#ur writing is immaculate

[michipan]

AAAAAAAAAUUURGRRRRRRGGHQUDHEKD GOOD LORD !!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME ….

you know life is good when a tyun + strength kink fic shows up on ur tl. i’ve literally been fighting for my life with every sickness ever apparently and reading this was just…. oh im healed. matter of fact i’m invincible. i needed this so bad like we as a society need to be more aware of tyun that always lets u win bc he loves u but is in fact, stronger.

he’s so sweet but so condescending… 🫠🫠🫠 the whole “tap out.” “Baby just give up, i’ll fuck you so good, you won’t even have to think about it” like oh ur trying to kill me…. oh it’s working….

ugh no one touch me i’m literally abt to start clawing at the walls give him to me NOW !!!!!

Taehyun x Reader, simply play wrestling with tyun

and you know how much he likes to get on top of whoever he's against....

pin me

taehyun x fem!reader

synopsis: play fighting with your boyfriend turns into more.

warnings: 🔞!!! choking (f!rec), no protection, slight fingering, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.5k

an: mae, my love forgive me for this not being proofread and repetitive ily let me give you anything you want in return for this being not the best. but the banner is so cute I love taehyun in navy blue omfg.

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

It was a gradual change that came out of nowhere. One second, your boyfriend was casually invited to the gym with his friends and the next, he was corded with muscle, beating his friends at arm wrestling without much thought. But he always lets you win. 

You didn't even realize how strong he’d gotten, so easily fooled by his playful pretend. He will kiss your knuckles, giggle over your serious face, and only give you half the pressure he would his friends. Sometimes he even dragged it out, letting you think he was a second away from winning, the back of your hand so close to the table without touching it before letting his wrist go limp. He always smiles so big right after his fake pout and that's all you really care about, not the factthat he's let you win. 

It was the fact that he never tried to play fair when it came to you that warped your perception, so much so that when asked if he could show you some new moves he'd learned you agreed. Laying in bed, already dressed down, the two of you rolled against each other, your playful laughs echoing in the room. He was so gentle, locking your wrists in his hands as you tried to break free, twisting your hips to try and get out from under his legs, trapping you down. He even let you get far enough to push him onto the mattress, his hair a mess on the pillows as you pressed your hands on his shoulders to keep him down. He reached up to grab your hips, not to push you off but to slip his hands under your shirt to feel your warm skin on his palms.

“You look so pretty like this, on top of me,” he muttered, eyes following the shape on your face, down to the oversized shirt you had on. He lifted his hands higher, pushing the fabric off your body to leave you in only your panties for me. You sat back to let him do it, thinking the wrestling was over, you could feel that he was semi-hard against your ass, and when he pushed his hips up you tried to grind down before he took you by surprise. He had pushed his hips up only for leverage to flip the two of you over, your breath knocked out from the surprise of finding yourself pressed into the spot he was just at himself. “But I think you look even prettier under me,” 

He was right in the cradle of your hips, knees still raised on either side of him, you thought you could just twist again and knock him off balance, but it wasn't that simple. Taehyun sunk his knees into the bed, his hands grabbing yours as you tried to flip him over, he wasn't even straddling you and he was still keeping you down. He pressed his wights into his hips putting all the pressure on your crotch, pinning you in place. “Not fair,” you tried to pout thinking it would be the key to him loosening up his hold because it usually was. But taehyun wasn't taking it. 

“I win, I pinned you,” he leans down to kiss you, nose bumping yours as you turn your head, not letting go of the play fighting so easily. 

“I didn't tap out,” you say when he kisses your cheek. 

“Oh okay so now we have rules,” he quirked an eyebrow at you, “cause I'll get you to tap out if I need to I'm not letting you win this time,” 

“No, you can't, I'm not that weak,” but they are your famous last words because he doesn't hold back. He's slowly dragging his hips, pressing his bulge against your clit, already feeling your warmth through the fabric of his sweatpants. 

“Tap out,” he demands so softly at first, still willing to let you off easy if you give in early but you're stubborn, shaking your head no. You try to get out from under his hold now confronted with the fact that your boyfriend is so much stronger than you. Of course, you knew this and could feel the power he held back, especially during sex but now he's leaning into it, showing you even with one hand he can keep both your wrists pinned above your head. 

His free hand snakes down between the two of you, wedging itself right against your covered cunt, wet spot already soiling the fabric and showing him how much you want him. Your hips jerk at the contact, his fingers pushing your panties aside as he traces lines through your wetness, “tap out,” 

“No,” and you still sound so strong, even when he shoves two fingers into you, your thighs trembling when he starts to pump them in and out of you. 

You squirm, lips tightening to not let out the little moans threatening to give way. The heel of his palm rubs at your clit enough so that you grind right back onto his hand. But he's not playing nicely anymore, he takes his hand away, and you whine loudly, “Tap out,” so casually as if he hasn't just had his fingers inside you. 

“Taehyun-” 

“No, I only want to hear you speak if you're tapping out,” he uses his free hand not holding you to push down his pants, thick veiny cock slapping his stomach. “Otherwise I'll just take it as you saying you lose,” 

Your knees instinctively fall open wider for him, your feet digging into the mattress to line the two of you up. But when he pushes in, the tip of his cock is only just breaching your entrance you want to give in, let him win and fuck you without the game anymore, but your pride is too strong. He's built you up to thinking he will just always give in to you, now you're paying the price of not realizing who's always had the upper hand. 

Taehyun loves the way your eyes go hazy when he pushes fully into you, your warm pulsing walls pulling him as he presses his pelvis against yours. But he doesn't move, not even when you start to writhe on his cock, his tip pressed so deep you're seeing spots even with him so still. “Tap out and I'll move,” 

You shake your head, hips doing all the work for you as you push yourself onto his dick, wiggling to find some kind ofrhythm. He chuckles, “My little cock whore can't even stay still, I'll let you win if you can get yourself off like this,” 

Both of you know it's unlikely, not with your hands above your head, you can even last longer than five minutes when riding him without him taking over, this will be no different but you don't want to give in. You start to move, hips rising and falling while he laughs so sweetly. “Baby just give up, ill fuck you so good, you won't even have to think about it,” 

“N-no,” you stutter, finding it hard to form words when every movement makes his tip bump against your cervix, the painful pleasure pushing you on. 

Taehyun wraps his free hand around your neck, lightly squeezing as your eyes roll back, “I said no talking unless you're tapping out, are you tapping out?” he asks and you shake your head no, the vibrations of your moans are felt along his palm. 

You're doing little to actually try and get off, the feeling of being so full and not used is maddening, you want him to bully your cunt, take no remorse in how he treats you, and yet you're just a whining mess, clenching around him trying to hold out.  He wants you to give in, his jaw tightening with every flutter of your gummy walls around his cock, he bites back his need but you look so desperate to get off. And it doesn't help the way he has you pinned is so perfect to just let himself go, grab your hips, and use you like his little cocksleeve.

It's all too much for either of you. But you're not the one to concede because just like arm wrestling he's giving it to you without question. But he can't blame himself, not when you look so fuckable, begging and clenching on him like you can’t help yourself any longer. He lets go of your neck and wrists before grabbing your hips in a bruising hold, pulling you back and forth on his cock with an unrelenting force. 

Your back arches, his deep throaty moans sound like he's been released from the hold he's put on himself. Your hands twist in the sheets, taking every thrust, your tits bouncing from the force drawing Taehyun's attention. He's so close without even realizing it until the last second, tip hitting your gspot while he cums, twitching cock triggering your own orgasm. The both of you collapse into each other, his weight pressing you back down into the pillows as he buries his head into your neck. 

“I won,” you mutter, brushing his sweaty hair behind his ear, both of you still trying to catch your breath. 

“Shut up, round two in fifteen minutes, best out of three,” 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[boxwinebaddie]

because i wrote insane jerseykyleyb dialogue in that long ass ask answer i just wrote ( which, holy shit guys, a mildly in character nina post? naaah ur tripping; un hasn't answered an ask in months skdks )

you can have some of this VERY CURSED ( i'm sorry, he's so fucking funny he is my hero, seriously ) in the heat ( wheW! bc he's BAD) of the very fucked up ravesey breakup/divorce and ( sigh ) a very frightening manic bipolar episode/bender ( manz bad in both ;) & :( ways ) rockstar ravenstan of crimson dawn on stage at his show

BEIN THE FUNNIEST MAN ONCE DEAD & NOW ALIVE,

and the only context is that it's a divorce era para ( the worst kind, like bruh, uncle neen! can we pls have something hap--shhhh~ don't worry about that, baby! just eat your delicious dinner, sweetheart! xx <3 )

ravenstan has manic panic pixie dream boy box-dyed red hair, ( i am barking ) it's a crimson dawn concert, and...jersey is in the audience in...( sigh again ) the worst FUCKING DISGUISE i've even SEEN!!!!

anyways...

ROOOOLL CLIP!

( edit: no one clap me for my bad eStañol; i haven’t taken it or anythin seriously since universidad ( bad ), babEy! )

please note that after this…he quite literally just started basically making an online dating profile and was listing off his interests ( idk if it’s gonna stay but it was hella funny and he is so cute to me; it just got too long ) but this is my favorite part — BEAUTIFUL DORK TTRPG RAVENSTAN IS LIKE NERVOUS FLUSTERED SIMP JERSEY TO ME; IT IS MY FAVORITE CONTENT —

rock and body ROOOOLL

BONUS TRACK:

my hand is over my EYES…btw, the people booing?

That’s ME.

i’M BOOOOOOOING!!!!

gET OFF THE STAGE, STANNIE DORKOOO!!!!

[arainesque]

NEW ARAINESQUE FIC LIFE IS SO GOOD IM GONNA GO READ IT AND THEN COME BACK TO YELL MORE OH MY GOD I AM SO READY

NO BECAUSE THIS IS THE QUICKEST ANON IVE EVER HAD!!!!? I LOVE U <3

[sunriseovergotham]

oh my god i am SICK of you. WRITE IT BAD!!!!!!

[obiwankenobis-lap]

This is so beautifully written wth i love you😭 i fucking love Tomb. SCREAMING AND KICKING MY FEET I WAMT A HUG FROM HIM AAAA

Hiya! I’m so happy your requests are open omg your writing is impeccable. So I’ve been with this concept in my head for so long since I read this prompt somewhere: what is with your weird fascination with me?

And just immediately my head started creating a story about reader having the nickname ‘Death’ because she has the highest body count known, skilled as no other and, also, imposible to know on a deeper level because she is like a wall, not letting anyone in. Until John Price needs her for a mission and is, as the prompt says, fascinated by her (and feeling other things he doesn’t want to admit), and is able to break her a little when he gets hurt in a mission after months of working together.

Glory to the Reaper

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: He was strange, you admitted to yourself. Always around even when you didn't want him to be. But perhaps the Brit just might surprise you.

WORDCOUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, death, gore, canon typical violence, avoidance tactics, fluff, pining, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: I switched around the codename but it's still the same plot! Enjoy, Anon!

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

Your eyes slip over the file on the table, slowly caressing the parchment with easy and careful consideration of every word and comma—searching. Focusing. You hum under your breath and slide the page away to spy on the one behind it, the room quiet and the air cold. Outside the window the entire compound is asleep, only the light of the street lamps illuminating the land; inside this office, your feet barely shuffle over the tuft of the rug.

Clicking your tongue, you go to the next document in the pile. 

The still-warm body flinches and jerks below you, but you barely notice—he hadn’t put up much of a fight; wasn’t memorable. Sighing and itching over the mask along the bottom of your face, you snatch the last six papers from the desk and fold them four times, stuffing them into your vest pocket. 

Stalking with sure steps, you press into the radio on your gear as you step over the body and head to the door. Bloody bootprints follow behind you like a crimson shadow of surefire death.

“Actual, intel secured. Heading to Evac now.” Laswell was listening intently on the other end, your Op of the highest priority. 

You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t, surely. The small click from the other end greets you as you shove open the office’s door and saunter down the hallway paved with glints of marble and pools of viscera like a Roman horror story. Eyes numbly slide past the scores of bodies; necks slit and stomachs burst from bullets fired through silencers. 

“Good job, Tomb,” Laswell utters, voice fast and serious as always. “What’s the clean-up status?”

Your lips flinch upward, “I suggest fire and a prayer, Actual. But no one knows I’m here. Main house is neutralized.” 

A small pause later and a huff of dull amusement. 

“Copy, Tomb. Your ride is waiting—best not to miss it, we need you back sooner than later.” The structure of your lungs rearranges in a small chuckle that echoes off the ceiling; molten silver from the moon slips over your darkened form. The patch upon your right shoulder is illuminated in steady intervals, the familiar image of a mausoleum and a guarding Sphinx. 

Alone, that patch is, with no other dark affiliations beyond that demonic cause. Many see it right before they meet their end, but the insignia was entirely left to ruin—no one sees it and lives besides other soldiers.

“Copy.” Your voice is easy and bland as the curtains from the single open window shake in the breeze. “Tell the boys I’m on my way.” You pass the window and slap a gloved hand to it, hearing the squeak of the frame as it hits back down before you turn the corner, slinking away to reform into a figure that evokes grim glances and sliced sentences. 

—

You stare into blue eyes with a sheen of disinterest coating your own, hands stuffed into your pockets and gear heavy on your chest. From your shoulder, the strap of your rifle sits as you speak, tilting your head, “Captain Jonathan Price of Task Force 141.” 

The man was tall, you admit, fit and formed to harsh military life. Undoublity he’d been in the service for decades. You’d seen his face before—the brunette beard and the strong jaw; small eyes with wrinkles, it’s how you had ID’d him. Plus the bucket hat. Laswell had told you he’d been inquiring about your file and you’d done your own digging off the books. 

John grunts a greeting before nodding.

“Pleasure. Tomb, was it?” On the tarmac, you glance around with stiff shoulders as the blades of the helicopter slow down behind you. Morning was just on the horizon, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep on the flight back.

Lips thin, before your vision slides back into place. John’s hands are crossed casually, but his blue holds glints of intrigue. You don’t like that. “...The one and only. Excuse me.” 

Walking past, you move like a crane, legs taking long, steady, strides. A hand comes up to scratch at your cheek through your face covering. Laswell was expecting you immediately. 

And those feet at your side were not supposed to be there. Your eyes shimmer lowly at the shadow of John as he follows.

“Should tell you that Laswell’s in building two, then.” Pace halting, the Captain continues off on his own as your sharp gaze burns into his neck. He spares a glance over his expansive shoulder before adjusting his course to the East. “Told me to bring you to her. We need to have a little chat, yeah?”

You stay silent, watching John travel to the larger building where Laswell was apparently now waiting for you. After a still minute where you listen to the birds waking up and the scent of dew is in your hidden nostrils, you sigh deeply and roll your shoulders before beginning to walk behind. 

“Hm,” Garbled grunts are only heard by you as you stay well enough back from the man. Cautious as you stare at his head. 

He holds the door open for you when you finally make it, and you stand blankly from the opening as John’s calloused hand clenches over the door. When you don’t enter, the Captain shakes his head and releases a deep chuckle. 

“Alright, then,” he mutters, shuffling through the door first. You follow the strain of his back until you look away and reach for the barrier, pushing it back from you. Making your way inside, you sigh and wonder what you’re getting into. 

“Laswell said you don’t like strangers,” eyes peek back at you as the buzzing from the overhead lights echoes in your ears. Your throat releases a hum; shoulders showing a picture of wound ease. “Can’t say she’s wrong, now can you?”

Watching another soldier pass the two of you, you tilt your head to make sure the stranger’s footsteps turn the corner before you answer John’s question with a raised brow to mirror his own. 

“Did she also tell you that I don’t plan on joining One-Four-One, Captain?” His bearded smirk catches you slightly off-guard, perplexed by not even the hint of shock in his gaze. He’d done his research.

John grunts as his eyelids narrow, amused. Your muscles tense.

“Affirmative.” The meeting room door is opened and this time he allows you to ease your paranoia by slinking in first. 

In the room sits an occupied Laswell, a long table, a projector, and black-out windows. Confused but used to last-minute changes, you simply enter silently and pick a chair with your back to the wall and a good view of the room. 

“Laswell,” you utter in greeting as the woman hums a hello, shifting through numerous files. In your breast pocket, you pull out the files you’d stolen and toss them onto the wood. John stands near the entrance with crossed arms, hips shifting every so often as his feet re-situate themselves. 

He blinks down at the papers and then back to you with a careful glance at Kate.

Your Station Chief chuckles when she looks at you, tilting her head before she snatches the prize. 

“Good work as always, Tomb.” 

“Why is he here?” You get to the point, one hand going up to brush over your hair as the other sits limply on the seat’s arm. Your gear sits heavy on you, but that brutal tic of curiosity blooms. 

John’s lips twitch before he answers, “An offer. Knew I wouldn’t be able to meet if Laswell wasn’t the mediator, eh? You’re bloody difficult to track down.”

“Offer?” Small talk never mattered to you, hadn’t since you’d signed up, and probably never would. You didn’t understand why people beat around the bush—just say what you need to say and get it over with. There was only so much time in a day. 

It seemed John Price carried part of that opinion as well. 

Blunt, you admit to your opinion of the man, and sure of his strengths.

“I need your skill set.” Kate looks back and forth between you two before she focuses on her work, multitasking. John continues, pointing a hand at you in demonstration from their hold on his chest. “Mission in three days. Turkey…” He watches you closely as if gauging your abilities. “You in or out?” 

You wait in a dim silence for a minute or two before you tilt your body to Laswell, eyes still stuck in stormy blue and pale wrinkles inlaid with dirt. 

“Kate?” 

“Totally off the books,” the woman says confidently, pen sliding over paper. “Two targets in Bursa. There’s a file in your office.” Raising a brow, John hides his cheeky smile behind a bored mask.

“Take your Lieutenant,” you glare, “Ghost, was it?”

Price shakes his head, hat flinching along with it. “On assignment. I’ll need an answer today, Tomb. Time’s ticking.”

Your jaw clenches in annoyance, “Capture or kill?” 

John shrugs nonchalantly, “Either. Is this a yes or a no?”

In this game of cat and mouse, you find yourself slipping. Your obligations as a soldier call to you to take the mission immediately, but for the simple fact that this Captain was unknown to you—and apparently, you weren’t unknown to him. 

John was checking all of the boxes of people you didn’t like to be around.

Your voice grits out, eyes burning in their glare, “...When?” 

His smirk makes you want to storm out.

“Tomorrow. 1300.” The air in the room is thick, tense like a thick layer of molasses was overtop everything. Under the table, your foot taps to the steady beat of your heart, your face tensed, and the layers of your facemask suddenly too formed to your neck and chin. 

Twitching your nose you dig your eyes into John, peeling down his expansive shoulders and chest to take in the layers of packs and other miscellaneous items. His thigh holders and the way they hug his legs. You end with one last dead-on look into his eyes, trying to pinpoint intentions and flay the lines of his brain. 

Most people glance away, but John returns the look with a casual tilt of his head and a raised brow. Not at all off-put. 

Your hand steadily clenches over the chair. 

All you give him is a firm nod—nothing more than a mere jerk of your chin. Kate sighs from where she’d been watching. 

“Perfect. John,” she points her pen at the Captain as you both stare off. John grunts before his eyes flicker to the side, leisurely roving back moments later. You blink and rub your forehead. “You have your answer. Now would the both of you get the fuck out of here?”

“Copy, Kate.” John sighs, and you huff; standing as you plan out the amount of time you have to clean up and sleep before you have to leave. With an easy brush of your shoulders, your form shimmies past the Captain with dull enthusiasm. 

You weren’t happy about this, but fine. You’ve been through worse. 

As you shuffle down the hallway to the armory, your ears quirk when the footsteps ring in the drums of your ears like a hiking beacon. Already you’d memorized the walking pattern. 

The thump-bump, bump-thump, of boots and the clink-clank of metal on metal. Shoving down a growl you hiss out into the air, not turning around. 

“Problem, Price?” A gruff humph bounces. 

“Negative, Tomb.” His shadow comes to conjoin with yours, large body standing side-by-side. Eyes flash to the side of your face, hidden from all by the cloth—like a bored cat, you continue to pave your way to silence; hoping whatever thought this man had in his head would disappear. “Just curious, see.” 

“Curious?” your brow raises, the make of your muscles showing your unease. “Can’t help you with that.” 

“No, probably not, eh?” John grunts and reiterates as strange emotion spikes in the lines of his face as he glances along you. “Tomorrow. 1300. Don’t be late.” With nothing more, he halts and pivots, peeling back to leave your side as his sudden absence leaves you devoid of heat. 

Confusion breeds in your chest, but your steady legs carry you on until your tension leaves. Under your breath you utter a question as you enter the armory, shuffling your rifle off of your chest. “What the hell was that about?”

—

Price and you stand inside the safehouse with fast hearts and narrowed eyes. Blood was dripping down your hands, the black gloves flooded with gore that sure as hell doesn’t belong to you. 

“Fuck,” John growls, guttural reverberations echoing off the walls. With stiff ribs, you go and lightly peel back the fabric of the nearest window to study the street below; looking for any suspicious figures. Frowning, you see nothing and let the curtain fall, eyes wafting to the Captain. 

“We either lost them or they have surveillance on the building. Best for you to not leave either way.” The mission had gone sideways—apparently one of the targets had an ID on John as a member of One-Four-One. One thing led to another and resulted in you sticking a knife into some man’s gut to get away when he’d been spotted. You blink at his agitated expression, the black beanie on his head ruffled as he runs a hand over it.

But you don’t say anything else. Peeling off your gloves, you listen to him as a rain of blood splatters the carpet. 

“This sets us back—since when does bloody fuckin’ Metin Baydar know who I am?” John’s hands are clenched, jaw so tight you wonder if his molars will crack under the pressure. A smirk twitches your lips at the thought. “Tomb,” you slowly tilt your eyes to him. The man sets his lips and crosses his arms, the brown casual wear in his chest bunching. “I’ll need you to be my eyes on this, yeah? If I leave this position I jeopardize your safety.”

“My safety?” you huff a laugh and push your gloves into your loose pants. “Captain, I don’t need you to worry about my safety.” 

He seems to pause for a moment, and with a shake of his head his blue eyes shutter closed. A deep, tight, breath is taken and those tiny lids are forced back as you lock gazes. You send a blank look his way and he nods firmly.

“Keep low.” Is all he grunts, feet standing apart and his stare intense. “Copy?” 

A swirl of amusement dances in your gut—you tap the earpiece in your shell with a stained streak of blood on your fingers. John stares, unreadable.

“I’ll leave when the streets cool. Just keep on the line so I can relay my intel, Price.” After a moment of silence, your eyes tighten with intrigue. “How do you wonder Baydar knew your face?” Standing by the window again, you peek out and keep John in view. His form shuffles, and he scoffs before walking beside you. Over your shoulder, he also views the buildings and businesses below. You still at the sensation of his breath on the back of your head, hand twitching over the curtain. It ruffles your hair for a moment before you snap out of it, eyes blinking rapidly. “Your Task Force isn’t exactly known,” you finish your sentence, voice strained. 

Clearing his throat, as if realizing how close he’d gotten with only the intention of gazing outside, the man’s form jerks back; taking a step or two away to give you distance. Your far-gone eyes blankly continue to look outside but your chest gains some tension to it. You don’t know why.

This Brit is strange. You frown, watching a cat traverse the concrete far below. Not that I really have much to go off of. 

“Haven’t a clue.” John sighs again, one hand going to itch at his chin. “Your guess is as good as mine. One thing I do know is that we have to fix this. Now.” 

“You should tell Laswell,” you mutter, turning around and walking past him to stand around your packs—all of which hold your gear. Your knife was set into a small sheath inside your shirt, leather wrapped around your waist as you stopped near the coffee table. You pull the lip of your clothes up and grasp at it before peeling the metal out with an inquisitive eye. 

If there was any breakage to the tip, you’d be furious. 

John watches from across the room, catching glances at your bare skin riddled with scars and burns; unmarred flesh foreign. He feels his breath hitch before you drop your shirt back down and bring the blade into the light. 

Holding it parallel, you gaze along the edge and tilt your head, eyelids half-closed. 

“Kate?” Price answers you, clearing his throat. “No, it’s better not to create any more shite. She’ll be good off not knowing, yeah?” The brunette’s brow raises in question.

You hum and don’t reply. 

The rest of the mission was spent with the two of you conversing over the open line of your comms as you scoured the streets for any sign of the target, feet carrying you over the city as the chill of the late afternoon set in. Presently, you didn’t know how to feel about your situation. Working with others was a strain on your focus—on the walls you’ve built up; John had obviously noticed that you didn’t exactly play well with others. It was plainly stated in your file, after all. 

“—attitude, or lack thereof, is a detriment to the structure of any team/unit/platoon that she is placed into under all circumstances. Recommended reserved operations to limit drawbacks.” 

Having a pleasant attitude wasn’t your job. 

Stalking around the corner, your ears twitch to John’s voice. “Sitrep, Tomb. What’s it looking like out there?” 

It was strange, then, that the man over the line was so eager to speak to you. Your sigh hits on deaf ears, and you respond as you carefully walk past civilians making their way home.

“Quiet. No sign.” The silence re-settles and you gradually loosen again. Like a cat, your ears twitch to hear the muttering from the commuters; eyes sliding with watery film across faces. 

Baydar owns a restaurant as a front for funding terrorists. Anyone exiting from this direction could be part of it—

“You said you’d never join One-Four-One,” John’s voice makes you shove down a flinch, ripped out of your focus. In your pockets, your hands close into fists, and a deeply annoyed mask fits itself over your expression. “Why’s that, then?” 

“What is this?” Your voice goes cold, “interrogation time?”

“With a record like yours, you’d get pick of any Task Force or SOF in country.” The Captain seems to ignore your hiss and jab as his deep voice continues; accent low. You hear the drag of a cigar and the puff of smoke. Internally, you’re thankful for the casual yet attentive acknowledgment of your skills—how the man doesn’t seem in the slightest worried about you. “Why is it that you’re always alone out ‘ere? Couldn’t wrap my head ‘round it, truthfully.” A tobacco-slick chuckle, “Bloody hell, people would kill to get you on a mission like I did, eh? No doubt.” 

For a long time, you don’t answer, leaning against the wall across from your target’s restaurant doing recon. Frown tight and face stiff. John’s voice fizzles. 

“Ah, fuckin’ forget it Love, just a man’s curiosity speaking for ‘im. I’ll leave you to focus.” Before the line can click, you open your lips—as if the things have a mind of their own.

“People are unpredictable.” The Captain’s breath is gently puffing over the line. He listens and you know he hangs on every word; it was a strange feeling to know that. From under you, your feet shuffle. “They do things that don’t make sense. I don’t like dealing with it.”

A grunt. “Well, can get behind that…” John had a smirk on his lips, you can hear it. “You’d lose your head if you met MacTavish.” 

Your focus waning, you blink, getting sucked into this strange interaction with an even stranger man. 

“Yeah?” You wonder, head tilting to the side. “One of yours?”

“Hm,” he affirms and the chill of the night caresses your skin. John chuckles. “Sergeant. Bloody good shot, but can get into trouble faster than his fucking gun can fire.” 

Your mouth quirks. “Sounds horrible.”

“Makes my job a living hell,” John admits and you shock yourself by listening. “But no one better to keep by my six…You’d ease up to him.” 

“I’m not joining, Price,” Your voice mutters out like how a dragonfly snaps its translucent wings on still air. “This is it.”

In the safehouse, John hums under his breath, staring out the window at the blinking lights of the city as you watch the restaurant with far-off thoughts. A smile twitches his lips. For some reason there was something about you he wanted to figure out—something to unravel. You were like Ghost sometimes, but more… fascinating. Darker.

And you knew how to get the job done better than anyone.

John wanted you on his Task Force, your expertise, and the only way to get that was to take you apart like a puzzle of razor blades. Study you. Learn you as the edges cut up his flesh. The Captain had no idea what picture you’d make when everything was in its proper place, but he’d be willing to try with the very tenacity that had gotten him this far. 

But there was something else there, too. Some kind of tightness in his chest when you looked at him; he'd gotten it when he’d seen you on the tarmac back not so long ago like some schoolboy. Those blank eyes of yours…why did he want them to light up? 

Why did he want to see your laugh? 

John wasn’t immature enough to not know his own feelings or attractions, but this was an entire section of its own. Blinking, the man grunts to himself and smirks. “Well, better make it last, then.” 

You feel your eyelids carefully pull in surprise. 

“I…” Your voice starts but dies off, swallowing saliva down as your mouth clacks shut with a connection of teeth. Closing your eyes, you steady your heart, which had suddenly created a concerning skip in its beats. 

John places the cigar back to his lips and takes a long drag, leaning out of the window to watch the smoke disappear into the twinkling lights. Lips peeling his beard hairs back.

—

As it turned out, the mission in Turkey wasn’t the only time you’d have to deal with John Price, and it certainly wasn’t the last time you’d see his face in front of yours. One mission turned into two—two into three and so on. You hadn’t exactly wanted it, but you found you couldn’t turn him down either. 

At whichever base you were stationed at, all of a sudden he’d just show up; standing on the tarmac with his arms crossed and that casual set to his shoulders. The first time you’d seen him after Turkey, you had half convinced yourself he was a mirage. And then he’d smirk at you and tilt his head and you’d have no control over your words. 

It was pathetic…disgusting…it was…it was…

You shake yourself back to the present when a bullet whizzes past your head, a sharp call from across the utter warzone you’d found yourself in the middle of.

“Tomb, what in the hell’s wrong with you?!” John’s voice is harsh, and you lock onto it. “Get your gun up!” 

You sigh, unperturbed. Peaking past the large crate you use as cover, your eyes glare at the enemy soldiers across the dock, fixing your finger’s position over your M4A1. The small unit you’d been dragged into by John was mostly dead—only four of you remaining from the ten.

It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. 

Jerking back, a splintering of wood explodes in front of you as the next fast piece of metal nearly takes your nose off. With a grit of your teeth, you flick your safety off and swivel your shoulders. 

Popping from the top of the crate, your sharp eyes lock onto the first visible body before you press your finger to the trigger with practiced ease as the word shrieks all around you. Recoil is eaten into the padded kevlar of the junction of your shoulder and arm. 

When you dart back, the body has yet to hit the ground. 

“There she is!” John calls, and you look forward with a steady stare as the brunette laughs from behind his own crate a few feet away. “Keep your head in the game, Tomb.”

You frown, normal facemask back over your chin hiding it. While you loathe to admit it, John had grown on you in these…what was it…? Months? Yes, that seemed about right.

Months of joint missions. You could hardly believe that he’d dragged you out like this.

“Tell the others to flank,” Your voice whisps over the line like smoke, “Left side—there’s a gap in the crates.”

John looks you in the eyes and blinks, eyelids twitching. With his beard covered in gunpowder, the man looks across the open space between the gunbattle to the left. Sure enough, right before he’s forced to snap back down to cover, the Captain spies a very well-hidden gap in the defenses.

He smiles viciously like a dog, and barks a laugh to you, nodding, “Good eye! Boys,” the two don’t pause their assault but call their questioning voices over the line. You don’t listen, occupied with giving off bursts of gunfire and trying to avoid the eyes of your fellow dead soldiers. Your lungs are compressed inside of your ribcage like prisoners. “Flank left. We’ll cover you!” 

“Sir!” Steadying your breath, you avoid John’s confused glances and scoff to yourself, resituating your clammy hands. 

When all’s said and done the four of you are the only ones left. Letting your gun sit on your chest you use the body as an armrest, allowing it to hang off the side from the trigger-guard. Your fingers twitch, and as John speaks to the two men, you stare silently at the gushing bodies of your fellows like phantoms spring from their chests.

John’s voice slows when he sees you apart from them, glancing at the soldiers at your feet before ordering the remaining men to get to the evac point. They try to argue everyone should be going together, and on all accounts, they’re completely right, but John won’t hear it. 

“Go—that’s an order.��� Reluctantly, the two glance at each other and speed off. 

You jolt at a call of your name, head turning to face stormy blue as they gaze at you with concern. Stopping a few feet away, John stands still and folds his arms, face going rigid with concern as he glances you over for wounds.

His head slightly leans in, chin down.

“...You alright?” Hand flinching, you clear your throat. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, fixing the position of your feet and forcing away the images of dead bodies and blank eyes. 

You’d seen scores of men dead before—friend and foe—but you had thought you’d never have to see more of your own fall. It had been a long time since you’d felt the distant lull of numb horror in the back of your brain; like some ocean wave that drowns you under every time it comes back. It always comes back. 

John narrows his eyes and frowns deeply, glancing around and hiding the slight way his right arm sags. 

“Tomb?” He says it so lowly that you really have to focus, ears straining. That gravel was back, and you found yourself latching onto it. “Eh, you just focus on me, yeah? I’m right ‘ere.” 

“I know,” you snap, eyes shuttering away only to find more vacant stares. You flinch back and look up into the sky; a sudden burn in your brain that you need to quell.

The man grows even more concerned with you, taking a step forward and clenching his jaw. He studies you, your shaking tension and the clench and loosening of your fists—attention always on you but roving to the dead men all around. Something clicks with a violent inhale.

John moves to you without a word and grasps you around the shoulders quickly. You gasp at that, immediate reaction to shove away, but only gape at the warmth that he brings you instead—the steady presence and chest to lean on. As the Brit drags you, you focus instead on calming your breathing. 

The Captain lightly shimmies down your facemask and you suck down tight air as you go limp into his side. 

“C’mon, Tomb. It’s alright. I’m here. I’m right here.” He’s muttering to you, disguising his pained grunts in favor of taking care of you. 

That strange affection for you had grown in your time together…not that he’d said anything. It was more proper of him to watch out from a distance, not sure of your own feelings or the probability of you gazing back at him with the same amount of concealed longing. Many a night he’d sat on his bed and wondered. Wondered how an animal so extraordinary and remarkable took the form of a woman with a black sphinx patch and sharp eyes. 

John had heard you laugh once through your expeditions together—sniping in Greenland. Once had been enough; if he never heard it again, he could still recall the pitch and frequency to the yawning of his soul. He didn’t need to hear it again. 

It was locked into the fabric that made up your skin and speech, and every time he stared at you he could find it in your eyes. 

The Captain puts you down near a crate around the corner, letting you lean into it as he turns and captures your neck from either side. You shake under him, blurry vision stuck to his dog tags as they wink against his chest. 

“Tomb,” John says again, and with a lick of your chapped lips, you carefully turn your head up. Blue eyes crease worriedly. The thumbs on the sides of your neck caress up and down your rapid pulse steadily; calluses creating stimuli. A small smile meets you. “There we are, atta girl. Focus.”

Tears dribble down your cheeks, and you flatten your lips, whispering out brokenly, “I said I don’t like teams.”

John’s heart breaks. 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” his hand captures the back of your head and you’re brought into a deep and firm embrace—gear pinching and prodding but neither of you care. 

When was the last time you’d been held like this? The feeling makes your mouth quiver, your face stuck into the junction of the Brit’s neck and shoulder.

“John…” You whimper out and his arms around you only tighten—his tense nose shoved into your scalp as his eyes closed tightly. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, heart racing, “I’m so, so, sorry.” 

You don’t know long he holds you there, the air filled with blood and death but just so soundly resting atop his vest and limp to his gentle swaying. The tears dry at some point, they always have to. Sniffling, your burning face takes in the scent of beard oil and gunpowder and you find yourself calmed by it.

Calmed by John. 

The man holding you waits a moment more before he slightly leans back, staring down at you intently; nervously. You lick at the tears drying into the line of your mouth to taste the saltiness on your tongue as fingers grasp at your chin. 

Angled up, your face is on full display. 

John sighs and the drowned keratin of your lashes flutters, embarrassment flooding you. His eyes crease before his hands come up to take away your sorrows with a soft brush of his digits. The man clears his throat tinily, voice deep with emotion.

“Better?” Your eyes dip away from his, knowing you’d been staring. 

“I…” Glancing over his right shoulder absentmindedly, you only get a word off before you see a fountain of red. Blinking away the last of your tears, John’s finger on your cheek stops moving as you freeze—stiff to the touch. 

His panic spikes again. 

“What’s going on—”

“When did you get hit?” Your voice is hard and laced with something you can’t name. Shaving back from John you frantically grab at his arm. In an instant, the Captain is whirled around and shoved back into the crate; he grunts loudly, eyes snapping wide.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He grumbles, but flinches when you peel at the bloodied layers of his compression shirt. John smirks, letting your touch rove him as your nose scrunches. He represses a shiver at the bite of your nails, whispering out, “If you wanted to throw me ‘round, Love…all you had to do was ask.” 

You blink rapidly and turn your fast gaze to his eyes as you stutter, fingers covered in blood and holding apart the fabric of his outfit to show a bullet graze to his pale upper bicep. John’s cheeky smirk grows and against all the pain and the dark corners, you feel a bubbling in your gut. 

A small chuckle snakes out, like twinkling bells. 

“Shut up,” your smile leaves him breathless, smirk falling to a small open-mouthed screen of obvious admiration. A hum marks the back of his throat, eyebrows loosely curving upon his forehead. 

You look over and find him like this—his gaze trapping you like his arms had. Like music, it takes you into its melody. Staring, your smile, gradually too, leaks out. 

“What are you doing?” Your question is breathy. "What is your fascination with me?" John’s eyes stick with you, the shining, shimmering, blue. There are tempests held there and if this man was anything, he was a storm of intentions and promises. 

“Looking,” John answers lowly. "Just looking." 

You take down a breath, “At what, John?”

He chuckles at you, face close and pleasant, “Y’know, I haven’t quite figured that one out yet, Love.” 

Blindly you wonder how the world can still turn while you both stand here—was it, even? How can life go on when such things are uttered to light? When they’re buried deep into your marrow like the dirt on top of a grave? 

How can the Reaper knock at your doorways when love exists in such quantity…in the fractures of his eyes? Only when his lips brush yours do you understand. 

It’s all here, and then it’s gone. Nothing can truly be as it was in the past, and therein lies the small, glorious, deaths. Both a blessing and a curse.

Your lips press deeply into one another and the blood of old wounds dries. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @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

[abbysbug]

streamer!ellie meeting streamer!reader

summary: ellie basically being a big gay loser mess around reader

a/n: i’ve been wanting to write about streamer!ellie more so here we are

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

• she loves to go to twitch con. always excited to meet other streamers. the one twitch con she's been so excited to go to is the one you're attending.

• she'd be posting a twitter:

@carpetmuncherwilliams guys in 2 days im about to meet the love of my life!! we're literally gonna get married n have children together :33

@elliewstinks replied is this about y/n?

@carpetmuncherwilliams replied whattt no ALSO LETS TALK ABOUT YOUR USERNAME?? I DONT STINK TF

@yngamez replied cute.

• ellie DIED when she saw your reply. the blush on her face was so embarrassing.

• the day of the convention she was so nervous for multiple reasons. 1) she was meeting you? 2) what if she fucks up in front of you? 3) what if you don't like her?

• there were so many overthinking thoughts in her mind but they were all washed away when she finally met you.

• "ellie! c'mere, sweet girl." you called out to her, holding your hand out for her to take.

• she quickly took your hand in hers, relishing the way your skin felt against hers.

• you were already talking to a group of people but the moment she came over, your attention was given to her and only her. the way you looked at her had ellie blushing like a fool.

• you both hit off well though. talking about random things and getting to know each other on a personal level.

• "so, you maybe wanna hang after this convention is over?" you asked

• before this moment, everything was going well for ellie. she hadn't said anything stupid or embarrassing, but, of course, she fucked up.

• "sure. what's your discord?"

• you giggled at her and shook your head, "i think asking for my number would be more romantic."

• the colour DRAINED from ellie's face. no way she just asked for a cute girls discord. is she really that much of a loser?

• you didn't seem to mind though. you thought it was funny and cute that ellie asked that.

��� when you departed ways, your number in ellie's phone, she was over the moon. of course she had to tell twitter about this.

@carpetmuncherwilliams i told you guys i had rizz. just got her number :p

@yngamez replied i wouldn't say your 'rizz' is immaculate as you did ask for my discord instead of my number, but ur cute so i'll let it slide

@buffjesse replied no fucking way you asked for her discord you fucking loser. god you are never gonna hear the end of this. just wait till i tell dina LMFAOOO

@carpetmuncherwilliams replied i hope u choke and die jesse

yeah, she was definitely a loser, but she was your loser.

[donatellawritings]

ahh hi tella!!! so happy that ur writing for obx :) i need to see how rafe would handle a latina sweeetheart 🎀 maybe she’s kie’s cousin? i just know he’d probably be such a cocky jerk ughhhhhh thx babe

omg i am blushing just thinking about this xo

you were laid on the warmed surface of your towel, leaning on your forearms as your sun kissed skin continued the drink in the intense rays, your white, cherry covered bikini clashing perfectly against your tanned complexion, you loved days at the beach, i mean, what better way to kill time, than to eat fresh fruits and listen to your favorite music, while taking in the stunning north carolina sun for all of its glory?

you continued to lay back, your sunglasses shielding your eyes as you hummed along to the amy winehouse song that flowed through your speakers. the sudden shadow that overtook your vision, now causing you to remove your sunglasses, your eyes squinted as you took in the sight of your cousin - kiara carrera.

your chest visibly rose and fell as you sighed, your squinted frown fading into a gleeful smile, “what’s up, kie?” you asked, your wispy eyelashes batting as she hastily dropped herself onto the sand beside you.

she quickly looked over her shoulder, rolling her eyes as she returned her attention back to you, her arm reaching over you stomach as she grabbed a red grape that sat in the sweaty sand-covered container that rested by your waist, “nothing, it’s just jj being — jj,” she sighed, popping the small fruit into her mouth.

you liked jj, platonically, of course.

“he seems nice,” you chirped, turning onto your stomach, the cherry decorated bikini bottoms that you wore, now wedged between the plush cheeks of your ass as it faced the warm sun.

kiara shrugs with a slight shake of her head, you could tell that she wanted to say more, but decided against it, the moment her eyes fell on your back.

your nails clashed against one another as you undid the knot that secured your bikini top, and concealed your perky breasts, eager to get as much of an even tan as possible, “why are you looking at me like that?” you questioned, reaching for a grape.

“i dunno — maybe it’s because you just undid your top?” kiara countered sarcastically.

you stuck out your tongue, placing the grape into your mouth, soft biting into the crispy fruit before resting the side of your cheek against the surface of your hand, “but, i hate tanlines,” you pouted with a laugh.

you and kiara were thick as thieves, and sure, the reasoning for why you had to live with your cousin wasn’t the most pleasant — but she loved having you around. you were raised as sisters, both of you holding the most intimate details about the other. and boy, did you both balance each other out well! you were bubbly and were quick to let anyone in, which served to be a detriment to you at times, nevertheless, you were a hopeless romantic who made it her business to find beauty in even the most mundane of things.

as you would say, you loved everything that was pretty. your blown-out hair was always shining, wispy eyelashes always curled immaculately, supple lips glazed in shimmery gloss, acrylic-enforced nails always painted in varying shades of pink or a simple french design. you loved wearing clothes that would show off your lower back and midriff - why? no rhyme or reason, you just like how it looked.

you had a heart of gold, wrapped in a bow, making it easy for those around you to be pulled into you and your dreamy ways.

it also made it just as easy for you to end up hurt and taken advantage of.

you and kiara remained engrossed in each other, laughter emitting from the both of you, “so, are you going to stay for the kegger or are we going home for dinner?” kie questioned, a smile remaining on her lips as she watched you try to tame your overwhelming fit of laughter.

you spoke with a giggle, “i don’t know, i promised tio that i’d help him with dinner, one of these days,” you whined, your innocent eyes searching kiara’s for any kind of pull towards your decision.

“okay, well we need to decide soon, before-” kiara began, her words ceasing as a large shadow suddenly towered over the two of you.

you straightened your neck, looking up through your lashes as the tall guy crouched down, your eyes following as he leveled with you. fuck, he was hot.

“shit, kie, y’didn’t tell me you had a secret hot sister,” the guy spoke, his bright blue eyes cutting into yours as swallowed thickly, your glossy lips now running dry.

you tried to remain as still as possible, your eyes widening at the realization that your bikini top was still untied.

“fuck off, rafe, she’s my cousin,” kiara scoffed with disgust.

you remained entranced by the guy, rafe, who kept his bright eyes on yours, a smirk tugging on his lips as he took a quick look over your shoulder, tilting his head at the sight of your untied top and barely-there bottoms.

“ah, cousin?” he asked mockingly, licking over his lips, “does this cousin of yours have a name?” he pushed, the glint of his chain peeking out from his crisp t-shirt now catching your eye.

you sweetly revealed your name, your oh-so slight accent spilling through as you subconsciously batted your pretty lashes up at rafe, “and you are,” you smiled, a toothy grin.

“rafe cameron,” he spoke sternly, ignoring kiara’s protests with a roll of his eyes as he leaned closer to you, until his lips reached your ear, “i’d shake your hand, but i wouldn’t want everyone at this beach to see what you got under there,” he cooed, his condescending tone like silk in your ears.

you couldn’t help but blush like a schoolgirl, much to your cousin’s dismay.

rafe decided to make push just a little bit more, “may i?” he spoke rhetorically, his large hands sliding down your shoulder blades.

“rafe, what the fu-”

you remained still, refusing to make eye contact with kiara as rafe tied the strings of your bikini top into a secure knot, “relax, kie - m’just making her decent,” he pulled away, standing firmly of his feet.

you’d be lying, if you said that you rafe’s hands against your warmed skin didn’t excite you. his touch was oddly tantalizing for you as you were forced to ignore the subtle ache that pulsed between your legs.

you pushed yourself off of your front, now standing directly across from rafe, his eyes shamelessly drinking in the sight of your chest as he was especially intrigued by the tan line that was revealed by the shifted cup of your bikini top.

“thank you, rafe” you spoke softly, holding out your hand as you took in the staggering height difference between you and the man before you, his buzz cut hair causing you to bashfully bite down into the sticky swell of your bottom lip.

rafe accepted your hand, the sound of his name rolling off of your tongue causing blood to rush to his length as he let out a dry chuckle, enclosing his fingers around your hand, watching closely as your breath slightly hitched from his subtle grip on your hand. you two remained like this for a beat as rafe sized you up — he could smell just how genuine and sweet you were, his mind carelessly wandering to how you’d look under him, taking him for all he has. you were much smaller than him, and it ticked a region in his tainted mind that suddenly ached to have you around in any way possible.

the sudden cut of a deep voice calling out didn’t even faze rafe as his lips curved into a smile, “yo! rafe, i’ve been looking everywhere for you man,” a taller blond guy appeared beside rafe.

rafe softly released your hand, before wiping the corners of his mouth with his index finger and thumb, exhaling sharply as he faced the blond, “well, top, i’ve been busy catchin’ up with good ol’ kie, and her pretty little cousin that’s she’s been hiding from us.”

the taller blond glanced at you, he was quicker to size you up, before redirecting rafe back into his original conversation. kiara softly grabbed your arm, carrying your speaker and container of grapes.

“let’s go home,” she nudged her head towards the street, completely privy to how dumbstruck rafe had made you. she could tell that you liked it and refused to ever allow rafe to get his hands on you.

at least, not when she was around.

“oh, okay,” you mumbled defeatedly, reaching down to grab your towel from the sand, quickly turning to face rafe who watched intently as you walked away.

“bye,” you mouthed with a small wave, before turning around to catch up with your feverish cousin.

rafe continued to feign interest in whatever the fuck topper was talking about, his eyes set on your body as you walked farther and father away from him. god, he loved the way your ass bounced with each step you took. in his fucked mind, he knew that kiara was right to keep you hidden, but now since you weren’t hidden, at least not from him, he knew that it would only be a matter of time before you were his, and his only.

of course, you being such a willing sweetheart made it all the more easier for him.

[prettyboykatsuki]

oliver talking his partner through it and calling him d**** god your brain is so huge my stomach hurts thinking about this. he’ll never tell you he loves you to your face and tries to fuck you more like he hates you because he doesn’t want to get too attached but as you’re getting close he’s all in your face and your neck, teasing you, biting your ear and softly begging you to tell him how you feel, how it’ll be better for him if you tell d**** just how close you are and how much you need him. takes you over the crest so sweetly, and continues rolling into you, chasing his own. his kisses are nonstop and so overwhelming, and he knows they are but he just really needs to connect with you like this. never the first to say “i love you” but unfortunately (in his opinion) he expresses it in so many other ways. sorry.

but i crumble completely when you cry | a. oliver

✮ tags ; DADDY KINK, afab + fem!reader, situationship!oliver, hooking up, unresolved romantic tension, p in v, praise, soft sex, it gets emotionally strange, riding, creampies, unprotected sex, under-negotiated kink in a sense though oliver is very careful

✮ wc ; 2.2k (i dont want to talk about it)

✮ a/n ; anon im going to haunt your dreams for putting this absurd image into my head when i dont even go here im crying screaming throwing up ive been thinking about it for hours. hours of my life wasted on this guys dick. upsetting!!!!!

also i do not write this often and do not plan too again any time soon so if ur seeing this and thinking about following me for content like it i would not recommend!!!

✮ synopsis ; you don't trust oliver with your heart or your feelings. nor do you expect anything from him.

but it's hard not to lean into him when he decides to cradle you so gently.

Your relationship with Oliver is both very ambiguous and very clear.

There's a line drawn, and you both steer clear of crossing it in your interactions. Oliver is fun. He's attractive and charming, a massive flirt but just genuine enough to be interesting.

It helps that he's hot. Physically, he's got an unreal build.

He's an athlete, so he's big. Wide chest and strong arms, thick thighs and the height to top it off. He's 6'3, and he's sexy (and his dick is huge) - and you sleep with him because of that. You don't date him explicitly because he's a womanizer. If you'd met when you were a little younger, a little more naive - you might've tried to dog-train him into being your boyfriend.

Because on top of the immaculate dick, he's fun to be around. He's funny, he drinks well, he's not a scumbag in the ways that turn you off.

You're old enough to know better. You have a career. You're too busy, and too jaded about love to try and fix whatever weird shit he has going on. So even if the two of you harbor some sort of emotional or romantic feelings for each other, you're smart enough to not get invested in those feelings and smart enough to have no expectations.

Oliver is your fun. He's your sneaky link, your weekend off. You come to him to blow off steam. You have rough, fast sex and it's good. Sometimes you chill afterwards, and you'll indulge each other in some physical affection but other times you take your shower and leave. It's a good time, and you know well enough not to ever ask him for any of your emotional needs. You have your therapist and girl friends for that.

Normally, when you're having a rough week - it's prime time to go to him. He'll fuck you a little harder than usual, and sometimes he's nice enough to kiss it better. But it's still, very distinctly, never crossing that boundary.

But some weeks, like this week - shit is bad. Not just stressful bad, but everything in the fucking world that could go wrong, is going wrong bad. It's not the kind of thing you can get over by compartmentalizing and even when you try to do your usual thing it doesn't really work.

You're trying right now - to get over the fucked up week you had. And you're turned on, but somehow - it's still not enough to get you completely out of it.

Oliver pauses mid stroke, in missionary - hetero-chromatic eyes staring you down as your thoughts are somewhere else completely. You don't notice the first time he stops, or the first time he calls you.

And he only gets your attention by cupping your face and making you look at him. You startle as you cast your glance his way.

"What's with you?" He asks, though he's not pissed or anything "Not feelin' it? Want me to stop?"

"No, you don't have too."

"Not what I asked," He chastises, letting go of your face "Not having your full attention is making me go soft,"

This makes you laugh, and Oliver cracks a smile seeing the tension melt off your face if only slightly.

"I'm cool with stopping." He assures. You let your hand reach up to his shoulder.

"It's not like I want to stop, necessarily? Like I wanna do something to get my mind off it and sex feels like the best option, but you know how it goes sometimes," You say, trying your best to avoid the emotional baggage of your words "We can stop though. I'll pay you for your wasted time," You tack the joke on at the end to ease the tension.

You're expecting him to pull out and stop, or maybe challenge himself into fucking you so good that you forget. Something more quintessentially Oliver than what he does do.

He gives you a blank look first, than a laugh that is a touch too sincere for you to be comfortable "That bad of a week?"

You're suddenly in dangerous territory. Somehow, this strange intimacy makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You swallow thickly, the emotions coming over you so quick you end up looking away.

"Yeah. You know. It's fine, but you know."

"Mm," He says. He leans into your space. His breath is warm and his stubble tickles your skin as he whispers in your ear. You feel your breath hitch. And the air feels heavy "Wanna try somethin' else?"

"Like what?"

"A surprise," He says first, and find your stomach tightening. A hollowness in your nerves "Gotta trust me."

"You're scaring me." You joke.

"I'm a sex expert, you know?" Oliver says, humming against your skin "If I can't remedy your little problem with my dick, it's bad for my street cred. My yelp reviews will tank."

"You're such a dumbass."

"Do you trust me?"

You don't know how to answer. Yes, for the most part. Not with everything, but with your pleasure at least. Whatever this is, it doesn't feel the same. But you say yes, anyways. Oliver kisses your jaw in reply, then he pulls out.

He flips position easily. He ends up on his back, then he grabs you to rest on top of him. You're not sure what you're expecting. He holds you by your hips as your sex hovers over his cock. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin as he sinks you down slowly onto him.

You only stare at him, mouth opening as you feel him stretch you open for a second time.

You're more aware of it this way. He's so thick, and so intrusive - and normally, you're feeling that in hard strokes. Fast and rough, like something knocking into your cervix. But like this, he's hitting a deep angle. You can feel every curve, every inch, as you come down slowly.

He keeps you there. For longer than you'd expect. Just keeps you, settles you, holds you gently. You stare at him as he grabs your hand, locking your fingers. Your first instinct is to panic, or crack a joke - but there's an intense look in his eye that shuts you up.

Uncharacteristically gentle, you find yourself frightened. Oliver's hands reach for you again. They hold your waist and slide up the planes of your body. He holds your tits in his palms and squeezes.

He does this a lot, but there's not usually this much touching. This much foreplay. It's grabby, a deeper pressure. He doesn't...feel you, in the way he is now. You stare at him, and he looks back at you so fondly you feel a strange urge to pretend it never happened.

"Play with your clit," He says, though there's no urgency in his voice.

Deep and smooth, the timbre in it has you shaking. You listen, on auto-pilot as you play with yourself clumsily and build a slow pressure. He just watches.

"C'mere, baby. And don't stop touching yourself."

Another pause. It's not the first time he's called you that. He likes to call you all sorts of things when you're fucking, and baby is one of the few. But not like that. Not like this. He gives you a lazy, self satisfied smile and encourages you by placing a hand on where he can reach on your low back.

You lean down, and Oliver tucks you into his chest. He's warm, and strong - and smells so good, like musk and cologne. Your free hand is on his chest, as he grips your hips and fucks up into you.

"That's it," His voice is pleasant to your ears. It feels funny to you "Just gotta listen to me."

He starts fucking you slowly. It's a familiar feeling, a pleasant stretch that dulls into a euphoric fullness. But it's never been this slow before. Each thrust is slow, and punctual, and so deep you feel yourself gasping. It's not enough to push you over the edge, but it's enough to make your mind feel a little numb.

You think he's going to keep at you like this, maybe edge you to take you out of it. But he doesn't. He keeps his pace.

"Had a hard time this week, didn't you, tough girl?" He mumbles, so low it doesn't feel real. You feel your heart start to race. You feel your throat start to close around something, choking "Did a good job and came to me. Gonna let me take care of it?"

You stumble. You aren't sure what to say, you nod and hope he feels it. He laughs a little. You can't be sure if you're fucking Oliver or not.

You know it's him but he's never been like this. Not once. Not ever.

"Gonna let daddy take care of you?" He says, though it's tentative. Your breath hitches. Something strange overwhelms your senses "Tell me, baby."

"Uhm," Your first reaction is a sense of resistance, an immediate pull away. Not that you hate it but you aren't sure how to adjust. You squirm, but you don't tell him no. You feel like you can't in this state "Uh-uh,"

He keeps surprising you, pressing his lips to yours where you hover over him, tender as he ups the pace of his thrusts.

"That's what I like to hear," He almost sounds proud "You'll hurt your head if you think too much. And I'd be a bad daddy, letting that happen, yeah?"

A vulnerable, foreign sensation drives you to speak "You're not bad in that way."

He laughs "Just in other ways, right?"

You giggle "Uh-huh."

"But not in this one," He repeats, very carefully. He fucks into you harder now, pays extra special attention to you. It's all for you, is what he's saying in a language completely foreign yet somehow so known. One only the two of you will ever know fully, confined in the four walls of this room "Daddy is good at taking care of you like this, so you should let him do just that. Tough girls always need their daddies, hm?"

It's what ends up tipping you up over the edge. You cling to him, succumbing to whatever weird space the two of you have fallen into you. Suspended in this odd sense of comfort that Oliver has thrust you in unannounced.

You don't trust Oliver with a lot, and this is more than what you should ever find yourself giving. In the back of your head you think you should pull away.

But he's comforting. It feels good, and strangely feels safe - and even for all the ways he's awful, you trust he'd never do anything bad to you. Even if it's a blip in the timeline, for now it's what you need. A blurry cross into your emotional needs that translate into your physical ones. Too much and so overwhelming, you hug closer to him and take a deep breath.

"Mm," You let yourself lean into him. Just this once, you promise yourself. "I wanna cum."

"Want it a little harder?"

"Mhm,"

"Then Daddy will give it to you a little harder, yeah? Anything for you." He says, and you try not to think to deeply on what that really means. Because even in this state you know it's not nothing, but you should never pry "Daddy can give you anything you want."

"Yeah?"

He chuckles a little as he fucks into you hard. Fucks into you how you need. You're wet enough, and wondering if you were always so into being doted on. Or if it's just the fact that it's Oliver. Another thing you decide to overlook as you zero in on the sensation of being pistoned from underneath. You're soaking. The room noisy with the sticky noise of Olivers cock penetrating you over and over, skin hitting skin as his hips press against your ass. His grip is bruising but not intentionally, his chest huffed in pleasure.

He's just as close as you are, you know all of his cues. You play with your clit faster, sensitive bud throbbing hard as all the blood rushes south. Your mouth has fallen open as the slow, thick desire coiling and culminating into something cosmic. Something big and heavy, but not too fast. Not a crash landing like you're used to.

But a single weight, the force of a star dropping to Earth. You figure Oliver is the gravity in your universe, holding you down so you don't float too far. You want to cling onto him for much longer.

And somehow, you're inclined to think he would let you.

"Oliver," You say his name as it builds, then decide on something else "Daddy,"

"I'm here, baby," He says back, like it's all he has to say for everything to make sense when nothing about this does "I'm right here. Let go."

So you do. You cum hard, and it comes in long never ending waves. Too much. It makes you collapse in Olivers arms, both arms coming around his neck as he continues to fuck you through the aftermath.

"Gonna," He voices, rasping as his thrusts become sloppy "Shit. Cumming, shit."

He cums with you, cums deep inside like usual and you mewl at the feeling of being filled with hot, sticky seed.

When it's over, you're almost afraid to look at him. When the tensions settled, and his chest goes back to it's steady breaths - you wonder whats going to happen next.

"Wanna stay like this for a while?"

You nod.

"Mm. Sleepy."

"Stay like this, then. I'll wake you in a little."

"So you can kick me out?" You joke, trying to pretend nothing is different. He pauses.

"Just to shower," He whispers, hand resting on your lower back "Sleep."

There's too much to think about. Tomorrow will be strange. You let yourself succumb to your own exhaustion.

"Okay."

[moshpitgamma]

pls write a john dory nsfw headcanons / fic if u can !!! <3 love ur writing!

Sureeee I’m so sorry for taking so long😭

John Dory x Reader||NSFW Headcannons

Warning:sexual themes——————————

🚎He is at least 7.5 inches and is a grower more than a shower.

🚎John cums a lot. I mean he’s literally a bussing waterfall.

🚎He doesn’t like to be quiet during sex so prepare for little compliments, jokes, and loud, deep and rugged moans.

🚎When y’all fuck Rhonda rocks👀

🚎(Act like they have phones in this)If you send a spicy pic to him with your location, this man if full sprinting to it. He’s there in about 5 minutes.

🚎His kinks are spanking, bdsm, edging, and food play. Y’all can’t tell me he isn’t the type of man to put whip cream on his body and let you lick it or vice versa.

🚎Will sneak up behind you if you’re bending over and just rub his hard bulge on your ass.

🚎Loves when you sit on his lap. It usually ends in a hot makeout session with you doing cowgirl.

🚎He is a totally ass and thigh man. I also headcannon he like bigger people and just loves to leave hickeys and love bites on their thighs.

🚎He loves to take risks, so if you wanna have sex in a crowded place, he’s there holding you up in the corner with his hand over your mouth to muffle the slutty sounds coming from you.

🚎John can last about 3-4 rounds. If you’re up for more he’s just letting you overstimulate him.

🚎He is 100% a top but bottoms out when he’s tired.

🚎Morning sex is a MUST. He’s just rubbing you through your panties/boxers while you’re still sleep just to hear your sleepy moans.

🚎He loves to have unserious sex but if the mood is DEEP, he’s stuffing you and making this experience as loving and serious and possible.

🚎Since he’s been in Rhonda for 20 years not having to worry about his growth down there. He’s hairy and doesn’t really shave or maintain his hair until you say something. If you don’t then you’re fucking a beast.

🚎loves to mark you and makes you wear clothes that show them. He will even ask you to do the same to him and he’ll show it with pride.

🚎If y’all met in his band days, he would take his anger out on you and angry sex with him would just make you immobile and shaking with pleasure.

🚎His biggest turn ons are you wearing his clothes, doing things for him, or you literally scolding or yelling. (He loves a feisty s/o)

🚎If you pull his hair while he’s giving head, he’s going max speed and has an adrenaline boost right then and there cause he’s making his s/o feel good

🚎His aftercare is IMMACULATE. He will fix you a snack, give you some water, and run you a bath. Once you’re taken care of, he’s knocked out like a light right on top of you.

THE ENDDD😘😘😘 (Do y’all actually enjoy my content?)😲🥺

[hoshinasblade]

Hi I love ur Hoshina fics sm!

Anyway you were asking for headcanons last time, do you think our Hoshina sends dick pics to his s/o? I'm not sure if you write nsfw but it will be fun to read if ever! Thanks x

HAHAHA anon, this is so interesting. minors, please don't interact with this one.

honestly i dont think hoshina is above sending thirst traps - he would be the type to send you a picture of him topless while still sweaty after his workout, and he'll probably throw a peace sign or two and tell you that he's just tryna be cute. liar liar, pants on fire. he gets his kicks on knowing he can fluster you with that. im a bit hesitant on dick pics though, and it's not because i think hoshina is a prude - hell no - but i think it's because he was never able to get a good angle ever so he doesn't think it's sexy enough for you to look at. and let's be honest, if he's gonna send you a picture of his immaculate junk, he would rather go to you and show it personally. im assuming he's got more privileges and therefore freedom so he can roam around even after-hours or get out of the base when he's not that needed.

one nsfw headcanon i have for this guy though is that though he never sends dick pics, he excels at moaning audios. his voice would be deep and husky from both sleepiness and lust, and he would just sound really, really hot. you mentioned to him once that you liked him dirty talking during sex and it activated a switch in his brain that you can't turn back off. he had definitely sent you multiple voice messages where you can hear him moan while he's touching himself. you overheated the first time you listened to it.

also yes, i have some nsfw prompts lined up, just gotta look for some momentum and chance to write. i know i yap a lot here but i also work full-time so that makes writing a bit hard for me since my process takes longer than i sometimes intend it to be. it's always worth it though hehe i like writing for hoshina. if you have a specific nsfw scenario you want me to write about, feel free to let me know and i can possibly whip up even a drabble or a one-shot for you.

[nyxi-pixie]

Hiiiii.

Sorry to bother you, I wanted to know if you had any fic recs? Your writing is so good and your tastes are immaculate, and I am starving for any kind of good content. Please?

its not possible to bother me love dw <3

NOW. i dont actually read all that much anymore bc i am horrendously picky but this does give me an excuse to hype up the few authors that have satisfied my unreasonably specific tastes 🤩.

so. a few bsd recs for you (except theyre 99% skk because im horribly predictable forever). everyone go read all of these and tell the authors how wonderful they are in the comments please <3

anything @booksandpaperss has ever written is genius work and everyone should read it. could talk abt all of their stuff for hours (and i have🤩 they put up w so much of me bothering them godbless). also our brains do some accidental crazy mind melding shit whenever either of us write fic so if you like any of my stuff you will like theirs. thats the rules. <3

like twin stars in the dark (we collide)- dead apple skk porn as a vehicle for 22skk analysis. makes me salivate i have read it so many times. they get 22skk better than anyone🙏

my lies are for you to keep (my love for you to lose) - the only take on beastskk that matters to me ever. you can actually see me losing my mind in the comment i wrote on this fic bc of how fucking insane every single line made me. theres SO much packed into this thing its fucking crazy i NEEEEED everyone to read it. thats all <3

till death, I'll give you my breath - dazai death timeloop. this fic terrifies me so much i await every update with my teeth chattering and my heart pulsing so rapidly i should be hospitalised. the first scene of chapter 2 genuinely had me on the verge of tears im unwell about it.

(elli also has some jjk stuff thats REALLYREALLY good and if ur into jjk u should check that out too.)

NOW. aside from being a propaganda machine for my fav writer ever. Heres some other stuff i love.

the second perspective by @wildflowerteas. murder mystery/detective noir stuff w some time fuckery. the au of all time. mashes aspects of beast, canon, and some extra special niko sauce into a mixing bowl and goes crazy w it. just Such a genuinely impressive piece of writing. i could talk abt the technical brilliance of it for hours but i will stop myself. you gotta commit to this thing because it WILL make u crazy. also i loveee the sskk. its like if we had the beast first meeting sskk forever. SOSO GOOD!!!!

did fate guide the gun or did you? by @kanetheo. i read this pretty soon after chapter 109 and it genuinely fried my brain for months. the writing style is beautiful (as for everything they write AUGHH!!!) and the angst is delectable. the way it intersperses more fun silly skk moments with just. complete misery. GOD. it just hits. ive reread it quite a few times and it never fails to make me go crazy. srsly cannot rec this enough.

the decomposition of dazai osamu by @hella1975 this shot several bullets through my brain and i still havent recovered. i keep thinking 'oh i should reread that' and then i dont bc some part of my brain still concerns itself w maintaining whats left of my sanity. BUT its crazy good and everyone should read it and suffer at least once. EVERYONE LOVES YOU OSAMU!!!! EVERYONE EATS YOU!!! line of all time lets all kill ourselves.

smoke held conversations by feralrookie - i havent reread this in a while but it does cool stuff with nlh and the skkisms are really good in this too. ppl often write teen chuuya as less intelligent than he actually is. hes very observant, esp of dazai, and this fic gave me that 🙏

i called your name til the fever broke by forest_raccoon - vampire chuuya. biting is involved. i blacked out reading it. enough said.

[planetkiimchi-rbs]

You deliver your answer to your knees.

alright that's it. there is no better way to phrase this than this sentence right here.

"i did a thing." or, hyunjin needs an expert opinion about his newest piercing.

words・1.4k / pairing・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader / genres・fluff, established relationship / author's note・takes place in the same universe as places, places! and crying lightning but can be read on its own. @astraystayyh your children are back :’)

The parlor door jingles. Hyunjin emerges onto the chilled pavement with his phone pressed to his ear, and you pick up on the fourth ring.

“What is it? I’m busy.” The way your voice shrinks substantiates this claim, like you’ve darted to the other end of the room promptly after accepting his call. “And you’re on speaker.”

Hyunjin ducks into his car and sits back against the nylon with a grateful sigh. He finds himself constantly ill-prepared for Seoul’s Januarys. “Busy with who? Remind me.”

“You wanna say hi?” You ask the person in your company. Who is it? He hears them ask, to which you answer: Hyunjin. You say it softly, in the sense that you’re far away and speaking under your breath, but softly, in the sense that your tongue caresses every syllable of his name with that tacit fondness he’ll never tire of.

He notices the ditzy smile on his face only when he glances into his rear-view. He’s long given up on wiping it off.

A familiar voice drifts into your receiver. “Mr. Hwang!”

Ah, that’s right—you’re working on Aespa’s new music video for the next two weeks. Today must be the first day of filming.

“Hey, Ningning! How are you?”

“In a predicament, honestly. I have the biggest crush on my stylist, but so does this other guy…”

“Damn, sounds tough. Best of luck.”

“Oh, I won’t need luck. I said predicament, not competition.” 

His jaw hits his wheel. “Okay, we’re boxing. Let’s go. Earrings off.”

“Say less!"

You’ve withstood enough. “Alright, nobody is boxing anyone—do not touch your earrings, Ning, what’s wrong with you? God, Hyunjin!”

Now you say his name sternly, hopelessly, like he’s just knocked ten years off your lifespan. He almost likes this version more. He fell in love with you listening to it, after all.

“Did you call for any reason aside from threatening my clients?”

Oh, right. He did.

Hyunjin glances into the rear-view again, intentionally this time. He moves aside a lock of maroon hair to review the silver studs glinting off his right eyebrow.

He smirks.

“Am I allowed on set?”

Half an hour later, Hyunjin reaches the filming site and runs into a few staff members who are so surprised to see him they nearly forget to question what he’s doing there.

But they do their job, and he humors them, utters your name and the word “boyfriend” back to back. Then he watches their eyebrows disappear into their hairlines and basically prances into the dressing rooms.

He loves that everyone knows you. He loves that everyone knows that he loves you.

You were out of bed before he opened his eyes this morning, and he blooms at his first sight of you today, alone in the lounge, curled up on the couch and browsing through your phone. Eyeshadow stains your fingers and a pen sits behind the cuff of your ear. Your figure is framed in a (his) white cardigan with a red heart stitched over its left lapel. So professional, so pretty, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he uses his words instead.

“I did a thing,” he says, plopping onto the cushion next to you.

You look at him, shut off your phone. “I figured.”

“Promise me you won’t get mad.”

“No.”

It was worth a shot. “Can you blink, at least? You’re scaring me.”

In turn, you stretch open your eyes and hold them there. “A blink would be more than you deserve right now.”

Insufferable. He unleashes a bashful laugh and singular clap and looks back at you just in time to see a matching smile on your cordate lips. And to see you blink.

“Seriously, though, no more suspense,” you plead. “What on earth did you do? Should I be worried?” 

You tuck your hand around his bicep and tug lightly at his arm, and his insides pirouette at the gesture.

“No, no,” he answers, letting you pull him close, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I was being dramatic. It’s nothing, really.”

You catch him as he’s trying to leave. A light finger hooks beneath his chin, an anchor to keep his face a mere few inches away from yours.

You look him in the right eye, then in the left, your expression stoic, scrutinizing. He doesn’t remember where he looks, in the meantime. He’s slipping and sliding out of his right mind, drinking in your long lashes and curved cheeks, wondering what heroic deed he performed in his last life to be able to study beauty in such proximity in this one.

“It’s not nothing, is it?” You query, tracing the tip of your pointer finger over Hyunjin’s cupid’s bow.

“No,” he exhales. “It’s not nothing.”

“Did you get it on your face?”

Of course you already know.

He nods, and the finger moves to his lower lip, gently indenting the glossy plush. 

“Hot or cold?” 

“Cold.”

The finger runs over the bridge of his nose, then the perimeter of its prominence, like the drag of a feather. 

“Warmer.”

You lift a brow, give the side of his face a small nudge, and say, turn. The word comes out in a very stylist-esque manner, and you and Hyunjin realize this at the same time, judging by the synchrony of your quiet chuckles.

“Force of habit,” you murmur, and move his hair out of the way and lean in to examine his ear. Nothing new there. He turns his face the other way before you have to ask. Nothing new there, either.

When he looks at you again, your gaze has locked onto his eyebrows. You cock your head slightly to one side as it dawns on you what he’s done.

“Warmer,” he offers anyways, his smile small, his pulse rapid.

With a flourish of movement, you push his purple locks all the way off his forehead. Hyunjin holds his breath. Your expression goes blank. 

But it’s not blank, not really. One just has to know where to look. (He does.)

Your eyes darken fast as if caught in a solar eclipse, your pupils doubling in size, your irises quivering slightly. Your mouth opens, then closes, then purses into a thin line as if suppressing something explosive. Your cheeks blush at their very outskirts, along the edges of your face and the slants of your cheekbones, like how the first rays of sunlight always skim the mountaintops first.

He hardly notices the finger you bring to brush over the studs, so carefully he doesn’t feel the contact.

He’s too busy basking in his victory.

Neither of you say anything for a long while. You lean back, then right, then left, your hand pinned to his hairline, your gaze superglued to his brow. He simply sits still, feeling like one of your French girls, simpering, simping.

“You really did it,” you finally say.

“I did,” he chirps. “Any notes?”

At the next part of your lips, your waiting smile overtakes them at long last. You duck your head to conceal it like he hasn’t already melted at its mere image. You deliver your answer to your knees.

“No?” He repeats incredulously, teasingly. “That’s a shame. I really could’ve used an expert opinion.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to tug at your sockets. His boyish grin wipes away your feigned irritation like warm cotton.

“Fine,” you grouse. “Look at me.”

He does. You look back.

“It's nice," you deadpan.

Your resolve wobbles.

"Complements your face…shape.”

The ‘p’ sound pops, and you lose your shit.

The sun fully risen now, you bury your burning face into your hands, your shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Meanwhile, the raucous cackle that leaves Hyunjin’s lips causes the intern hurrying past the lounge outside to jump so high he actually lets go of his coffee cups before snatching them back out of the air with a relieved groan. He doesn’t get paid enough. 

You think you’re getting paid too much. 

“I love it, Hyun,” you whisper. “You’re beautiful. I don’t tell you that enough."

His heart beats so rapidly he thinks it might take off into a sprint; his laugh dwindles into a ditzy smile, one he’s long given up on wiping off.

“You know nothing about that word,” he replies, softly.

You bring your lips to his. His fingers wrap around the crook of your elbow. Yours begin curled in the silken hair at the back of his head. The pen behind your ear falls into the cracks of the couch.

“I’m still mad at you,” you sigh against his mouth, your own statement debunked by the inevitable drift of your touch back to the metal lodged in his face.

He doesn’t need to call you out. You do it yourself: “Ugh. I’ll be mad at you later.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8

© forlix (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[ghost-bxrd]

The Mer series Jay, Dick and Bruce are just so chefs kiss, I'm going to probably weep abt the doomed romance and tragedy,,, it's going to be lovely<33 the writing for that series is immaculately gorgeous 😭💞 just came across ur acc on ao3 6 hrs ago and I'm a losing it

+ JAY IS GOING TO BE SO HUGE GOODNESS GRACIOUS, SJSJSJSKEKWKWK JUST GINORMOUS, GARGANTUAN 😭😭😭 I just can't stop thinking about it, I know family dynamics and everything will be fucked after some time (sobbing abt it)

But. He's just. BIG. It's so funny, he's so baby in my mind,,,,, but biggest creature ever,,, need to give him a smooch on the cheeks <333 also just imagined a very teeny damian or tim near him and it's 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

loving how so many folks instantly wanted to toss selkie Jason at him in the earlier asks. We all have the same brain 😘 we should especially throw Robin selkie jay at like... adult leviathan him. tiniest little white coloured BABY. HE WON'T DIE... ROBIN JAY, U ARE POWERFUL, I TRUST U.

MAKE JASON ADOPT HIMSELF 2024 ROBIN JAY DOES THE ADOPTING

side note, love ur creativity and just everything that you put in ur aus they're so full of love muah muah

thank you I’m really happy you’re enjoying the au! 💚 “To Those Willing To Drown” is definitely gonna be an experiment on how many salt/drowning/abyss metaphors I can fit into that bad boy along with all the doomed love vibes ksksksks

And it’s still going to be a short while until we see our big leviathan Jay, but yesssss, ginormous (eldritch) fish boy is gonna wreck shit! (Tim’s gotta watch out… and Dami, if he exists. Calvin is a lost cause as we know sorry sweetheart)

[vivalarevolution]

𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓦𝓸𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓼

Robb Stark x Reader x Jon Snow

Request: „I love ur writing and I wondering if you could write a robb stark x reader x jon snow where they’re fighting over a winter fella new maid or smth, tysm!‟

A/N: A request from anon. I won't lie, despite the little information I was very inspired by this idea. I hope all of you will enjoy reading it. Please remember that english is not my native language, mistakes may or will occur.

Additionally, work contains smut, minors do not interact.

They had never seen her before, and perhaps that was why their curiosity about her was so unbridled. They couldn't explain it, but from the moment they laid their eyes on her they had to touch her, they had to feel her, they had to taste her.

-You feel so good around me - the man murmured directly into her ear, biting its lobe.

Woman only moaned quietly, resisting her forehead on a cold stone wall. Her body trembled with the intense pleasure that flowed through her veins. Her legs almost gave up under her , if not for a strong hand that tightened on her hip, giving her goosebumps.

-Robb...no...we can't - she said, closing her eyes and parting her mouth when his member hit her insides mercilessly.

Man muttered in response before placing his free hand around her slender neck, squeezing gently to remind her of the wolf behind her devouring her piece by piece.

-Your soft lips say something different from your body - the brunette noticed after a while attacking her bare arms with wet kisses and rough bites - You want me like I want you. So let your big wolf devour you - he growled close to her ear, kissing her cervix harder with each word he spoke.

Y/n gave a silent scream. Her eyes closed tightly, and her hands tightened into fists. She was so close, she felt it. Her release was like a wave at sea. The water went back, just to hit the coastal stones firmly, playing with her. And Robb, Robb was the ruler of this sea.

-So close... please Robb! - she whimpered desperately, looking at him with eyes clouded with lust.

-I know, little lamb. I know - the young man murmured, abusing all the right places inside her with strong and aggressive movements that took her breath away with each successive stroke of his hips - Let go, let me feel you.

His words were the key that opened the golden gate leading straight to a sweet pleasure so good it was almost forbidden.

Her eyes closed, and a wave of pleasure passed through her, spreading everywhere in her body. From the top of her head to the tips of her fingers. It felt as if time had stopped and the sound around them ceased to exist.

-Good little lamb - said Robb, lazily kissing her neck - Now let the wolf fill you up.

-Yes, yes - she whimpered, opening her mouth wide and frowning as she felt another orgasm coming toward her, so fast and unnoticed it almost hurt - Please, I want to be full!

Y/n moaned softly, feeling the sudden warmth that poured from her insides, right between her thighs. With her hand, she sluggishly grabbed the brunette's neck, pulling him to herself, connecting their lips in a slow kiss.

Every next touch, every kiss, every sigh. Everything was more intimate, more sensual... more forbidden and dangerous.

The slightest sound from the end of the corridor startled her like a doe that was being hunted. Fleeing before a predator could spot her ,before Robb could've grab her in his claws again, feasting a little longer.

First she heard their voices, then felt their burning eyes on her skin. Yet her movements remained the same, composed, calm. While the two wolves watched her, no matter how far away she was from them.

-I see the way you're looking at her - Robb confessed in a hard controlled voice- You're my brother, but she's not yours...never will be.

Jon stopped staring at his beautiful Y/n, resembling a doe in her delicacy, reluctantly letting her immaculate, ruddy face escape his view.

-She's a free woman - bastard remarked, fixing his cold gaze on him - She can choose whoever she wants - he remarked, noticing in the corner of his eye how her gaze involuntarily wandered in their direction, watching them from a distance, trying so desperately to hear what they were talking about.

-And you believe she'll choose you? - Stark asked, unable to stop staring at the woman who had beguiled his senses and soul.

-If she would choose me - said the black-haired man, stopping for a moment - I would let her. I would let her do whatever she wanted because I couldn't tell her no. Never.

Robb clenched his hand into a fist, his face hardened into an indifferent expression. He wanted to be controlled, understanding. But still the blood of the north flowed in his veins, the blood of the wolf. And his dark, primitive side knew, knew that the moment he laid his eyes on the woman, she became his, only his.

Before the eldest son of the Lord of Winterfell could speak, Y/n caught his attention again. Just like the night before, she ran away suddenly, unexpectedly, as if something spooked her before she saw it.

He wanted to know what, but when he looked back, she was gone. Just like Jon.

She thought she had run away. She should be smarter.

Within seconds she was in the arms of Ned Stark's son, gasping as he pulled her closer, shielding her from the eyes of the outside world.

-Jon - she said almost breathlessly.

-Y/n - he replied, kissing her jaw gently - Why are you still running away? - he asked, holding her tightly in his arms.

-I'm not running away - she confessed, leaning against his torso - I just wanted to get rid of so many eyes on my skin - she added, tilting her head slightly to look into the man's dark irises - They seem to be following me wherever I go.

The man smiled slightly at her confession, his hand found its place on her cheek, stroking its smooth surface with his thumb.

-You are a white deer in the darkness - he stated, staring intensely into her eyes with growing desire - And the wolves are starving - he added before attacking her full, sweet lips.

Woman moaned softly, grabbing his hair as if her life depended on it, trying to pull him even closer. Even though she shouldn't.

Grabbing her tiny body, Snow pinned her to a nearby tree. Attacking her slender neck, he reveled in the sound of her whimpers and sighs, his large hands roaming her body, lower and lower.

Y/n watched his actions with eyes clouded with desire. She was afraid that someone would see them, she was afraid of punishment.

But they were alone among the trees in Godswood. The only witnesses were the old gods and themselves, no one else.

-Jon...we can't - she whispered weakly, not realizing how familiar this scenario was to her.

-All I want is to please you - he said tenderly, slowly rolling up the fabric of her dress, making her skin crawl with goosebumps - My sweet Y/n, let your wolf feast. I must feel you.

She fell helplessly onto the rough bark behind her. She wanted to say and do so much, but her body seemed to rebel against her, telling her to take whatever the predator was giving her between her thighs.

He was so gentle and agonizingly slow, kissing and sucking on her firm skin, leaving marks on his prey as he got closer and closer to where he wanted to attack so much.

Y/n quickly became numb. The amount of attention she was getting seemed to overwhelm her body, but even so, she didn't want the moment to ever end, not with Jon harassing her womanhood in such an addictive way.

She could compare him to a hungry wolf, by the fact with what fervor he devoured her femininity while choosing every single piece, not wanting to miss absolutely nothing.

She let the knot in her lower belly burst, spreading delicious and burning pleasure through her body, which constantly circulated through her veins through the tongue of a man who would not leave her, feasting on her even longer.

She felt her sanity trying desperately to break through the thick wall of pleasure and lust built by two dangerous predators that were using the little sheep inside it.

But she wanted them to be happy ,full. Even as they fought for her like ravenous wolves, and she just couldn't choose. Letting them both devour her.

[ahuiahoe]

— ✧ 00:00 — h. joshua x reader

an alternate ending to isohel

description. your time with each other is up, but still, you learn to live.

✘ genre. angst ✘ w/c. 850+ ✘ a/n. have been feeling out of practice and decided 2 share an alternate ending for isohel 4 some fun ^^ not sure how much sense this will make if u haven't already read isohel since this takes place after the major events of the story, so i highly recommend reading that first!

One year since he's heard your voice yet Joshua still hears you in the walls of the castle. When he opens the door to his study, your soft footsteps and quiet breaths melt into the background.

It calms him down more often than not, but sometimes it makes him cry. He dreams that you'll wipe his tears just as you did hundreds of nights before, but Joshua knows in his bones that he'll just have to pick himself up this time.

Some nights you cry too. You hold that silk ribbon to your nose and you imagine that Joshua is right there, right in the palm of your hand. You know he’s not, and you know he never will be—not again.

...

Three years since you’ve looked Joshua in the eye and finally, you’re graduating. A grand occasion for the kingdom given Hong University is meant for the finest of students; Joshua is sent to give a speech to the graduating class.

He stands on the same stage that you walked down a mere hour ago, looking down upon the rows of students. You sit among them, wondering if he can see you.

Joshua wonders too. Amidst the identical caps and gowns, he searches for your face, your eyes, your smile.

When he finds you, it feels like time itself freezes.

There’s a tug at his heart when your eyes finally meet. A wind brushes over him and Joshua imagines that it is the ghost of your lips on his skin instead.

Your heart aches too, but then there’s a revel of cheers and everyone is throwing their caps into the air and of course, you do the same.

Joshua loses your smile in the scene, and for a moment he wants to sob. He wants to let his knees buckle and fall to the ground, heaving in heavy breaths as thick tears pool in his lash line.

He looks up into the sky, and it’s painted with purple caps, and through the dots peaks the light of the sun.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Joshua knows that you’re looking at the same sun, and the thought makes him smile.

...

Five years since you’ve spoken to each other and Joshua’s chest no longer aches. He’s King now, if that ever meant anything to him in the first place, but as he works through the title, he realizes that things aren’t too bad.

Some days Joshua walks through Sol Invictus. He glances over Helios’ pegasi, and for a gracing moment, he thinks you would have loved them.

Joshua misses you like one misses the sun on a cloudy day. You're always there, always hidden behind something, but he knows. He knows you're always there.

You own a plant shop now, and you love it.

Some days you simply walk through the rows of greenery and color, breathing in the crisp air of dawn and dew. You look at the hyacinth that sits on your little head table, the silk ribbon that was gifted to you years ago tied around the pot, and you smile.

Smiling is easier now.

...

Ten years since you’ve set foot in the castle and some days you think of each other, some days you don't, but no matter what, you don’t forget. You two can’t ever forget.

You hear Joshua’s laugh. Not often, but sometimes you can catch hold of the beautiful sound when you walk to work some mornings. It makes your heart swell.

Joshua still hears you. He hears your voice in Sol Invictus on those cool mornings when he walks past the rows of hyacinths. The breeze whistles through the petals and stems, and he hears you amidst the sound. It’s comforting now.

...

Fifteen years and you’re married now. Jeonghan loves you, and you love him. He helps run your shop and take care of the hyacinths in the home you share.

You live in a small house in the middle of the city, no longer teetering at the edge of the kingdom like you once did. You've got a garden in the back and pretty flowers and shrubbery that decorate the front, and sitting in the center of the yard is a little pond Jeonghan helped you dig up yourself.

Of course, it isn't as grand as the one in Sol Invictus but still, you think Joshua would love to know that Eridenus has a twin.

Joshua too has a Queen of his own; she’s kind and smart and all things fitting for a woman. She makes him smile and for Joshua, that is more than enough.

Of course he thinks of you. How could he not when your scent still lingers in the paths of Sol Invictus? Still, it’s different now. A good different.

...

Twenty years and all is well. When you look up at the sun, you both know the other is doing just the same.

...

i miss the way you almost held the tide but still, it's nice dreaming that you're somewhere feeling the same heat that i did no fear, no fall if invisible lines lead your way back to me still, i got nothing

(isohel / eden)

✘ taglist. @xenkimmie @lesdevoeux @cheolism @namjoonbaby @listxn @scuzmunkie @ressonancee @binwons @lskjki @h34rts4chira @kazuhateez @imlilstitious @yogurttea @lynnxworld @jeanjacketjesus @meowmeowminnie @soonhoonietrash @caratlove10 ​​@synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @hipsdofangirl @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @whippedforjihoon @nishloves @woozarts @ellesmoon @blurryriki @maknae00 @jjjzzzz @peachyaeger @shoulietaro @karina-sakuras @1004luvangel @dollyhaes @gyulune @yunritos (strikethrough could not be tagged)

[weeeeeekly]

listen to me – jake sim x afab!reader

blurb Your friend mysterious disappears from her Halloween party, and as the good friend you are, you drive to the apartment of some random guy she left with. You, either unfortunately or fortunately, stumble upon something out-of-this-world.

info incubus!jake x human!reader ft. stayc sumin, sieun, isa (lee chaeyoung), & jay from enhypen

WARNINGS!!! NSFW, MDNI 18+ blog, dubcon/noncon since jake does influence the reader to stay, somnophilia maybe, allusion/mention of “drugging” for bad reasons, dom!reader, sub!jake, minor character deaths, swearing, reader is mean to jake, riding position (sorry it’s the only position i know how to write), use of “babe” for reader, mention of “pussy”, not proofread/edited just pure free flowing thought

this is FICTION!!!!! everything is made up by me. the stuff written out is not meant to be a representation of the people, places, or ideas mentioned. also, prob not accurate to real life counterparts – idk sex.

wc 1.7k

You were currently at your best friend Chaeyoung’s apartment for her Halloween party. You’re dressed up as Jennifer Coolidge as Fiona and Chaeyoung is Sam from A Cinderella Story.

The baby pink nightgown and matching sheer robe was bought secondhand off the internet, and you made sure deep clean and steam it. You need to smell and look good if you were going to get lucky tonight.

And you were at the point where you would fuck anyone. Literally (almost) anyone.

Your standards had been lowered substantially as your horniness levels increased substantially. It wasn’t your fault that you had been unintentionally forced into a dry spell this semester due to your internship and part time job. You were quite literally too busy to fuck.

But that was all going to change tonight. Friday, October 31st Halloween. Your bosses let you off early today due to them both having children that they were going to take trick or treating, and you had the day off tomorrow. It felt like an apology from the universe for putting too much on your plate so far.

Yes, you were angrily stewing in the corner on your phone since Chaeyoung did run away at midnight with some guy she just met at the party in true Cinderella fashion. Leaving behind a pissed you as she knew that you wanted to be at 1 AM since you work at 8 AM and it was 1:30 AM with her no where to be found.

Just great.

“Please leave a message after the tone.”

“Dude, where the fuck are you? Please send an address so I can bring you back and I can go home.”

1:30 AM

you where r u

you seriously

you ?????

you i have work in 6 hours & i want to sleep

1:35 AM

chae 1130 decelis drive

you ur alive omg

Opening up Find My for Chaeyoung’s updated location. You turn to get your car keys out of your bag, excusing yourself in the sea of people in her apartment as they throw back alcoholic drinks. Sumin and Sieun spot you from the couch and walk to you.

Sumin asks, “Where is Chae?”

“I’m going to get her right now.” You tell the duo dressed as Brianna and Gabriella, part of the group costume of A Cinderella Story.

“We’ll make sure the party doesn’t spiral out of control.” Sieun tells you.

You thank them and exit the apartment, running down the 4 flights of stairs to the parking lot.

Standing outside of whoever the fuck’s apartment, you can’t help but notice how nice the complex is. Too nice to be in your price zone. You got lucky that the set of gates were open for the holiday.

You ring the doorbell and send another text to Chaeyoung as you take notice of the immaculately decorated doorway, fake cobwebs and life size skeletons on either side of the door.

The door opens to reveal an extremely attractive guy around your age, dressed as a vampire.

“May I help you?” A thick Australian accent takes you by surprise.

“Hey, I’m here to get my friend, Chaeyoung. She’s in a white ballgown and a white mask.”

The guy nods as he not-so-subtly checks you out. “Oh her? Yeah, she’s currently busy with Jay.”

“Can I come in to get her?”

He steps aside, inviting you in. “Be my guest. I’m Jake, by the way.”

You tell him your name as you walk in. Jake closes the door behind you and points you to the hallway.

“Doors at the end.”

He walks behind you as you follow his directions. As you get closer you can hear low music behind the door, but as you raise your hand to knock, the door swings open. Chaeyoung is sound asleep on the bed and Jay is sitting up next to her, looking at you.

“She’s a little tired.” He winks at you.

“Cool. I don’t care. I’ll just carry her back to my car.”

Jay looks behind you, presumedly to Jake, but you ignore it and walk over to your friend.

Jake’s hand creep up onto your shoulders. “You should stay. Can’t you see that Chaeyoung is in deep sleep.”

You grit your teeth as you remove his hands. “I’d feel better if she was sound asleep in her own bed in her apartment. I really don’t have time for this.”

Lightly shaking Chaeyoung, you whisper. “Wake up.”

When she doesn’t stir even when you begin violently shaking her shoulders, you feel a chill creep over you. Turning to Jay, you spit out “Did you fucking drug her!”

“I didn’t drug her.”

“Oh my god, you did! What the fuck is your problem?“

“Jake.” Jay begins, but you shock him by picking up Chaeyoung. Jake stands in front of you, stopping you from leaving the room.

Your biggest mistaken was looking into his eyes – eyes that were glowing red as he began compelling you.

“Listen to me.” Your body is under his control. “Put her back on the bed and follow me to my room.”

Following his commands, you end up finding yourself in his room across the hallway. You don’t feel fully cognizant, but you know you didn’t eat or drink anything from them. You surmise that you must have inhaled something in Jay’s room; that still wouldn’t explain the glowing, red eyes.

Makeup technology has come a long way.

“Why are you doing this?”

Looking up at him, Jake smiles at you as he strokes your cheek.

“Go to sleep.”

Waking up to someone laying next to you is weird, especially when that person is Jake and you’re not at home to start getting ready for work. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

You try to sit up, but your body won’t move – you don’t have any feeling in your limbs.

“God, I can’t believe I made you my sleep paralysis demon.”

He dramatically sighs and pretends to faint, “You think of me?”

Thankfully, you can roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick. Why can’t I move my body?”

“You’re under my spell, babe.”

Narrowing your eyes, you open your mouth to call him a “cunt”, and not in a positive cunty way, when you watch with your own two eyes as your phone floats from your bag into Jake’s expectant hand. He notices your heart speeds up at the scariness of not understanding what was happening.

“Don’t worry, babe, it’s just some borrowed demon magic.” He casually throws out as he types on your phone. “Anddd… you’re out sick for today, you’re welcome.”

“I know you’re hot and all, but if you wanted to get my number you could have talked to me normally at Chae’s party. Not do all this weird ass shit.”

“You think I’m hot?” Jake smirks.

“Don’t ignore me!”

The next thing you know, Jake is hovering above you with his hands next to your head, his eyes on your lips. “You should touch me.”

As if the so-called “demon magic” spell was broken, one hand tangles through his blond hair and your other goes over his lush lips. “You’re hotter when you shut up.”

You did think Jake was very attractive – minus all the creep energy – you’re still not entirely sure what was happening, but you did want to fuck him. “I’m in charge now.”

Flipping him over, you have both of your knees on either side of him, pinning his hands to the bed as you sat on his waist, feeling his boner. You lean down to kiss his lips. He’s an amazing kisser which shouldn’t be a surprise, but you were thankful that he knew how to use his mouth.

“You should take your pants off.”

Jake’s pants rip clean off as you help him, discarding them off to the side. He grins when you’re immediately greeted by his dick as he wasn’t wearing any boxers.

“You went commando?”

“Easy access.”

Pushing him back down on the bed, you reach into your bra for the condom you stashed in there earlier. He raises an eyebrow at you as you open the packet. “Just like you said – easy access.”

The condom is rolled onto his dick, and you waste no time lining it up to your pussy and sink down on him. Jake throws his head back in pleasure, hissing at the feeling as you let out a moan.

“Fuck, now that’s good.” You say as you begin rocking back and forth.

He lets out a groan in response as you move your lips to his ear, “We could have done this hours ago if you just talked to me.”

“Guess we should, shit, make up for, fuck, lost time. God.”

Jake’s hips buck up to meet yours as you continue riding him, enjoying the slight strain in your thighs as your knees hold his hands down.

“Can’t use your “magic” now.”

It’s like his dick was made with you in mind with the way he’s filling you right now. The pleasure is so good that you almost lose your train of thought. But if he keeps moaning underneath you like that, you might allow dumbification to take over.

So close. And you were close to cumming.

“You’re so pretty.” Jake blurts out causing you to clench around him at the compliment. “D-don’t do that or I’ll cum.”

“But I want that.” You clench around him again and make sure to slow your movements down. Jake continues bucking his hips into you and you know he’s close when his eyes screw shut.

Smiling, you reach into your bra to clutch the silver cross and slam the item down on Jake’s chest. He screams in pain as the cross touches his skin, harming the incubus. Jay slams the door open and falls to the ground when you throw the cross at him.

Removing yourself from him, you fix your dress and grab the holy water from your bag. “Now you can’t hurt anymore girls.”

Ceremoniously, you dump the flask over Jake as the incubus inside his body dies. Once Jake lays still do you check for his pulse, faint but still there, and pick up your phone. You step over Jay’s body and dumping more holy water to retrieve Chaeyoung.

“Are you done?” She asks while checking her nails.

“Yeah, now let’s get out of here. We still have 4 more to go.”

masterlist | kinktober masterlist

author’s note happy halloween!!! idk what this turned into… but kinktober is officially ober for me! i wanted to write more, but life got in the way :/

anywayyyy time to focus on the inheritance, write the other one shots for december version of kinktober, & the other ideas i have