#no picture because he's on the floor LMFAO

[sodapopcurtis-dx-asks]

Since tornado season has started up again, have you ever had any scary/wild experiences?

“Well, here, look. I'll go through them and find some nicer ones, okay? This one ain't too bad!”

Steve was tired of seeing Soda cry so damn much, and the day just started. So, he's going through the jar himself to personally pick out some nicer questions for Soda to answer.

He reads the note to him, and Soda nods, wiping his face with his sleeve and holding out a hand to take it.

We've had some odd ones, but I wouldn't nothin' crazy.

...Okay, there was this ONE TIME where me and Steve got caught up in a real bad twister while on the road. Now that was a wild one.

It was so cool. We were makin' our way back home after an out of town race, and the storms had gotten real rough. Well, we were on a highway, about 20 minutes from home and cross cut from some big fields, and the twister had made it's way right beside us and cut past us in the road.

Us and about 20 other cars were just stuck there, waiting and praying it didn't snatch us up or nothing. It wouldn't have been able to anyways, it was a real tiny one. But I loved the adrenaline of being SO CLOSE to a thing so big. The rain, the impact, the radio blaring, it was a sight I'll never forget.

Soda hummed happily, thinking to himself about the memory.

“Not bad?”

“Yeah... Not bad.”

[sukumna]

┌─ HELP ! THE GIRL I TRIED TO KIDNAP GETS TURNED ON !?

triggers. toji fushiguro x fem!reader ੭ perv!reader. dubcon. cnc(ish). degradation. attempted kidnapping. age gap. size kink. manhandling. choking. belly bulge. creampie. breeding kink. pregnancy kink. rough sex. daddy kink. ddlg undertones. OTT porn. grumpy kidnapper!Toji. MDNI.

word count. 2.1k

authors note. i have discovered a new found love for over the top pornhubtittle-esque fics LISTEN IM warning you know this is over da tops lmfao 😭😭. NOT proofread!!

"I’m sorry, but if a hot daddy decided to kidnap me, whisk me away to his secluded cabin in the woods, and give me the full princess treatment? Call me Stockholm royalty because I’m NEVER leaving!”

The post popped up on your feed, and you couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips. You tapped the repost button with a satisfying click, adding the hashtag #iwish. Because honestly? You did. Life wasn’t awful, but it was just so... ordinary. The dullness of your 9-to-5 had you fantasizing about throwing it all away—not that you ever would. That’s where the idea of a brooding, dangerous man stepping in came into play. Someone so rough around the edges, so obsessed that he couldn’t imagine a world without you. The kind of guy who’d take you because he wanted to, consequences be damned.

It was a harmless fantasy. Or so you thought—until you walked straight into it.

You were so deep in thought, you didn’t notice the human wall standing in the lobby of your apartment building until your face smacked into a back as solid as concrete.

“Oh my gosh—sorry!” you blurted, rubbing your forehead with one hand while using his back to steady yourself. When you tilted your head up, the apology stuck in your throat.

He was huge. Towering, really. His dark blue eyes gleamed with something unplaceable, and the scar cutting down the left side of his face only made him more intimidating.

“I—I wasn’t paying attention,” you stammered, flustered. But he said nothing. Just stared down at you, unreadable and silent, like he could see right through you.

“Okay... uh, I’ll just... go.” Your voice cracked as you sidestepped and practically speed-walked to the elevator. Heat burned your cheeks, equal parts embarrassment and the sheer presence of him. You pressed the call button with the corner of your phone, avoiding any more eye contact like your life depended on it. Still, the thought lingered: He looks like the type to kidnap an innocent girl.

You were awful.

But then he stepped into your peripheral vision, right next to you.

You stared hard at your phone, pretending to scroll, though the brightness was turned so far down you couldn’t even see the screen. Not that it mattered. You had no intention of looking at him again. You flicked open Tumblr out of habit, hoping to distract yourself, but of course, the first post that popped up wasn’t helpful.

It was a picture of a girl bent over with the caption: "Daddy doesn’t care if it hurts, baby. Just take it."

Oh, God.

Your thighs clenched as the elevator doors opened. You stepped in quickly, refusing to glance back, but he followed. When he didn’t press a floor, your curiosity—and nerves—spiked. Was he visiting someone? You didn’t think you’d ever seen him before, let alone on your floor.

You stole a glance, and your breath hitched. His sharp eyes were already locked on you, glinting like he was enjoying your discomfort. The scar added to his rugged appeal, and the faint streaks of gray in his black hair made him look effortlessly mature. His build, though—not overly chiseled but solid, with a layer of softness that screamed ‘former athlete turned something far more dangerous.’

A small, nervous laugh escaped you, breaking the tense silence just as the elevator dinged. Floor six. You bolted out, legs moving faster than your brain could process, keys in hand before you even reached your door. But just as you found the right one, a large hand covered yours, stopping you cold.

The world seemed to narrow as you felt the press of a solid chest at your back, pinning you to the door. A rough, calloused hand clamped over your mouth, and the voice you’d only imagined growled low in your ear.

“Scream and I'll fucking bash your head into this door.” His husky voice harshly whispers in your ear. Your body stiffens, a shiver running down your spine as your lips part in surprise. You nod quickly, “Good. Is there anyone in here and don’t lie to me.” You shake your head no as fear and anxiety and something else paralyzes your body and mind. “Unlock it.” The hand covering your mouth cautiously moves to hold you by the neck and he lets go of your hand enough for your shaking fingers to unlock your door. You bite down on your lip as heat pools low in your belly—exactly the reaction you’ve imagined in this scenario so many times. His hand tightens slightly when your fingers slip over the keyhole, and a soft sound escapes your lips before you can stop it.

This is real, you remind yourself.

And isn’t that exactly what you wanted?

“Get inside.” He shoves you in your small apartments and you gasp and suck in a huge breath. You gasp, sucking in a shaky breath as you step forward. Your phone and purse hit the counter with a clatter, but you don’t dare make another move.

The sound of the door clicking shut is deafening. You turn slowly, eyes lifting to meet his. He’s blocking the door, his broad frame casting a shadow that stretches across the room. You should be playing the damsel, screaming for help or scrambling for the emergency stairs just outside—but instead, your feet stay rooted, your heart pounding as you stare up at him, waiting.

He smirks, his boot slamming the door shut with a bang that makes you jump. “Why aren’t you scared?”

You swallow hard, refusing to answer. The space between you disappears in seconds, his footsteps deliberate as he backs you toward the couch. Each step makes your skin prickle with anticipation, your breath hitching when you feel the edge of the couch press against the backs of your thighs.

“You should be scared girl,” he growls, his hand snapping up to grip your neck. The weight of it—rough and commanding—makes your knees tremble. You bite your lip again, suppressing the moan building in your throat, but his sharp eyes catch every flicker of your reaction. He looks down at you with furrowed brows. His leg slides between yours, forcing them apart, and you let out a shaky breath as his thigh presses up against you. The pressure is maddening, igniting a wave of pleasure that you can’t hide. The sound you’ve been holding escapes—a soft, breathy moan.

He chuckles darkly, leaning closer. “You dirty little slut,” he murmurs, his words a low rumble that sends heat racing across your cheeks.

“Please...” you manage to whisper, though even you’re not sure what you’re asking for.

“Please what?” His grin is predatory, his fingers tightening ever so slightly against your throat.

“Begging for more from the man who just threatened you?”

You shake your head, a flustered “No i-i want you to stop.” slipping from your lips, but he arches a brow, smirking as he looks down.

“Then why are you grinding on my thigh?” He chuckles, the hand against your throat shaking you around. Your eyes widen when you realize that he was right, he wasn’t the one rubbing against your pussy, you were the on rubbing against his jean clad thigh.

“Dirty girl...are you looking at my at my cock? Do you want me to take you against this couch?” He mock gasps and you half moan half cry.

“No—I don't want it.” You say in an almost childlike voice. But you do, you want this man who was about to do God knows what to shove his cock in you.

“If you say you want it and I'll be gentle baby.”

You shake you had and bring your hands up to the one wrapped around your neck You try and pull it off you, but he just watches you struggle with a grin. After a few minutes of watching, you cry and scratch at his hand he finally has enough and flips you over the couch. “You asked for it little girl.”

Before you know it, he's ripping your panties off and shoving two fingers into you. You scream.

“Fuck, you're fuckin’ soaked. You hear that? Your pussy’s talk talkin’ to it’s new owner.”

And you do hear it, hell you feel your wetness gliding down your thighs. Your fingers curl into your g-spot and you moan. He’s fucking you better than any man has ever fucked you. You clench around him harder when he finds his rhythm—fast and hard, his hand slamming around the outside of your hole and your clit getting frication from how hard your body drags across the couch.

“’m gonna come!” You moan trying to meet his pace and throw yourself back onto his fingers.

“Fuck—comin’ on a man's fingers and you don’t even know his name.”

And you don’t mean to say it but your so horny and the tittle just slips out from imaging this scenario over and over again.

“’m coming Daddy!” You squeal and your pussy contracts around his fingers. He doesn't even give you a chance to come all the way down before he’s throwing you face down on baby blue rug in your living room, freeing his cock.

“Fuckin’ hell. Aren’t you just the perfect little fuck doll.” He pulls you up by the hips and nuzzles his mushroom tip in between your pussy lips. He rubs from hole to clit a few times and you moan into the carpet, arching your back even more. He feels so big, like it’ll gonna hurt. “Say it again.”

“Daddy!” He shoves the tip in with some effort and before you can think he’s pushing himself balls keep into you. It hurts so good when he pulls halfway out and pushes back in. It’s so girthy, the width of your wrist. It’s too much for you.

“C-can’t take it daddy, ‘s too much!” You cry out, and you know your face looks a mess, mascara running down your cheeks.

“You think I care little girl? I say what, you can push me out I'll stop.”

Sniffling you do as he says, and push but every time your restart he pushes back into you, leaving you a blubbering mess. You can't push him more than two inches and it’s starting to feel good again. You give up when he grinds up against your ass, his hands fondling almost sweetly with your ass as he was watches you.

“Done playin’ hard to get now?”

You nod.

“Words.”

“Yes, fuck me daddy.”

Hands on your hips he does exactly that, pounding you so hard into the carpet you know you’ll have friction burns on your face and knees by morning. His heavy balls slap hard against your clit, and you can’t help but imagine all that come stored in them spilling deep into your womb. The thought makes you cream around his cock and Toji almost comes at the sight of the white ring sitting near the base of his cock. Grunting he tightens his grip on your hips flips you over. His hand goes to your clit and he curse at the bulge his cock is making in your stomach. One hand rubbing your clit the other presses down on the bulge.

“Daddy!” You scream, legs wrapping around his haps and heels digging into his ass.

“’m gonna breed this pussy so good little girl. Make you mine.”

“Yes please! Put a baby in me daddy!” You arch your back and roll your eyes into the back of your head as your come hard on his cock. Toji follows suit, spilling his come deep int you. You fall back on the follow utterly fuck out and exhausted. You don’t even try to open your eyes when you feel him start to pull out of you. Instead, you smile and raise your arms “’m ready to go back home with you now.”

[jamminvroomvroom]

no one will know.

LN x fem!reader

just a little blurby thing bc this man is a WHORE and apparently, so am i! the girlies were sending me this pic in a frenzy and bam: this was born (seriously, this pic has been up for like half an hour, this is a new record for me lmfao) what can i say, i was inspired.

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, oral (m receiving), sexy post race lando, taking pics during the deed hehe

approx. 500 words. short n sweet xoxo

lando was coated in a salty sheen of sweat, curls flopping messily over his forehead, nothing that couldn’t be fixed by a hand running through them. he raked his nails over his scalp, shuddering out a sigh, head falling back in utter bliss.

he’d been out of the car for about 15 minutes, and your mouth had been on him for the last five, swirling with a purpose around the head of his cock, your nails digging into the tanned skin of his upper thigh, sunkissed after two weeks of lounging around in nothing but his rather whoreish swimming shorts.

you moaned wetly around him, pads of your fingers brushing your soaked underwear. his neck flexed, teeth gritting as the vibration rattled through him, a sound of pure sex clawing from the back of his throat. he swiped blindly for something to grab a hold of, to steady himself, fingertips grazing the white and gold of his trophy. first place, shimmering, a winner.

lando’s eyes flew open, briefly watching how you bobbed your head up and down on him, your mascara coated lashes damp, eyes glazed and teary. he bucked his hips, unable to resist. you were a fucking picture.

a picture…

his phone had been thrown to the side as soon as you had fallen to your knees, long forgotten beside the trophy. lando grasped it between fingers that shook with pleasure and adrenaline.

“look at me angel, pose for me pretty girl.” lando rasped, aiming the camera at the woman on her knees all for him, worshipping him, celebrating him.

you looked up, fluttering your lashes, nose flush against the neat patch of hair above his cock, lips shiny red and coated.

you heard the shutter of the camera, taking him as deep down your throat as you could. he deserved this. he’d earned this.

you felt the pad of his thumb graze your cheek, the hand not holding the phone dragging you backwards and forwards on him. you were almost certainly dripping onto the floor.

your tongue gliding along his sensitive underside sent him over the edge, an incredulous grin adoring his devilish features. lando was the picture of sinful beauty as he came down your throat, waves and waves and waves of him trickling down your throat, out the corners of your swollen lips.

lando laughed breathlessly, stroking your cheek once more, a sign of affection and gratitude, his hands falling away. that same hand pawed at his trophy, holding it high, cradled against his bare chest.

you heard the shutter of his iphone once more, swallowing him down.

lando norris is the kind of guy that takes pictures with his trophy while his girl is on her knees.

he has two fingers fucking you open when he nonchalantly uploads the selfie to instagram. no one else will know that his mischievous grin isn’t just because of his second race win, but you will.

-

no tags, just a bluuuuuurb, fanks for reading ily

[demonic0angel]

I found this from one of the accs I follow but I just want to know if you can make a small prompt with it :DD

https://www.tumblr.com/cookiesnotd3ad/775458923428904960/could-never-agree-more?source=share

(LMFAO)

Dick's eye had somehow gained a twitch that he could not suppress.

He took a deep breath.

"So you're telling me... that in the time I was gone, Jason got married, Cass somehow gained the favor of a death god, Tim is suddenly polyamorous, and Damian has now adopted ghosts for pets?!?!???"

All of his siblings and not-siblings looked at each other. Then they mumbled some confirmations. Jason was the only one who didn't look ashamed, proudly displaying his gold ring as he said smugly, "Yep."

Tim spoke up then, "I'm not really suddenly polyamorous. Me and Young Justice have been in an open relationship for a few years now."

Nightwing's eye twitched again. Cass took a wary step back from him.

"Does anyone else have something they want to tell me?" He said, his fists clenching tight enough to creak.

One week.

One week!

He had only left Gotham for one week and already, he felt like he was having heart attacks from his siblings' craziness! If this continued, he was pretty sure that his lucious hair was going to go gray!

Why, oh why was he the older sibling?!

Steph raised her hand. "I'm dating the journalist that makes conspiracy theories about us."

Dick stared at her.

"The one who correctly deduced all of our identities except yours because you're not adopted?"

Steph gulped. Then she said, "Well, Jason married the new psychiatrist who works in Arkham!"

"And I'm proud of it, dammit!" Jason cried.

Dick closed his eyes. Then he turned to pluck Damian off of his feet, pulling him close in a hug before he then pointed at the stairs leading away from the Batcave.

"Get out of my sight."

They all wisely scrambled, except Damian, who pouted as he was being used as an emotional support animal.

"Why me?" Dick complained, hugging Damian as he whined. "I didn't do anything! Why do my siblings have to make stupid choices that I have to suffer through? Why do I suddenly have a sister-in-law too?"

Damian made grabby hands at one of the strange, gelatinous creatures on the cave floor and Dick retrieved one for him with a sigh.

As Damian pet the strange, smooth creature, he said, "Well, if it makes you feel better, Cassandra, Drake, and Todd are dating siblings from the same family. And they're all ghost royalty."

And then he added after a moment, "In fact, I believe there is one more from their family who has gained an interest in you after Jason showed him some pictures. Apparently, he used to conquer worlds. He seems to be quite the powerful suitor for your affection, but I shall not approve."

Dick froze in place.

Suddenly, weeks worth of exhaustion, crime fighting, and nuisances upon nuisances, all caused by his beloved bane-of-his-existence family, was broken by the final straw.

"..... Damian, where are my escrima sticks."

"Richard! Cease this! It's a sorry day in hell when I have to be the peaceful one! Richard! Do not grab Todd's guns! Richard!!"

[blkkizzat]

ꨄ︎『Toji x TumblrSmutWriter!Reader』ꨄ︎

Toji x TumblrSmutWriter!Reader

18+ Minors - DNI

Summary: You shouldn't have left your phone out in the open bestie because now Toji just discovered his cute lil gf has a big slutty imagination and that means you're really in for it ❤︎ . CW: daddy/dilf kinks, humiliation, backshots, outdoor sex, toys, voyerism, breeding, overstimulation, lots of mentions of various kinks, light spanking, light spit play, meta concepts WK: 4.2k Black fem reader coded but no descriptors.

A/N: Y’all can blame my forgetting to take my adhd meds and my hangover yesterday for this one. I was laying on my bathroom floor regretting life choices, waiting on McDs Doordash and thinking up outlines for kinktober when this popped into my head. I thought it would be a quick drabble like 1k words to help my writers block with the "Bumpy Ride" Geto fic but lord knows I can't write shit under 3k, who am I foolin? I don’t even have a song inspo for how spontaneous and random this shit was lmfao but I still had to do a graphic for this one regardless (editing those notifications were hell). Edit- I lied the song inspo is: Girls Need Love Remix - Summer Walker ft. Drake.

Enjoy!

Imagine you are dating Toji and he finds out you secretly write Tumblr smut fics on the low. 

He comes over to your apartment one night after one of his ‘jobs’ ran late. He has a key, but is wondering where the hell you are as you usually greet him at the door. Going into your bedroom, he finally hears you in adjoining bathroom shower. 

Toji begins to strip down in order to join you but he barely has his shirt off before he notices your phone blowing up. 

Picking your phone up off the bed he sees 206 notifications from an app called “Tumblr”. 

Toji has no fucking clue what the hell a Tumblr is but his jealously starts to soar. He already made your ass go private on Instagram and deleted your Tiktok dances. He got tired of threatening every loser who tried to slide in your DMs or even leave a comment for that matter. 

Imagine his surprise when he unlocks your phone (of course he had made you give him the password) and instead he finds out his new vanilla-as-fuck girlfriend is actually a kinky cockwhore who loves writing character x reader stories about fictional men plugging any n' every one of her holes. Sometimes it was multiple men simultaneously, with their massive cocks bullying your readers until you had them crying. Not to mention them fucking you absolutely stupid in every scenario imaginable, with a huge daddy kink/love of dilfs to top it all off. 

Y/N clearly has type, Toji thought smugly as he saw some art on your page of these animated dilfs that looked similar to him.

But goddamn, some of this shit even he hasn’t considered doing with you yet. Honestly, he’s been holding himself back for your sake as you had been pretty shy at first. His sweet naive little college girl, yet here you were a filthy closeted slut this entire time. 

Tsk, Y/N been holding out on me, eh?

At this point you were probably a bigger freak than he was, he mused with an arched brow as he scrolled through what you called your ‘masterlist’.

It was nothing but a collection of pure unadulterated filth. 

More than anything though while going through your Tumblr, Toji is rather impressed at how popular you are. He reads your intro post where you deem yourself the ‘Self-proclaimed DILF Smut Queen’ and an evil grin appears on his face.

Toji abandons his plans to join you in the shower and he waits for you on your bed while he links-surfs through more of your so-called fics, drabbles and thirsts.

You made your own little pictures to go along with your dirty stories too? Aw, what a sneaky yet talented little whore he had. 

ꨄ

When you finally exit the shower, wrapped only in a big fluffy white towel and your hair pulled back into a ponytail, you are surprised to see Toji sitting shirtless on your bed. 

Toji had promised to be here hours ago. He never even sent a text saying he would be late and you’ve been bored waiting for him all evening so he could give you some of the attention you've been craving. 

Your body is already warm from the shower and your legs rub together as you are already feeling a bit horny just seeing him bare chested.

Walking toward the bed you are eager to go pounce on his lap. That is, until you see it’s your phone he’s scrolling through again without your permission.

You loudly sigh which made his head snap up to look at you.

You’re so ready to tell him off again and remind him your Insta is still private and you only use TikTok to mindlessly scroll, not post dance videos anymore when gives you a dangerous look.

You stop dead in your tracks.

Your eyes grow wide as saucers as you recognize what he’s actually looking at when waves your phone around tauntingly in his hands. 

No.No.No. Not this. Please god, not this!

But your worst fears are confirmed when he starts reading aloud with a huge shit eating grin. 

“You moaned loudly as you threw your head back and bucked against him hungrily. You knew you had to finish quickly unless you wanted his wife to come home to discover the babysitter on top of her husband, making a mess all over his face. His thick tongue lapped into your drenched folds and he spread your puffy pussy lips wider to suck and nip at your swollen clit….” 

Your mouth was agape in shock. You were a deer in headlights.

A million and one thoughts raced through your mind as Toji continued on. He swiped over to the next one, this time a daddy and breeding kink drabble.

“Or how ‘bout… ‘Take it all like the good little slut you are for daddy, Y/N’. ‘N-No daddy, please I can’t cum anymore!’ You babbled as you succumbed to the overstimulation of him ruthlessly breeding your stretched cunt and filling you as you squirted on his dick for the fifth time that night…” 

You could only continue to stand there and gawk at him. This couldn’t actually be happening to you right now.

“Ya really wrote all this nasty shit, Y/N?” Toji teased while still looking at your phone as he found more of your filthy smut to read aloud to you despite the horrified expression on your face.

You of course had written all that ‘nasty shit’ but most of it was before you started dating him, breaking a long dry spell.

You really weren’t one to run the streets and sleep around but you had some kinky ass fantasies and you not getting any action had you needing to express them somehow.

It’s not like you didn’t eventually plan to open up and share a few of your kinks with Toji down the line. But this was a relatively new relationship and Toji was still a bit intimidating to you. Even though Toji treated you with way more care and concern than he did anyone else you’ve seen him interact with, you still had an insecure fear that he would reject you for a few of your kinks. 

Your last boyfriend had called you a weirdo for wanting to call him daddy in bed, so you resolved then to no longer share that part of you.

Hell, not even your IRL friends knew what you got up to. Only the Tumblr followers and moots, who you all shared peaceful anonymity with, were familiar with you and your writing.

Fuck. You had finally found the perfect DILF daddy too, you didn't want to scare him away. 

You cursed yourself for even opening Tumblr earlier. You did so out of restlessness waiting on his ass to come over. You just were going to read a few fics before you realized you had a story in your drafts you never posted that just needed to be proofread.

Wanting to kill time you decided to edit and post it on a whim, not knowing the mess it would be getting you into now. 

“Earth to, Y/N.” Toji snapped his fingers, interrupting your thoughts.

"Where did my perverted baby’s little mind go off to now, huh? So obsessed with being ruined by imaginary cocks you can’t even respond to your own daddy.”

You could have combusted on the spot as you were sure there was more steam coming off you from embarrassment than from the hot shower you had just taken. 

But wait– wtf, your frazzled mind just connected the fact Toji had referred to himself as your daddy. 

Those words sinking in made your entire body tingle. Your pulse quickened as you chewed your bottom lip and fidgeted with the edge of your towel.

Was he also into this?

The fact was Toji was very into this and you were about to find out just how much he was.

Enjoying your reactions fully, Toji stood up and made his way toward you with a crazed look on his face.

“You’ve written 96 pieces of filth Y/N…”

He inched closer and you instinctively moved back. Every fiber of your body sensing the danger in front of you. You wondered if this is how the targets of his ‘jobs’ felt when he approached them. Toji never lied to you about what he did for work but you never felt like you were his prey, until now.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl, have you nothing to say for y’erself, princess?” 

“I-I-I-”, you stumble over your own words. This was all way too much, way too fast, for you to process in order to say anything coherent back to him.

“I-I-I-” Toji mocked your pathetic tone, an evil grin back on his face. 

“Lost your words, Y/N?”

Your body instinctively keeps moving back to keep distance between the two of you as he continues to advance on you.

“But you have so many words to say here, isn’t that right slut?”

Toji toyed with your phone in his hand, spinning it around.

“Slut. That’s what you liked to be called in these stories, eh? The dirty slutty whore with a sloppy cunt just ready to slime all over her daddy’s cock, yeah?”

You gulped as your back hit the glass of your bedroom balcony door with a ‘thud’. You had no more room to run while Toji closes in on you.

He pressed both of his massive hands against the glass as they framed your head, his body hovering over you. You couldn’t help but notice how much bigger than you he was as his frame enveloped you and blocked out the rest of the room. You were trapped.

Too nervous to look him in the eyes, you settled for his chest and Toji’s muscles flexed tantalizingly under your gaze. You lost yourself for a moment as the familiar scent of his heady masculine musk invaded your senses.

Your eyes roamed lower and lower before resting on the bulge beneath his sweats and you softly pant. 

“You’re staring at my dick like you want me to stuff that pretty little throat cunny of yours full. You aren’t making good use of your mouth right now anyway Y/N, might as well see how much of me it can fit.”

You looked away from him completely but that only ignites Toji's flames more.

“Look me in the eyes little girl...” Toji’s hand roughly grabbed your jaw and squished your cheeks together as he brought his face closer to yours.

“This shy act won’t cut it anymore, slut.”

His intensity was overwhelming you. Various emotions threaten to bubble to the surface as you squirm in his grasp and your eyes become glossy with tears.

“You didn’t think you finally had a man who would be into this wild ass shit, now did you?”

You wanted to question him further but you felt your gravity shift as the balcony door whipped open behind you. Toji ripped off the towel covering you as you practically tumbled backwards onto the small landing buttass naked.

The crisp fall night air hits your dampened skin giving you goosebumps. You shiver and immediately drop down in a crouch to cover yourself. 

“T-Toji!! Are you insane?!” You gasped at him in a hushed tone, your silence finally broken. 

Promptly, you scan the seemingly deserted neighborhood streets through the railing for any sign of movement or signal that someone else was outside.

To your relief there was no one in sight.

Thankfully this was a relatively quiet neighborhood and no one was ever really out at this time of night. Nevertheless the shock of it all was sending your nerves into overdrive.

“Toji my ass bitch. It’s daddy to you moving forward–,” he roared jerking you up off the ground, “–and we are going to do every single fucking thing your slutty mind has ever fucking written starting NOW.” 

Your eyes darted as around him if you wanted to run back inside but there was no getting past his brutish build as he quickly slammed the door shut, shaking the frame.

Frankly, you didn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified as you had written some depraved ass shit over the past year in the midst of your cockdrought. Some of it you had never even seriously thought of actually doing IRL. 

“Let’s start right ‘ere, eh? Did you think I wouldn’t notice the description of the place in your little balcony story matched your own?” 

Your eyes almost popped out of your skull as you recalled what you wrote in that particular smut fic.

ꨄ 

“A-AH! N-NOOO TOJI, W-WAIIIIIIIT!” You whined through gritted teeth. 

You tried (and failed) not to release any noises from the unrelenting backshots Toji was currently giving you as he folded you over the balcony railing. The tips of your toes barely rested on the cold floor as your ass bounced back into him and had your clit throbbing when his heavy balls smacked against the sensitive nub.

You had previously only fantasized about Toji being this rough with you, but now that it was actually happening for real you couldn’t think straight. Your lungs burned from sucking in the frosty night air and your cunt pulsed from his thick girth stretching you open. 

Shockwaves ran along your body with every cruel thrust of his hips. The force of it reduced your legs to jelly and you were sure you would have collapsed had he not had you suspended like you were, between him and the railing. 

Toji seemed both unfazed by the cold and your cries for mercy as he shushed you with a harsh spank. He enjoyed the way your fat ass rippled under his heavy hand in the moonlight so much he gave you a few more for good measure.

Your tits violently swayed over the edge as one of your hands grasped the railing for stability and the other held your phone in front of you. Toji was making you dictate your story for him as he reenacted the play by play assault on your cunt.  

The bright screen you held was near blinding to your teary eyes. You mentally cringed as you knew it would act as a shiny beacon to view your activities if anyone walked by the small apartment complex or hell, even stepped out on their balcony. 

“T-Toj- Daddy, w-what ‘bout– neigh-h-b-bor-s?”

You managed to croak out over the sloshing of your cunt and slapping sounds of flesh that echoed into the atmosphere everytime he rammed into you. You couldn’t bear to look around to see if any of your neighbors had started to investigate.

“Pshhh, Fuck your neighbors Y/N! They clearly don’t have a cockcrazed baby to please that writes dirty little stories about imaginary men like I do.”

If you didn’t know better you would think he was actually jealous of the DILFs in your stories too from the way he was sadistically fucking into you. 

His thrusts caused your icy tears to run down your face and sent your tits bouncing into the wind. Your cold and neglected nipples hardened in the chill to the point of delicious pain.

“B-but- it's too c-cold out D-Daddy!”

“Mmn, yet your pussy feels warm enough, Y/N. Too hot even. This is for your benefit, you know–,” Toji stated matter-of-factly while he increases the speed his pounding into you, “–So you remember you have your own Daddy who will fuck you anyway you want, anytime you want…just, fuck, tell Daddy what his slutty baby needs.”

The way his hips are driving into your core knocks the wind out of you. Toji tightens the already brutal grip on your hips which assists him in pressing deeper into your cunt. The movement has you almost slipping. You nearly drop your phone off the balcony when your toes stepped in the growing pool of shared juices flowing down your legs and collecting at your feet.

“Hold that shit tight for daddy baby, got it? You drop it and we gotta start over, yeah? I’ll make you walk downstairs ass naked just like this to get it too,” Toji breathed out huskily. 

You realize you’ve never heard him sound this needy before now.

“What’s next, in y’er lil’ story huh?… Speak up so I can hear it over this messy cunt.” 

There was an edge of desperation for you clear in his tone. Although to your dismay it causes your body to gush around him harder meaning you would have to speak up even louder as your pussy squelches grew more vulgar in volume. 

You nearly shouted out the next part groaning and mixing in incoherent babbles throughout the smut filled paragraph as Toji doesn't slow to help you. If anything Toji picks up speed and grows even harder inside of you as he's encouraged by his baby's filthy words.

“...H-he- lifts your leg, r-resting your knee on the edge of the bal-c-cony. T-T-The angle allows h-him, fuck, deeper access to your c-cunt. Ah-h-h-a clear view of his c-cock badgering your core f’er a-anyone who happens to p-pass belowwww-ohmygod. Y-you seeeeee s-stars as he callously s-slams into your c-cervix, shitshitshit, n-nearly fa-fa-fucking you off the balcony if not for his s-strong hold on youuuu–ah. Y-you violently t-tremble as you c-cum s-screamiiiiing, not fuckdaddyfuckkkk, caring if your n-neighbors could s-see or h-hear you any l-longer.”

“HA! Is that so–” Toji lifts your leg just like you wrote in your fic, “–guess I am gonna to have to keep fucking this tight cunt until you no longer give a fuck about anything else but this dick, eh?”

You hear what sounds like a door slide open near you and you begin to whine about your neighbors again before Toji jerks your head back by your ponytail to whisper in your ear. 

“I wouldn’t worry that nasty, pretty little head of yours about these neighbors babydoll…” 

The new angle allows Toji to bury himself deeper into you just like you told in your story and his tip hits your cervix so hard you think he might actually penetrate. 

“...if I were you Y/N... I would think about how daddy’s needy lil whore is gonna make it through an entire day of classes tomorrow with clamps on your nipples and a remote control vibrator up your cunt.”

He licked the side of your face and spit in your mouth before carelessly pushing your head back. You loudly moaned as his bruising grip returned to your meaty hips as his nonstop aggressive assault on your cunt proceeds.

You feel yourself getting close, your eyes rolled back into your head and drool seeped down the corners of your mouth. You cursed your weakness for this shit as you felt yourself give into the pleasure. You surprise even yourself as you never actually thought this kinda sex could be so fucking good you wouldn’t care about shit else for real. 

“Goddamn mamas, squeezing me so hard–” Toji’s hips snapped into you with every syllable, his voice becoming more animalistic, “–you want me to fill this pussy up? Mmm, I fucking know you do the way she’s milking me. Fuck, might even put a baby in you, give ‘gumi a sibling. We won’t be able to do some of that kinky shit you wrote unless I knock a baby up in this cunt, ya know.”

Of course, Toji being the sexy ass DILF straight out of your dreams would love breeding kinks too.

His ramblings cause you to tighten and clench around him even more. You’ve wanted to beg for him like this since you first started dating. Just thinking of the words spilling out of your mouth nearly pushed you over the edge.

You were so close to release.

“I-Inside me D-Daddy pleasepleaseplease!,” you slobbered out, struggling to make sentences from all the pleasure within you.

“F-fill me– fill me D-Daddy, knock this tight little cunt up, w-want it– want it– w-want it–!!!”

Your voice caught in your throat and you nearly choked once you felt your peak hit. Your pussy sent tremors around his dick as you creamed around him. You can't think of anything else but him inside of you.

You just came but Toji allowed you no rest. He still pummeled inside you as he chased his own high and slurred vulgar curses of praise for his pretty lil’ whore's dirty mind, while planning the next debaucherous smut for you both to reenact.

“Ya think it's too late now f’er prime next day delivery for those toys, baby? Fuck, look that up while y’er still holding that phone.”

You didn’t even realize you still had your phone in your hand but were just thankful you didn’t drop yet. You didn't think it would survive the fall.

Groaning you tried to rally the strength to even lift the phone to face unlock when you locked eyes with someone below. You instantly recognized the person as the elderly woman with the flower garden from down the street.

The old lady had always been very kind to you, making pleasant conversation, offering you fresh flowers for your kitchen and praising you for how reminded her of her own sweet young daughter at your age. 

Unfortunately for you both, she was casually walking her two mini poodles when her eyes were affronted with you practically hanging off the balcony. A blissed out expression plastered across your face while Toji held you, battering your slick pussy full of his thick cock.

The old woman’s eyes widened in terror as if she actually witnessed a crime scene as she panicked, yanking her two dogs away swiftly back in the direction of her home. You knew you would have to take the long way home from now on.

Nevertheless Toji, who was none the wiser and wouldn’t give a single fuck regardless, merely continued planning out your next smut fic enactment.

“Nah fuck it, we’re going to the library tomorrow. See how many pages you can read of that dull ass biology book while y’er warming my cock... Tch, or should we do the one where y’er fucking the coach in the men’s locker room, whacha think baby?”

"Hmmmnmmrgh", you could only moan in reply.

You were already near hyperventilating from your own climax, the shame of now having to avoid your neighbor for life and Toji’s fiery body creating a storm of friction clashing with the freezing temperatures.

But your senses were now wholly overloaded once you felt him reach down to pinch and rub at your clit. 

“Cum again with Daddy baby, shit, can ya do that f’er me?” Toji sounded like he was close and he slapped your clit even harder causing you to scream out.

Cockdrunk and overstimulated you could no longer communicate as your entire body felt like it was an extension of your pussy. The thick fluids flowing out of your body increased the sizable puddle already at your feet. You utterly surrendered to the feeling and your body wrecked with pleasure electrifying you. 

You almost blackout as you feel his cock bust hot seed into your tummy melting your insides and causing you to cum all over again.

"Fuck, that’s it, take it all. Can't wait to see this belly and these tits full mama."

The aftershock of your orgasm feels near endless as Toji continues to fuck thick ropes of his cum into you. 

Losing track of time you weren’t sure how long it was before Toji finally pulled out and took you off the railing. Holding on to you so you can balance and turning you to face him he places you down on your unsteady feet. You immediately bury your head into his chest as his heat envelops your cold skin. Your breathing finally starts to calm in his embrace. 

“So good f’er daddy babygirl,” he murmurs into your hair, savoring your scent.

“Warm bath, yeah?”

“Sure, but you gotta carry me daddy.”

You yawned while Toji’s already lifting you princess style in his strong arms. You were exposed still in the night but at the same time you have never felt safer. 

You curl further into his warmth as he kisses your forehead and finally brings you back inside.

Once inside the bathroom Toji sets you down on the edge of the tub while the water runs and he leaves to grab some fresh towels.

You can’t help but feel euphoric as you smiled to yourself. You are too giddy!

You finally have the DILF daddy you always wanted and could be open about your kinks without any judgment. 

However your mood shifts when Toji returns. You give him an incredulous look as you see your pink waterproof vibrator in his hands. 

Toji turns it on and saunters over to you, his scar twisted into a devilish smirk.

“95 more fuckfics to go ma’, we don’t have time to waste…”

Fucking hell, you had entirely forgotten about the overstimulation in the bath drabble. 

You quiver in both anticipation and distress as you aren’t sure how your completely spent and nearly frozen body is gonna be able to cum four more times tonight. 

Could there ever be too much of a good thing?

You weren't sure what those limits were exactly.

“Ya know, Y/N–," Toji started slyly, interrupting your thought.

”If I hit up Shiu and you asked him nicely with that pretty lil' mouth, I’m positive he would be down for some double daddy Eiffel Tower action.”

However from the feral grin on Toji’s face he appeared determined to test those limits with you.

You could thank your Tumblr smut fics for that. 

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ��ɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

A/N: I honestly have to say I am a bit impressed with myself as I’ve never finished a story in one day before ever (although it took most of today to proofread and I still think there might be errors soz). Hopefully this is a good sign for powering through those Kinktober fics once classes start up again this Weds. Also If there is any interest possibly a PT 2 after Kinktober featuring a threesome with Shiu at his office.

Edit: errors/grammar fixed as of 9/26.

This one goes out to all of us dilf smut queens who simp Toji ❤︎

Please reblog to have DILF Daddy Toji dick you down, but likes and comments are always appreciated just the same!

[maddie0101]

𖤐 playing with fire (dean x fem!reader)

𖤐 summary: a house party, a few too many drinks, and a skirt that’s driving dean out of his mind. what starts as a harmless game of truth or dare quickly turns into something else, something that’s been building between him and the reader for way too long. one reckless decision later, and there’s no going back.

𖤐 warnings: smut (mdni), truth or dare, college!au, porn w plot, best friends to lovers, high sexual tension, teasing, reader's skirt almost sends dean into a coma, dirty talk, cussing, hair pulling, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, dean is a freak! (we love it though), p in v, mirror sex, skirt stays on!, lots more but I can't list everything off lmfao.

𖤐 word count: 7.5k (don’t ask me how I did this tbh. my fingers just kept moving)

𖤐 note: well…this was supposed to be maybe 2-3k words max, but I’ve done it again and I can’t help myself. i def couldn’t tag everything but enjoy! ❤︎

The house was packed with bodies moving together in the living room, red cups in hand, half-empty bottles of liquor cluttering every available surface. Someone had hooked up a speaker to blast a playlist that was way too bass-heavy, and the floor vibrated with every beat. The air smelled like cheap beer, sweat, and faint traces of perfume—an unmistakable blend of house party chaos.

Dean wasn’t even sure why he had come.

Well. That wasn’t entirely true.

Sam had dragged him here. Well, technically, Jess had dragged Sam here, and in turn, Sam had forced Dean out of the apartment under the guise of “having fun for once.” That was bullshit. Dean could have fun anywhere—a bar, a diner, sitting on the couch with a beer in hand, but instead, here he was, dodging some drunk dude waving his cup around like a damn sprinkler while scanning the room for a familiar face.

Or more accurately, your face.

Dean exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He hadn’t seen you all day, which was a little weird since the two of you talked constantly. You were his best friend, had been for years, and yet, when you’d mentioned earlier that you were coming to this party, Dean had found himself oddly… uneasy. Not that he was worried or anything. You could handle yourself just fine. But the thought of you here, surrounded by drunk, handsy assholes, looking hot as hell—not that he was picturing that—yeah, it had been enough to convince him to tag along.

But he still hadn’t spotted you, though.

Instead, his eyes landed on Sam and Jess standing near the staircase, laughing at something between them. Dean made his way over, shoving past a couple making out against the wall.

“Dean,” Jess greeted, lifting her drink in acknowledgment. “Took you long enough to show up.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Traffic.”

Sam snorted. “Traffic? Dean, you live ten minutes away.”

“Shut up.”

Jess grinned and leaned into Sam’s side. “You’re looking for her, aren’t you?”

Dean froze. “What?”

“You know,” she said, tilting her head slightly, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Her.”

Dean scowled. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “You are so obvious.”

Before Dean could argue, Jess nodded toward the kitchen. “She’s in there, last I saw. Taking shots.”

Dean’s stomach did something weird, something he would not acknowledge. Instead, he shrugged and muttered a casual, “Cool,” before turning in that direction. And then—

Oh. Oh, fuck.

There you were. Standing by the counter, tilting your head back as you downed a shot of something dark, your lips wrapping around the rim of the glass before you placed it back on the counter. Your tongue flicked out briefly, licking away any stray drops.

Dean’s brain completely short-circuited. He barely even registered the fact that he had stopped in his tracks, mouth slightly parted. Because—holy hell.

That skirt. That damn skirt.

It wasn’t like you never wore stuff like this. But this? This was different. The way it clung to your hips, stopping so high up your thighs—Dean swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. The black top you wore didn’t help either, hugging your curves just right, exposing just enough skin to make his head spin.

Dean wasn’t sure what the alcohol content of whatever you were drinking was, but he was pretty sure he needed one now. Badly.

His fingers twitched at his sides, and he shifted uncomfortably as a very inconvenient problem began to arise in his jeans. Shit. This was not the time to be getting a goddamn boner.

Dean clenched his jaw, inhaling through his nose.

Pull it together, Winchester. You are her best friend. You are—

And then you turned.

Like you felt him staring. Your eyes locked onto his, and for a split second, everything else—the music, the crowd, the heat of the room—just faded into the background. A slow smile curled at the corner of your lips, and that was when Dean knew he was really screwed.

You looked good. And not just in the casual oh yeah, she looks nice kind of way. No, this was dangerous. This was the kind of good that made his stomach twist, that made his heart slam against his ribs, that sent heat rushing to places he did not want to deal with right now.

And then, as if you hadn’t just ruined his entire ability to function, you grabbed another shot from the counter, tilting your head slightly. “Want one?”

Dean swallowed, forcing his brain to restart. He took a slow step forward, desperate to think of something normal to say. Except, the closer he got, the worse you got. Because now he could smell you, some sweet, intoxicating mix of vanilla and something else. And now he could see just how smooth your legs looked in that goddamn skirt. And now—

Well now you were struggling, too.

Because Dean Winchester in a fitted black T-shirt, dark jeans, and those stupidly broad shoulders? Yeah. Not fair. Your fingers tightened around the shot glass. The way the fabric of his shirt stretched across his arms was practically sinful. The way the dim lighting highlighted the sharp angles of his jaw was even worse. He looked good, in that effortlessly rugged kind of way, and the alcohol coursing through your veins was not helping you pretend otherwise.

You blinked up at him, trying to keep your expression neutral. “You okay there, Winchester?”

Dean exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

Liar.

You raised a brow, smirking slightly. “You sure? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Dean let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Just—” He wet his lips. “You, uh. You look nice.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You knew you looked good tonight—you had dressed with a little extra effort, even though you’d never admit why—but hearing Dean say it? Yeah. That did something.

You tilted your head, amused. “Nice?”

Dean ran a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath before clearing his throat.

“Fine. Hot,” he admitted, voice lower now.

Your breath caught. The tension stretched thick between you. You should’ve said something. Something witty, something teasing, something to lighten whatever this was.

But then Dean reached out, grabbing the shot from your hand. His fingers brushed against yours, and that tiny touch sent a sharp jolt up your spine.

You both inhaled and Dean knocked the shot back, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time and when he lowered the glass, he licked his lips.

You almost groaned. Fuck.

This was not going to end well.

You were still trying to get your head straight when Jess walked into the kitchen. “There you two are!” she grinned, her voice a little louder than usual, clearly a few drinks in. “We’re starting a game in the living room. Get your asses in there.”

Dean blinked like he’d just snapped out of a trance. “Uh… what kind of game?”

Jess smirked. “The fun kind. Come on.”

Before either of you could argue, she grabbed your wrist and dragged you toward the living room. Dean trailed behind, his eyes flicking downward — yeah, that fucking skirt was still driving him insane.

The living room was packed, people sprawled across the couches and floor, drinks in hand. The bottle sitting in the middle of the coffee table made Dean’s stomach tighten.

“Spin the bottle?” He raised an eyebrow at Jess.

“Oh, no. We’re past that,” she grinned. “We’re playing Truth or Dare — but with a twist.”

Dean groaned under his breath. “Of course we are.”

“You scared, Winchester?” you teased, arching an eyebrow.

Dean shot you a look. “Of you? Never.”

Which was a goddamn lie. He was terrified —because this whole night had been a dangerous game of self-control, and right now, he was hanging on by a thread.

You both ended up sitting on the floor, way too close, your bare knee kept brushing against Dean’s thigh, and every time it happened, it felt like someone had dropped a match on gasoline.

The game started off easy, dumb dares, embarrassing questions, lots of laughter. But when it was your turn, things shifted. Jess grinned like she was about to start shit. “Alright, Y/N. Truth or dare?”

You barely hesitated. “Dare.”

Jess’s smile widened. “I dare you to sit in Dean’s lap for the rest of the game.”

The room erupted in laughter and catcalls, and your stomach dropped.

“Oh, come on,” you muttered.

“You picked dare,” Jess said sweetly. “Better get moving.”

Dean leaned back, running a hand down his face like he was mentally preparing himself. When he lowered it, he shot you a crooked smile — cocky as hell, but you didn’t miss the flicker of nerves in his eyes. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he drawled. “I won’t bite.”

God help you. You swallowed hard, stood up, and crossed the small space. Every eye in the room was on you as you slowly settled into Dean’s lap, his hands instinctively landing on your waist.

It should’ve been fine. Should’ve been funny. But fuck.

Dean’s thighs were solid under you, his broad chest warm against your back. His hands, rough and steady flexed just slightly, like he was fighting the urge to squeeze. “Comfortable?” Dean muttered near your ear, his voice lower than usual.

“Yeah,” you said, but it came out breathy.

The game moved on, but you barely heard a word. Dean’s hand slid down your waist, innocent enough, but his thumb brushed the bare skin just above your skirt. You nearly jolted at the contact.

You twisted your fingers in your lap, trying to focus. But then Dean shifted, just a little, and Jesus Christ, you felt everything — the strength of his legs beneath you, the heat of his body against yours.

“You good?” Dean murmured low in your ear.

“Peachy,” you lied.

“Bullshit,” he muttered back, his breath warm against your neck.

You sucked in a sharp breath, and Dean’s fingers flexed again — but this time, his grip lingering just a little longer.

“Alright, Dean,” someone called out, dragging both of you back into the moment. “Your turn.”

“Truth or dare?”

Dean smirked, but his fingers stayed on your waist, still toying with your skin. “Dare.”

“Let Y/N give you a hickey.”

The room howled.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dean muttered, running a hand down his face.

“Don’t chicken out,” Jess taunted, wiggling her eyebrows.

You turned your head slightly to look at Dean, your face way too close to his. “We can just fake it,” you offered, voice soft enough for only him to hear. “Play it off.”

But Dean’s eyes locked onto yours and something flickered behind them, something darker. “Yeah,” he said, low and rough. “Or we can’t.”

Your breath hitched. He was serious.

“You sure?” you murmured.

Dean’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back up.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m sure.”

The room had gotten quieter now, like people were actually waiting to see what would happen. Your pulse hammered in your ears as you turned in his lap, your legs sliding across his thighs, your chest brushing against his. Dean’s hand slid to your lower back, steadying you, his fingers splaying wide.

You leaned in, your lips brushing just below his jaw, and his breath hitched. You kissed his skin once, soft and slow before sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. His fingers dug into your waist, and you swore you felt his chest shudder against yours.

You were supposed to stop there, but you didnt. Something told you to kept going. Your mouth lingered, your lips just barely brushing over his skin again. His fingers trailed down your side, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your hip.

“You’re killing me,” Dean muttered, barely above a whisper.

“You started it,” you whispered back but you didn’t pull away and neither did he. The air felt thick and heavy. You could feel his pulse hammering under your lips, the tension in the air growing thicker by the second.

“Alright,” someone called, breaking the moment. “I think that counts.”

You slowly eased back, your face still way too close to his. Dean’s gaze dropped to your lips, then flicked back up to your eyes.

Yeah. You were fucked.

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly, voice rough and strained. “That counts.”

The game moved on, but your body was still burning from the way Dean’s hands lingered on your waist, the feel of his breath against your skin. You hadn’t even fully processed what just happened when Jess turned toward Sam with a glint in her eye.

“Alright, babe,” she said sweetly. “Truth or dare?”

Sam chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have a choice, so let’s just get this over with.”

Jess smirked. “Dare.”

The room erupted into laughter, and Sam groaned, shaking his head.

“I dare you to…” Jess tapped her chin, drawing out the suspense. “Take off your shirt and let me write something on your chest in Sharpie.”

Sam rolled his eyes but reached behind his head, pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion. The sight of Sam Winchester, half-naked in the middle of the living room, earned a few whistles and teasing remarks. Jess grinned as she grabbed a marker, uncapped it with her teeth, and scribbled 'Property of Jess' across his chest.

Dean snorted. “Jesus, Sammy, you gonna let her brand you like that?”

Sam shot him a dry look. “Like you have room to talk.”

Dean’s smirk faltered just slightly—probably because his hands were still gripping your waist, and he hadn’t let go since you sat down. But the tension between you and Dean was a wildfire, growing hotter with every second. His hands still rested on your waist, his fingers burning through the thin fabric of your top. You were hyper-aware of every shift of his body beneath you, every breath he took, the way his thighs felt firm under you.

Sam and Jess had just finished their dare, leaving everyone laughing while Sam scowled, still sporting the ridiculous drawing Jess had sketched onto his bare chest.

The game carried on, but you barely heard a word of it.

Someone dared Mike to shotgun a beer, and the room erupted with cheers when he spilled half of it down his shirt. Someone else was dared to prank-call their ex. Everyone was laughing, talking too loud, caught up in their own chaos.

But you? You couldn’t focus on any of it—because Dean was still beneath you, solid and warm and way too much. His hands rested loosely on your waist, fingers occasionally flexing like he was trying to ground himself. He hadn’t said much since you’d settled on his lap, but you could feel him—every breath, every subtle shift. And every time you moved even slightly, his grip would tighten.

You were trying so damn hard to act normal, to focus on literally anything other than the heat radiating off his body or the way his chest felt beneath your hands. But then you shifted, just a tiny adjustment to get more comfortable—and that’s when you felt it.

Oh… shit. You went still. Heat rushed straight to your face as your brain struggled to catch up with what your body already knew. Dean was hard. Very hard.

His fingers flexed again, harder this time, like he knew exactly what you’d just realized. Your pulse hammered in your ears. For a second, you considered pretending you didn’t notice—just staying perfectly still and riding this out. But then Dean shifted beneath you, a quiet, strangled breath slipping out of him and something inside you twisted.

Fuck it.

You moved. Slowly and deliberately you shifted in his lap, rolling your hips just enough to feel the hard press of him against you. Dean’s fingers dug into your waist and his breath hitched, sharp and rough right against your ear. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

You bit your lip, heat pooling low in your stomach.

Everyone else in the room was still talking, still laughing—completely oblivious to the way Dean’s fingers were now gripping your waist like a lifeline, or the way your thighs clenched tighter.

And then you did it again, slow, teasing, shifting just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth.

His mouth dropped to your ear, his voice a low, strained whisper that shot straight down your spine “You’re fucking killing me.”

A shiver bolted through your body—sharp and electric, leaving your breath shaky and your heart racing. You didn’t dare look at him. If you turned your head, if you caught even a glimpse of his face, his flushed cheeks, his darkened green eyes, you knew you’d lose whatever thin grip you had on your self-control.

But his breath stayed hot against your ear, and his hands—fuck, his hands—were sliding down to your hips now, gripping you just a little tighter. “You wanna keep playing that game?” His voice was low, almost dangerous. “Because I promise you, sweetheart…” His fingers flexed, teasing at the curve of your hips. “I can play too.”

Your stomach flipped. Oh fuck.

The air between you was thick, almost too thick. You could barely breathe past it, past the heat curling low in your stomach, past the way Dean’s voice sent another sharp, aching shiver down your spine. His hands on your hips were heavy, warm, possessive, like he was seconds from losing whatever thread of control he was clinging to.

And fuck, you wanted that.

You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming in your throat. You should stop. You should...

But instead, you shifted again, just barely. Just enough to feel him twitch beneath you. And Dean exhaled through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening against your hips as his head dropped forward, forehead brushing your shoulder.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N,” he rasped.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. The way he said your name, low and wrecked made something hot coil tighter in your stomach. You were still frozen in place, thighs clenched, caught in the unbearable tension pulling both of you closer.

Then his fingers flexed, and his thumbs traced slow, firm circles against your hips. A barely-there touch, but it sent a bolt of heat straight through you.

Fuck. Fuck. Your breath stuttered.

And Dean—the asshole, he noticed. Because suddenly, his lips were right there, brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice a low, dark whisper.“Tell me to stop.”

Your stomach flipped.

The teasing tone from earlier was gone. Now, he just sounded wrecked. If you told him to stop, he would. But you didn’t want him to and fuck, he knew it.

You turned your head, just barely, finally meeting his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his jaw tight, his breath uneven.

Say something, your brain screamed. Say literally anything. But before you could, someone shouted—

“Alright, next dare!”

The world rushed back in all at once. Dean tensed beneath you, eyes snapping toward the others. Your head whipped around just in time to see Jess grinning, pointing at some poor guy across the circle.

The spell shattered but Dean’s hands were still on your hips and the heat curling between your legs? Still there.

Your throat felt dry as you tried to regulate your breathing, as you tried to not focus on the fact that Dean Winchester had just whispered in your ear like he was about to ruin you right in front of everyone.

And as the game dragged on, voices rising and falling, bursts of laughter breaking through the low thrum of music, it all felt distant, muffled like you were underwater. None of it mattered. Not when you were still perched in Dean’s lap, still feeling the weight of his hands resting heavy on your hips.

You knew you should move. You should get up, put some space between you, cool down before you did something reckless. But every time you shifted even a little, you could feel him, hard and pressed against your thigh and you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

At one point, you dared to steal a glance at him, only to find him already watching you. His eyes were darker than usual, pupils blown wide, and when your gaze met his, he looked away fast. But not before you caught it, that barely restrained tension, the kind that felt like a live wire stretched too tight.

Yeah, you weren’t the only one losing control.

“Alright, I think that’s it for me,” Jess announced with an exaggerated yawn. She stretched her arms over her head, clearly playing up the exhaustion. “I’m heading to home before this gets even messier.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, I think we’ve done enough damage for one night.”

Sam and Jess stood, gathering their jackets and drinks, muttering half-hearted goodnights to others. The noise dipped just enough for you to hear Dean let out a slow, steady breath, like he’d been holding it in all night.

You moved to stand, but Dean’s fingers flexed against your waist again, not quite holding you there, but not exactly letting you go either.

When you finally pushed yourself to your feet, your legs wobbled. The warmth of the alcohol was settling heavy in your limbs now, leaving you unsteady.

“You good?” Jess asked as she appeared at your side.

“Yeah,” you lied. “Just… need some water or something.”

Jess’s gaze flicked to Dean — still sprawled on the ground, his head tilted back, fingers gripping his knees like he was barely keeping himself together.

“You sure that’s all you need?” she asked, her voice dipped knowingly.

Heat prickled up your neck. “I’m fine,” you said too quickly. But you weren’t. The tension was still coiled tight inside you, winding hot and restless beneath your skin. You could still feel Dean’s touch like he’d burned it into you. And no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, it wouldn’t let go.

“Alright,” Jess said slowly, clearly unconvinced. “I'll see you tomorrow, love you.”

"Love you too." You gave her a smile and turned toward the kitchen, desperate for space, for something cold. But you didn’t get far because a warm hand curled around your wrist.

“C’mere.” Dean’s voice was low and rough.

Before you could respond, he stood towering over you, his fingers firm but careful as he tugged you away from the lingering party noise.

“Dean,” you muttered, voice tight. “What are you—”

But he didn’t answer. He just kept walking, guiding you down the dim hallway, past the closed doors and dark corners until his hand reached for a doorknob.

The bathroom. The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the sounds of music and voices.

“Dean,” you started again, your back barely pressed to the door before his hands grabbed your waist, fingers digging in, and he pushed you back against the door — not hard, not rough, but enough to steal your breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered, dropping his forehead against yours. His breath was warm, whiskey-sweet, ghosting over your lips. “I can’t— I can’t fucking think right now.” His thumbs swept under the hem of your shirt, dragging slow, burning circles against your skin. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling too fast, like he was barely keeping himself from snapping.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he rasped. “And if you keep looking at me like that…” He swallowed hard, his mouth brushing yours as he spoke. “I’m not gonna be able to stop myself.”

Your heart pounded so hard it shook your ribs.You didn't think. You only grabbed his shirt, fisting the fabric tight and yanked him in.

The kiss hit like a spark hot and fast and desperate. His mouth crashed against yours, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. His hands slid higher beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide against your bare skin.

You gasped into his mouth as his hands roamed upward tracing the curve of your waist, your ribs and Dean groaned, low and wrecked, like you were killing him all over again. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered against your lips, voice gravelly and broken.

“Good,” you whispered back.

His mouth dragged lower, down your jaw, your neck, his stubble scraping your skin, leaving a hot, tingling path in its wake.

“Dean,” you breathed, voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” His lips were at your collarbone now, hot and wet and lingering.

“Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” His lips crashed back into yours with a hunger that sent your head spinning. His hands were everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up your sides, fingers digging in like he couldn’t get enough. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like this was something he’d been holding back for far too long and now that he’d started, there was no way in hell he could stop. Dean's thigh slid between yours, and you gasped into his mouth at the pressure.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered, his lips trailing down your neck again, his stubble dragging rough and perfect against your skin. He nipped at your pulse point, just enough to make you gasp again, before soothing the spot with his tongue.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his voice low and wrecked. His mouth brushed against your collarbone, hot and lingering. “No fucking clue what you do to me.”

“I think I’m starting to figure it out,” you teased, but your voice broke when his teeth grazed your skin.

“Yeah?” His breath fanned over the damp spot on your neck before his mouth found yours again — deeper this time, slower, like he wanted to savor it. His hands trailed down your sides, warm palms sliding under your shirt, fingers flexing against your ribs. His thumbs brushed just beneath your bra, teasing, testing.

“Dean,” you gasped against his mouth, arching into his touch.

He groaned, deep and rough, like he was barely holding himself together and grabbed your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist. The shift pressed you even harder against him, and you felt him, solid and straining beneath his jeans.

“Jesus,” he muttered against your lips. “You’re fucking killing me.”

His hips rolled, slow, deliberate, grinding into you just enough to leave you breathless. You gasped, your fingers curling tighter in his shirt, and you couldn’t help it as you rocked your hips against him, just a little, just enough to pull a ragged groan from his throat.

“Don’t,” Dean warned, his voice dark and rough. His forehead dropped to yours, his breathing uneven. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

But you wanted to finish it. You’d wanted this for so long — every stolen glance, every almost-touch building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. So you did it again, rolling your hips against his, slower this time, teasing him the way he’d been teasing you all night.

And Dean swore under his breath, fingers digging hard into your thigh. “You’re playing with fire,” he growled, but his voice was strained, almost desperate.

“Maybe I wanna get burned,” you shot back, dragging your teeth along his bottom lip.

That was it, that was what broke him. Dean grabbed your other thigh and lifted you fully off the floor, pinning you against the door like you weighed nothing. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist, and his mouth crashed into yours again, harder--hungrier. His hips rolled into you, slow but relentless, and you swore you saw stars.

“You like that?” he muttered, his lips barely leaving yours.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Yeah, I do.”

His teeth grazed your jaw as he moved to your ear. “Good,” he rasped. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Dean’s mouth crashed back onto yours, his kiss hot and desperate like he couldn’t get close enough, like he needed you more than his next breath. His fingers dug into your thighs as he held you against the door, his body pressing firm and solid between your legs. Every slow, deliberate roll of his hips had you biting back a gasp, heat curling low in your stomach.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered against your lips, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’ve been driving me insane all goddamn night.”

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, your voice breathless. Your fingers curled in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low groan from his throat. “You’re lucky I didn’t lose it the second I saw you in that shirt.”

Dean chuckled, low and rough, nipping at your bottom lip. “Yeah?” His voice dipped, gravelly and dark. “You like this shirt?”

“I like what’s under it,” you corrected, sliding your hands down his chest, tracing the firm lines of muscle beneath the fabric. Dean groaned again, the sound low and wrecked, and suddenly you were being lifted higher. Your back hit the door harder this time, and Dean’s mouth was on your throat, hot, open-mouthed kisses dragging down your skin like he wanted to leave a mark.

“Dean…” you gasped, arching into him. His name left your lips like a plea, like a prayer. Your head tipped back against the door as his mouth dragged lower, his stubble burning deliciously against your skin. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher, his fingers pressing into the bare skin of your hips.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your collarbone. “This little skirt — you know what you were doing when you put this on, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” you teased, your breath hitching when his fingers flexed again.

Dean let out a low laugh, dark and rough, before his mouth claimed yours once more. His kiss was hot and heady, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that left you lightheaded. His fingers dug deeper into your hips, rocking you against him, and heat bloomed low in your stomach, spreading like wildfire. “Shit,” Dean groaned. “You feel so fucking good.” His hips rolled again, harder this time, and you couldn’t hold back the soft moan that slipped from your lips.

“Yeah?” he muttered, his mouth brushing your ear now. “That good, sweetheart?” His voice was low and smug, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you, like he knew you were just as wrecked as he was.

“Shut up,” you shot back, but your voice broke on the words when he did it again, another slow, hard grind that had you clenching your thighs tighter around him.

“Make me,” Dean growled, his teeth catching your earlobe. Your head tipped back against the door, your breath coming fast and shallow. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but Dean — his hands, his mouth, the way he felt against you. The party outside had faded into nothing, the distant sound of voices and music nothing more than a dull hum.

Dean’s body was still pressed flush against yours, his hands gripping your thighs like he couldn’t bear to let go. His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard, like you’d just run halfway across town.

Then, without warning, Dean’s hands flexed, his grip tightening as he adjusted his hold on you “C’mere,” he muttered, voice rough and strained.

Before you could react, he pushed off the door, lifting you with him like you weighed nothing. Your arms tightened around his neck as he carried you across the room.

The cool marble of the bathroom counter kissed the backs of your thighs as Dean set you down, his body still caging you in. His hands slid from your legs to your waist, fingers flexing like he couldn’t stop touching you. His gaze dragged over you, his eyes flicking down to where your skirt had ridden up your thighs, the hem dangerously high now.

“That fucking skirt,” Dean muttered, almost to himself.

You blinked at him, still trying to catch your breath. “What about it?”

Dean huffed a dark, breathless laugh. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, skimming featherlight along your skin, just enough to make you shiver.

“You know what about it,” he rasped. “I’ve been losing my goddamn mind since the second I saw you in this thing.” His thumb dragged higher, tracing a lazy circle on your inner thigh. “Spent all night trying to pretend I wasn’t staring.” His mouth tilted into a smirk, dark and lazy, as his hand drifted higher.

“Figured if I kept my distance, I wouldn’t end up…” He trailed off, eyes flicking up to yours. “Wouldn’t end up like this.”

Your breath caught. “And now?”

Dean grinned, slow and wicked. “Now?” His fingers slid higher, knuckles grazing the softest part of your thigh. “Now I’m not pretending anymore.”

He dipped his head, and his lips pressed to your skin warm, soft kisses that started just above your knee. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers twitching against his shoulders.

“Dean…” His name left you on a breathless exhale, but he didn’t stop. His lips moved higher, brushing featherlight over your skin. His stubble scraped just enough to make you squirm, your thighs instinctively starting to shift closer together.

Dean’s hand shot out, fingers curling around your thigh to hold you open. “Ah-ah,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “I’ve been thinking about this all night…” His lips ghosted higher, just barely brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “…You’re not getting out of it now.”

You let out an involuntary gasp as his open mouth kisses started to trail lower and lower down your soft thighs. You should’ve known better. The second your gaze dipped down to him, Dean’s eyes snapped to yours like a damn magnet, locking you in place. He didn’t just look at you while he presses kisses closer and closer to your heat-- he held you there, like he knew exactly what was running through your mind and wasn’t about to let you escape it.

And when his knees hit the cold tile beneath him, Dean didn’t break eye contact-- not right away. He held your gaze, his eyes dark and heavy, like he was drinking in every shaky breath, every tremor rolling through you. His fingers flexed against your thighs, strong and sure, as if he was grounding himself or maybe holding himself back.

Then, slowly his eyes dragged downward, tracing the curve of your body until his gaze landed between your legs. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling a little faster, and when his tongue flicked out to wet his lips, your stomach twisted into a knot so tight you thought you might snap.

You were exposed, open and vulnerable but the way Dean looked at you? Like you were something he was about to devour? It set your skin on fire.

“Baby,” he rasped, his voice low and rough. The word left his lips in a breathless exhale, thick with want. His hands slid around your hips, fingers curling into your skin like he couldn’t bear not to touch you. His thumbs found the hem of your skirt, teasing along the edge, slow, torturous drags that left goosebumps in their wake. He traced lazy circles there, fingertips brushing just beneath the fabric.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” His voice dropped even lower, the words barely more than a growl, like he was fighting to keep himself in check and was losing.

The sight of your wet cunt, soaking your red lace panties almost sent him over the edge right then and there. "So wet f'me already." A low, guttural groan rumbled from Dean’s chest as his hands slid up your thighs slowly, his calloused fingers dragging over your skin like he was memorizing every inch.

His touch lingered, teasing, before his fingers finally curled around the delicate lace at your hips. With one firm tug, he dragged your panties down your legs, his knuckles grazing your skin the entire way down.

"Dean, I-" you didn't even get to beg him for it because Dean already planted his mouth onto your pussy. A loan moan ripped through your throat as Dean started to swirl his tounge, hitting every spot that made you squirm above him. Large and warm hands quickly pressed down on your thighs to hold you in place as Dean groans at the taste of you. "S'even better than I imagined."

His piercing green eyes, dark and filled with lust locked back onto yours for a second, watching you writhe as his tounge circling around your clit. You panted and started to whimper Dean's name, feeling that coil within your stomach tighten.

The feeling of Dean's stubble against your heat, along with the wonders he's doing to you quickly sends you over the edge. You thread your fingers through Dean's hair, pulling him closer to you as he rides you through your high. Nothing but your moans and wet slurping noises fill the air as you cum so hard your vision goes blurry. His name slips past your lips like a prayer, repeating over and over again as your body starts to shake.

But Dean isn't nowhere near done with you because as soon as your hearing comes back he growls "Not done" and pushes your thighs back open, wider for him and continues to swirl his tounge around your clit and suck.

"Dean-- oh my god." You barely manage to let the words to fall from your lips as whimpers and moans escape from your throat.

"Taste so fuckin' good sweetheart." Dean breathes between licks before inserting two fingers into your slick folds. The sensation makes your eyes roll into the back of your head as Dean's mouth and fingers work together, ultimately sending you into another world. Dean's name falls from your lips over and over again as he works you through it, ignoring your pleas.

"Dean--S'too much." You squirm above him, "Fuck"

Dean doesn't answer, only continuing to work you through your earth shattering orgasm. Blood rushes to your ears, a rare sensation you've never felt before. And before you know it--your body trembles, shaking violently as you did something you've never done before. You were squirting. And Dean lets out something between a groan and a moan at you coming undone for him. The pleasure surging through your body was something you'd never felt before, completely different from other orgasms.

"God you're so hot." Dean finally spoke as he broke away from your cunt and almost came at the sight of you so wrecked. "C'mere." He barely gave you enough time before gripping your waist and tugging you off the counter. Your legs wobbled underneath you as you tried to gain control of your breathing again.

"You're gonna watch me fuck you." Dean growled before pushing your lower back so you bent a little. A sharp gasp escaped your throat as Dean kicked one of your feet, spreading your legs. "The skirt stays on." Dean said before fumbling with his belt.

Your mind reeled, you felt absolutely weightless as the buzz from the alcohol, earth shattering orgasms, and just the thought of Dean's cock inside of you danced around your mind. The quiet clink of Dean’s belt unfastening filled the air behind you, the sound sharp and deliberate. Your breath hitched, and instinctively, your eyes flicked up to the mirror in front of you.

You couldn't believe this was finally happening.

The feeling of Dean's tip against your folds quickly pulled you out of your throughts as your eyes met his darkened green. His gaze was almost predatory as he began teasing you, loving the way you bit your lip to keep from crying out.

"Tell me you want this baby, let me hear your pretty little voice."

"Want this..." you barely managed to get out, "quit teasing me, De."

And that was all it took for Dean to slip his cock inside of your insanely wet cunt. You didn't even get a chance to catch your breath before he started moving, snapping his hips. You moaned as your nails dug into the counter and his name slipped from your lips.

“So fucking perfect, so fucking mine,” Dean groans, his hips rocking into you without ceasing. His breathing becomes just as ragged as yours as he slams in and out of you. Moans and the sound of skin slapping fills the thick air around you as your head goes limp, not being able to keep it up from the insane pleasures wracking through your body.

Dean's hand quickly grabs onto your hair and tugs, causing your head to snap back and your eyes to go wide. "Want you looking at what I'm doing to you baby." Dean grunts in between his hips snapping, "watch me fuck you till you see stars."

You moan loudly as your eyes lock onto Dean's in the mirror. The way his mouth is slightly agape and the way his eyebrows are creased as he fucks you from behind. All of it mixed with the pleasure builds rapidly, the coil in your tummy tightening as you clench around him.

"Dean I can't take it anymore--" you whine, "I'm gonna--"

"This pussy was made f'me." Dean growls, "Cum for me sweetheart."

Your vision quickly blurs and your eyes roll back into your skull as you moan, not caring that someone might hear from the other side of the door. The only thing that matters right now is Deann pounding into you, riding you through your third orgasm.

Just the sight of you coming unglued for the third time sends Dean over the edge. His hips snapping and rolling sloppily as he paints your walls white. He groans as he cums and lets his sweaty forehead fall onto your shoulder.

Your breathing gradually steadied, each inhale a little less shaky than the last. With effort, you dragged your gaze back to the mirror in front of you. Your body still trembled, the aftermath of everything that had just unfolded leaving your limbs weak and your skin flushed. A warm blush crept up your cheeks as Dean slowly lifted his head, his eyes finding yours in the reflection.

His gaze changed. Before, his eyes were dark and intense, burning with pure, unfiltered want. But now? Now there was something else in them, something softer, deeper. His eyes were heavy-lidded, almost dazed, like he couldn’t pull himself out of whatever spell you’d put him under.

And yeah, you knew he wasn’t drunk, but the way he was looking at you? Like you were the only thing in the room that mattered? It was enough to make your breath catch. It wasn’t just lust anymore, it was something more, something raw and real and terrifying.

It was the way someone looks at you when they’re completely fucking gone for you-- when they’re in love and can’t hide it even if they wanted to.

“I love you.” Dean’s voice was low, rough like the words had been clawing at his throat, desperate to get out. Your breath hitched, heart stuttering in your chest. For a second, you thought maybe you’d imagined it, maybe the haze of everything that had just happened was messing with your head. But then he moved.

Dean slowly slid out of you, his hands still firm on your waist. You barely had time to catch your breath before he gripped your hips and turned you around to face him.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.” His eyes locked on yours with no hesitation, no doubt, just raw, honest truth. His face was still flushed, hair a mess, lips pink and kiss-swollen, but none of that mattered.

Because his gaze… fuck, his gaze had you pinned in place.

Like he’d just laid his heart out in front of you and was waiting to see if you’d crush it.

“I mean it,” he added, voice quieter now, like the words were something fragile. “I’ve been in love with you for… God, I don’t even know how long.”

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt. “Dean…” you started, but your voice came out shaky, breathless.

“I know,” he cut in softly, like he was sure you were about to turn him down. “I know this is probably—”

“Shut up.” You didn’t let him finish, you just grabbed his face and kissed him, hard. His sharp inhale turned into a low groan against your mouth, his hands sliding back to your waist like he couldn’t stand to let you go.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips. “I’ve always loved you.”

Dean let out this soft, broken laugh, one that shook a little, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Yeah?” he asked, voice rough.

“Yeah,” you breathed, smiling against his mouth.

And then he kissed you again, deeper this time, like he was pouring every ounce of love and want and relief into it. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you close like he was terrified you might slip away.

“You’re mine now,” Dean murmured against your lips, voice low and sure. “And I’m never letting you go.”

author’s note:

yeahhh, that was pure filth…hope you guys enjoyed! wrote this in public bc I’m a freak like that, LMFAOOO. lmk if you want more smut! :)

— requests are open.ᐟᅟ please read request rules.ᐟᅟ

also, special thank you to @bejeweledinterludes for helping me develop this fic! luh you pookie 🫶🏼

tags:

@freeluigihesbae @aylacavebear @supernotnatural2005 @bettystonewell @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @star-yawnznn @exansation @darkrose064 @megara0224 @imsiriuslyreal

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my works

© maddie0101 do not copy, or repost my works without my permission

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually. 

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body. 

You pretended to be dead. 

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky. 

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly. 

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands. 

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it. 

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.” 

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up. 

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening. 

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest. 

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.  

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort. 

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.” 

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character. 

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it. 

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up. 

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood. 

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?” 

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull. 

Missions were rarely a failure. 

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.” 

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?” 

“None. Just us.” 

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.” 

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway. 

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it. 

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it. 

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation. 

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room. 

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly. 

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off. 

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin. 

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction. 

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.” 

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue. 

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in. 

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight. 

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends. 

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore. 

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him.  “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh. 

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why. 

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden. 

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions. 

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them. 

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too. 

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue. 

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch. 

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined. 

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you. 

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like. 

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse. 

This couldn’t continue. 

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side. 

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.” 

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air. 

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met. 

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires. 

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?” 

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?” 

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up. 

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.” 

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth. 

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas. 

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless. 

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds. 

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up. 

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though. 

On the second week, it got easier. 

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area. 

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over. 

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table. 

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally. 

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails. 

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind. 

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you. 

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces. 

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair. 

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse. 

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up... 

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!” 

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp. 

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor. 

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers. 

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated. 

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug. 

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly. 

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air. 

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure. 

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.” 

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly. 

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward. 

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game. 

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching. 

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet. 

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table. 

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?” 

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.” 

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you. 

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss. 

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.” 

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it. 

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking. 

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second. 

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos. 

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat. 

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages. 

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out. 

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.” 

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?” 

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room. 

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out. 

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently. 

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.” 

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation. 

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.” 

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back. 

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat. 

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney. 

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly. 

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful. 

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand. 

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing. 

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.” 

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair. 

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back. 

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine. 

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts. 

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high. 

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river. 

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask. 

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare. 

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it. 

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh. 

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already. 

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk. 

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…” 

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be. 

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.” 

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip. 

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able. 

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second. 

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table. 

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion. 

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?” 

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer. 

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix. 

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob. 

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.” 

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality. 

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer. 

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.” 

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own. 

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies. 

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep. 

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.” 

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though. 

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect. 

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt. 

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you. 

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back. 

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw. 

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms. 

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile. 

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.” 

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting. 

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial. 

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action. 

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot. 

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad. 

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you. 

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute. 

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast

[xo-cod]

a/n: might be super cringe lmfao ☠ rushed/ooc/nsfw ahead :) hope you enjoy 🤍

the not so sexy moments of sex with the 141 + könig :")

part 1

price going down on you and manhandling you in a new position though it caused you to move your leg a little too quickly and kick him right in the groin. you both chuckled after he was on the floor trembling in pain for a few minutes

simon not understanding how the pretty lingerie is supposed to loosen, spends 15 minutes trying to undo the buttons but scoffs and shoots you a small apology before he rips it apart

gaz almost going into the wrong hole, manages to stop himself in time but almost had a panic attack

soap needing to pee right before he cums and panicking on what to do

könig mid thrust taking a phone call from one of his soldiers, completely engaged with a brawl that took place while thrusting into you. takes a few mins to get his attention directed back again and he apologies profusely after

price getting a leg cramp halfway through and almost having a heart attack from how painful it was

trying to netflix and chill with simon only he ends up getting mad interested in the movie and forgets why he was there

gaz trying to secretly eat a snack while hitting it from the back, proved to make him slightly unsteady and ended up falling almost on top of you. lessons were learnt that day

soap not realising that while his family picture (bless his heart) is so adorable, it's not the most sexy when he's in the middle of pounding you and you're faced right against the frame

könig trying to dirty talk to go down in vain when he got confused with the word in english and sat there for a few moments stuttering and switching off trying to remember what he was trying to say

alternatively price when he was accidentally leaning over your hair not realising you were in pain and barely hearing him while he was telling you all the different ways he would ruin you with his cock

simon asking if he should really take off all his gear off, trying to justify that it looks good but secretly just doesn't want to take everything off and put it back on again

gaz in the middle of a heavy makeout, trying to unscrew your bra only for it to become stubborn and result in him getting flustered and wrestling with it to get off (bra totally wins)

soap getting so deep in his dirty talking, said something that made you "😐" and proceeded to crack out thesaurus with every synonyms for the word beautiful. felt so bad the days afterwards, couldn't look you in the eye

könig punishing himself by training intensively because he cummed too early, too embarassed to look at you for the rest of the day

[starxanemone]

꩜ⴰ ࣪˖ YOUR FLOOR'S BETTER THAN MY BED

reo mikage x gender neutral!reader — oneshot.

humor. implied romance. slight tension (if you squint). more of a character exploration.

you and reo mikage were two sides of the same coin—two people living entirely different lives within the same planes of this globe.

— aka, you're a broke mf, surviving on a scholarship, and you find it fun bothering the rich kid in school.

note. wrote this bc i'm actually so broke right now lmfao. i ain't eating breaky and lunch tomorrow hahaha life is so great as a broke college student! 10/10 would not recommend : )

When you hear the name “Mikage” the only thing that comes to mind is money. Call it a stereotypical mindset, but it doesn’t matter because everyone thinks of the same thing as you anyway. You don’t even bother to alter the way you perceive the name either.

Fuck being unique and all that, but really, who can blame you when you’re lacking in that department. The thing that makes the world go round and makes the eyes of people go green whether with envy or whether they’re on the greener side of the grass. Doesn’t matter. It’s the thing that keeps your life at the edge of being “fine” and falling off a steep, brittle cliff to poverty.

Money.

You wonder what it’s like to have an excess amount of it.

“Yo, Mikage,” You wink, sending him finger guns as you pass by his usual seat in the near-empty library.

The infamous Mikage Reo that always had an accommodating smile on his face catches a glimpse of you, and instantly, his lilac irises dulls.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Why so glum?” You cock your head to the side, taking the seat right beside him, legs spread wide and elbow leaning against the backrest of the seat.

You lack the air of dignity that most students inhale in this place like crack. It fogs their senses all the same anyway, and clouding their ability to judge. They get caught up in the image too much that they forget that pictures aren’t alive nor do they breathe. And maybe that’s why they don’t like you. “They” including Mikage.

“You’re probably here to shamelessly ask for money again. And I’m already saying this: no.” He grumbles, pressing his cheek against his palm, gazing into your eyes flatly.

Welp. It’s not like you put in the effort to be likable anyway. Understandable.

“Aw,” You pretend to pout in disappointment. “Worth a shot.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Hah?” You raise your brow at his question.

“Have you gone deaf? I said, ‘don’t you have anything better to do?’” He repeats, narrowing his eyes at you.

Truthfully, you heard him the first time. It was just funny to see him annoyed. No picture-perfect genius Reo Mikage. No giant nepo-baby Mikage. He’s just an annoyed Reo.

“I always got better things to do.” You shrug before eyeing him with a raised brow, grinning lazily. “Unlike you.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?!” He stands up from his chair.

Surprisingly, he has a very short fuse for someone who can handle everyone's bullshit.

“Hey, hey, kid,” You raise your hand up in surrender, speaking to him as if he wasn’t the same age or probably even a year older than you. “Relax, I was joking. Sit down.”

With a sigh, he takes a seat again, although the glare was still intact on his face. He grumbles quietly, but it was surely meant to be heard by you with the way he eyes you as he does so. “Don’t ‘kid’ me. At least I don’t waste my time asking people for money.”

“I’m always kidding, Mikage.” You snort at his words, waving your hand dismissively. “Even if you gave me money, I still wouldn’t accept it. What makes you think I’d take stuff from your hands?”

You wrinkle your nose, pretending to eye his hands with distaste. From the corner of your eyes you see him look offended once again and you hold back the urge to cackle.

Being born loved and admired by the people around him—repeatedly hearing songs of praises like he’s some sort of messiah—made him clueless towards teasing and jabs.

“I’m very clean, thank you very much! I’ll have you know that I wash my hands with only the best antibacterial hand wash imported from Italy. What about you?!” He blurts out angrily, bumping the side of his fist against his table.

“Exactly.” You shrug.

You see the anger melt away from his features before it is replaced with confusion.

“You and I,” You lean closer to him and you know he can smell the cheap fruity cologne wafting off the fabric of your imitation uniform. Hakuho was expensive even for scholarship students. “We’re from different worlds, Mikage. And it’s not your fault nor is it mine, because that’s just how it is.”

He turns quiet at this, seemingly mulling your words over inside his head as he eyes the floor blankly.

You tilt your head, releasing a short and awkward laugh. Think you might have made the air too serious. It must be your lunch, or, well, lack thereof. You don’t usually bring the topic (of your lack of money) up with other people, but his question provided you with the opportunity to do so. You took it all too eagerly (carelessly) and it in turn killed the typical playful nature of your not-so-friendship.

“Uh, sorry ‘bout that. For killin’ the mood.” You laugh awkwardly, patting his shoulder. “Uh…”

“What’s it like?” He turns to you suddenly, tilting his head.

“Uh, what’s what like?” You furrow your brows.

“Having no money.”

“Woah, woah, ya didn’t have to phrase it like that!” You joke, crossing your arms and leaning back against your chair with huff.

“N-No, I didn’t mean it like—” He began, glaring at nothing in defense before you cut him off.

“Kidding.” You wave your hand. “You gotta learn how to remove that stick up your ass. I promise you, it feels great.”

He wrinkles his nose in disgust at your choice of words. He’s probably thinking that you lack tact or class.

“You lack class.” He states in distaste.

Knew it.

“Yeah, anyways.” You think over his question for a bit. “Well, I can’t really explain it.”

His lilac eyes dulls as he stares at you flatly once again. “Hah. What a waste of time asking, then.”

“I got an idea though.” You lean closer, grinning lazily as you prop your elbow on top of his side of the table and pressing your cheek against your palm. His face engulfs your perceptions and you can see the non-existent pores on his skin.

Fuck him, his money, and his skin care routine.

“What.” He leans back slightly, raising his brow.

“Come with me later after class. Let’s eat dinner.”

A puff of air escapes his lips as he laughs at your suggestion. A few seconds later, it transforms into full-blown laughing. Each laugh that escapes his lips comes from deep within his diaphragm.

You stare at him expectantly and a little creeped out. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him laugh like that with anyone in your entire life in Hakuho.

“What?” You ask, still spooked.

“Didn’t know you liked me like that,” He smirks, leaning his face closer, breath brushing against your cheek. “If you wanted to ask me to dinner, you could’ve just said so.”

You could smell the slight mint and it tells you that he had just brushed. Figures. Of course he’d bring a toothbrush to school. Of course he actually brushes his teeth during breaks and not spend it fucking around doing nothing unlike you.

“Stop being delusional.” Your face turns blank at his words and you sit properly again. “Anyways, you said you wanted to know what it’s like, right? Come with me later then. We’ll eat what I usually eat for dinner.”

His face turns intrigued. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll know.”

“What is this place?” You hear Reo raise his voice over the surging crowd of people. He had a black mask over his face to hide it from the people because, yeah, he was actually kind of like a celebrity. An A-list individual among A-lists, coming just below his parents and it clearly shows with the Gucci bag he’s sporting.

Now that you think about it…

You eye his bag. “Flip your bag over, Mikage.”

“Huh? Why?”

You point to the pockets of his bag exposed out. “You’ll get unknowingly robbed that way. Flip your bag— okay, yep, nice. Very good.”

He rolls his eyes at your childish praise as he removes his bag to flip it, the pockets now hidden from the public’s view.

“Oh, yeah, we’re eating street food.” You point to the row of street vendors covering the sidewalks. Each stand glows yellow from the string of lights attached onto their walls and the strong smell of varieties of food mixes together in an almost unbearable manner.

You eye the rich kid beside you. He seems to shift a little, standing awkwardly and a little out of place.

You reach out to hold onto the side of his arm. “You good?”

He glances at you and looks back at the stalls as well as the crowd of people he mostly towered over. He doesn't shove away your hand. “Yeah. It’s just my first time in this sort of place.”

You blink at this, intrigued. “What? Really? Well, we gotta eat a lot, then. Your treat.”

He doesn’t protest when you begin tugging him towards the nearest Takoyaki stall.

“Ten pieces, please.” You tell the street vendor, beginning to pull out your wallet. A larger hand stops you from doing so and you glance at Reo to see him already pulling out his wallet.

“How much?” Reo asks.

The vendor eyes your classmate for a few seconds and then the Gucci bag. You hold back a groan. Ugh, you already know where this is going.

“1000 yen.” The vendor answers him, his face seemingly unsure.

Just before Reo could unknowingly pay the tricky vendor, you hold onto his hand, preventing him from taking out his cash.

“What are you—”

“That’s overpriced.” You cut in, eyeing the vendor flatly, feeling disappointed at his shitty attempt to scam people. “I ate here yesterday and it was only 500 yen for ten pieces. You mean to say that you’re charging double now? Do inflation rates shoot up that high in a span of one day?”

At least the vendor looks ashamed. He brings a hand up to the back of his neck awkwardly before bowing. “Sorry. Money’s tight and I thought it was worth a shot.”

You chuckle at this, handing the vendor the sufficient amount. “Been there, done that. To him too. But don’t go scamming other people, ‘kay? Now gimme our order.”

Once you take the order, you tug Reo away from the stall to head over to somewhere with less people. You lean back against the wall and open the container filled with Takoyaki and raise it up to his face.

“Smells good, right?” You watch as he takes the container from your hands and inspects the food curiously. He brings it up close to his face, gazing at the array of colors from the bonito flakes, to the mayo, to the sauce, and to the golden brown Takoyaki.

“It doesn’t look that different from the gourmet Takoyaki I’ve eaten.” He comments, taking a pair of chopsticks before eating an entire ball. As he chews, you see his eyes widen and he immediately begins to devour another Takoyaki just as he had swallowed the previous one.

“Good, right?” You grin cheekily.

He ignores you in exchange for devouring another large piece.

“Hey, leave me some too!”

You took him to different stalls after that, and by the time 8PM rolled around, both of you were already stuffed full with different kinds of food. You can’t remember the last time you had ever eaten to the point where you felt like your pants were going to burst open at the seams.

You eye the empty paper plates and containers laying haphazardly on the plastic table you both found. There were a little less people now. You draw in a breath, the air now lacking the sharp scent it previously held as you had submerged yourself in its presence.

It was nice. You also can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten a meal with someone like this. Having deadbeat parents that spent more time smoking crack out where you don’t know ultimately meant that meals were eaten alone. And, you admit, sharing meals wasn’t bad at all.

Reo heaves out a deep sigh, rubbing his stomach after releasing a quiet (and somehow dignified) burp. “I ate too much. Too much unhealthy food. My diet is ruined.”

You snort at this. “Relax, princess. I promise you’re still pretty.”

He glares at you. “Not what I meant.”

“Uhuh, whatever you say.” You chuckle before trailing off, watching him for a few seconds. You can see him shifting in place again at the length of your stare, seemingly burning holes into the side of your face.

“If you have something to say just say it.” He grumbles out, crossing his arms with a raise of his brow.

“Well, did it answer your question?” You ask curiously.

He looks up at the dark sky for a second before glancing back at you. “Well, the food was good. And cheaper.”

You shake your head at his obliviousness and chuckle. “Uhuh, but the food we ate today? That’s typically how much I eat in a span of one week. You get it now?”

He blinks and goes silent for a few seconds again.

“Don’t you get hungry, though?” He asks after a short while.

You shrug. “You get used to it.”

“It’s not sustainable though. How are you still alive?” He cockshis head, now looking at you with a slight furrow on his brows. If he was worried, then you were flattered.

“Not sure.” You shake your head. “I still do try to get my vegetables in but fresh produce is expensive. Healthy food is expensive. Some people just don’t have a choice, you know?”

“Oh.”

You don’t think it has sunken inside his brain yet. You can’t and won’t blame him. He’s lived his life that he’s used to just like you're living yours. You were two sides of a single coin—two people living entirely different lives within the same planes of this globe. Both built differently and built to handle different things.

“But I’m also curious now, too.” You hum after a while, eyeing him in slight interest.

“About what?”

“What does it feel like to live yours?” You cock your head.

You see him grin and your eyes squints a little at this.

"Maybe we can go to my place next."

[blackknight-kai]

wukong reminds me of that “hey babe your parcel arrived i think it’s that top you ordered” “oh show me it?” and then he sends a pic of himself wearing his partner’s shirt (that he is ruining and stretching it)

LMFAO YES! I love this type of wavelength XD! I hope you dont mind (if you do I can rework it!!! Just let me know🙏) but I’ll use my own AU for this because it fits so well with my modern Pro Fighter x Fem Writer Reader AU that I’ve been writing. This was a quick one so I hope it comes out okay!!!!

It would be at a time in the future AFTER the fic is over where they live together and Reader is on a little trip doing a few book signings in some big cities - Wukong had to stay home because he had some important Matches coming up that he couldnt take time off for.

—————————

You’d had a fairly busy day signing your latest novel release for your fans. This was the 2nd city out of 4 you were visiting for this little campaign of yours and while you loved every second of it, you really miss your bed. And your monkey. So while you sit tiredly in the back seat of an Uber taking you back to your hotel your thoughts shift to your boyfriend.

With a little start you realize you had forgotten to text him back! He’d sent you a text earlier today but you had just started the signing and didn’t have time to respond. Quickly you open your phone and smile as you always do opening the message chain between the two of you.

Cheeky Monkey 🧡: Hey Peaches, I think the shirt you ordered arrived today

Followed by a little monkey sticker with its long arms in the shape of a heart. Fond warmth bubbles up inside you and you text him back.

You: Really? Took long enough! Send me a pic I wanna see it!

To your disappointment it goes unread even after you arrive at your hotel. With a little shrug you figure he’s probably finishing up training, it is about that time for him anyway. Setting your things down you pull out some pajamas and clean underwear deciding to take a quick shower before bed. Once done you climb into bed with your phone and laptop, there’s still no reply but the message has been read at least so hopefully he’s either on his way home to your shared apartment or just taking a shower of his own before replying.

To pass the time you start looking over your professional writing account on Instaglamour. Liking and resharing the pictures of you with fans that you had been tagged in and uploading a few of your own. It puts a smile on your face to know you’ve come so far from the struggling writer you used to be, now being blessed with having such a wonderful fan base.

You’re distracted though when your phone pings next to you and glancing at the name you grin widely your heart skipping a little beat like it always does at seeing Wukongs name on your screen.

Opening the message though is a whole other story.

Cheeky Monkey 🧡: image.307

Cheeky Monkey 🧡: I think it looks pretty, dont you?

Wukong had sent a selfie, he’s standing in front of your floor length mirror with a claw tipped hand resting on his cocked hip. His furry tail is curled up adorably behind him in his usual expression of ‘I’m being cheeky and I know it’. He’s grinning saucily at his phone and you cannot help but burst out into a loud full on belly laugh. The mischievous monkey is wearing your admittedly frilly peach colored shirt and his boxers. His fur is sticking up at odd angles and looks messy as it spills out over the collar and sleeve openings, showing he obviously struggled to get it on. The fur is extra soft and poofy looking as he’d obviously just gotten out of the shower and used the fully body blow dryer that most homes and apartments come with, apparently he hadn’t bothered brushing it. The poor shirt is stretched to max over his lithe but muscular chest, it looks like its ready to pop off his body honestly if he shifts just right, and you have to laugh at how his pecs are slightly pushed together making them look a little plumper than usual from the tight material.

He looks absolutely ridiculous and as much as you want to be mad at him for clearly ruining the shirt, you cant. It’s just too damn funny looking and your heart just finds his silly behavior endearing, you’ll definitely make him buy you a new one but for now as you cackle you send him little laughing emojis back.

It’s not even a minute later that he is video calling you and you immediately fall into another round of laughing as his pouting furry face comes into view and you see hes still wearing the too tight ruined shirt. Wukong scoffs and you can hear the clear offense in his voice as he demands you to tell him how pretty he is because you obviously dont appreciate him dressing up for you.

God you love your silly monkey.

[c4ttheart]

zuko x fem!reader, angst, 1.6k wc (whoopsi)

supposed to be a gn reader but i put that they went to the royal fire academy for girls ; also timeline makes no sense LMFAO sorry ab that

summary : he says he loves you. that’s not fair, that’s not something best friends should say to each other. but his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours.

"zuko" you breathe out, "you’re back."

he furrows his brows when he hears you approach. he notices the hint of surprise in your voice, and somehow, he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing.

a mumbled "yeah" in response leaves his lips, and you smile. you quirk your lips upward as if he had never left. as if the last time he saw you wasn’t three years ago.

you want to ask him more, hold his hand and drag him through the gardens or sneak out into the city buying things you would never even need. but he turns away, leaving you to stand there in the middle of a palace that isn’t yours. zuko did not return with the avatar. zuko returned with blood on his hands, the price to pay for the victory of your kingdom. but that doesn’t feel right. that is not the zuko you know. then again, they really aren’t that different, three year gap or not, as they soak in the glory of what they have done.

why does he think it’s an honourable thing to have caused the demise of a city ? all that for what, the privilege of bathing in warm water and gold again ?

he ignores you throughout the month that he is here. you thought you were best friends, but apparently his stay at sea made him forget. one could say you’re not on the same footing anymore, since he is promised to the throne.

and it’s fine, you are fine, you can deal with whatever temper tantrum he is having, or the fact that he doesn’t have time for you. you don’t know what he went through, so you try to be fair. but then mai comes into the picture, and all of a sudden you’re fourteen crying on the floor of your dorm at the royal fire academy for girls because word is out that prince zuko has lost his agni kai. and you didn’t even have the time to say goodbye.

it’s not like you were dating. but he can’t just do whatever he’s doing. you waited for him to come back. every day. you still referred to him as your best friend and fed the turtle ducks in his absence. and he just waltzs back into your life and breaks your heart again.

mai is a sweet girl. she’s only a year younger than you. you know she’s a good student. but she doesn’t deserve to replace you. she doesn’t know his favourite colour and why it’s his favourite. she doesn’t know half of the things about him that complete your personality.

maybe that’s how you find yourself thumping on zuko’s door. it’s probably three in the morning, and you’re tired with red rims under yours eyes. he opens the door after some time, with messy hair and his room lit with candlelight. when was the last time you saw him ? he looks so real, so close and you are so, so grateful that he is here and that he is him, that you break down. what was once fury is replaced with desolation as he looks at you funny in front of the door that leads to his quarters.

"i uhm, thought you were at the academy." he mumbles awkwardly. the opening is only wide enough for you to see his face. why is he hiding ? what is this conversation topic ? when have you become such a stranger ? his favourite colour is blue. so is yours.

you sniffle. "it’s the middle of summer."

"oh."

he nods and moves to shut you off again. your tears run thicker against your cheeks.

"you can’t close the door zuko. you told me you loved me. you can’t keep on turning your back on the problems that require something else than military attention."

you don’t even know how you manage to speak the words correctly, considering the hiccups and the sniffles and the ugly crocodile tears. you don’t know how you manage to speak so correctly considering the state of your heart.

he scoffs. "you’re the one that left me."

"i did not leave you, zuko. i chose to stay." you laugh and croak out.

"that’s the same fucking thing." he whispers under his breath, his eyes rolling every time you blink water from your eyes.

it’s okay. you know he still loves you, somewhere inside. deep deep down, you know he does. it’s not wishful thinking, because his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours. blue like the waves back in ember island, blue like the water the turtle ducks swim in, blue like the sky in which he wishes he could soar. blue like the flames he never got.

"you can leave now, y’know ? " he speaks again, every single drop of formality run dry on his lips when he sees you. is that a good thing ?

and yellow used to be your favourite colour. not his, yours. yellow like the sun, yellow like the small buttercups, yellow like the jewellery your mother would wear. yellow like his eyes. and then all of a sudden, zuko came along, and yellow morphed into blue. what he liked, you liked. what he did, you did. what he said, you said. somewhere along the way you forgot yourself in the name of love. and all that for what ?

"i-i don’t understand, zuko." you hiccup. you try to remember the warmth of the yellow sun but all you can focus on is the harsh yellow in his eyes. it looks much less appealing than blue.

"god, what more is there to understand ? people move on, (name). maybe it’s time you do the same. grow up a bit, and maybe you’ll get a real personality."

you gasp.

"oh and, it’s prince zuko to you."

this horrible feeling settles in your stomach. like needles, piercing over and over again. or a dam being broken by a tidal wave. you do not feel good. and he is dressed in red, like his curtains, like his door, like the walls and floors and windows and carpets and when you finally reach the gardens you have never felt so nauseous watching the fountain blue.

when you glance up, you realise the sky is red too.

your tears are all dried up now. you should go home, probably. but the sun is rising and the last thing you want to do is let your parents know you snuck out, that you’re not at all at the friend’s house you were supposed to be at. you’re seventeen, yet you are still so reliant on your parents. you should take control of your life, you think, but you still have a favourite colour and you still like the same guy than when you were a child. maybe zuko is right, you should grow up.

best friends should never be able to love each other. it ruins lives, love. you think it would have been best if zuko had never loved you at all. but his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours, because your personality is completely attached to his. maybe you loved him too before you even knew it.

you watch people get up and about from the tower you’re in. you don’t know which one it is, just that it is high off ground. when a bird squeaks, you bang your head against the wall. messenger hawks scare you.

something falls besides you, and it sounds light. a key, sitting still and yellow on the middle of the paved floor. it’s an ordinary key, yet it looks too unused to be one leading to the bird cages. you nervously look around, with puffy eyes and dried cheeks, because you should not be doing this but god, do you need something to get your mind off zuko.

fuck him and his little girlfriend. fuck him and his petty ways, fuck him and his fancy baths, fuck him and his golden eyes. he should have told you if he hated you. if he didn’t wish to be best friends anymore. you would have taken it easier than now. but he just vanished, and when he came back, he wasn’t himself anymore. maybe he lost himself like the people of ba sing se lost their lives because of him.

you spot some sort of square locker imbedded in the wall. it looks quite private but the key fits when you insert it, and when you turn it the door silently opens. then something falls on your face. it’s small and not very heavy. looks like a messy envelope when you pick it up. you open it subconsciously, like it was meant to find you somehow. maybe it was, because your heart drops when you read who it is addressed to. you skip the contents only for what you thought were your dry eyes pour again.

inside the box, is a year worth of letters. they’re all from zuko. and they’re all sealed with blue wax.

you don’t speak with zuko the following week, but rumours spread fast and all of a sudden the whole country knows he’s gone. it’s alright. you didn’t get to say goodbye the first time, so why would you now ? when you go back to your dorm at the academy the next day, pretty petunia flowers sit on your bed, sealed with a blue ribbon. you clench your jaw.

it is quite a feeble gift, but it is better than nothing at all. you keep them in a vase on the windowsill, even when you learn they mean resentment, because his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours.

it always will be.

i like read iver this once to make sure some sentences made sense that is it

this was supposed to b fluff but uh,,,,,

[stormblessed95]

Watching Are You Sure?! EP 8 Finale

A reminder of how I do these reaction posts as I watch things. I just write my reactions and thoughts down literally they happen. Think more of a bullet point format. I'll include links when I can to videos, thanks to the people who twt who upload clips and to @dstdes for providing so many of my linked video clips. And at the end, I'll do a better wrap up of all my opinions. I hope everyone enjoyed the show, I can't believe it's over!!

JK turning on Korea's top hits on the radio and both their songs playing one after the other. They KNOW they are powerful. I like them seeing/hearing that evidence though first hand 🥰 Jikook can't be separated, even on the radio!*

JK mentioning the Park Jimin summoning spell 😭😂 lmfao I love it

"this is the boyfriend shot" Jimin says THREE TIMES IN A ROW. we get it, he said this is what it looks like to go out on a date with Jungkook. And Jimin is the one who gets to do that 😅😂🥰🥰🥰 goodness. What was that Jimin? Lol honestly though, it was a cute and cozy picture!

Did the head chef just gift them one of everything on the menu?! Lmao they have so much food!!

JK telling Jimin to basically just strip naked because he went to go undo his pants buckle because he was so full but it was already undone was such a wild statement and comment to make?? The fuck? Lmao and Jimin replying with a meme was hysterical. Joking yet blushing. Top notch 😂😂 loved it. Love them. We aren't even 20 minutes into the episode yet And that was so out of pocket 😂🤣

JK being so tickled over teasing Jimin and making him come back to the car to get him 🤣 they are so funny!

Jimin dancing SNTY 😍

Their giggles over the beds?? Lol it has to be because they saw photos originally and saw the staff had separated out the beds to be separate when they originally weren't and then still gave them matching PJs to wear 🤣🤣 idk why they would do that? Lol they aren't strangers to sharing a bed lol

Jungkook teasing Jimin over the scuzzi 😂😂

Jimin putting snowballs on his head while in the hottub lol the way JK watched him. Love 😍

Not rock paper scissors to have to lay down in the snow 🤣 Jimin forcing JK to follow through on the punishment he thought up 🤣🤣🤣 the way Jimin called him baby as JK gave him the biggest puppy eyes trying to get out of having to do it 🥺🥺🥺

Jimin just laying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs while JK has his snack. Lmfao the call and response singing they had is so cute and what a song choice! 😂 Jimin saying he likes randomly laying/sprawling/rolling on the floor at home too 😂

Them reacting to episode 1 of AYS was NOT on my bingo called but im so happy about it! The editors joking with them and their interaction with the staff made me so happy too! It was also really funny them admitting to having a hard time editing the show 😂

Their giggles heal something in my soul 🥰

And the way they are sitting so close and kept their feet touching almost the entire time?? 🥰🥰🥰

Jimin's head in JKs lap at some point while watching too. I love them

JK acting a fool in the kitchen while cooking to make Jimin laugh 🥰🥰🥰

Jimin calling JK " Honey" 🥺🥺🥺 he wanted to cheers their glasses, but he called him honey. Cute

Not them teasing each other over their snores and sleeping habits 😂

"Jimin doesn't like it when someone touches his head" JK says, while rubbing his head with Jimin unbothered. Lol Jimin will let that man do ANYTHING to him 😂 and idk if JK was trying to tease Jimin or us by flexing his privilege in our face. Probably both 😂

JK saying driving on smaller roads like this is romantic. Jimin saying "this is romance, this is youth, this is nice" 😭😭😭 fuck they are so cute

JK is flying from Japan to Korea and then basically straight back out to America for his schedule. And he choose to not drink, even though he really wanted to, because he wanted to drive Jimin to the airport, just them instead of depending on the staff to take them. Give them that extra alone time together. And he chose to fly to Korea with Jimin instead of giving himself an easier and more relaxing travel schedule with more rest by staying and flying to America from Japan instead. That is... It's really fucking special and sweet and says so much about how they love each other honestly.

Giving up his last beer of their trip, after being told to relax and not worry about it because he wanted to be the one to drive them, to have that time together, just them and a GoPro they had control over, and spending that extra travel time to be together when it made a much longer and harder few days for him? That's that persistent, dedicated, quiet yet impactful kinda love. Really said a lot without saying anything.

The tradition continues of JK filming their food before ending with a close up shot of Jimins face. love that is a constant here 🥰

"I'll make sure you have a safe journey" "it's an honor" just kill me now omfg 😭🥰😭

JK being salty that Jin didn't dream about him with Jimin in the military since they are going together 😂😂😂😂

Jikook talking about how these trips were some of the happiest moments ever. And the way they were feeling a little melancholy over the trip ending and things changing and losing this constant togetherness time they had to be free .. goodness. Enjoying the cool air while trying to feel better. Ugh, I love them. I love them so much and I love the way they love each other so much.

Talking about how they loved it so much in the ending interviews, how they were the best of times. JK softly rubbing Jimins nape and back in comfort too. I'm tearing up, damn

The way JK is looking at Jimin during that last interview outtakes. My goodness 😍 same way Jimin was looking at JK while he was driving 😍

Them ending the show by having us literally send them off to the military is cruel, omfg. I AM CRYING NOW, DAMN. "A letter from beyond" fuck you too editors 😭

Wrap up Thoughts:

I'm so sad this is over. My God. Minute of silence to mourn.

.

.

.

This was such a sweet and wholesome episode. It had teasing, it had bickering, it had pet names. It was domestic as heck. It was the perfect trip for them to end their "freedom" before military service. I would have loved more conversations about that, but I'm fairly content as it is too.

Again, so many cuts (not complaining, very normal) but my favorite was how Jimin went to go wake JK up and then it cut to them leaving. I hope they enjoyed their time cuddling and relaxing sans cameras and interruption 🥰 (my assumptions I guess, but wouldn't be far fetched)

Letting my delulu out when Jimin said he just lays wherever whenever all the time at home and me thinking about the the members teasing JK about all the random ass mattresses over his house 🤣 it's too keep them comfy no matter where they end up wanting to lay 🤣🤣 (just kidding, sort of lol)

The way Jikook play fight is so equal and cute and funny. They just shove the crap out of each other but never with an intention to hurt or be mean. And they both LOVE IT.

They trust each other, give weight to each other's words and have confidence in the others beliefs and thoughts like no one else. It's such a special bond, and I'm so so glad they opted to share this with us. I truly am so grateful. And grateful for y'all letting me share all my musings with you too. 💜

And we have to end this post with the way that Jikook were spotted in Sapporo driving in the car, Jimin being the passenger princess he was, alone with their GoPro's and giving major flirty energy. And the way the show just proved OP right too. Genuinely Jikook are so special and wonderful and amazing and I love them so much. And when they got home from this trip, the group live they did shortly after? They were sooooo touchy and snuggly!

Hope everyone is excited for the photobook and behinds as well. I unfortunately am horribly sad because I'm broke AF and cannot afford to buy it in my budget at the moment, but hopefully ARMYs will upload all the photos and upload the behinds for everyone too. I will share links if I find them.

[kyemna]

Theme park with the Hazbin Hotel Characters headcanons

Charlie:

-Was so excited, she couldn't sleep the night before.

-Grabs your hand, and drags you through the whole park.

-Expect to go on EVERY. SINGLE. RIDE.

-Absolutely LOVES rollercoasters.

-Tried to drag her dad along with you guys, but he insisted you spend some alone time together. (He's scared of rollercoasters LMFAO)

-Buys all the merchandise she can get her hands on.

-Regrets letting you pick the next ride when you head towards the haunted house.

-Is clinging on to you as if her life depended on it.

-"that was so fun.." she had her eyes closed the whole time.

-Such a foodie when it comes to theme parks. Doesn't even notice the extreme prices.

-Claims she's not tired, but the moment you guys get back to the car, she's GONE.

Vaggie:

-The theme park was 100% your idea. She would never even bring it up.

-After some whining and begging she gave in.

-Lets you choose all the rides.

-Tries her hardest to enjoy most of it, for your sake.

-Definitely threw up after the first rollercoaster.

-The waterguns however.. now that's more like it.

-Targets all the dry people. All the newcomers get out of the ride, soaked to the bone.

-Prefers not to eat there (weak stomach)

-Everytime she gets jumped in the haunted house, she curses at them in Spanish.

-Accidentally punched one of the scare actors.. broke the poor man's nose.

-Is so happy when you get back to the car, and it's finally over.

Angel dust:

-He had a day off so this was completely his idea.

-Loves Tilt-a-Whirl.

-Screamed at every rollercoaster just for the sake of screaming.

-He somehow smuggled alcohol into the theme park..??

So before you go into one of the rides, you two took a shot.

-He was the one dragging you into the Haunted House.

-You lost him somewhere in there and he snuck up on you. Scared your soul straight into the second afterlife.

-There was a kids disco. He wanted to go. Mind you, you two were tipsy ASFFF.

So just imagine two nearly drunk adults on the dance floor at a kids disco.

-Asked the DJ to play a song, claiming it was 100% kid friendly. CPR by Cupcakke..

-You two got kicked out..😭

-Had to Uber home since ya'll were drunk as shit.

Alastor:

-It took HOURS of convincing to get him to go with you.

-After 583 "No's", he got tired of your whining so he agreed to shut you up LOLL.

-Said No to rollercoasters. Everytime. You. Asked. He never gave in.

-Walked straight to the haunted house, to scare the scare actors.

-Weirdly agreed on the water guns?

-Oh he went all out. A family trying to have a fun time? Not on his watch.

-Sat on a bench 80% of the time, letting you run around.

-Really liked the Ferris wheel!

-Also really liked the Bumper cars. He went after everyone. No mercy.

-Have to keep this one short, i just can't really imagine him at a Theme Park😭

Husk:

-He was bored, so instantly agreed to go with you.

-Went along with everything you did.

-He really liked the haunted house for some reason. Asked to go again.

-There was a Just Dance contest. You two DOMINATED everyone. You won a big bear.

-He HATED the water guns.

-Paid for everything.

-Really liked taking pictures in the Photobooth, but he'll never admit it.

-Survived so long on the mechanical bull.

-You two teamed up at the Bumper Cars.

Went after all the kids LMFAO.

-Did like 10 rounds on the carousel, because he was tired.

-Got so annoyed at the constant music and high pitched screams.

-He wanted to go home after like 3 hours of running around.

Thank you for reading!

[snowyquokka]

HOME

jeongin x fem reader

cw: angst (😈), breakup, kissing, swearing, mutual pining, mentions of cheating, kinda toxic/asshole seungmin (FORGIVE ME), not proof read bc why tf would i do that (im too lazy so my apologies if some of it doesn’t make sense lmfao-)

wc: 3.1k

a.n - so this is not how it was originally supposed to be 😭 it started as a seungmin fic but spiraled into whatever monstrosity this is lmao. everyone thank @solisyeah for the request ily. anywho i hope it’s good <3

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

Seungmin furrows his brows as he inspects the photo on his screen. A photo of you with another guy, in his lap with your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

Just like you do with Seungmin.

On the very couch he’s sitting on.

At first he thought it was edited, because there’s no way you’d cheat on him, right? But as he took a closer look he just knew it was real.

He was tired, sore, and downright miserable from a rough day at the studio; he had to take way too many breaks for his liking and this picture was just the thing he needed to send him right off the deep end.

He shot up from his spot on the couch so fast it made his head spin, but that didn’t deter him from storming into your bedroom where you were sitting on the bed, aimlessly scrolling through your phone. Once you see his face you can automatically sense something’s wrong.

“Seung?” You tilt your head as you watch him take your apartment key off of his key ring before placing it on your dresser with a clink.

“Seungmin what are you doing?” You jump off of your bed as he slides his shoes on. He runs his fingers through his hair with a frustrated huff.

“I don’t- I think we just need a break. I need a break.” These words were the last thing you imagined to ever come out of his mouth, in this context especially. Or lack there of.

“Wha- why?” Your eyes glaze over with unshed tears that threaten to spill at any given moment. You don’t want to cry in front of him, you’ve always hated having your raw emotions on display like that, especially in such a powerless situation. “Seungmin, talk to me. What the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I’m not stupid.” Seungmin shakes his head “Did you really think you could hide it from me?”

“Hide what, Seungmin?”

“You should’ve just fucking left me. Spared my feelings, maybe. But I guess you’re just too selfish for that.”

Without another word he rushes out of the room, leaving you in shambles with nothing else to do but slide to the floor, curl into yourself and let the sobs take over your body.

Seungmin can hear you crying before he even walks out of the front door, causing his heart to clench in his chest and his gut to twist. Standing with his hand just brushing the door handle, he has to physically force himself to press on, to let you go, to accept his reality. The door slams shut behind him and the noise only pushes you further towards the realization that this is actually happening. You aren’t hallucinating, this isn’t some fucked up fever dream or an even more fucked up prank.

You just wish you knew why. No matter how much you try to put the pieces together, you’re always missing something. You can’t think of anything that could’ve set him off. Everything was perfectly normal less than an hour ago, yet all it took was five minutes to trigger the downward spiral of what feels like the end of the world- the end of your world.

-

“What’re you doing back here?” Jeongin slides next to Seungmin - who is still eyeing up the picture on his screen - on the floor. Jeongin nods towards the phone, “What’s that?”

Seungmin huffs and leans his head against the wall behind him, “I honestly don’t fucking know, I don’t even really want to know, actually.”

Jeongin reaches for the phone, pulling it out of Seungmin’s grasp. His lips part in a silent ‘oh’ as he inspects the photo. He’s assuming Seungmin hadn’t even given you a chance to explain solely based on his reaction, in typical Seungmin fashion. Jeongin turns his body to face the other, his face set in an almost disappointed expression.

“I’m going to say this with the utmost respect and I need you to not cause me any bodily harm-” Jeongin sighs before continuing, “You’re a dumbass. Like the dumbest dumbass I think I’ve ever seen. Like paboracha level dumbass. I’m talking-”

“Are you done?” Seungmin groans and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Are you done? God- you just fucked yourself over. If I were you I’d start praying that she’ll still take you back after all this crazy shit.”

“How did I fuck myself over when she’s the one cheating? Or am I supposed to just forget about that and take the blame for it all like usual? She brought another guy into the same place I spend almost all my time at, and probably fucked hi-” Jeongin slaps his hand over Seungmin’s mouth, effectively silencing him before he could carry on with his bullshit.

“Hyung. Shut up.” The maknae slowly pulls his hand away as Seungmin’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Look I get it, you’re tired, you’re upset, you’re angry bu-”

“Can you fucking blame me? I can’t unsee it. I mean, you see how comfortable she looked with him.” he clenches his fists.

“Will you keep your mouth closed already? You’re killing me here, got a massive migraine now.” Jeongin groans and rubs his temples as he speaks “That picture was taken over a year ago. Before you even knew she existed, hyung. Besides, I know her better than anyone ever will, other than you obviously, which is why I suggest that you get your ass up and go apologize for being such a dumb fuck. Beg for her forgiveness if you gotta. Maybe get on your knees while you’re at it.” he sighs and stands, holding his hand out to Seungmin before pulling him up.

“How do you know she isn’t lying to you? How do you know she isn’t lying about anything else?” Seungmin finally says.

“Because she loves you too much to do that to you. God, have you always been this dense? You seriously need to wake up and realize how stupid you sound.” Jeongin mocks, prompting Seungmin to glare at him one last time before walking out of the studio. All the while unbeknownst to the younger standing with a frown threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth.

“He’s a fucking idiot if he let’s her go over this,” he mutters begrudgingly while he listens to the soft pur of Seungmin’s car in the distance.

-

Almost a week later you’re still waking up with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. The first thing you notice is Seungmin’s apartment key still sitting on the dresser untouched. Well, it used to be his. You were really hoping that it was all just a shitty nightmare and that you’d still be tucked in his side with his soft snores being the only sound to fill the room even though it’s been days.

You realize what had stirred you awake as another knock fills the almost suffocating silence. You’re half tempted to just ignore it, but something in your gut tells you to answer it.

“Oh, uhm- hi Innie.” you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. Or Seungmins hoodie, rather.

God you need to pull yourself together. How could you not even realize what you were wearing. Fuck.

“Hey,” Jeongin rocks back on his heels somewhat awkwardly, “Can I come in?”

You nod and mumble a soft ‘of course‘ as you move out of the way for him to slip past the threshold and into your apartment while you take a moment to collect yourself, and to put on the most convincing smile you can possibly muster.

“What’s up?” you find a spot on the couch next to him as he scans the room for a second, looking for any signs of whether or not Seungmin actually showed.

“He’s not here, is he?” Jeongin turns to you with sympathetic eyes, finding your own longing for comfort, seemingly pleading him for some sort of consolation.

“N-no but he’ll probably be back so-”

“He’s not coming back, y/n. If he was, it would’ve been days ago.”

Before you can open your mouth to protest, Jeongin has you pulled into his strong chest and tucks your head under his chin gently. “It’s okay, baby. I got you.” he sighs, rubbing small and slow circles on your back just the way he knows you like. He places a small, chaste kiss on the top of your head because he’s learned over the years that the action relaxes you and makes you feel secure.

Jeongin knows you like the back of his hand. Sometimes he thinks he knows you better than he knows himself. He knows your favorite food, your favorite season, your favorite movie. He knows how much you love to read, having periodically skimmed your shelves for books you may have and promptly buying you ones that you haven’t already buried your nose in.

Most importantly, he knows exactly what to say in order to subside your bad moods (he’s well seasoned in this field), and that sometimes you say things you don’t mean yet he never - and will never - hold that against you.

He knows just how much you loved Seungmin, not even wanting to imagine the amount of absolute heartbreak you’re feeling. Despite all this, he can’t help but feel somewhat relieved. You and Seungmin undoubtedly wouldn’t have worked in the long run and that’s exactly what you desire and deserve: a stable, long term relationship where you’d be taken care of and treated like the absolute goddess that Jeongin thinks you are.

He just wishes you give him a chance to treat you like his- more so than he already does now.

“Thank you, In,” you mumble into his chest.

“You don’t need thank me, baby. You know I’m always here.”

You did know that, you’ve always known that. Jeongin doesn’t let you doubt how much he cares for you, he’ll spend every waking moment reminding you if he has to.

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes. “I always end up burdening you with my problems.” Jeongin’s eyes soften at your apology and all he wants to do is hug and kiss and cuddle you until he thinks he’s convinced you enough of his adoration.

But for now all he can do is settle for words, though he can’t help but think it won’t be enough.

“Baby, please don’t be sorry for that. What kind of best friend would I be if I never listened to your complaints or rants?” Calling himself your best friend took more out of him than it should have and he tries to hide his hesitation. Thankfully you hadn’t noticed.

Hearing Jeongin say this makes you realize that he’s treated you better than any boyfriend you’ve ever had. Seungmin never reassured you like Jeongin does. Actually, now that you think about it, Seungmin didn’t do half of the things Jeongin does, even if it was the bare minimum.

He’s always like this, but why does it feel different now?

That’s just his personality, right? There isn’t any hidden meaning behind his words or gestures. Or the way he’s holding you and speaking to you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever had contact with. The sudden urge to reach out and cup his face is unreal. You just want to make sure you aren’t hallucinating. You wonder how you managed to find such a perfect person who thinks the world of you just as much as you do them. Someone who loves you just as deeply and truly as you do.

Wait what?

You’ve singlehandedly scared and confused yourself all at once now. Obviously you love him and he does you, but it feels as though you love him in a different way. A special way, one that you don’t think you’ve ever felt for anyone. Not even Seungmin, who you once thought was hands down your soulmate.

What you failed to realize, however, was that your soulmate has been here the whole time, and he’s holding you in his arms like he never wants to let you go.

You cut off your train of thought because he doesn’t want you like that and you’re making assumptions that could get you hurt.

Too late.

Another wave of sadness that has nothing to do with Seungmin washes over you.

“Baby? Hey, where’d you go?” Baby. Fucking baby. He’s got to stop calling you that. You want to tell him to stop, so why can’t you open your mouth and form those simple words.

“Mhm, ’m okay.” You can’t even bring yourself to put the tiniest bit of distance between your bodies.

You mentally scream at yourself for sounding so noticeably pathetic. He must think you are. How could he not when you’re making it so painfully obvious?

“Don’t hide from me, baby. You know you don’t need to hide anything from me.” How ironic.

“I’m not- I just-” you huff and lean your forehead against Jeongin’s chest. God, when did he get so…buff? Has he always been like this?

He pulls your head back to force your gaze to meet his. “What did I tell you, hm? Talk to me. I’m all ears.” His arms encircling your body is the last straw before the world comes crashing down on you.

Tears flood your vision and you aren’t even sure as to why you’re crying this time.

Pathetic and dramatic. Great.

Jeongin immediately thinks he’s overstepped now, he took it too far and made you uncomfortable. He removes his hands from you immediately though the action kills him inside, when in reality you want the exact opposite. You want him to pull you closer, you want your chest flush against his to the point where you can feel his heart beating.

“I’m sorry, Innie. I’m sorry.” You finally climb out of his grasp and step away from him. He follows you and with every step he takes forward you move backward until you collide with the wall.

“Why are you sorry when you didn’t do anything wrong? I don’t want you apologizing to me for no reason. If anyone should be apologizing it’s Seungmin, but it’s his fault and his loss, you know that.” You wish Jeongin would stop being so supportive, it’s making it ten times harder to ignore your surfacing issues.

“That’s not the problem, Jeongin.”

Since when did you call him by his full name?

“Then what is it? Is it me? Please I- I just want to help you.”

Your tears have finally halted and you couldn’t be more thankful. You need to be able to properly look into his eyes.

“You can’t help me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Why are you being so difficult all of a sudden?”

“I’m not.” You cross your arms over your chest.

Jeongin blows out a frustrated huff. “Why can’t you tell me? Is it because Seungmin and I are friends becau-”

“I love you.”

“I know you do, which exactly is why you should be talking to me right now instead of bottling it all up-”

“No, Jeongin. I love you. Not in a friend way, not in a platonic way. I want to kiss you and hold you and-” You’ve worked yourself up so much you have cut yourself off in order to calm down.

Jeongin’s mouth stays agape for a solid five seconds before he even processes what you’ve said. “You love me?”

“Is that not what I just said?” Jeongin has to bite back his smile at your remark but quickly frowns again at the expression on your face. You look regretful, like you wish you never spoke. You’re just waiting for his rejection, willing it to come faster so you he’ll leave and you can wallow in self pity by yourself in the comfort of your bed. You disturbed the peace that was your friendship.

“I- the breakup is still fresh and you aren’t thinking straight, baby. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” Jeongin pleads. Is he trying to convince you or himself?

“But I do mean it Jeongin. I really do and I can’t believe it took me this fucking long to figure it out and I wish I’d never caught feelings because this is just a shit show now.”

He goes to speak but you quickly interrupt him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget about it,” you expect him to leave, or to at least move away. But he doesn’t, instead he leans in closer to your ear and whispers in a hushed tone,

“Didn’t I just tell you to stop apologizing, baby?” The way he says ‘baby’ sends shivers down your spine, it’s different than the other times he’s called you that. This time his words actually do have a hidden meaning. His breath ghosts the shell of your ear for a moment before he slowly pulls back to look at you. As if he hasn’t studied your every feature to the point where you’re engraved in his mind.

“You have to promise me that you actually understand what you’re saying and that it isn’t the post breakup neediness talking.” He looks at you sternly and fully expecting a response in words.

You, on the other hand, have absolutely no intention of speaking as you instead grab him by the collar of his hoodie before pressing your lips against his.

Kissing your best friend is much more intimate than you ever expected. He kisses you like it’s not the first time and with more than enough purpose. It starts off aggressive but soon simmers down into a delightfully slow and passionate rhythm and as cliche as it sounds, it’s in this moment that you finally know where you belong, where your home is.

No matter the circumstances, Jeongin always left a space for you in his heart. His subconscious wouldn’t let him fill it with someone else even if he wanted (which he didn’t), forever waiting for you to find the spot with your name written all over it and stay there for as long as you may live.

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

tags: @skzstarnet @godslino @myseungsunglove @seungseung-minmin @azuna-sz @chanyeolsrealwife

[lucvly]

can you please do some hcs for having nick as your best friend?

— best friend headcannons with nick. ⸰ 𖥔 ͙

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, not proofread.

a/n: i love y’alls reqs omg 🙁

— i just know he’s a clingy ass best friend idc. wants to take you anywhere and everywhere he goes simply because he enjoys your presence that much.

— this mf would definitely show up to your house unannounced. he’d text you asking if he can come over and as soon as you say yes he’s like “good because i was waiting outside”.

— he’s so unserious. convinces you to make up a fake language in an uber as you’re going home from a party. needless to mention you were both wasted (+ the uber driver was incredibly confused LMFAO).

— he loves going out to eat with you. nothing fancy, you could go out and eat mcdonald’s and he’d be the happiest man on earth because he gets to gossip with you.

— you two bully matt and chris together. as soon as nick found out about the chester picture on akinator, he made your clueless ass play just to see it. (spoiler alert: both of you ended up crying with laughter on the floor– chris was pissed.)

— he wants you involved in everything. before going on tour, he asked you to help him practice basketball because he wanted to take his brothers down LMAO.

— loves going shopping with you. he gives you the greatest advice on fashion and you do the same for him. (you always get at least four matching outfits).

— adding onto the matching thing, y’all will always be matching it’s so funny. at some point people start to think you’re his long lost sister because oh my god. the hair is always matching. he’s blonde? nah, both of you are going blonde. you’re going back to brunette? he’s going back too.

— getting your nails done with him is so fun. you two always go together. he helps you pick out your design duh.

— great with advice!! he may seem really unserious but if you’re having a deep conversation or just overall need some advice, he’s always there willing to help you.

— drinking with him is so fun bye. i know he’s a sucker for smirnoff argue w the wall! sometimes you’ll both get a little tipsy and either you start talking about the true meaning of life and what your purpose on earth is or what color a dog’s vision really is.

— he’s the type of friend that’ll send you at least 50 tiktoks daily and 20 reels. laughs at the stupidest shit LMAOO. half of the reels are cats dancing or something.

— he’s a gift giver trust. whether it’s something small like your usual coffee order or something huge on your birthday, he loves giving you gifts.

— y’all have a sibling type of relationship. you never argue. obviously you’re bound to have disagreements but those are solved in two seconds LMAO. matt and chris get so confused because one minute you’re yelling at each other and the next you’re laughing your ass off at some tiktok nick showed you.

— matching halloween costumes duh. it could literally be june and he’d already have at least ten ideas on what to go as for halloween.

— every sunday you go and get ice cream and tell each other everything about your week.

— you have a shared spotify playlist just so you can update each other on what music you’ve been listening to lately.

[websterss]

A PROMISE WORTH BREAKING (1) - THE FAVOR

REQUEST: Omg maybe the plot of better than the movies but reversed? like it’s Wes trying to get with Liz so he asks Reader for help.

WARNING(S): angst, fluff

WORD COUNT: 2,541

PAIRING: Wes Bennett x fem!reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! @raggedyoldwitch here it is, love you lmfao! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

You expected a lot of forecomings in life. Many a few involved getting selected as the head of the prom committee. Being at the top of your classes. Even managing the yearbook committee too. A busy life to you meant a happy life, it distracted you from your tragic reality, and it also saved you from getting through school without a social life. You expected it. You did. You saw it coming. You just wish what you could have seen coming was Wes Bennett soaking wet from head to toe outside your door in the middle of the afternoon. You had to blink a few times because this felt too good to be true.

“Y-Y/n, you’re looking well.” He threw up three fingers in greetings. That boyish grin you always had a hard time looking away from was plastered all over his stupid face. You looked down and cleared your throat before answering and said.

“Bennett. To what do I owe this–“ You gestured to him in general, trying to play along but your wall broke down immediately in displeasure, so you cut it short. “What do you want?” You quirked a brow at him. Still keeping him cold and drenched on your front porch. You felt your heart flutter hearing him chuckle.

“To the point I see. Remember that time I helped you walk back home after you fell off your bike and scraped your knee and you said if I ever needed anything to just ask?”

“Wesley we were nine…” You stare at him dumbfounded.

“So you do remember! By any chance…does your offer still apply to this day? I mean I helped you after all!” He defended.

“You pushed me off my bike and took off on it to chase after Liz.”

“Then I came back for you…” He said.

“After I wouldn’t stop crying!” Your eyes grew wide. “You bribed me with five bucks just so I wouldn’t blab to your mom.”

“And look at you! Y-You’re all better now. Beautiful and all grown up.” Oh, how you would have loved to have been called beautiful any other time, but not when he was just trying to be cute. You continued to watch as the rain pelted over his curls. It was a nice scenery. 

“I have the scar to prove it.” You scoff.

“Which only shows just how strong you are. You survived! Can I come in?” He nodded past your shoulder dispersing the dispute and changing the subject. “I’m taking a shower out here.”

“Wha- No!“ Your mouth is left agape. 

“Come on. You owe me!” 

“I do not-”

“Wesley?” Your aunt cut you off as she approached you. “Oh my god Wesley. Oh my look at you all grown up. How are you?” She greeted him with a smile.

“Wet.” He squinted at you with a smirk. He fights a chuckle as you roll your eyes at him. He curled in on himself. The cold was starting to get to him.

“Don’t let him in, you'll catch his idiocy.” You warned, slamming your hand out to block the doorway. “Hear it’s contagious…” You shrug.

“Y/n let him in!” Meg shoved you aside. You stumble off balance catching yourself on the table beside the door and glaring at her. “S-Sorry.” She grimaces then turns back to the giant who walked through your threshold. The sloshing from his shoes makes him look down. He meets your annoyed gaze and grimaces. He takes off his shoes and starts looking around.

His eyes caught on to the mantle of pictures. He walks over to the middle of the living room. He inspects the frames that hold memories of your late parents. Some of you as a child and some with your aunt. He smiles at them, tapping a light finger to the glass, and backs up. His eyes now find the piano sitting in the corner. He slowly walks over to it

“So this is casa Y/L/N huh? It’s nice!” You watch as droplets of water continue to drip down onto the floor. You roll your eyes knowing Meg would make you mop it up later and throw a towel at him. It startles him but he catches it in time. “T-Thanks.” He laughs, and goes to rub the cloth against his head, then wraps it around his shoulders. “Nice piano by the way. You play?” 

“No.” You walk away and up the stairs. Wes watches for a few seconds then tails it after you. Your soft climb was overcome by the loud thumps of the giant trying to catch up to you. You walk over to your room and plop down at your desk where you resume doing some homework. Wes stops at the doorway eyes taking in the fairy lights, the vinyls hung up on your wall under a record player, and various polaroids taped to different walls. The hues of green and yellows and whites combined satisfied his brain. It felt cozy, especially after seeing the fuzzy blanket at the edge of your bed. 

“I’ve never been in a girl's room before. Not bad...” He walked over to your tall bookshelf. Poking and prodding anything that caught his attention. He uprighted a face-down frame on your top shelf. He brought it down to his view and looked it over. It was you and your parents. Your hands pulled down on a yellow beanie over your eyes, he swore he remembered you wearing it when you were kids but he wasn’t sure. Your smile was affectionate, it made his lips curl up. Your parents had each pressed a kiss to your cheeks. It was a cute picture of you, but it did make him want to ask why you faced it down. Was the memory of them hard to bear, hard to look at? He sighed and put it back. He was about to go for a collectible item when your voice scared him.

"I wouldn’t.” You hadn’t even turned around to see what he was doing.

“It’s cool.” He argued.

“And one of a kind.” That was all you said.

Wes stuck his tongue at you. Then reached for it again. He was caught off guard by a stuffed bear that collided with the back of his neck. He laughed and moved on to something else. That being your pictures. 

“Quite the photographer I see...” He reached up to touch the string of lights and walked over to the headboard, most of your pictures lay above your bed. 

“I like capturing moments.” You scribbled something down and read off your textbook. 

“You don’t say...” He smirked turning his head to view each four walls covered top to bottom. Your room was practically a gallery. No space was left untouched by a picture. Except by your door of course. He looked back to your hunched-over frame. Wrapped up in your schoolwork made him smile. Anytime he’d see you around you were constantly doing something. He actually wondered whether you ever took a break. He smiled as his eyes roamed over you. You grew up beautiful, he wasn’t lying when he first saw you open the door. He cracked his knuckles as he worked up the courage to ask you for that favor. That was why he was here after all. To ask for your help. “Hey, Y/n...”

 “What is it, Wesley?” The edge in your voice told him not to keep you too long.

“You know Liz right?” Wes panics as he sees your back straighten up. Your eyes meet his as you turn around in your chair. Scaringly slow. He tenses up.

“Liz Buxbaum? Our neighbor Liz, who we’ve known since childhood.” You laugh at his question. Wes rolls his eyes. 

God, am I going to regret this? 

“Do I know Liz? The girl you’ve had a massive thing for since the second grade. The one you spend your time bothering and annoying. That Liz? Doesn’t ring a bell.” 

“You’re horrible a person.”

“I know it keeps me awake at night.” You swivel in your chair. The giggle you release makes his heart skip. A feeling he didn’t know he could have for you.

“You know what forget I asked-” 

“No, wait- I’m sorry! Why are you asking me if I know Liz weirdo?” You let go of his arm you grabbed onto.

“I need your help.” Wes breaks down his barrier. He almost looked nervous. 

“Wesley Bennett needs my help. That’s a first!” You lean back amazed.

“Y/n!” He whines. Literally.

“Okay, fine what is it?”

“I have a proposition for you.” Wes rubbed his hands together which caused you to pull a face.

“I’m a woman with self-respect, Bennett…” You feign offense by placing your hand on your chest.

“Favor then, god! What do you take me for Y/L/N?” He scoffed.

“You really want to know?”

“No, now shut up and listen.” You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your chair. You were curious, to say the least. Whatever favor he needed sounded serious, but then again when was Wes really serious? The only time you’ve ever really seen him be serious was when he was around Liz– Oh. You were starting to guess what the next words that would spill past his lips were going to be. Wes never usually conjured up a conversation with you. This was all new territory you were treading and fast. But if you were being honest, when would a chance like this ever happen again? So you’d take anything that he’d throw at you.

“You’re a girl right?”

Except that. What?

“What?”

“Shit that came out wrong, obviously you are, but that’s not what I came here to ask. Say. Look–”

“Is there a point to this?” Wes could see your eyes beginning to screw together, you were getting upset. 

“I need your help with getting with Liz.” 

Oh yeah, you were definitely screwed now. Anything but that, you pleaded. You could feel the thousands of arrows hitting you square in the heart right about now. 

“Huh?”

“I need your help to get with Liz.” He repeated.

“Heard you the first time bud, Just don’t understand how I fit into this equation?” You gestured between the both of you.

“She thinks I’m this colossal asshole.”

“You torment the poor girl, Wesley. What’d you expect?” You exasperate in shock. “She embraces you with open arms and kisses?” You spin back around and face your notebooks.

He gets up and leans over your desk. “How do I change her perception of me? I’ve tried. Trust me I have, we just bicker back and forth. We’re literally a reality of her make-believe romance tropes.”

You peer up at him, giving him a once over then ponder what trope. “Oh no, you’re a living breathing enemies-to-lovers trope. May your chances with Flower Princess die!” You give him the sweetest grin you can muster. Wes looks just about ready to smack you. It was a funny sight, his stupid face all annoyed.

“You need to help me.”

“Why should I?” You look at him incredulously. 

“The bike thing…” He tried cramming that back into the conversation again. You weren’t having his bullshit.

“You pushed me off it!” You exclaim. The audacity of this man. 

“I was sorry!” He leans down and exclaims just as loud as you did in your face.

“No. I don’t owe you shit, Wesley Bennett. You made your bed, now lie in it. You want Liz to like you, be nice to her!” You slammed your books closed and stood up, closer and in his face more. 

“Y/n please…”

“What help would I even be?” You shrug.

“Liz has always floated towards you since we were kids. You’ve indulged her state of thinking, that movie cliches could be connected to real life. You know her.”

“So do you.” You smirk. “But you understand her Wes. You’re trying to convince me that I have this sort of in with Liz, that I can connect to her in this special way, but it’s not even like that.” You shake your head. 

“Please.” He sighs. 

“No. We’re not even friends Wes, What makes you think I’d give you the time of day?” You take your books and walk over to your bed, wanting to be sprawled out as you try to finish what was left of your homework.  

“I really haven’t been good to you huh?” Wes straightens up and walks over to your bed, he kneels down to be eye level from where you lay. Your eyes soften as he looks up at you. “How about another proposition then?”

“What now?” You groan.

“If you help me with Liz, then I promise to be a friend to you.”

“You could be a good friend without any terms involved.” You suggest with a pout. 

“This is all I ask of you. Nothing more, nothing less. Please.” He begged softly.

“Fine-”

“Oh my god really?”

“-On one condition.” He was not expecting you to lay down your own terms, but if it got you to help him then so be it, he thought.

“What’s that? He blinked up at you.

“You have to promise...that we'll remain good friends after all this.” You say earnestly. You were a little disappointed when he brushed it off so easily. You figured he was only attentive to details when Liz was involved in the equation. Sadly, not for you…In this moment you were thankful he did not notice a change in your demeanor.

“Can't promise what I've already set in my heart." He smirked. "Once we get Liz to fall in love with me, I'll be the best friend you never had.” He nudges you playfully on the shoulder.

“Ouch.” You feign offense. He chuckles.

“I owe you, Y/L/N. Seriously.” Wes looks down at his intertwined hands. His sincerity was too much for your beating heart. You needed him gone before you'd jeopardize his plan. Your friendship. You sharply inhale as you look away from his eyes.

“Can you get the fuck out now, some of us actually take school seriously, okay?” You laugh as you push him back. He stumbles onto his ass, then springs up. His taller form towering over you now. 

“Thank you!” He grins boyishly. Rocking back and forth as he backs out of your room. He starts overdoing it with the blow kisses. You swat the air as if to fan them away. This makes him laugh, and then he makes his leave.

“Yeah, whatever…”

“See you at school, Y/L/N.”

Oh, you were most definitely, positively screwed. You fall back onto your pillows, grab your squishy, and slam the frog into your face. Nothing but muffled groans of annoyance could be heard, as your aunt Meg paused in your doorway. Mortified. 

“You okay?”

“Boys are stupid!” You screech into your squishy. “Why do they exist, Meg? I hate them, I hate them, I hate them, I hate them…” 

“I’ll make us some cocoa.” She gestured over her shoulder, even though you couldn’t see her do so. She nodded and with that, you were all alone once again in the grave you just dug for yourself.