man you are." Thanos said as one of his hands reached for Nam-gyu’s clit, rubbing it with two fingers and pinching it.

Nam-gyu was in fucking ecstasy, all he would make out was Thanos, all he could say was Thanos’ name, he was so close- he moaned loudly, muffled by a kiss, a sloppy and wet one, when he felt Thanos pinch his clit and rub it. He was so close to just fucking tipping over the edge.. and then the kiss broke, and Nam-gyu was a moaning mess.

Thanos let out a grunt, head ducked down as he focused on just pounding into the man below him. "Shit.. Nam-gyu, come on, cum on my dick." And Nam-gyu froze when he heard Thanos call him by his name correctly, he wasn’t supposed to feel as aroused as he did, but he couldn’t help himself when he gushed around Thanos’ dick just from having his name said correctly "shit, shitshitshit.. Su-bong, Su-bong I’m-" was what he chanted, calling Thanos’ name as if he was some kind of angel, like he was praying to him.

Nam-gyu was too fucked out to make out anything, head thrown back while Thanos had his free hand over Nam-gyu’s mouth so he wouldn’t wake up everyone. He felt his hips squirm as he wrapped his legs around Thanos’ hips and pulled him impossibly closer, breath knocked out of his lungs as he pulled the other incredibly more deeper.

"Fuck, Nam-gyu, you’ll be the death of me, fucking shit.." Thanos grunted as he felt his orgasm hit, and he pulled out very quickly before anything, cumming over his thighs and stomach. They stayed like that for a bit, panting and trying to catch their breaths and process what the hell had just happened.

Thanos was the first one to recompose himself, and the sight completely mesmerized him. Nam-gyu had his eyes screwed shut, lips parted as he panted. He was sweating, hair stuck to his forehead and his cheeks were visibly very flushed. He had marks all over his neck and shoulders, some on his collarbones and fingers/bite marks on his thighs. His chest was heaving, body slightly twitching, and fuck, he was covered in his cum.

Cum smeared Nam-gyu’s abdomen, his thighs, come cum ran down Nam-gyu’s cunt and then fell on the sheets below, Thanos had never seen a sight so erotic and yet so beautiful at the same time before. And the first words he could manage out after that were;

"Holy fucking shit."

[growthhyp]

The Garage Sale VIII

Jack took a deep breath, his chest swelling with pride as he recounted the day of his graduation. "It was like walking on air, man," he said, his eyes glazed over with the memory. "I had this new confidence, like I could take on the world. And everyone noticed." He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "The girls, the guys, even the teachers." His eyes grew distant, reliving the moment. "But it was what I heard that really pissed me off…"Paul leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "What did you hear?"

Jack's expression darkened, his handsome features twisting into a snarl of anger. "Someone had set the fire, man," he growled. "Someone had torched the house with the intention of destroying everything she had ever loved."

Paul felt a knot form in his stomach. "Who?"

Jack's eyes narrowed, the anger in them burning like molten steel. "Adam," he spat out the name like it was a curse. "Adam fucking Rogers. The biggest dick in school, and my neighbor."

Paul's heart sank as he realized the gravity of the situation. "What happened between you two?"

The room grew hazy, the scent of the garage fading away as Jack's story painted a vivid picture in Paul's mind.

Jack was just 15, with a lanky, skinny frame that made him an easy target. He lived with the last family before Mrs. Castellanos took him in, and every day was a battle against the cruelty of the world. Adam Rogers, the neighbor from hell, made it his personal mission to make Jack's life a living nightmare. Adam is 18, a high school senior with a lean and muscular build, Adam's days were filled with football games and bullying the weaker kids. He had a smug smile that seemed to follow Jack wherever he went, a constant reminder of his own inadequacy.

One particularly brutal day, Jack had stumbled home from school, his books scattered on the ground and his glasses cracked, a souvenir from another encounter with Adam's fists. His clothes were torn and dirty, a testament to the struggle he faced just to get through the schoolyard. As he approached the house, he could see Adam leaning against the fence, his football helmet tucked under his arm, watching him with a sneer.

"Hey, faggot," Adam jeered, his voice cutting through the quiet of the suburban street. "Where's your boyfriend today?" The words were like a knife, twisting in Jack's gut.

Jack ignored him, picking up his books as quickly as he could, trying to keep his head down. But Adam wasn't the type to let his prey escape so easily. He stepped closer, his shadow looming over Jack, the smell of his sweat and grass from the football field heavy in the air.

"I said, where's your boyfriend, queer?" Adam sneered, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. He grabbed Jack's shoulder, spinning him around so they were face to face.

Jack flinched at the contact, his heart racing in his chest. "I don't have a boyfriend," he mumbled, trying to keep his voice steady.

Adam's sneer grew wider, his grip tightening. "Yeah, right," he spat. "You're just a sad little faggot with no friends." He pushed Jack hard, sending him stumbling backward.

Jack felt the familiar burn of tears in his eyes, but before he could respond, Mrs. Castellanos appeared, her eyes flashing with a fury that was terrifying to behold. She stepped in front of him, her small frame seemingly growing to fill the space between them.

"Adam," she said, her voice cold and even, "you will leave Jack alone from this day forward."

Adam's smug expression faltered, his eyes wide with surprise at the sudden appearance of the old woman. He took a step back, his grip on Jack's shoulder loosening.

"What the fuck, you old hag?" he spat.

But Mrs. Castellanos was undeterred. She raised her hand, and a pulse of energy rippled through the air. Adam's eyes rolled back in his head, his body going slack as he was enveloped in a warm, golden light. The air grew thick with the scent of jasmine and musk, the scent of change.

When the light receded, Adam staggered back, his expression one of confusion and fear. He looked down at his hands, as if expecting them to be different, but they remained the same. Yet, something within him had shifted, something fundamental.

The following weeks saw a stark change in Adam's behavior. The once boisterous and confident jock grew quieter, his swagger less pronounced. His eyes lingered longer on the muscular forms of his football teammates in the locker room, a hunger in his gaze that he didn't understand. He tried to push it away, to bury it beneath layers of denial, but it was like trying to hold back the tide with his bare hands.

One fateful day, after a particularly grueling practice, Adam stumbled into the gym showers, his body slick with sweat. The sight of his teammates' bare, muscular forms washed clean of the grime of the game was almost too much to bear. He couldn't help but watch them, his eyes lingering on the defined abs and powerful shoulders that had once filled him with jealousy and scorn. Now, they filled him with something else entirely, something that made his heart race and his cock twitch with need.

He tried to ignore it, to focus on the burning in his muscles and the cold spray of the water, but it was no use. Every time he caught a glimpse of a tight ass or a well-defined chest, he felt his resolve slipping away like sand through his fingers. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and denial, but his body had a will of its own.

Days turned into weeks, and the whispers grew louder. Adam found himself drawn to the very things he had once mocked, his eyes lingering on the muscular forms of his male classmates, his thoughts straying to the locker room and the showers that had become his personal hell. He tried to fight it, to prove to himself that he was still the same person, but every time he tried to be with a girl, his body betrayed him. His cock remained stubbornly limp, refusing to respond to the soft touches and sweet whispers that had once been his lifeblood.

College came and went, and with it, Adam's dreams of football stardom. Despite his relentless efforts in the gym, his body remained the same—no matter how hard he pushed himself, no matter how much he ate or how much he rested, he couldn't gain a single pound of muscle. It was as if the incantation had capped his growth, leaving him stuck in the limbo of his high school physique. His teammates, who had once looked up to him with envy, now pitied him. His performance on the field suffered, and it wasn't long before the coaches took notice. The same body that had once made him feel invincible now felt like a prison, keeping him from the one thing that had ever brought him true satisfaction.

The locker room had become a torture chamber for Adam. Every flex and grunt of his teammates echoed in his ears like a siren's call, his eyes drawn to their powerful forms despite his desperate attempts to ignore them. The smell of sweat and manliness was a constant reminder of what he had lost—his place in the hierarchy, his identity as the alpha male. He'd find himself getting lost in the sight of their nakedness, the water droplets on their broad backs and chiseled abs, the way the soapsuds clung to their muscular thighs. It was a silent battle, one that he waged with every fiber of his being.

During games, Adam's mind would drift to the locker room, his eyes straying to the jocks on the opposing team. He'd find himself getting hard at the most inopportune moments, his thoughts consumed by the desire to be like them, to feel their power. It didn't take long for his performance to suffer, for his fumbles and missed tackles to become a topic of whispers. His secret was a burden, a weight that grew heavier with every passing day.

In the gym, the smell of sweat and testosterone was a constant torment. He'd watch the other guys lift weights, their muscles bulging and flexing, and his cock would throb in his gym shorts, a traitor to his true desires. He tried to focus on his workout, his eyes glued to the floor or the mirror in front of him, but it was no use. The sight of their glistening skin, the sound of their grunts and groans, it all just served to drive him mad with need.

One by one, the team members started to avoid him. They could feel his eyes on them, see the hunger in his gaze. It was like a disease, spreading through the locker room, making everyone uncomfortable. The whispers grew louder, the jokes crueler. "What's up, Rogers?" they'd say with a sneer. "Still trying to get some action with the guys?" And he'd just laugh it off, pretending not to care, pretending to be the same guy he'd always been.

But he couldn't hide it forever. The day he was kicked out of the football team was like a knife in the gut. The coach had called him into his office, his face a mask of disappointment. "You're just not cutting it anymore, Rogers," he'd said, his voice heavy with accusation. "You've gotta get your head in the game." But Adam knew what he was really saying. He could see it in the glances he got from the other players, the way they looked at him differently now.

Adrift and alone, Adam found himself wandering the college campus, his eyes always drawn to the places that had been his sanctuary. The football field, the gym, the locker room. They were all tainted now, haunted by the ghosts of his former life. He'd sit on the bleachers, watching the other players practice, his heart heavy with regret and longing. He'd go to the gym, pump iron until he could barely move, trying to recapture that feeling of power and belonging. But it was always just out of reach, like a mirage in the desert of his own despair.

The day he was kicked out of the dorm was a low point. The other players had complained about his lack of focus, his erratic behavior. They didn't know about his secret, but they could feel the shift in the air. The room that had once been filled with the sounds of camaraderie and victory now felt like a cage, closing in on him. He packed his bags in silence, the weight of his failure pressing down on him like a leaden blanket.

As he moved into his new dorm, Adam couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to him like a second skin. He'd been placed with a regular college student, Aaron, who was as muscular and confident as the men Adam had once envied. The room was small but well-kept, with one glaring exception—the other side of the bed was adorned with rainbow flags, stickers, and posters of shirtless men. Adam felt his stomach drop as he realized his roommate was openly gay, something he'd never had to confront before. He tried to push the thought away, but it was like trying to ignore a blinking neon sign.

Aaron walked in, his smile wide and welcoming. "Hey, I'm Aaron," he said, extending a hand. Adam took it, feeling the firm grip that spoke of strength and confidence, two things he'd lost. "I'm Adam," he mumbled, his eyes darting to the rainbow decor.

Days turned into weeks, and Adam did his best to ignore the growing attraction he felt toward Aaron. He'd catch himself watching his roommate as he moved around the room, his muscles rippling with every step. He'd tell himself it was just the envy of a man who'd lost his edge, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

He tried to fill his time with study and work, burying himself in his schoolwork to avoid the inevitable. But every night, as he lay in bed, the sounds of Aaron's breathing seemed to call out to him. The soft rustle of the bed sheets, the occasional groan as Aaron shifted in his sleep, it was like a siren's song, drawing him closer to the truth he didn't want to face.

Adam took to wearing headphones while he jerked off, the sound of his own ragged breaths drowned out by the music. He'd scroll through his phone, his eyes lingering on the images of muscular men that he'd saved in a hidden album. The sight of their bulging biceps, the way their abs rippled as they moved, it was like a balm to his soul, soothing the raw ache that had taken up residence there. He'd touch himself, stroking his cock with a desperation that grew with every passing day. The pleasure was intense, a bright light in the darkness of his self-loathing.

But try as he might to ignore the truth, it had a way of finding him. One night, as he lay in bed, his hand wrapped around his shaft, he heard the soft creak of the floorboards. Panic shot through him, his heart racing as he realized Aaron was standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock and understanding. The headphones lay tangled on the pillow beside him, a silent testament to his secret.

Adam froze, his hand hovering over his erection. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, his eyes darting around the room for an escape. But there was nowhere to go. Aaron stepped closer, the scent of his cologne mixing with the musk of his arousal. "What's going on, man?" he asked, his voice gentle, yet laced with curiosity.

Adam swallowed hard, his heart racing. "It's… it's nothing," he stuttered, pulling the blanket over himself. "Just… a… a… personal thing."

Aaron's eyes searched his, a mix of concern and something else—desire. "Look, man," Aaron said softly, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the pit of Adam's stomach, "I'm not gonna judge you. We all have our… preferences."

Adam felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he realized that Aaron knew. The fear of being outed, of being the subject of more whispers and jokes, dissipated like mist in the morning sun. "Thank you," he murmured, the words thick with relief.

Aaron nodded, his gaze never leaving Adam's face. "You don't have to thank me," he said, his voice still gentle. "But if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."

The months that followed were filled with an unspoken tension. They remained roommates, but their relationship remained a dance of avoidance and awkwardness. The occasional glances that lingered too long, the accidental brushes of skin as they passed in the hallway—each was a reminder of the night Adam had been caught with his hand in his pants, his eyes on Aaron's body.

===

Graduation approached, a beacon of light at the end of a tumultuous tunnel. The night of the celebration party, Adam found himself swimming in a sea of cheap beer and nostalgia. The music thumped in the background, a cacophony of laughter and chatter filling the air as he leaned against the wall, watching the bodies sway and mingle. Aaron was there too, a beer in his hand, his eyes occasionally meeting Adam's before darting away, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

As the party grew wilder, the drinks grew stronger. Adam felt the warmth of the alcohol seep through his veins, loosening the tightly wound coil of his inhibitions. He stumbled through the crowd, the room spinning, and suddenly, there was Aaron, standing just a few feet away, his muscular frame outlined by the strobe lights. Without thinking, without planning, Adam leaned in, his lips brushing against Aaron's in a clumsy, desperate kiss.

For a moment, the world stopped spinning. Aaron's eyes widened in surprise, but instead of pulling away, he leaned in, kissing Adam back with a passion that made the room fade away. The taste of beer on Aaron's lips was unexpectedly sweet, and Adam felt a thrill of excitement run through him, his cock growing hard against his will.

The kiss grew deeper, their tongues dancing together in a silent symphony of need. Adam felt his body respond, his muscles tightening and his senses heightening. He was aware of every inch of Aaron's body, the feel of his strong arms around him, the press of his broad chest, the smell of his cologne, and the warmth of his breath on his skin.

Aaron's hand slid down to his crotch, and Adam's cock responded immediately, straining against his jeans. Aaron broke the kiss and dropped to his knees, pulling down Adam's pants with a surprising ease. Adam's mind screamed for him to stop, to remember who he was and what he stood for, but his body was beyond his control. The pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming to resist.

Aaron took it all, swallowing every drop with a look of satisfaction that made Adam's knees wobble. They stumbled back to their room, the music from the party a distant throb in their ears. The room was spinning, but Aaron's hand was firm in his, grounding him.

When they reached the door, Adam paused, his heart hammering in his chest. He didn't know what to expect—his mind was a whirlwind of desire and doubt. But Aaron just gave him that knowing smile and pushed him inside, shutting the door behind them.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the glow of the streetlamp outside the window. Aaron's eyes shone in the darkness, hungry and full of promise. Without a word, Adam found himself being pushed onto the bed, his legs spread wide. Aaron hovered over him, his own cock now rock-hard, a testament to his desire.

Adam felt a rush of anticipation as Aaron's hand found his cock, stroking it with a firm grip that sent shivers down his spine. He was lost in the moment, his thoughts consumed by the sensations that Aaron's touch brought forth. Aaron leaned in, his breath hot on Adam's ear, and whispered, "You like this, don't you?"

Adam couldn't find the words to respond, his mind a jumble of emotions. Instead, he could only nod, his body arching off the bed in silent plea. Aaron's hand was replaced by something wet and warm, and Adam realized with a start that Aaron was licking his cock, teasing the head with the tip of his tongue. A moan of pure pleasure escaped his lips, and he felt his body tense, the pressure building within him like a volcano ready to erupt.

With a low growl, Aaron took him in fully, his mouth a tight, wet heat that sent waves of sensation crashing over Adam. His hips bucked upward, and Aaron's hands held him firm, his fingers digging into the flesh of Adam's thighs. Adam could feel his climax building, his toes curling with every stroke of Aaron's tongue. It was too much, too intense, and he was powerless to resist.

Adam felt a sense of release, of letting go, as he gave in to the pleasure. He watched as Aaron's cheeks hollowed out, his eyes closed in concentration. Each suck and lick was a declaration of ownership, a silent promise of more to come. Adam's breath grew ragged, his eyes glazed with desire. He'd never felt so alive, so consumed by another person.

With a primal urgency, Adam rolled Aaron onto his back, the mattress protesting with a squeak. He didn't care who heard them anymore. All that mattered was the feeling of Aaron's body beneath his, the heat of his skin, the musky scent of his arousal. He positioned himself, the tip of his cock brushing against Aaron's eager hole. Aaron's eyes fluttered open, and he let out a low moan, his body begging for more.

Adam pushed in, inch by inch, watching as Aaron's expression shifted from pleasure to something deeper, something more profound. His own moan mingled with Aaron's, the sound echoing through the room. He'd never felt so alive, so in sync with another person. The friction was exquisite, the tightness of Aaron's body a perfect fit for his own.

Aaron's legs wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper, and Adam obliged, his hips moving in a rhythm that seemed as natural as breathing. He could feel Aaron's muscles clench around him, the warmth and wetness a drug that sent him spiraling into an abyss of pleasure. His eyes squeezed shut, and he threw his head back, the sensation of Aaron's body enveloping him too much to handle.

Their bodies moved in unison, the sounds of their passion filling the small room. Adam's muscles tensed and released, the pleasure building with every thrust. Aaron's moans grew louder, his nails digging into Adam's back as he met each movement with an eager buck of his own hips. The mattress squeaked in protest, but they paid it no mind.

Adam felt the warmth of Aaron's body surrounding him, the tightness of his hole gripping him like a vice. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, a heady mix of power and vulnerability that sent his mind reeling. He could feel his orgasm building, a pressure that grew with each passing moment until it was all he could think about.

With a final, desperate thrust, Adam came, filling Aaron with his seed. He felt Aaron's body convulse beneath him, his moans turning into a keening cry of pleasure as he reached his own climax, his cock pulsing in Adam's hand. The release was so intense, it was like nothing else mattered. For a brief moment, the world outside their room ceased to exist.

The aftermath was a sticky mess of sweat and come, the air thick with the scent of their passion. Adam pulled out, his cock still hard and glistening, and collapsed onto the bed beside Aaron. His heart hammered in his chest, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Aaron lay there, panting, his eyes still closed, a look of pure bliss etched on his face.

The silence stretched between them, filled only by the sounds of their bodies calming from the storm of pleasure. Adam's hand found Aaron's, their fingers lacing together in a silent promise that went beyond words. He could feel Aaron's chest rise and fall with each breath, the heat of their bodies melding together. The world outside the room faded away, leaving only the two of them in their cocoon of desire.

Exhaustion claimed them, and soon their eyes grew heavy with sleep. The weight of their bodies, the warmth of their skin, the scent of their shared passion—it was all too much to resist. They drifted off into a slumber filled with the echoes of their cries of ecstasy. The room was a sanctuary of intimacy, the only place where Adam could be free from the prison of his own making.

===

But morning has a cruel way of bringing reality crashing down. The harsh light of day streamed through the window, illuminating the rumpled sheets and the sticky mess of their encounter. Adam's eyes snapped open, and the memories of the night before came flooding back in a rush of panic. His heart raced as he stared at the ceiling, the guilt and anger rising in his chest like bile. He couldn't believe he'd let this happen, that he'd given in to the very desires he'd spent a lifetime running from.

Turning to Aaron, the sight of his peaceful, sleeping form sent a bolt of rage through him. How could Aaron just lay there, so at ease, when Adam felt like he was drowning? The need to lash out was overwhelming, a pressure that built and built until he could no longer contain it. With a roar, he brought his fist down on Aaron's shoulder, shaking him awake. "What the fuck did you do to me?" he spat, his voice thick with anger.

Aaron's eyes snapped open, confusion and fear clouding his features. "What the hell, man?" he croaked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. But before he could say more, Adam was on him, fists flying. Aiden staggered back, trying to defend himself, but Adam's fury was a force to be reckoned with. The room was a blur of limbs and grunts, the bed rocking violently with each blow.

The sound of their struggle grew louder, and soon it was punctuated by the thud of the door being thrown open. The room filled with the shocked faces of their dorm mates, all of them staring in disbelief. "What the fuck is going on in here?" one of them shouted, pushing through the crowd.

Adam's rage was a living entity, a beast that had taken over his body. He didn't care about the audience, didn't care about the consequences. All he knew was that Aaron had ruined him, had made him feel things that no man should ever have to feel. His fists connected with Aaron's face, the crack of bone echoing through the room.

But the pain in his knuckles did nothing to quell the anger boiling inside him. It only made it worse. He could see the fear in Aaron's eyes, could feel the warmth of blood trickling down his own chin. And yet, he couldn't stop.

It wasn't until the sound of sirens pierced the night that Adam's rage finally abated. The sight of flashing blue lights in the window was sobering, and the reality of his actions came crashing down upon him. He'd gone too far. He'd hurt Aaron—his roommate, the one person who had shown him kindness and acceptance in a world that had turned its back on him.

The room was a wreck, the bed a tangled mess of sheets and discarded clothes. Aaron lay on the floor, blood seeping from his nose and a bruise already forming around one eye. His once-handsome features were marred by the fury Adam had unleashed, and the look of pain and betrayal in his eyes was almost too much to bear.

Adam was breathing heavily, his own face a mask of disbelief and horror at what he'd done. The sirens grew louder, the flashing lights casting eerie shadows across the room. The panic set in as he realized the severity of his actions—his future, the one he'd fought so hard to maintain, was now in tatters.

The door burst open, and campus security spilled into the room, their eyes wide with shock at the scene before them. "What the hell is going on here?" one of them bellowed, and Adam felt his world collapse in on itself. He knew what was coming next: handcuffs, a trip to the station, and the end of his college career.

In the days that followed, the whispers grew louder, the stares more pointed. The story of the night had spread like wildfire, and Adam had become the college's poster boy for unbridled aggression. The administration had wasted no time in expelling him, citing his violent behavior and the severe damage he'd inflicted on Aaron as reasons enough to cut ties.

As the finality of his situation settled in, Adam found himself wandering the very campus that had once been his kingdom, now a ghostly reminder of all he'd lost. It was there, amidst the bustling crowd of students, that he saw Jack for the first time. The sight of Jack's lanky and skinny frame brought a flood of memories crashing back.

Jack, the quiet, unassuming guy he'd picked on so mercilessly. The way Mrs. Castellanos had stepped in, her eyes flashing with a power he hadn't understood. The feel of her hand on his forehead, the strange incantation that had sent his world spiraling. It was all connected, all a part of the same twisted web that had led him to this moment.

The security guards' grip on his arms was firm, their faces a blur of disapproval and disgust. They marched him through the halls, his feet dragging as he tried to catch one last glimpse of Jack.

===

Adam's life had become a tumultuous mess, a stark contrast to the days when he was the king of the football field. His muscles had atrophied from lack of use, his once-handsome features now marred by the harsh lines of anger and despair. His hair was unkempt, his clothes tattered, and the gleam of arrogance that once filled his eyes was replaced by a haunted look that spoke of dark thoughts and unspoken regrets.

He often found himself wandering the streets, his gaze lingering on the memories of the past that now felt like a distant dream. The frat houses that had once held wild parties now stood as silent judges of his fall from grace. The football field where he had been a legend now held only echoes of his name, whispered in hushed tones and met with sneers.

The hatred for Jack burned in him like an everlasting flame, a reminder of his own downfall. He watched from the shadows as Jack strutted through campus. The plan began to form, a dark and twisted plot to bring Jack crashing down from his throne. If Jack could rise so high, then it was only fair that Adam should be the one to tear him down.

Adam waited until the witching hour, when the neighborhood was shrouded in a cloak of silence. His heart raced as he approached the house, the shadows stretching out to embrace him like old friends. He'd studied the layout meticulously, knew where the spellbooks were kept—the very same ones that had turned his world upside down. The irony wasn't lost on him; he'd use their own weapons against them.

In the quiet of the night, he slipped in through an unlocked window, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The house smelled faintly of incense and something else—something ancient and powerful. It was the scent of magic.

Adam's rage fueled his steps as he made his way through the house, his eyes scanning the bookshelves for the telltale glow of enchanted tomes. He found them in a room that had clearly once been Mrs. Castellanos' sanctuary—a place where she had practiced her craft, surrounded by candles and mystical artifacts. The sight of the spellbooks sent a wave of anger through him. He'd show Jack what it felt like to lose everything.

With trembling hands, Adam pulled a lighter from his pocket, the flame flickering to life in the darkened room. He watched it dance for a moment before tossing it onto a pile of old curtains that had been left carelessly near a bookshelf. The fabric caught fire with a satisfying whoosh, and Adam felt a grim satisfaction as the flames began to spread, licking at the books and consuming them.

He didn't dare to stay and watch the destruction unfold. The heat was already intense, and the smoke was beginning to fill his lungs. He had to get out before the house was fully engulfed, before anyone could catch him. He turned and sprinted through the hallways, his eyes stinging and his throat raw from the acrid smoke. He could hear the crackling of the fire growing louder, the house's very bones groaning in protest as the inferno took hold.

The night air hit him like a slap in the face as he leaped out the window, the coldness a stark contrast to the searing heat he'd just left behind. He didn't stop running until he was a safe distance away, his chest heaving and his heart thundering in his ears. The sight of the flaming house in the rearview mirror was a grim triumph, a declaration of war against the one person who had dared to best him.

===

Years passed, and the whispers of Adam's fate grew fainter until he was nothing but a cautionary tale.

Jack's transformation had been nothing short of miraculous. His body, once lanky and unassuming, was now a sculpted masterpiece of muscle and might. It was a power that had come with a price—his mother's house reduced to ashes—but it was one he would never forget.

After graduation, Jack felt the weight of Mrs. Castellanos' legacy heavy on his shoulders. The white polo that he wore; gave him the power and knowledge. The power to read minds and hypnotize others was a heady mix, one that made him feel both invincible and utterly alone.

But there was one thing that gnawed at the back of his mind: the fire that had destroyed his family's home. It had been ruled an accident, a tragic case of faulty wiring, but Jack knew better. The flames had burned more than just wood and memories; they had set alight a rage that simmered in him, demanding justice.

Using his newfound abilities, Jack embarked on a quest for the truth. He searched the minds of those who had known Adam, feeling their thoughts like whispers in the wind. It took weeks of meticulous digging, but finally, the pieces fell into place. Adam's hatred had not been satiated by Jack's transformation. Instead, it had festered and grown, turning into a monstrous desire for revenge.

Jack found Adam's dilapidated house easily, the sadness and anger emanating from it like a palpable force. The once-proud football star was now a mere shadow of his former self, living in the squalor of a home that mirrored the decay of his soul. The house was a sad testament to the life Adam had let slip through his fingers—a stark contrast to the warm, welcoming abode Jack had known from his mother's care.

The door was chipped and peeling, a far cry from the pristine white it had been during their college days. With a heavy heart, Jack raised his fist and knocked, the sound echoing through the silent night. The wait was interminable, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, the door creaked open, and there stood Adam, his eyes bloodshot and his clothes stained with regret.

Adam squinted in the dim light, his eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar form before him. "What do you want?" he barked, the bitterness in his voice a stark reminder of the life he'd squandered.

Jack stepped forward, his body casting a long shadow across the threshold. The firelight from the streetlamps danced across the contours of his muscular frame, a silent testament to the power that now resided within him. "You don't remember me, do you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate within the very bones of the house.

Adam squinted, his eyes widening as he took in the towering figure before him. The shock was palpable, his mind racing to piece together the puzzle. "Who the fuck are you?" he spat, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

Jack's smile was cold and calculated, the firelight from the street casting an eerie glow across his face. "I am Jack," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the very foundations of the house. "The same Jack you picked on, the same Jack whose life you tried to ruin. Do you remember now?"

Adam stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock as he took in the towering figure before him. The skinny kid he'd known had been replaced by a muscular behemoth, a man who seemed to be carved from granite. "Jack?" he whispered, his voice barely a croak.

Jack stepped into the light, the fire from the streetlamps playing over his powerful physique. "Yes, now you remember," he said, his voice a low growl that seemed to shake the very air. "And now you have to pay for what you've done."

Adam stumbled back, his eyes wide with fear as he took in the sheer size of Jack. The kid he'd picked on and tormented was gone, replaced by a man who looked as though he could bench press a car. "Wait," he stammered, his voice shaking. "Let me apologize. I didn't know it would go this far."

Jack's smile was cold and hard, like chipped ice. "Your apology won't bring my mother back," he said, his eyes burning with a fury that could have melted the very fabric of the universe. "You had your chance to make amends, but you threw it away when you lit the match."

Adam's face crumpled, a mix of fear and desperation etching lines into his once-handsome features. "Please, Jack," he begged, his voice cracking. "I didn't know it would go that far. I didn't know she'd die."

Jack's gaze was like a laser, cutting through the lies and the years of anger that had built up between them. "It doesn't matter what you knew or didn't know," he said, his voice cold and hard. "What matters is that you did it, and now you're going to face the consequences."

Adam's eyes darted around the room, desperation coloring his cheeks. "You don't get it," he choked out, tears of frustration and fear welling in his eyes. "Maria changed me. She did something to me. She turned me into…this!"

Jack's eyes narrowed, his expression unyielding. "And what makes you think I care?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You made my life hell for years, and now you want pity? You're getting what you deserve."

He reached out, his hand glowing with an eerie light that seemed to pulse with the very essence of the enchanted necklace. "By the power of the enchantment my mother bestowed upon me," Jack intoned, his voice deep and resonant, "you shall be cursed to never regain your former strength or appeal unless you are fed the essence of muscular men."

Adam's horror grew with each word, his eyes widening until they threatened to pop out of their sockets. "Please," he whimpered, his voice a pathetic echo of the once-booming bellow that had ruled the locker room. "I'll do anything, just don't do this to me."

Jack's smile grew colder, his eyes darker. "You'll do anything?" he repeated, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Including sucking the cock of every muscular man you see?"

Adam's eyes widened further, his body trembling with horror at the very thought. But as the magic of Jack's words settled into his mind, the idea grew more appealing, his mouth watering at the thought of powerful men's essence filling him. "No, please," he whimpered, but his voice was already changing, his tone growing softer, more pleading.

Jack's grin grew wicked. "You're going to crave it," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "You're going to seek out the very men you used to despise and beg them to fill you with their strength."

Adam's mind rebelled at the thought, but his body was already responding. His mouth watered, his cock growing hard at the prospect of being dominated by the very men he'd once ruled. The magic of Jack's words wound its way through his mind, weaving a pattern of need and desire that he couldn't resist.

Jack stepped closer, his cock swelling in his pants as he felt the power of the enchantment pulsing through him. He reached out and grabbed Adam by the neck, his grip firm and unyielding. "You want this," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that seemed to resonate through Adam's very soul. "You want to serve, to be used, to be filled with the strength of others."

Adam's eyes grew glazed, his body responding to Jack's words as if they were a siren's call. He found himself nodding, unable to resist the strange, compelling urge that was building within him. "Please," he begged, his voice a whimper. "Just let me have it."

Jack's grin grew wider, his eyes glinting with the victory of his revenge. He stepped closer, unbuckling his pants and pulling out his thick, engorged cock. It was a weapon of power, a symbol of the strength he now wielded. "On your knees," he ordered, his voice a low command that brooked no argument.

Adam stumbled, his knees hitting the ground with a thud that seemed to resonate through the very core of his being. His hands trembled as they reached for the zipper of Jack's pants, his mind a whirlwind of emotions—fear, anger, and a strange, desperate need. As the zipper slid down, Jack's cock sprang free, a monument to the power that Adam had once taken for granted.

The sight of the thick, pulsing member was almost too much to bear. The very idea of taking it into his mouth made his stomach churn, but the need was stronger. He leaned forward, his lips parting as if of their own accord. "Thank you, Sir," he whispered, his voice a mere wisp of sound.

Jack's cock was hot and heavy, the veins pulsing with the power of the enchantment. Adam took it in his mouth, the taste salty and slightly sweet, a flavor that seemed to resonate with the very core of his being. His jaw stretched painfully around the girth, and he had to fight the urge to gag as Jack's cock hit the back of his throat. But he didn't dare stop; the need to please was too great.

Jack watched with a cruel smile, his eyes never leaving Adam's teary gaze as he began to thrust his hips, fucking Adam's face with a slow, deliberate rhythm that spoke of his absolute dominance. "That's right," he murmured, his voice a dark caress that sent shivers down Adam's spine. "You're going to suck it like a good little bitch."

Adam's cheeks hollowed as he took more and more of Jack's cock into his mouth, his inexperience evident in the awkwardness of his movements. The taste of Jack's precum was bitter on his tongue, but the power of the enchantment made it into a sweet nectar that filled him with a desperate need to please. He sucked harder, eager to make Jack feel the same way he had felt when he'd been at the top of the social hierarchy.

Jack's moans grew louder, his grip on Adam's head tightening as he guided him in a rhythm that grew more and more demanding. Adam's eyes watered and his nose was buried in the thick bush of hair at the base of Jack's cock, but he didn't dare pull away. The feeling of Jack's cock sliding in and out of his mouth was both terrifying and exhilarating, and he found himself getting lost in the sensation despite his fear and revulsion.

Jack's voice was like a siren's song, guiding him through the act, praising him when he hit the right spots, urging him on when he faltered. "Yes, that's it," Jack growled, his hips thrusting into Adam's face. "Suck it, you little bitch. You're going to learn to love this, aren't you?"

Adam couldn't help but nod, his mouth full of cock. The words were a declaration of his new reality, a reality where he was no longer the one in charge, no longer the one calling the shots. His eyes watered and his throat ached, but he pushed through, driven by a force beyond his own control. The enchantment had twisted his desires, turning him into a creature of submission, eager to please the very men he had once looked down upon.

Jack's moans grew louder, his hips bucking in time with Adam's eager mouth. Each gagging sound only seemed to spur him on, his hand tightening in Adam's hair as he guided him with a firm grip. "Yeah," Jack breathed, his voice strained with pleasure. "You're learning, bitch. Just keep it up."

Adam felt the beginnings of Jack's climax in the pulsing of his cock, the taste of pre-cum growing stronger. He sucked harder, desperate to prove his worth in this twisted new world. He could feel the power of Jack's orgasm building, the very essence of the man's strength and vitality. It was a heady feeling, one that both terrified and excited him.

Jack's hips bucked, and he threw his head back, a primal roar escaping his throat as he reached his peak. Adam's eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth full of Jack's thick, hot cum. He swallowed greedily, the warmth spread through his body, filling him with a sense of purpose that was both exhilarating and humiliating.

As he knelt there, his body began to change. His back arched, and muscles began to bulge beneath his shirt. His arms grew thick and powerful, the veins standing out in stark relief. His chest swelled, pushing his shirt tight against his newfound bulk. The transformation was as undeniable as it was unwelcome. He felt his legs thickening, the muscles straining against the fabric of his pants. He was no longer the pathetic, broken man he'd become—he was something else entirely.

Jack watched with a mix of fascination and horror as Adam's body morphed before his eyes. The power of the enchantment was undeniable, the very essence of his own strength flowing into the man who had once been his tormentor. "What is this?" Adam grunted, his voice now deeper and more animalistic. His cock grew in his pants, pushing against the fabric until it was painfully obvious.

Jack stepped back, his own cock still hard as he took in the sight. Adam was no longer the broken man he'd known; he was a creature of power, his body a testament to the dark magic that had claimed him. "You're becoming what you always wanted to be," Jack said, his voice cold and detached. "Strong, powerful, desired."

Adam's grunts grew louder, his body straining with the effort of his transformation. The fabric of his shirt tore away, revealing shoulders that looked carved from stone and biceps that bulged with newfound might. His jeans ripped at the seams, unable to contain the growth of his thighs and calves. He looked like a creature of the night, a monster born of anger and despair.

Jack's cum filled him. His body responded with an almost primal hunger, his cock thickening and lengthening until it was a massive, throbbing shaft that pointed accusingly at the heavens. The transformation was complete, and Adam was no longer the man he had once been.

With a final, guttural shout, Adam's cock erupted, a fountain of white-hot semen that shot through the air, painting the room in a shower of sticky, potent seed. It was a display of power and need that would have made any porn star envious. His body convulsed with the force of his orgasm, his new muscles rippling and flexing as he emptied himself onto the floor.

Jack stepped back, watching with a mix of satisfaction and revulsion as Adam's body went through its final stages of transformation. The room was thick with the scent of sex and power, a heady aroma that seemed to cling to the very air. Adam's eyes were glazed over with lust and desperation as he watched Jack's cock shrink back down to its normal size.

Finally, the spurts of cum ceased, and Adam's body went still. He looked down at himself, his new muscles flexing unconsciously as he took in his changed form. The once-shameful need to suck cock had become a strange, twisted form of euphoria, a high that only grew stronger as he inspected his body with trembling hands. The bulges and contours of his muscles were like a map of the power he'd stolen from Jack, a reminder of his newfound place in the world.

Jack watched him, his expression a mix of triumph and pity. "Remember," he said, his voice a low growl, "this body comes with a price. You've got a week before it starts to fade." He paused, allowing the reality of his words to sink in. "You'll need to find another muscular man to feed your hunger, to keep the enchantment strong."

Adam nodded, his voice a submissive whisper. "Thank you, Sir," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Jack's. "I'm sorry for everything. I never knew… I never knew what I was doing to you." His words were sincere, the weight of his new reality pressing down on him like a lead blanket.

Jack stepped back, his smirk never leaving his face as he took in the transformed man before him. He knew that Adam's life would never be the same, that every time he saw another muscular man, the need to serve would consume him. It was a fate he'd never wish on anyone, but for the man who had once made his life a living hell, it was poetic justice.

"Adam," Jack said, his voice a low purr that seemed to resonate through the very air, "you will forget that I cursed you. You will think of this…quirk," he spat the word out with contempt, "as something that has always been a part of you, something you were born with."

Adam's eyes were still glazed over, his mind swimming with the aftershocks of the powerful orgasm and the magic that had transformed him. "Yes, sir," he murmured, his voice a soft caress that seemed to echo Jack's own dominance.

Jack nodded, the smirk still playing at the corner of his lips as he pulled up his pants and zipped them shut. He didn't bother to tuck in his shirt; the fabric clung to his muscular frame in a way that seemed almost obscene. With a final, dismissive glance at the kneeling figure before him, Jack turned and left the house. The door slammed shut with a finality that seemed to echo through the night.

The walk back to his own house was filled with a strange mix of anger and satisfaction. He'd taken his revenge, but it hadn't brought him the closure he'd hoped for. The house fire had been a tragedy, one that still haunted him in his dreams, but seeing Adam broken and begging for his power had been a small victory. It was a start, a taste of what was to come.

Jack had always been a man of action, and he knew that sitting around and moping wasn't going to change anything. So he turned his focus to his next move—his plan to help those who'd been bullied and mistreated. It was a mission that had been brewing in the back of his mind for years, and now that he had the power to make a difference, he was determined to see it through.

The garage sale was a stroke of genius, a covert operation that served as both a beacon of hope and a silent threat to those who didn't know better. He'd gathered an impressive collection of enchanted clothes, each one carefully chosen and imbued with a specific power. The magic was subtle, but oh so potent, capable of turning the tables on those who'd once wielded power over others.

Paul sat there, his pants sticky with cum, his thoughts racing. He couldn't believe the story he'd just witnessed, the transformation of a man from tormentor to victim, then to something more. He glanced over at Jack, the hulking figure who now looked at him with a knowing smirk. The vision had been intense, but the reality was even more so—he was still sitting in a foldable chair beside this behemoth of a man.

Jack's words hung in the air, a challenge and an offer all rolled into one. The idea of publishing this story was tantalizing, but the potential fallout was too much to consider. What if it got back to Jack? Would he be seen as a betrayer, someone who'd used his mother's legacy for personal gain? And what of Aiden and Abe? Their relationship was theirs to share, not fodder for the public's entertainment.

Paul took a deep breath, trying to compose himself as he stood up from the chair, his legs feeling like jelly. The sticky evidence of his arousal was a stark reminder of the power of the story he'd just witnessed. He looked at Jack, whose smirk had grown wider, and he felt a strange mix of admiration and fear. "Thank you," he said, his voice shaky. "This… it's a lot to take in."

Jack nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It's quite the tale," he admitted. "But it's one that needs to be told. Just remember," he added, his voice dropping to a low rumble, "what you choose to do with it is entirely up to you."

Paul felt a knot tighten in his stomach as he processed the implication. He knew that Jack's offer wasn't just about sharing a good story; it was about using the power of the enchanted garments to reshape lives. The thought was both exciting and terrifying. "I'll think about it," he managed to say, his voice sounding more confident than he felt.

Jack's smirk grew into a full-blown smile, revealing perfect, gleaming teeth. "You do that," he said, his eyes twinkling with a mischief that made Paul's heart race. "And remember, the clothes make the man." With that, he turned back to the garage sale, leaving Paul standing there, the story of Adam's transformation still echoing in his mind.

As he walked away, Paul couldn't help but glance back at the house. The curtains fluttered in the breeze, a silent reminder of the power that lay within those walls. He knew that Jack had just handed him a golden opportunity, but it came with a heavy burden. The enchanted garments had the potential to change lives, to right wrongs, but at what cost?

[mintsturniolo]

♡ I'm Sorry

bf!matt x f!reader

summary: matt's in a bad mood and snaps at you, which leads to him having to apologize

You didn’t know what was going on with Matt today. He’d been agitated all day, but after filming with his brothers earlier, he’d stopped talking completely. You were sat on the couch watching a movie with Nick when you heard movement in the kitchen. Looking up, you saw Matt rifling through his backpack that he’d left on the dining room table. You glanced back at Nick who was still focused on the movie you guys were watching. “I need to talk with him alone real quick,” you told him. “I’m sorry.”

Nick shook his head as he stood up. “Do what you gotta do,” he told you. “I’ll go play Fortnite with Chris.”

As Nick left the room you made your way to where you boyfriend was muttering something under his breath. You hated seeing him so stressed. “Matt?” you said timidly.

You frowned when your boyfriend didn’t acknowledge you. You watched as he got himself a drink from the fridge before trying to get his attention. “Matt, what’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Matt replied, still not looking at you as he went back to searching for whatever it was he couldn’t find in his bag. “Dammit,” he groaned.

“Do you need help finding something?” you asked. “I can help you out.”

“Don’t worry about it,”Matt replied coldly.

“Oh…” you muttered, not knowing how to respond.

You knew something was wrong, but you didn’t know what to say to get Matt to talk. You glanced over at your phone and saw that it was getting close to dinner time. “I was going to make something for all of us to eat. Is there something in particular you wanted?” you asked.

“I don’t care. Just make something,” Matt muttered.

You were quiet for a moment, hurt by Matt’s tone. You couldn’t help but think that you had done something to upset him. While Matt continued to organize the stuff they’d used for filming you decided to start planning dinner. As much as you tried to focus on making dinner, all you wanted was to know if you had done something to upset your boyfriend. Bracing yourself for an argument you turned towards Matt. “Is there a reason you’re snapping at me? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“Oh my God. Just shut the fuck up,” Matt snapped, turning to look at you.

The silence was loud as Matt realized what he’d just said. A look of regret crossed Matt’s face as he saw your eyes fill with tears. He hadn’t meant to snap at you. All the stress from the day had been building up since this morning. “Baby…” he sighed, reaching for your hand.

You pulled away, as you fought back tears. Without another word you made your way into Matt’s bedroom and locked the door.

Almost an hour had passed since Matt had snapped at you. You had heard him leave the house a couple minutes ago, and made your way back to the kitchen to continue making dinner. You heard Nick and Chris yelling from their rooms, still on live playing Fortnite. As you were getting done with dinner, you heard the front door open. “Hey, my love,” Matt said.

You looked up at him, but didn’t reply as he walked towards you. You noticed he had his hands behind his back, and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry about earlier,” Matt said softly. “It’s been a really rough day, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

You watched as Matt pulled a bouquet of white roses from behind his back and offered them to you. “The last thing I ever want to do is upset you. I love you.”

You accepted the flowers and let Matt pull you into a hug. “So I really didn’t do anything to upset you?” you asked worriedly.

“No, baby,” Matt replied sadly. “We had an argument during filming. It wasn’t anything you did,” he told you, leaving gentle kisses on your lips.

You smiled slightly as you admired the flowers in your hand. "Thanks," you said quietly. "These are beautiful, by the way."

Matt gave you final kiss before pulling away. "I'll be right back to help you with dinner," he told you, leaving the room.

Taglist

@dirtylittleheart333 @sturniolo04 @flouvela @mattyblover07 @sturnioloveniamh @slutforsturniolos @ivysturnss @ksturnz @emely9274 @amelia-sturniolo3

[genderqueerdykes]

as someone who is asexual and a trans man (amongst other things, i'm agender and xenic but also a man and prefer calling myself a trans man over masc + don't like calling myself under the non-binary umbrella label), seeing this massive wave of transandrophobia pop up has only made me feel more afraid online. 2016 alone was a detriment to my life, as i had just figured out what asexuality was and how that label fit me perfectly. only to find a wave of people who don't find me "queer enough" to call myself queer! i feel like i'm reliving those days again, as i've noticed a lot of trends in how people who are aphobic and/or transandrophobic tend to have similar arguments. "this side has it so much worse so you should shut up and stay in your lane" rhetoric has made me a lot more frustrated to exist in queer spaces. i don't have the space irl (due to where i live as well as my age being an issue in this regard) and having the space online just feels like this massive argument of erasure and negativity where i do not exist to these people, you know? apologies for the vent about this, at first i was going to try to articulate some sort of point about this and how trans men and asexual people are often put into this little erasure and confused person box but i sorta lost the point. mb

yeesh, i'm sorry you've gone through this. it really does seem like there's another wave of mass aphobia and aphobia, as well as transandrophobia coming to an all time high. it's really disturbing. i'm a trans man who's aromantic and on the asexual spectrum but that doesn't erase the fact that i'm queer. i've never understood why people say that aromanticism and asexuality aren't queer identities. like how? society expects very specific kinds of relationships out of all of us. if we don't fall into those types of relationships, or don't have the same kind of relationship with sexuality and romance, we're treated like shit and dehumanized. how is that not something that falls outside of the cultural norm?

people are just proudly being assholes again at this stage. it feels like rude ass people simmer down for a while and then get pissed the fuck off again in a never ending cycle. people don't like change. they don't want to have to change how they see other people. people become very attached to the versions of other that live in their heads and their heads alone. i don't really get why people who aren't/weren't a queer identity feel like they get to tell other people what it's about.

if you aren't or weren't that thing, how would you know? that makes no sense. it's just talking over people at this point. i hope things improve for you, and everyone in general. this is just sad behavior. it's toxic and abusive. it's hurting people in real time

[lsunstreakerl]

the latest chapter of SH! 💛 charles going feral over the not-even-real-possibility of lewis adding max to his collection of blond WDC champions and also just thinking about charles pretty much pissing all over HIS red bull golden boy, that really hits the spot! thank you!

but also in another ask you said that max may consider the whole eye injury water under the bridge but charles not, and that made me think of the grudge you can hold onto someone over them hurting the people you love and how hard it’s to let go. In this case clearly lewis isn’t at fault but i’m wondering of how hard it has been for charles to deal with those negative thoughts in a high pressure environment. i know you mostly feel comfortable writing from max’s pov but any chance we can get a bit into charles’ mind?

Hi anon! I meant to respond to this much earlier but it got stuck in my brain and actually manifested as a little snippet, so here's a tiny peek behind the curtain! hopefully it's a little bit more insight? feel free to ask more questions if you have them :)

Charles is trying not to grit his teeth, though if the glare Silvia is sending his way is any indication, he's failing.

They're getting ready for the fan stage, and Charles keeps checking his phone, making sure he isn't missing any messages from Max.

They're in Monaco for the race, and normally it is one of Charles' favorite races, and Max was supposed to be here in the garage today, but he'd had a flare-up this morning, dry heaving and dizzy. Charles hadn't wanted to leave him, but Max had gotten decently close to biting his head off, shoving him to the doorway.

"If you want to be worried I cannot stop you, but at least be driving while you are doing it."

Now, though-

Charles isn't sure how he's meant to do this fanstage. He's been civil with Lewis, hasn't let his roiling resentment sneak into their interactions, professional or personal, but it's only a matter of time.

It's harder on days like today, where Charles has left his boyfriend sick at home, suffering from something that many very well never leave him, when Max could be- should be here, racing with them, racing with Charles.

Everyone has idolized Lewis at some point in their lives, and Charles is no different, had admittedly been excited to find out he was joining the team, but the end of last season, and this one-

It's left a sour taste on his tongue. He doesn't hold Lewis on a pedestal anymore, how can he, when he has slipped into Charles' home, driving the color that belongs to Charles, belongs to Ferrari, refuses to address his legacy with Max the same way he refuses to talk about any other rivals.

Charles can't stand it. He couldn't care less about Nico and Seb- well, maybe a little bit about Seb- but to do the same to Max. Charles' Max, the Max that fought his way onto the grid, fought his way through the hate, fought himself into a competitive car, and a team that loved him, the Max that deserves to be on the grid today-

To see Lewis instead, who has been driving since before Max and Charles were on the grid, and still is, it makes his fingers curl.

Maybe he's just having a bad day. He knows he needs to pull the nice boy face back on, but he's having trouble finding it, when the car is competitive this year, when he and Lewis are both bringing home points.

It doesn't matter, at the end of the day, what Lewis is capable of, because he is driving for Ferrari, but he is not Ferrari, doesn't have rosso corsa beating fast through his veins, doesn't have the prancing horse as a thundering heartbeat.

He's a Mercedes boy, a wolf at heart, and that will ruin him, here. Ferrari does not take wolves. Ferrari takes sacrifices, bleating lambs, brought to the alter young and innocent, and only the most devoted get to live, get to have the honor of bringing the team to glory, the privilege of representing the legacy. Only the most treasured become the shining eye of the tifosi, and to get it all at once, to be a model driver, a living breathing manifestation of the Scuderia- it only comes around once every few generations of drivers.

Seb couldn't do it, and neither could Fernando. Lewis will not be capable either.

Charles has it.

It may not have been intentional, but Max has left Charles a mantle, a legacy, one final way to etch their names together forever, intertwined in a way no media or sports magazine could ever brush past, like so much of their lives and careers, tangled together to the very end.

Charles Leclerc will not let Lewis Hamilton get his eighth title.

A hand claps down on his shoulder, gives him a friendly squeeze.

"Hey man, you ready?"

Charles checks his posture, unclenches his jaw, and smiles at Lewis, but there's nothing friendly about it. It's the most Charles will let himself have, tiny little slips in the mask, unsettling for Lewis and unnoticeable for anyone else around them.

"Of course."

[cheeseatlantic]

Hi! If you’re taking reqs, ghost meeting a stray cat on base an slowly learning to care for it? Cat as an extension of himself, closed off but wanted care? Is this something?

ohmagawd my first anon… hi babes!! i am, feel free to like abuse the fuck out of my inbox!! and yes, i love this. i see him having like the mangiest fucking cat ever, like one eye, a chunk out of it’s ear and likely a tabby cat. so that’s how we’re imagining it! (i read that tabby’s are basically closed off but wanting care, otherwise i would have chose a black cat, but a tabby seemed the most like ghost)

He definitely did something to piss Price off, because what the fuck was this op? Basically a suicide mission or to test his sanity. Hidden behind rubble, alone. He’d probably get Price a pack of cigars as an apology or something.

Gunfire, and explosions in the distance, this op was going to shit. He was stuck in thought when a meow snapped him out of it and he looked down and there was this banged up tabby cat, a chunk taken out of it’s left ear and it’s right eye looking all mangled and fucking infected. The sight made him grimace, he saw strays on deployment, sure. But they never approached him.

“Oi, piss off, yeah?” He grumbled, trying to shoo the cat away but it didn’t budge, instead seeing a zipper on his tactical vest moving around as it pounced and started playing with it, it’s claws clawing at his vest, making little marks as he grumbled under his breath and scooped it up and brought it up to his face. “Quit it, you owe me a vest. Bye.” He grumbled to it, putting it down and giving it a little nudge to get it away from him.

But it started purring and instead climbed up on his lap, curling up and closing it’s eyes as if it wasn’t in the middle of a fucking warzone. “Bloody hell, your worse than Johnny.” He said under his breath with a sigh. An explosion went off too close to him for his liking, startling the cat as it climbed up his vest and onto his shoulder. “Okay, fine. Your coming with me then.”

“Now what’s this, Lieutenant?” Price asked, cocking an eyebrow as he eyed the cat hidden in his vest, head poking out and resting on a gun in a compartment. Price’s face twisted a bit in disgust as he added. “And what happened to it’s eye?” And Ghost replied with. “Dunno, gonna get it checked out… Or something.”

The fucking cat looked exactly like him, grumpy and grumpy. It also meowed like how he spoke, also grumpy! It’s like this cat was him, if he was a cat that is.

“Rescued a hostage, he’s a vet. Should be in medbay, name’s Andrew Scott. Could be of help.” Price said, leaning against his desk. Ghost nodded and walked off. He definitely wasn’t letting Johnny or Garrick see, they would think he was getting soft.

When he got to the medbay he approached a woman, middle aged and looked friendly as she asked. “May I help you?” With a friendly smile as he looked down at the cat who was fast asleep and looked at the woman again. “Lookin’ for an Andrew Scott.” And she raised an eyebrow as she looked at her computer, typing away before she clicked her tongue and told him. “Section D! Just to your right.” And he nodded and walked off.

The man had agreed to help the cat, who was a woman. Now she rested on his bed, sleeping away as he sat on an armchair across from his bed as he looked at the cat, had an eye patch now. Because they had to remove the eye. And he spent a fuck ton of money on supplies for the bloody thing, his cabinet had toys, food, antibiotics and ointment for the ear. “You better live, woman. I spent €350 on you.” He grumbled.

Soon after she woke up, stretching out as she looked at Simon, blinking as she let out another grumpy meow. “Hungry?” He asked, getting up from his chair to open his cabinet, grabbing one of his two plates and a can of patè. This cat was eating better than him, all he had was fucking mess hall food.

He cracked it open and dumped it onto a plate, setting it on his bed in front of the cat as he towered over it and watched her eat. She ate like him, just absolutely chowing down without a care in the world. “You like?” He asked, and the cat ignored him and kept eating. Just like him.

“Acknowledge me, I spent money on you.” He grumbled, poking her on the head gently as she just ignored him and kept eating. “And your name is Cat, got it? Callsign Patch. ‘Cause of the eye patch.” He added, patting it on the head as it ate. Why the fuck was he naming her? No way he was getting attached, right? Maybe he didn’t sleep well last night, that’s why he was being soft.

“And I bought you your own bed, get off mine.” He said, continuing to poke her as she just kept ignoring him. She was her father’s daughter, I guess.

part twoooo????? ;)

[succumbtothenightmare]

hey so, it’s giving he’s watching you beg for his cock down your throat but he’s tired of your shit so he really wants you crying before he even gives you anything.

Hey so. I'm a fucking mess. So here we go.

CW'S under the cut(mean!bill, making you cry, degradation, rough hair pulling, bill getting off on making you cry, all actions are consensual)

"Look at you. Such a fucking whore, on your knees begging for my cock."

Your knees ached for being on them on the cold ground of your bathroom floor for the last five minutes. Your doe eyes peered up at Bill, filled with pleads. Your pleas to finally have his cock down your throat. You wanted to taste him. You wanted to please him.

"Bill, please," you begged again while rising up on your knees a bit.

Only for him to force you back onto them, his grip tight in your hair. Your scalp ached, nearly burned as he yanked your head farther away from his cock. It was so thick, precum spilling from the slit on its head, and your tongue craved his taste. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes yet you weren't sure if it was from the force of his grip in your hair, the pain in your knees, or how desperate you were for his cock down your throat.

The last one. Definitely the last one.

"I told you earlier, angel. You need to pay for what you did. I can't have you giving me that smart ass attitude in front of our friends. I just can't have that," he tsked, usually bright eyes now dark with his lust.

"I didn't even," you began but hissed when Bill yanked on your hair tighter, the tears now falling from your eyes, staining your cheeks.

"Aw, my little whore is crying," Bill taunted while gripping his cock with his free hand.

You watched in jealousy as he gathered the precum with a finger to drag it over your lips. The speed your tongue darted out to lick it up made Bill chuckle darkly.

"Such a desperate cum slut."

Your cunt throbbed against nothing, desperate to have something fill you up, but you knew you couldn't piss Bill off even more. You needed his cock one way or another so you succumbed to one thing you knew would make him give in.

"Please sir. I'll be a good girl for you. Just let me have your cock."

Bill's eyes rolled back in his head, his hand working up and down his length, before he brought your lips closer to him.

"Seems like you learned your lesson, angel. Now, take my cock all the way down your throat until you choke on it."

You did. Happily.

[kazxraval]

"That little sod's getting to you." An hour ago, Emre slashed and stabbed his way through an entire crew. Yet doted on this kid. Maybe thinking about his own childhood in comparison to what hand Ali was dealt. Ali, thrust out of the safety of what the world was and thrown into combat on the streets of a dystopian version of Seattle. Dog eat dog, watch your back because someone like Georgie's people might be watching it out too. Maybe Ali's dad liked poetry too. Maybe his mother didn't carry him but it was the only mother he ever knew.

Kaz paused to watch fingers trace up his arm. They left a pleasant sensation behind, Emre's fingertips leaving invisible ink behind .Kaz's voice sank lower while he hung on Emre and consulted the map. "No one ever talks about this. What happened out here, do they? 'Cause we can come and go as we please, hm? Still picking at the carcass." Nothing imbued in the words, merely a fact. "Haven't actually thought about how I'd still be here, you know. If I hadn't ended up on the island."

"Ever know anyone named Marlboro?" He smiled as his hand reached for the prodding elbow. Pain settled over him like a blanket. Once they returned, it'd be more like a blanket heavy with water, weighing him down. For now, Kaz moved for his sake, for Emre's too. "Think one of these pricks has a five year old stale pack of cigs around here?"

The numbers in a long table didn't take much to decipher. Unmade bed, undisciplined. An observation to play again and again in his head. "Untidy bed, untidy mind, huh?" He hummed. "My priya." He brushed Emre's cheek and pinched it in the end. "My pasandeeda." His gaze wrapped all around Emre, affectionately. "I leave my bed unmade after you've been in it. As a reminder."He squinted as if seriously contemplating. "Maybe captain got laid?"

A velvet hammer kept chipping at the whole Georgie thing. Once upon a time, Kaz had the brain to collect information, construct and parse it into something digestible and understandable. Always about others, not so much about himself. His laugh came from the deep end of his throat, as a hand combed dark wavy strands of hair back (dried sea water, dried blood).

His tongue made a soft click as his lips parted. "Emre, I felt things about her I'd never felt about anyone else." Kaz wouldn't say the word out loud, it hadn't been meant for Georgina in years. "When it ended, it really hurt. And I didn't want to feel it anymore." A tenderness, a vulnerability used up, and used against him.

Seconds suspended to examine Emre's expression. "But, can't hang on to that shit." A soft laugh. "It's okay to move on. She's just someone I used to know." Yes, he recalled the recent conversation about people changing. "Haven't you ever felt something that you just, like. You want to forget about? Let go?"

"I'd rather look back on you singing that song into the rock." A more relaxed sound, like a sigh. "At the waterfalls. I look back. I look back all the time." Not indignant and not pissed off, the emotion was one for Emre to excavate.

Now, Georgie. He'd like to bury up to her neck in the cold Pacific sand.

Feroze, Edward, Reyansh. Georgie spat-sprayed a bloody cackle. 'Oh, I'm supposed to give a run down on every person in Seattle?' Georgie squirmed in her seat and then cleared her throat. 'Edward went to prison in California. Reyansh followed to be close to his daddy. Surely Kaz told you his brother was a real kiss ass.'

A more introspective quiet followed by a frozen whisper. 'Feroze's brother.' Her jaw set firm and light eyes burned as they turned on Emre. 'He's little. A boy. But he can do a lot of damage. Especially when he finds out you killed Feroze.'

The name Edward absorbed all the light in the room for Kaz. Actual questions he'd waited ages to find the answer to, about Edward, might be sitting with their back to him (Georgie). "Do you know if he got out of prison?" Probably, with the charges brought against Edward, Kaz doubted his father would've still been in jail, in 2020.

Georgie turned her head towards her shoulder. It wasn't enough to see Kaz. For that, she'd have to completely twist around in her seat. The gesture enough, her tone meditative, careful. 'I wish I could tell you. Priti divorced him, so. I don't think she kept up with Edward after.' She waited, and then asked, 'You still haven't said where you've been. If not in Seattle, where?' Kaz didn't waste a minute. "On the beach. Lazing around, floating in the water."

Emre turned those spotlight eyes on him. Georgie aggressively snapped the map away from Emre. She sighed with a dramatic eye roll, and a snide mutter: 'Places to be, hmph. You're embarrasing.'

The map was given the briefest once over before a sharp nail tapped the paper. 'Here. Fermé has been abandoned for a while. No one guards it. But enough ships pass by too, they can pick up me and Ali.' Kaz immediately approached to rip the map away from Georgina. He slipped into a seat at the helm and proceeded to figure out how the hell to steer towards this word he'd never heard before.

Ali's high-pitched wolf barks someone filtered up to them. Georgie dropped her head back against the chair she was in, a demonstration of exhaustion. Kaz stalled the boat for a moment, then motioned for Emre to follow him just outside the bridge, to speak away from Georgina.

"Don't know if I trust her, but reckon we have no choice. Ali, though..." The sentence trailed, the thought of Urmilla's hand turned to sand in Emre's that time, when Emre refused to let his mother go.

A hand pointed out the dark coastline. No lights, no evidence of life. "The place she mentioned, Fermé? It's somewhere over there. Not too far away. But. You okay with leaving the kid there with her? Because I don't know what else we can do for him. Unless." A dumb thought. "Wonder if two people have ever tried to bring someone back from the outside." Or would the kid end up as molecular spaghetti stretched across time?

As if on cue, Ali's fists pounded his agitation out on metal below in a staccato rhythm. The shout wasn't muffled so much that they couldn't understand. 'I can hear you stupid motherfuckers! You ain't leaving me anywhere! Now, let me OUT!'

Kaz stomped a foot twice and shouted at the deck. "Holy shit, hold your fucking horses you little twat? We're trying to get us all the hell out of here!"

"Can you blame him, though? What sort of life has he had, man." Emre murmured, staring down at Ali. Listening to Kaz's brittle-edged tone of...what? Frustration? Annoyance? Confusion? "Little sod like that shouldn't face daily struggle, he should be kicking a ball about innit."

But of course, Kaz had nothing to yearn for. Emre looked at Ali and remembered his own gloried, nostalgic, safe childhood, something to be cherished and preserved. What did Kaz have, from that age?

Kid's lucky he didn't end up like his brother.

A soft snort of agreement as Emre touched Kaz, fingers sliding along the inside of Kaz's long, heavy arm. Reminding Kaz of humanity, if nothing else. Kaz just killed two men; it was hard to come down from a brutal, bloody high like that. Emre was trained to switch gears, when he had his own baby to mind, back in his London days.

The hatch closed for later (Ali would be fine) and they turned to the maps. Kaz thankfully maintained that contact, arm around Emre like he didn't want them to split again. Emre nestled in easily enough, watching as Kaz translated the maps with his keen discernment, noting patterns and codes in the writing that Emre never could.

"Riddles, that," Emre decided, as Kaz pointed out the words. "Last names, maybe? Could bloody do with a ciggie right about now, if I'm honest." A grin, a gentle elbow against Kaz's side (his bruised ribs, were some cracked? Kaz was surfing on adrenalin but not for long. Emre had to get him home, somehow. Fucking teleports!) Kaz smelled of fresh sweat and salt, making Emre's mouth water. Thirsty, hungry for Kaz even now. "Map was in a binder, all numbers in a long table. This seemed the most useful; we've got to dock somewhere on this map, don't we." A cluck of his tongue, about the Captain's cabin. "Unmade bed; undisciplined, that."

The Georgina question was bound to get Kaz discomfited. But he gave Emre the story willingly, and more of the picture formed. "It's always complicated. I know you don't feel bollocks for her now, but. She still affects you, yeah. She's from your past, of course she does..." Emre tilted his head up, allowing Kaz more scratching space under his chin.

"Bloody hell, you never look back, do you darling." It was the same with Ani, that poor little ghost-creature trailing after Kaz, who Kaz would barely even acknowledge...and then she was gone again. "You've got to, luv; she's here."

And Emre wanted answers. And maybe his reasoning was a little selfish; he was hungry for Kaz, even from Georgina's memories. Georgie was happy to provide tantalizing stories of this man, his man. About poor Ani's memorial, and Kaz in grief.

Emre's feelings split in two. Supremely irrational jealousy of Georgina, for having been in Kaz's life back then, known him back then. Been there with Kaz, when Emre obviously wasn't. (Kaz at seventeen...Emre would've been in Afghanistan.) Emre wanted to know everything; and had to hear it second-hand, in torturous ways for Kaz.

And Emre had the graces to feel bad, seeing how much Kaz hated it, but. Hated what, exactly? The old feelings that Georgie forcibly exposed, or some embarrassment he felt now? Or something else entirely, maybe. Kaz tried to give Emre his past, which Emre was grateful for but...bloody hell, he'd never get this chance again, would he? Actual people, from Kaz's past. If Emre could strangle and wring out every tidbit about Kaz from Georgina's long throat, he would.

Georgie's description of Priti felt so different from the woman that Kaz had described from his childhood. A useless ghost of a woman, who couldn't even pull herself out of her own self-pity, to love her children. Never mind protect. And now, Georgina called her a caretaker, for kids.

"What do you know about Feroze's brother?" Emre squinted at Georgina. "Priti would give the little blighter away for organ shifting, that's how she 'takes care' of bloody kids, then?" He kissed his teeth, dropped his hands from Georgina and took a step back in deliberately showy disgust. "You're both twisted sisters, innit. Cut from the same cloth. And what about Edward? Reyansh? They still about?"

Kaz, slightly bowed, on the borderline of begging for some sense out of this. Something that didn't have Georgina rake him across the coals; and Emre knew he had to tread lightly here.

"We're all fucking tired, sweetheart. Grow up, it's embarrassing you acting like this." Emre smoothed out the map in front of Georgina. "Find us some place to land. We're not here to fucking destroy your trade, don't you worry. We don't - we can't fucking care, yeah? We've got places to be, don't involve your blood profit. We just want off the boat..."

A long look at Kaz over Georgina's head, a meaningful, heavy gaze. Georgina was beyond redemption, this much was clear. And what Emre assured her of her safety once they landed could easily be a lie, if Kaz chose.

If Kaz chose to kill Georgina too.

A banging noise from below deck. And then a small, hoarse (and pissed off) little voice, howling: "Hey!! Hey get me out of here! Help, hello! HEYYYYY!" It was Ali, awake.

[mychlapci]

all you really need is for someone to draw that old man with a really fat ass once and you're gone forever