#whatever God wants for me i'll trust Him in that

[fi1iat3rra3]

sum; vendetta leon is exhausted after the arias business, and instead of drinking his sorrows away, he wants something different for once, so he asks a friend for help.

content; friends hook-up, mentions of friends w benefits, sub leon, edging, handjob, thigh fucking, a little nipple stimulation, leon eats the reader out after he busts inside, leon is kinda shy sometimes and needy, leon likes to hump/grind, reader gets a little rough and teases a lot

wc; 5.1k

From a vacation in the rocky mountains of Colorado to another world threat from B.O.Ws, Leon needed a real break this time. Leon asked Chris and Rebecca as many times as he could, making sure there were no current or incoming threats. Once he pushed past his stubbornness, he made his way to go visit an old friend he'd not contacted in months.

He hadn't gone silent on you for any one reason, he just wasn't good at texting, and with your busy schedule, calls were hard, especially since you moved so far away. Now, Leon found his way to where you lived. Without a text, call, or even an email. Leon saw that you weren't home, so he waited on your porch. And waited. And waited.

At 9 p.m., you finally pulled in. Leon was half asleep in your rocking chair on the porch. From afar, he looked homeless, you couldn't recognize him.

"Hey! The fuck are you doin' on my porch?!" You shouted, slamming your car door shut and locking it as you took a taser from your purse.

Leon jolted awake with a snort, and when he saw you charging him with a taser, he backed up with his hands up.

"Jesus, do you ever give a warm welcome, woman?!" He huffed.

"What are you- You haven't talked to me in months, you fuck!"

Despite the harsh welcome, you put the taser away and stepped forward to bring him into a hug. After everything Leon went through recently, he needed the hug. He needed someone, and you were the only one who he trusted to be vulnerable around.

"God, it's been ages." You sighed, Leon returning the hug and practically melting into you. "You should have called. I would have picked up some food." You said, pulling back from the hug to look at him. From the last time you saw him in person almost a year ago, he'd collected three new visible scars. One over his jaw, one near his collarbone, and one on the back of his hand that you only saw when he brushed his hair out of his eyes. He looked so damn tired.

"Eh, you can cook, can't you?" He mused.

"Oh, you're such an ass."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"No, I'm gonna call the pizza place down the road and I'm gonna shower while you wait patiently because your timing sucks." You said, taking your keys from your purse and turning to unlock the front door.

"You look tired. That new corporate job take your soul yet?" He asked, following you inside. You both removed jackets and shoes before he found his way to the couch, you finding yourself in the kitchen to get water and a snack for Leon.

"Not quite." You said, walking back to Leon and handing him a bowl of cut-up watermelon. He accepted it, popping the top off and taking a piece without question.

"Shocking. The DSO took my soul in a week."

"That's the DSO, Leon. I work at a lawfirm, not a government agency for threats like zombie viruses." You scoffed. A pause. A softer, more solemn look spreading on your face. "You doing okay? You.. don't look too good, Leon. I know you hate talking about things like this, but.. I'm here for whatever you need, yknow that?"

Leon remained quiet, averting his gaze and munching on the watermelon. You sighed, turning away. He'd come to you when he needed, you knew.

Leon occupied himself with familiarizing himself in your new place, looking around at your decorations. Twenty minutes passed before you returned to the living room just as the pizza arrived. You clipped your hair back as you went to answer the door. You paid, said your thanks, and walked back to Leon with the pizza, sitting next to him on the couch.

At first, he remained on his own side, keeping upright. But as you grabbed a piece of pizza and leaned back, he leaned onto you. He let his body slip against yours, leaning his head on your shoulder.

Mid bite, you looked at him. He had his eyes closed.

"Don't say anything unless you're uncomfortable." He groused.

So you stayed quiet, went back to eating.

"Gonna eat?" You asked after a minute. He grunted. "You need food. Especially considering the fact that I know you haven't eaten all day by the way you took the watermelon earlier." You said, leaning forward.

Leon reached out and pulled you back.

"Please don't go." He whispered.

Your breath caught in your chest, and you remained still. You remained quiet. Leon shifted, burying his face in your shoulder. It wasn't uncomfortable, but this hadn't happened in a couple of years. This wasn't how Leon sought his comfort. In the past, if he needed comfort, he'd just come to sit in silence for a while before he forced himself to get it all out. He'd go months without seeking comfort, and this time, he reached a point where talking wasn't enough.

"I forgot how good you feel. Even just like this." Leon breathed, his head shifting to nudge your neck with his nose. He inhaled subtly, taking in your scent. You had washed off all the perfume you wore for work, so now he could smell your body wash and lotion almost too much. He loved it.

"Leon," you swallowed.

"Please. Just.. give me this. Just tonight."

"We said-"

"Bullshit. We said that years ago. I'm tired. I miss touching you."

His words made your skin flare with warmth, and you knew he was right. Years ago, you'd been so close that you'd hook up every once in a while. But that had to stop when Leon ran into his emotional troubles. He felt that it would ruin the rules you two had made for yourselves. But now, in this moment, all he needed was you. All he needed was to be taken care of. And in a moment of neediness, he took a chance.

"Just take care of me. Just for tonight." He breathed against your neck, finally pressing his lips to your pulse point, his lips slightly parted.

"You're sure?"

"Jesus, do you ever not question things? I'm asking you to touch me." He grumbled, lifting his head to look at you. "Look at me and tell me you think I'm unsure." He reached up and grabbed your chin to make you look at him. He definitely didn't look unsure.

"You're still all talk, aren't you?" You hissed as his rough touch. You knew him. He could be on top, but he never had enough willpower to stay in that light.

Leon's cheeks bloomed with a new shade of red, illuminating his pale skin.

"You want to or not? Because if not, I can just deal with it myself."

"You're so annoying." You scoffed, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips. He inhaled sharply, eyes rolling back with a flutter of his eyelids falling shut, lips melding to yours like melting metal finding its form.

"Fuck," he grunted, his hands coming to find your hips. He shifted himself, settling over one of your thighs. He deepened the kiss, his hands shuffling under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his scarred and calloused hands.

Your hands reached up to push his jacket off his shoulders, and he shuffled his arms and let it fall down before his hands shot back to your waist after the jacket fell to the ground behind him. He pulled back from the kiss and mouthed along your jawline, his hands trying to desperately pull you impossibly closer. In that little motion, you pushed your thigh up, pressing it to his crotch.

"Oh, you fuck-" He hissed, his body tensing, nails digging into your waist as he dropped his head against your shoulder, his breath shaking from the sudden grinding.

"What, you don't like that anymore? You used to whine for it if I wasn't touching you at all times." You taunted, pressing harder, expecting something. Leon bit back a moan, swallowing harshly as he lifted his head to look at you.

"I said take care of me, not be an asshole."

"You're the one enjoying it so much. I can take care of you on my own terms, can't I? Or have the rules changed?" You watched as his lips formed a scowl, and yours shifted to a grin.

"You're bad at this."

"No, no, you're impatient and bitchy." You huffed.

"Oh, please,"

"Say that again?"

Leon looked at you, confused. Just as he opened his mouth for another retort, you shifted your leg against him, and used the palm of your hand to grind against the tip of his length through his pants.

"Oh, please," He choked on a gasp, his hands grasping at your wrist.

"All bark, no bite." You reminded him, leaning in to kiss him deeply. He leaned in, putting all his weight on you, allowing his shame to melt away as his hips began to grind down against your hand and leg, using the friction to satiate the hunger and impatience.

"Fuck, I love when you do that." He panted into the kiss, his hips stuttering slightly due to sensitivity.

"How long has it been since you got laid? You never used to get this whiney so soon.."

"Too fuckin' long." He whimpered lightly. "Missed you so much, I didn't want anybody else. It didn't feel the same alone." He confessed, his head dropping to your neck again. "Missed touching you and being so close to you."

"I missed you, too, yknow." You whispered, a small distraction of gentle words as you slithered your hand beneath the waistband of his pants. He accepted the distraction until he felt your fingers wrap so softly around the tip of his cock, eliciting a deep, almost gutteral groan from him. If at all possible, his body became less tense, melting deeper into your touch.

"You're so mean to me." He choked out, followed by a moan as your thumb ran along his leaky slit, spreading the precum.

"You asked me to take care of you. I'm doing what you asked me to." You hummed innocently, bringing your other hand down to fully push his pants and boxers down just barely over his hips, allowing you to have a view of what you were doing. He didn't look at first, subconsciously embarrassed despite how many times you'd seen his body in more vulnerable scenarios. You eased your hand down his length, and he nearly went stupid at the feeling. Sure, he'd jerked off every now and then, but it was a little hard to get himself aroused nowadays, considering how poorly he cared for his health. But with you? He was harder than he'd been in years, and it nearly hurt.

"Fuck, it hurts," He breathed, words morphing into a hiss as you squeezed the base of his cock. "D-don't do that."

"You'll live." You huffed. Despite your lack of acknowledgment, you didn't repeat that squeeze yet. You'd save it for later.

In order to not embarrass himself by cumming in two minutes, he distracted himself from his own pleasure by returning the favor. He snaked his hands up your shirt, and to his pleasure, he found out you had no bra. He lifted his head, panting with a shaky yet smug grin.

"Not wearing a bra? Like you wanted this to play out like this." He let out a laugh, only to shut himself up with a strangled grunt as you squeezed his tip. His hips bucked, and you watched, satisfied, as he occupied himself with your chest and neck. He pushed your shirt up high enough to reveal your tits, and without waiting, he connected his lips to a nipple, sucking and nipping at the nub while his hands worked on groping and massaging. His hand gave attention to the other nipple, pinching and tugging with his fore finger and thumb. Soon, his moans were accompanied by the soft gasps or shaky exhales from you. It was a win, despite how loud and consistent he was compared to you.

As he neared the end, he couldn't focus. His head fell against your chest, his breath brushing against the skin.

"Fuck, 'm gonna cum," He whined, bucking his hips against your touch. "Please, don't stop. I've waited so long. I've needed this for so fuckin-"

You stopped. You didn't slow down or ease off. You just stopped, tearing the pleasure away from him. He gritted his teeth, stifling the pathetic cry that left his lips as he tried to buck against your thigh, seeking his high.

"You wanna cum, you'll have to do it yourself or show me I should let you." You said, watching as he rutted his hips, frustrated.

"You're a fuckin' asshole. Takin' me all the way up, only to drop me down like a bad rollercoaster." He groaned, his hands grasping desperately at your hips. He kept going like that until he couldn't, his nails leaving marks of frustration just beneath your shirt, above the sweats that hung low on your hips.

Instead of admitting defeat, he tugged his boxers and pants up, hissing at the contact of the seam pressing against his unbelievably hard cock. He grabbed you, pulling you up from the couch. He fixed your shirt before he dragged you down the hall. Luckily, he saw your bedroom door open, so he wasn't wandering stupidly.

"Couch is too small." He grunted, dragging you into your room and nudging you to lie back on the bed. Once on the bed, he got on top of you. For a moment, you thought he'd take what he wanted, take your clothes off like an animal and throw away all caution and ease.

No.

He nestled himself against you. He pressed the bulge in his pants against the heat of your core, and he began to grind, his hips rough and heavy as he buried his face in your neck and let his hands push your shirt up, to which you responded to by lifting your arms and letting him remove the shirt entirely.

"Y'know, if you wanted, you could just take it." You murmured, a teasing reminder that he was doing this to himself.

"Don't wanna." He grunted, kissing down your neck and mouthing at the flesh and meat of your breasts. Leon rutted his hips desperately, precum dripping from the painfully hard tip of his cock, throbbing with each thrust against you. "Fuck, you're so warm even like this." He choked out.

"You're so whiney and you don't even realize it, do you?" You bit your lip, watching him closely.

"You do this to me." He whined, further proving your point.

"You want me to touch you?"

"Please." He breathed.

"Please?"

"Please, angel, please, I need you to touch me. I can't fucking take this. It hurts."

"You look good when you beg."

"Please." He gritted through his teeth, bucking his hips. You gently pushed him to sit up, and you took your place in his lap. You leaned in to bring your lips to his, your hand trailing down his chest to find the hem of his shirt. You broke away, lifting his shirt up and off, tossing it aside before leaning in to resume the kissing. Your hands grazed along his torso, which had a little more pudge than muscle nowadays. He curled away from the touch, whining.

"It's okay," you soothed. "It's me, right? No reason to be all shy."

"It's.. weird."

"It's my favorite thing. Always has been." You shushed him, but he remained tense. "You're always so bashful about being shirtless, yet you're so eager to get your pants off. Such a weird guy." You giggled.

Your hands trailed up and landed on his pecs, only to trail back down. Your touch stopped just above the happy trail sticking out from his boxers, connecting to the space just beneath his belly button.

"Don't fucking do that to me." He cursed, a hand coming to grab your wrist.

"I don't think you're in any position to be ordering me around."

Leon opened his mouth, but quickly shut it. He remained silent as you finally dropped your hands to push his pants and boxers down, which he eagerly lifted his hips to help with. Once his cock was free, it sprang out in the most lewd way you'd ever seen. You looked at him, and he looked away quickly.

Slowly, you brought your hand to wrap around his length, and he almost immediately had to brace himself with a desperate grasp on the bedsheets beneath him. His chest puffed out with a sharp inhale. Your hand eased down to the base, and his entire body shuddered.

"See? It's worth it."

"You're a fucking sadist." He whimpered.

"You're a whiney brat."

"Dear god." He breathed, his head falling back as you found a steady, perfectly paced rhythm and speed to stroke him. He felt his balls tighten, his tip pulsing with what he couldn't decide felt like pain or pleasure. He didn't know, but he liked it too much.

You leaned in, your other hand coming to cradle his head and bring him into a kiss. Despite the harsh words exchanged, your touch against his neck was gentle, reverent, like you wanted to make up for the mean words and the taunting.

"Fuck, you're so good at this." He cried against your lips, his left hand coming to grasp at your breast as his right hand found its way to your waist.

Once again, you stopped just as his rambling slurred enough, signalling an incoming orgasm. Leon didn't even try to stifle his frustrated cry this time, but you hushed him.

"I've got something better for you. Just be patient." You soothed, swiping your thumb over his tip and watching his cock jerk in response. Leon squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to let you see the tears that brimmed those baby blues of his.

While he was busy steeling himself, you removed your pants, and when he opened his eyes, he almost stopped breathing. You'd changed since the last time he saw you naked, and he couldn't be more pleased by the changes of your body. Now, it gave him more to memorize and worship.

"Jesus, you're so fucking gorgeous." His eyes trailed over your body, and landed at your thighs. Smooth flesh, soft meat, and the prize between your thighs. It made him groan with anticipation.

Just as he thought you'd ride him the way he needed, you shattered that idea. You pushed him to lie back, laying over him to where your thighs pressed against his hard-on. He inhaled sharply, whimpering softly.

"Shit, your skin is so warm. Could bust just from this." He breathed, voice strained as he bucked his hips upward.

"I know you could. You're so sensitive."

"Please, lemme fuck 'em. Lemme make a mess all over your thighs." He pleaded softly, bringing his hands to grasp at your ass, pulling you a little higher to where he could slip one hand between your bodies, slowly guiding his cock to slip between your thighs. He let out a breathy moan at the sensation, his back arching as you shifted your thighs, purposely squeezing around him.

"You gonna do it?" You teased.

"Just- fuck, just let me think, would you?" He gritted, his hands coming back to grasp at your ass for leverage as he slowly began to fuck up into the slit of your thighs, right up against the silk fabric of your panties, reminding him of the delicious warmth and wetness that he had yet to earn.

His hips bucked feverishly, his hands groping all over wherever he could reach. You kissed and pawed at his body, making him all the more sensitive as he tried to press your thighs tighter together, muttering incoherent pleas and sobs for you to let him cum.

"Oh, fuck," He strained a sob, his body tensing beneath yours as his hips shuffled and shifted desperately, like a dog humping it's favorite toy in heat. "Fuck, y're so warm. So warm 'n wet. Can feel you through y'er fuckin panties." He panted. As much as he wanted to sound tough and dominant, his voice trembled with whimpers and occasional sobs as he fucked his cock between your thighs.

"Just think about how it'll feel when you finally earn it." You hummed, mouthing at his chest as you reached behind to lightly rub at his tip, which poked pathetically out of the gap between your thighs. He cried, the sensation overwhelming. His tip was so sensitive, you would've thought he'd cum just from that.

"Please, fuck, lemme cum inside you. Lemme cum inside and I'll eat you out to finish you off. Please, angel, please." He pleaded endlessly, hips bucking wildly as he neared a climax. Despite his pleas to cum inside of you, he couldn't stop himself.

Once again, for the third time, you stopped. You lifted yourself off of him, and he gasped and cried like he had the air punched out of him straight from his lungs.

"No, no, no, please," he sobbed. Tears welled in his eyes, and he no longer tried to hide it. All of his shame melted away.

"Shh, shh," you soothed, cupping his cheek. "You wanted to cum inside, didn't you?" You asked softly, and his eyes widened. In previous years, during your sexual agreement, you'd never let him cum inside out of fear of pregnancy or other risks. Now, you seemed to trust him enough and/or not care as much.

"Fuck, please." He cried, his hands finding the waistband of your panties and tugging eagerly.

"If you rip these, you're buying me a new set." You scolded. He whined, his fingers curled around the fabric.

"Take 'em off." He huffed. You rolled your eyes and did as he asked, getting off of his lap to shimmy out of your panties. Once fully naked, you straddled his hips again, and he wasted no time as he grasped your hips and positioned you straight over his cock. He held his cock upright, lazily stroking himself before you lowered your hips. Leon had to brace himself as he watched. The moment your pussy wrapped around his tip, he was a goner. His head fell back, eyes rolling to the back of his head, his nails leaving cresent marks on your hips and thighs as he pawed and clawed at the flesh and meat of your body.

"Oh, fuck, oh, my God." He heaved, his chest puffing out with heavy gasps.

You eased your way down, and he was forced to watch. He couldn't look away. He watched as you sank down on his cock, your pussy completely engulfing his length with the kind of ease he'd dreamed of. It was easy, soaking wet, still as tight as he remembered.

"My God, nothing compares to you. Not a damn thing. Not a thing in the fuckin' world." He cursed, head falling back as you fully sat on his dick, your walls fluttering softly around him. With how tight you were, he could feel the way his cock throbbed, the way your walls pulsed with need around him. "Y-you sure I can cum inside? You ain't gonna.. gonna stop?" He asked, breathless.

"You've earned it. You said you'd eat me out, didn't you? We have a deal." You reminded him, and he nodded eagerly.

"Yeah, tha's right. 'M gonna make you feel good. Gonna make my angel see stars." He huffed, his words trailing into a gasp as you lifted your hips, only to stay put with his tip just barely notched inside of you. He took the invite, using your hips as leverage for him to fuck up inside you. He watched where your bodies met, completely dazed as he felt his balls tighten with each thrust. Your softer moans mixed in with his louder whimpers and huffs, the sound of skin slapping and heavy breathing filling the room.

It didn't take long for Leon to become a mess, his body trembling beneath yours. He couldn't even return the kiss you tried to give.

"Angel, oh, fuck, 'm gonna cum," he cried. "Please, pleasepleaseplease!" He squealed, pulling your hips down onto him and burying himself as deep as he could possibly go, the tip of his cock nestled deep inside as he let loose. His body seized with tension, his mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. His cock spilled rope after rope inside of you, and soon, all he had left was a few pathetic droplets, which your pussy milked out of him with a few small lifts and drops of your hips.

"Oh my god," he whimpered, head falling back against the pillow. His chest heaved as he trembled, hands clasped onto yours as if he was afraid you'd leave him too soon. You lifted off of him, his cock slipping out and laying limp, coated in a lewd mix of bodily arousal.

"Hey," you reached up to tap his cheek, bringing the dazed man back to reality. "Don't forget your promise." You said. He swallowed, nodding weakly.

"What... Mm, whatever you want, angel." He slurred, still recovering from the bliss of his climax. Being denied three times had truly given him the best build-up he could imagine.

Slowly, you crawled up his body and stopped when your thighs were on either side of his head. He looked up at you, his hands coming to wrap under your thighs and make you squeeze his head.

"Fuck." He cursed, huffing softly against your thigh as he peppered soft kisses all the way up to your pussy. When he reached your clit, he found himself lapping eagerly at the sensitive nub, basking happily in the way you bit your lip and moaned soft praises to him.

His tongue ventured further, licking a long, flat stripe against your folds. Then, a pointed stripe, pressing thr tip of his tongue against your hole, which was leaking with his own cum mixed with your arousal. He snaked a hand around, pressing his thumb to your clit to rub it in circles as he used his other hand to guide you to grind down on him. As his tongue poked and prodded, you accepted his help, your hips rolling against his mouth as he lapped at your pussy like a man possessed.

"Tastes even better than I remember." He panted, only to be shut up with a buck of your hips as he lightly flicked his thumb against your clit. "Mmh," he moaned, his tongue forming a small divot to lick up your arousal, desperate to get a deeper taste. His tongue delved in, pressing into your hole. Your hands came down to grasp at his hair and his shoulder, needing him for support as you bucked against his mouth.

"You're so needy, lappin' at me like a dog. You're a fuckin wreck." You panted from above, looking back to him and watching the way his brows cinched together, as if he wanted to protest and say otherwise, but he was too busy using his mouth to make you feel good. When he realized his tongue wouldn't be enough in time, he brought his left hand underneath, slowly slipping two fingers inside of you. His mouth focused on your clit, sucking and licking and nipping at the flesh. "Oh, fuck," you moaned softly, head tipping back.

"Mmh, 's good? Y'feel good, angel?" He panted, his tongue flicking at your clit as his fingers curled inside of you, rubbing deliciously along the spongy spot inside.

A louder moan left your lips as you felt him pump his fingers in and out, desperate to please you the way you pleased him. Your back arched, head tilted back, chest heaving, and your moans filled the air, mingling like a perfect symphony with the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you with his mouth sucking and licking at your clit, occasionally lapping and your folds to avoid wasting any of your juices.

"Mmh, that's good. That's perfect, Leon. Keep- oh, fuck, keep doing that. 'M gonna cum," you panted, hips pressing firmly against him as he kept going. Soon enough, your body reached the tipping point. His fingers pressed firmer to the sweet spot, perfectly timed with the suck around your clit. It pushed you over the edge. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him to desperately keep him as close as possible as your other hand braced yourself on the headboard. Your hole clenched around his fingers, yet he groaned like you'd just given him an orgasm. He'd always loved pleasing you.

After you came down from the high, Leon eased his fingers to pull out, bringing them to his mouth to clean them off. You crawled back down to straddle his hips, leaning over him to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. His mouth tasted like you, combined with the faint taste of himself. You didn't mind. You dropped your hips, letting his half limp cock press against the wetness of your folds. He gasped, choking on a soft moan.

"Oh, fuck, wait," he whimpered. His hands shot to your hips again, bracing himself for the overwhelming sensation. "I-i can't. It's too much." He whined.

"Do you want to stop for the night? Or just a break?" You asked, bringing a hand to cup his cheek.

"Need to think. Please." He exhaled softly, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your touch.

"You want a kiss?"

"Please."

You smiled softly at his use of manners, finding it cute how he was so gentle with his requests in moments like this. You pressed in, lips locking in a kiss that seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders more than an orgasm ever could. He pulled you over him before shifting to lay on his side, pulling you to follow.

His body intertwined with yours, taking exactly what he needed. The warmth, the closeness, the love. He basked in the way you kissed him. Like you never wanted to kiss anybody else. Your lips fit so perfectly together, reminding him of the dangers of platonic sex. He curled himself around you, burying his face in your neck.

"Think I just wanna lay down now.." he murmured, lips mouthing at your neck.

"I think that's a good idea." You agreed, curling up with him, laying a leg around his hips.

"Thank you." He whispered, closing his eyes. "I really.. really missed you." He sniffled lightly. Your hands came to gently lay over the back of his head, cradling him to play with his hair.

"I'm glad you came to me this time."

Leon nodded in agreement.

"We'll talk more in the morning."

Leon nodded again.

"Goodnight." He murmured.

[kidspawn]

switch pynch in a very specific context? *leans closer to you* *bats eyelashes* tell me more

okay so i'll try to keep this brief but see my thing with adam is that all his sexual encounters become some fucking power play scenario and i rarely, if ever, see him relinquishing control. which means he, obviously, likes to top. if he doesn't top, he's still finding ways to be in control. i don't think for a fucking second adam ever fully lets himself sit in a submissive position in any context. because for adam, attraction is so interwoven in envy and i firmly believe that for adam sex becomes a way to take control of an object of his envy and attraction. and that is best controlled and dominated from the top and i stand by that. (i do not think adam has healthy sex guys i love him so but every time he has sex in my head it veers into some fucked up fight for domination in his head and his partner is like "hey yo wtf" but its too late adam is having an internal monologue about his quest for autonomy while balls deep)

however, i do think there are other ways for adam to retain control and that's by bottoming and very much so controlling the action that takes place. ronan likes to be told what to do, adam likes telling people what to do. if he's bottoming he's still setting the atmosphere, he's telling ronan when to move, what to do, where to go. it's still in adam's control. (until a few years down the line and he's maybe gone to therapy that he hates and he gets it in his head that it is okay to be taken care of and let himself go just for a little while and that's okay because he is trusted and loved and safe and it's okay to not be the one in charge or control all the time also i think getting dicked down would shut adam's brain off a bit and that would be good for him like has he tried just letting someone throw the uno reverse card on him in a controlled environment i think that'd be healing for him) (i also think it'd have to be ronan, but that's because of their trust and synergy you know? ronan is safe.)

so in conclusion adam's character development is tracked from his journey to only topping to sometimes bottoming but actually he's just topping in cosplay to bottoming and letting himself just shut his damn head off and enjoy himself and enjoy being appreciated.

in terms of pynch specifically, these two are horny bastards who fuck in the laundry room in front of the child ronan babytrapped him with and i don't think there's much thought going into this beyond "hey take your pants off dick out now" and yeah usually it's ronan bottoming because while i think adam is versatile i think bottom is engrained in ronan's fucking blood and the few times adam bottoms its a special occasion but also i think ronan loves him so fucking much he wants to appreciate and worship in a way he can't when he's the one on the bottom. so yeah they switch sometimes and adam feels really weird about it for years but does it anyway because it's ronan and even if he doesn't want to experience that all that much it's important to ronan but over time it becomes something he enjoys. also i just think adam wants to get dicked down sometimes idk it just so fucking happens his boyfriend is a sappy fucking bottom with a hand kink who likes getting ordered around and well its ronan as long as clothes are off it's just instinct atp.

or whatever i don't think about it that much. switch!pynch for life.

(also i actually don't care that much fic is fic and if it's presented well fuck yeah bottom!adam or bottom!ronan or they just stare at each other and just have outrageous sex through eye contact idk why involve dicks when god is in the room ya know it's sunday ronan put ur socks on)

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello love, how are you?

I know you have done a couple of this already, but may i ask for one where Thena is suffering because of her period and Gil is being a good boyfriend and taking care of her, pretty please.

Also thank you for all your works they are amazing 🩷🤍.

"Thena?"

He didn't get any response as he cracked the door open even further. Which, he wouldn't under any normal circumstance. But not only was this bathroom at an end of the school that no one ever used, he had gotten an inside tip.

"Babe, I know you're in here," he broached carefully. She wasn't in here for no reason.

"Get out."

There she was. But it didn't have her usual sharpness. Plenty of acerbic distaste, certainly, but it had a kind of morose undertone to it.

Gil pressed the door closed behind him, "come on, sweetheart. Sersi sent me."

There was a stall door between them, but he could hear the look of betrayal on her face. "That little-"

"Hey," he assuaged, pressing his palm to the painted steel. "She's at the mall with Dane--who I know damn well you wouldn't want knowing about this, too."

"Whom," she corrected him, although even that lacked her usual gusto. "And that doesn't mean you were the acceptable alternative."

"Thena," he attempted in a sweeter voice. He looked down at the feet under the stall's gap. He had some sympathy; he didn't think of it as nearly so big a deal, but there were probably few things more personal to a girl than this. "Is it bad?"

She took her sweet time answering him, and even when she did, it came out as a miserable little warble. "I can see it a little."

A little would be enough. Especially if she was wearing white jeans.

"Do you know when it started?" he asked, in he thought was a pretty calm and cool way--logical, as his girlfriend would most appreciate.

She sighed (heavily). "After, or maybe even during practice. I managed to slip away from the team."

Gil frowned. Wasn't it, like, girl code not to leave one of their own in this state of distress? "You didn't wanna ask one of them-"

"I wouldn't say I'm that close with any of them," Thena spat. He didn't think she had any real dislike for them, either. But then again, his girlfriend didn't excel at vulnerability, and maybe this was too much for her to even turn to her fellow woman.

She had texted Sersi in blind hopes that her sister was close at hand.

"Okay, here," Gil sighed, pulling up the bag he had with him. He looked up, and then down, "do these doors have hooks on the inside?"

"You think our school has the luxury of something like that?"

Okay, yeah, she had a point. He huffed, "well, I dunno, so you don't have to put your bag or purse or whatever on the floor?"

"I'm not saying it's not a good idea, Gil, but no, they don't have that."

She really was feeling like absolute shit.

"Okay," he gave in easily. He set the bag on the ground and used his foot to slide it in to her. She did snatch it away from his gaze eagerly. "Sersi didn't say which one you liked, so I got a little pack of both, and-"

"Thank you--out."

He sighed again, but there wasn't much more he could do for her at this point. "Okay, okay, but I'm gonna be right outside the door."

"You don't have to, Gil."

He made a face at the stall door again, not that she could appreciate it. "I'm not gonna leave you like this."

"You could, though."

He didn't even really have anything he could compare it to--what she must be feeling at the moment. And for someone who struggled to talk about her own discomfort like she did... "I'm sorry, Thena."

It was so, so quiet. But he caught it--the little sniffle. The telltale sign that her misery was not just mere anger or frustration.

"There's no need, Gil," she tried to dissuade him again, more genuinely and less angrily this time.

"Babe, you know I've eaten you out, right," he commented rather dryly, "it's not like I can get freaked out by your period."

"That's-!" For however strong it started, it gave way to her misery not a second later, finishing in a whimper, "different."

She was right, it was different. But he was trying! He just wanted to make her feel better.

"I'll be outside," he reaffirmed to her door, pressing himself to it as if she would know he was trying to comfort her like that. "And I'm not leaving without you, so don't even try it."

"Fine."

Gil pulled himself away from the door slowly. He lingered, in case she was going to change her mind and tell him to stay. But she made not even a sound, which wasn't even that easy to do with the crinkly plastic pharmacy bag he'd brought in.

He had even had the wherewithal to ask them to double bag it, for privacy reasons! He thought that was a pretty smart move, on his part. He had gotten both tampons and pads, which maybe was a little overkill. But he didn't want her to get stuck with one if she was more comfortable with the other. And he'd thrown in some pain meds and some chocolate, just for good measure.

Gil leaned against the wall outside the bathroom door. They were at the very end of the hall, by the door that led straight to the fields. Now that all the practices were over, no one would be down here until teachers left or cleaning staff came to do their thing.

His heart ached for his poor Thena, imagining her discovering the blood and too uncomfortable around her teammates to ask for help with it. He wasn't entirely sure where her ire with them started, or if it was for Thena reasons or something else. But the fact that she had slipped away from them to endure the misery for herself spoke to how solitary a creature she really was.

He stood up straight as the door opened and Thena emerged with the bag in the crook of her elbow. She was staring straight down at the ground. "How do you feel?"

"Humiliated."

Gil smiled down at the top of her head as she headbutted him right in the chest. He didn't mind. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her hair.

His first instinct was to say something to lighten her mood, maybe a joke or something. But he felt the faint but real little spots of warmth in the cotton of his t-shirt. He rubbed her back, "it's okay."

Thena had never, ever, cried in front of him. Not even when she told him about Ikaris laughing at her for being a virgin. He was still determined to kick that guy's ass one day.

She pulled away, rubbing her eyes to erase the last of her woes for herself. "Thank you."

"Of course," he frowned. Like he was doing some great thing by helping her out with this? It was pretty basic boyfriend stuff, he was pretty sure. "You know I mean that, right?"

"I know," she grumbled, and there was some of his Thena starting to emerge. She stepped away from him, her arms wrapped around herself.

"You want me to, uh," he tilted his head, "check if you're good?"

"I would rather die."

He chuckled; now that was his Thena.

"Just," she mumbled out, embarrassment written all over her. "Give me your sweater.

He did so in an instant, pulling his black hoodie off his shoulders and wrapping it around her. She extended her arms on her own, threading them through the sleeves smoothly. He made sure it sat on her shoulders and then gave the bottom a tug to verify that it did indeed cover well beyond her (cute) butt.

She looked at him as she started pushing the sleeves up.

"Lookin' good," he grinned at her with a wink.

She rolled her eyes at him, but the way she let him take her hand told him she was still feeling a little shitty about everything. "Take me home?"

"You got it," he assured as gently as he could. As much as he wanted to offer to take her out and do something fun, it wasn't about what he wanted. And if she wanted to wallow in her misery for the night he would ask and beg and plead to join her in that misery. "You know-"

Thena didn't even turn her head, just gave him one hell of a side eye.

But he smiled, braving on for the love of his young life. "As I keep reminding you, I am in this for real, babe. Like, real deal, long haul-"

"Yes, yes, you have said," she sighed, although he could see her starting to smile again.

He gave her hand a squeeze. "It's not like I was never gonna be around for...something like this."

It showed on Thena's face just how much she appreciated his delicacy with it, even after the fact.

"It's not a big deal--not to me, at least," he shrugged, hoping he was saying the right thing. All he could hope was that she was really hearing him and getting how much he meant it. "And if you ever needed help like this again--just call me, okay? Text me, email me if you have to."

She laughed at the suggestion, but all he needed to see was that cute smile, showing off her teeth. She had a cute laugh, too.

"I'll be there, Thena," he finished, pouring his heart into it. "In a heartbeat."

"I know, Gil." Well, that was the end of that. It wasn't up for discussion anymore, and he would be pushing his luck to try and continue it.

But he happily let her release his hand, only so she could wrap her arms around his one and press her face into his t-shirt sleeve. "You gonna let me carry that bag for you?"

"No."

"Okay, fine," he chuckled. Whatever she wanted--needed. Anything at all. He looked down at her as they continued down the hall, taking their good, sweet time. "Thena, I-"

"I hope," she prefaced, giving his arm an extra squeeze, "you're not about to say something I wouldn't want to hear on arguably the worst day of my life."

Okay, so not the time for an I-Love-You. Their first, he had to keep reminding himself, no matter how many times he had already imagined saying it to her.

"Yeah, no, totally," he mumbled, resigning himself to keeping it in again.

"Just-" Thena pressed herself even closer to him. "Just wait a little longer."

He looked down at the top of her head again (since she wasn't up to looking at him yet, apparently). But she didn't have to ask; he was going to wait for her until the day he died, he had already decided.

It wasn't even really up to him. Somewhere along the way, he had fallen beyond the point of no return, and he would do anything - literally anything! - for her.

Thena let him kiss her forehead as they continued shuffling along, the hum of the fluorescents and the crinkling of the bag offering a soundtrack to their quiet moment.

"Y'know, I heard baths are good for cramps. We could-"

"Not a chance, Gil."

[devotedsweetheart]

・❥ CALEBS FAVORITE KINKS !!!

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: a list of what i think are calebs top 5 kinks !

WARNINGS :: NSFW! 18+, incest , oral sex , bondage , collaring , orgasm denial , porn w/ no plot

a/n :: these are not in order !! :)

1. INCEST :: now, this might seem a little bit overboard , but to caleb ? it's nothing new . after knowing you for so long ... growing up together , living in the same house , sharing everything with each other .. it's like a normal thing to him. so normal to the point where he'll call you his 'sissy' during different times of day . " sissy , could you grab my water from the table for me ? thank you, love . " it just rolls of the tongue !! especially during your alone time, too . it slips out more than you or him could count . when he first moaned it he never even payed attention to it , thinking of it as nothing . it was only when you gave him a look that he couldn't quite read did he notice what he accidentally said . "o-oh my god pips im.. im so sorry. that was fucking weird and i shouldnt have said it... im a damn pervert." shame flooded his face ... but he knew it would happen again , whether he could control it or not .

2. BONDAGE :: listen , he doesnt want to be tied up because hes horny , it's because he trusts you so much ... and that kind of turns him on . the fact he can willingly submit to you and trust you without having to worry about what you're doing . although he likes to be restrained , he'd never do it to you .. only if you asked him . he'd do anything you asked for (within reason) , whether thats strapping you to the bed with ropes , chains , a belt (his) , cuffs .. whatever you please . all he's worried about is them scuffing up those pretty wrists of yours . "nono wait baby .. your skin, it's red . do you need me to stop ? i'll stop right now for you , you look like you're in pain . let me kiss it better pips .." is what he'd say on any other occasion .. but the times when you didnt look so in pain , thats when his freak comes out . "you cant run away silly .. stop trying to run from me . i wont allow it , and neither will those restraints you begged me to use on you . i actually quite like the way you look right now... all tied up and cute for me ."

3. COLLARING :: i feel like this is the most canon you could ever get . he'd seriously be into making you wear a collar for him , wanting everyone to know who you belong to & to not try with his girl ! also , he'd want one with a bell .. just so you couldnt escape without being noisy ;) . buuuut he's up for wearing one for you as well , he also wants to let people know who he belongs to . i think he'd get one for the both of you regardless of you wanting one or not , his need to get people off of you is too strong, as he is alarmingly obsessed with you . the collar isn't just used as man repellent , it turns him on so fucking much . knowing that you're practically his property gets his dick hard to the point of ache , he'd definitely make you wear it during sex . mumbling incoherent sentences about how much he loves the way it looks on your gorgeous neck .. how he never wants you to take it off . "as long as you're here, with me, you aren't touching it . fuck , you're so good for me .."

4. ORGASM DENIAL :: hear me out . it's late at night and he notices your location isnt on ... he texts and calls you multiple times without an answer . eventually , he tracks you down and confronts you about going out without his knowledge / consent . after he's done scolding you , that night , he'd drag you into his car as soon as he could & not let you cum . he would adore hearing you beg for him , solely because it feeds into his desire for you to need him as much as he does you . he wouldnt be too fond if you ended up doing it to him ... maybe as revenge or something , but nonetheless , he would be in pieces . pleading , begging , writhing , all of the above just to feel your perfect cunt squeeze around him one more time so he can cum . he would never put his hands on you , but he would just get so desperate ... he might have to move you himself !! at that point , all he would manage were whimpers and prayers . "ohmygod pips please .. im sorry! okay! im sorry .. i can't take this anymore baby , i need to cum . i need it so fucking bad ."

5. FACE SITTING :: caleb takes "the best way to die is by thigh" way too seriously . he would happily pass away while in between your thighs ... he loves eating you out so much it's kind of concerning . the moment his lips are on your core hes not letting up until you've cum over and over again on his face .. hes addicted to the taste of you . his deep obsession with your juices is so bad that he has to have you suffocating him , almost breaking his nose , using his face as a toy ... he can't get enough . i think this roots from the fact that he jerks off to your voice all the time & that makes him so attached to all your moans . especially when you call out his name while you cum .. he thinks about those moments way too often .

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ in conclusion :: caleb would really do whatever you asked , aka hes into anything , but these are the ones he really enjoys . <3

[powderpinkprincess]

The Body Autonomy [Lando Norris x reader]

 description: You're on a holiday in Greece, grocery shopping with Max F., when you impulsively decide to get a navel piercing on the way back home. But without telling Lando.

It started off so innocently.

You were on a short holiday with Lando and some of his closest friends in Greece. A few hours earlier, all of you decided that you needed to fill up the fridge for the next morning. Still, none of you felt like walking to the grocery store after a long day spent swimming and sightseeing, so it was eventually procrastinated until now, when the sun was starting to set. You were playing card games: Max (Fewtrell) won, and you lost, so the two of you were sent to do the dreaded breakfast run.

Max glanced over at you, sunglasses perched on his head. “You sure we got everything?”

You peeked into one of the bags. “Bread, eggs, juice, fruit… Oh, shit. The milk.”

 “Right,” Max frowned. “Stay here, I’m going to run back. They’re closing soon.”

Your eyes wandered to the opening hours, and that was when you saw it. Right there, on the corner of the street, a small, blinking neon sign: BODY PIERCING - WALK INS WELCOME.

You paused. “Huh.”

Max immediately caught your expression and narrowed his eyes. “What are you looking at like that?”

 “I always kind of wanted a belly button piercing,” you hummed. “You go back to the store, I'll just hop in there."

 “No,” Max shook his head immediately.

 “But why? Body autonomy, Max. And I’m over eighteen.”

He sighed. “Y/N, we’re on a breakfast run. I was trusted with this mission by Lando. Why are you like this?”

 “Because I’m fun?” you grinned, already veering toward the shop like a moth to a flame. Whatever he said, there was no way he could stop you now. You had already made up your mind.

Twenty minutes later, you both walked back toward the villa, you grinning like a kid with a secret, Max carrying the groceries and shaking his head.

 “Let me see it again,” Max said, still half in disbelief.

You lifted your shirt slightly, revealing the brand-new accessory. You were in awe. “Cute, right?”

He winced. “You’re insane. Jesus, Lando’s going to kill me. I leave you alone for two minutes, and you end up letting strangers poke holes in you. He is going to fucking murder me.”

You laughed, taking a bag from him. “Relax. It’s not that serious. I’ll tell him. He won’t even be mad.”

Max gave you a side-eye. “You live in a very different version of reality than I do.”

By the time you reached the villa, the others were already gathered on the patio, enjoying whatever was left of the sun. Lando looked up from his phone when he saw the two of you approaching, sending you a bright smile. “Hey, finally. Took you long enough.”

You exchanged a glance with Max, who looked like he was preparing for his own funeral.

 “Babe,” you started, walking over and placing the grocery bags down. “I may have gotten a little… Impulsive.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Impulsive?”

 “Yeah. Like, holiday souvenir impulsive.” You lifted your shirt just enough to reveal the fresh piercing, the silver stud catching the sunlight. “It looks so good, doesn’t it?” you beamed.

There was a pause. A very long pause.

Lando blinked once. Twice. “MAX.”

Max held up his hands like a man surrendering to police. “I tried to stop her, mate! I swear to God, she saw the sign, and she was gone. What was I supposed to do? Tackle her in the street? She’s your problem!”

Lando’s gaze snapped back to you, mouth opening and closing like his brain was still buffering. “You two went to buy breakfast. How did that turn into this?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, biting your lip. “Well… Technically, we did buy breakfast. Max just had to rush back for the milk before the store closed.”

Lando groaned, running a hand through his curls. “Y/N… Honestly… You let some random piercer stab your stomach in the middle of nowhere?”

 “It’s clean, I swear! The place looked super professional,” you reassured, giving him your best innocent face.

He shook his head, coming closer, eyes scanning the piercing with a mix of shock, mild exasperation, and something that looked suspiciously like fondness. “Does it hurt?”

You shrugged. “A little. But it’s fine.”

 “Jesus.” He reached out, not touching, but hovering his hand over your stomach like he was inspecting it. “Please, please don’t let it get infected. You’re gonna follow every single aftercare instruction to the letter. Deal?”

You grinned, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Deal.”

Max, in the background, let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Well, at least I won’t die today.”

Lando shot him a look. “You’re on thin ice, mate.”

 “But you love me,” Max replied with a smirk.

Lando rolled his eyes before looking back at you, still shaking his head. “You’re both a nightmare.”

You laughed, linking your arm through his. “Yeah, but you love me too.”

And even with the tiny silver sparkle now in your belly button, Lando couldn’t exactly argue with that.

[merrinla]

Cut lines from Solas and Rook after Weisshaupt. None of these are voiced, so only text. Some are rewritten in the game.

Solas: You once told me that you would stop the gods without getting "thousands of innocent people killed."

Solas: You once told me that you would accept whatever consequences came from your battle.

Solas: You once told me that the consequences of your battle would be a problem for "Future Rook."

Rook: Yeah.

option: Don't mock me, okay? Rook: Whatever your big trickster-god lesson is, could we just... not? Solas: Why not? What makes this time different? Rook: Weisshaupt? Solas: You have seen death before.

option: I let the team down. Rook: I went to Weisshaupt to stop the gods... with a team of people I'd recruited.

Rook: Davrin, Lucanis, all of them... I convinced them to join. I told them we could win. Rook: And right now, it feels like I lied to them.

option: I was in command. Rook: But I've never been in charge. And this time...

Rook: I punched the First Warden in the face and made everybody listen to me.

Rook: I got the First Warden to listen. I got him to believe in me.

Rook: And then I... I couldn't get it done. I failed. And Weisshaupt fell.

option: This time broke me. Rook: This time, I feel... nothing. Solas: And still you hide your feelings.

Rook: No, I mean... I try to think about what I'm feeling, and I just... there's nothing there. Rook: If I think about what happened at Weisshaupt, I just... stop. Like I could go to sleep and never wake up. Rook: And I can't afford to do that. Solas: Why not? Rook: Because I let everyone down once already. I can't do it again.

Solas: There it is. The grief of having not lived up to the trust that others placed in you. Solas: It is a pain worse than any Elgar'nan or Ghilan'nain could inflict, and if you let it, it can help you. Rook: How?

Solas: There are those who hold their emotions at a distance to avoid the sting of failure. Solas: To defeat Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, there can be no distance. You must be committed. Rook: What, you think we failed because I didn't want it enough? Solas: I cannot say. But you chose this battle, and in so doing, you chose these consequences. Solas: Regret is the price we pay for acting when no one else will. Solas: Without regret, we would not be driven to correct our mistakes, to improve. To get it right.

option: I'll get it right. Rook: Next time, we won't miss. Solas: I believe you. Solas: And I believe that if you listen to me, then Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain will fall.

option: I don't want to feel this. Rook: It still hurts. Solas: I have lived thousands of years and made countless mistakes. It always hurts. Solas: If you listen to that feeling, perhaps you may never need to feel it again so keenly.

option: I'm not here for this shit. Rook: I didn't come here for your philosophical bullshit. I came for help! Solas: What did you think my help would look like? Solas: I cannot promise that our talks will be easy. All I can promise is that if you listen to me, Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain will fall.

option: I need some support. Rook: Could you be hopeful Solas instead of smug Solas right now. Rook: I don't need you to convince me how bad things are, okay? I get it. I really, really get it. Solas: You have finally met the Evanuris in battle.

option: I have to act confident. Rook: Yeah, we met the gods, and now I have to act like we're not completely screwed and this was a good step forward. Solas: Why? Rook: We lost a lot of Grey Wardens. We lost Weisshaupt. If we lost all of that, and I didn't accomplish anything? Solas: Then what? Rook: Then there's no way I can win. I should just start running now. Rook: But I can't. I have to keep acting like there's some way to win. And that's... terrifying.

Solas: Good. There it is. The fear. Solas: You finally see the consequences. You know the stakes. That fear, the terror of what you face now, can help you, if you let it. Rook: How does admitting I'm terrified help?

option: And I'm in charge. Rook: And somehow, I'm supposed to go up against them again, and everyone is looking to me for a plan. Solas: The plan will come. Once you have marshaled your forces...

Rook: I had a legendary assassin, a dragon hunter, and an army of Grey Wardens, and we still failed! I still failed. Rook: People keep asking me what we do now, and I have no idea. And that is... terrifying.

option: They're too powerfull. Rook: Yeah, and it turns out that when you're fighting a god, terror is a perfectly rational feeling!

Rook: And don't give me that "Evanuris" crap. You can turn people to stone with your eyes! Solas: Yes, and yet I wield far less power than Ghilan'nain or Elgar'nan. Rook: The world is going to end up a blighted wasteland unless I stop them, and... I don't think I can.

option: This is your fault! Rook: No. You don't get to come in here all superior. A whole lot of people just died, and that's on you! Solas: I have made many mistakes, but I did not free Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. Rook: Fine. Whatever. Solas: No. This is important, Rook. Solas: Your fury is real, but you can only defeat it if you identify its source. Who are you truly angry at?

option: Everyone! Rook: I'm trying to save the world, and everybody's kicking me in the shins while I'm doing it!

Rook: Tevinter and the Antaam would rather fight each other!

Rook: The Grey Wardens wouldn't listen until I punched their leader in the face and took over!

Rook: The First Warden wouldn't listen until the enemy was stomping all over his courtyard!

Rook: I can't do this alone! I need people to shut up and do what I tell them for once, or I'm going to fail again!

option: Ugh. Myself! Rook: I know who I'm angry at. It doesn't matter. Solas: Of course it matters. You must learn who you are.

Rook: The whole world is gonna know who I am! They're gonna make statues of me!

Rook: "In honor of Rook: He/She/They almost saved Weisshaupt!"

option: Bad luck? Rook: I don't know! Fate, luck, something! This whole mission has been one disaster after another. Solas: And how would luck help you? What is it that you need?

Rook: I need a break! I need one damn thing to go right for once! Solas: Because you deserve it? Rook: Because I can't do this! Rook: But if I don't, nobody will. So I've gotta keep banging my head against this wall like an idiot hoping for a miracle!

Solas: There it is. The anger. The frustration at having failed. Solas: Properly channeled, that rage can flare hot enough to burn away any impurities. Rook: Fine! I'm angry! How does that help?

option: We made progress. Rook: I'd hoped we'd take down Ghilan'nain, but we did kill her Archdemon. That's a good start.

Solas: "A good start." I wonder if your fellow Wardens would agree.

Solas: "A good start." I wonder if the Grey Wardens would agree.

Solas: Does this truly feel like even a partial victory, or does something uncomfortable lurk behind that easy smile?

option: No. But being sad won't help. Rook: No, of course it doesn't feel like victory. But that's what leadership is. Rook: It's putting your own feelings aside so the team doesn't collapse. Solas: And what is so dangerous that the mere sight of it would destroy your team? Rook: That I was wrong.

option: I'm tryung to believe. Rook: It has to feel like a partial victory. If it doesn't...

option: I need to seem confident. Rook: How do you think I feel? But the team needs me to look like I know what I'm doing. Solas: And what do you need?

option: Thanks, Past Rook. Rook: Sounds like something Past Rook would say. He's/She's/They're kind of an asshole.

Solas: (Chuckles)

Solas: You use humor a great deal.

Solas: "The elven god of sarcasm."

Solas: "This is the reason nobody likes you."

Solas: "Killing an Archdemon is the easy part."

Solas: Is all of this really so amusing, or is that wit the blade with which you keep less comfortable feelings at bay?

option: It's that or cry. Rook: I'm doing the best I can to hold it together. Sometimes that means stupid jokes. Solas: And when those fail? Rook: Then I probably start ugly-sobbing. Snotty nose, blotchy face, the whole deal. Solas: Why? You are no stranger to death. You have seen warriors fall in battle before.

option: It's that or panic. Rook: Well, I don't think uncontrollable screaming is gonna help anything, and that's the only other option. Solas: Uncontrollable screaming at what?

option: It's that or rage. Rook: Yeah, there's a pretty good chance the jokes are how I cope. Solas: And beneath those jokes? Rook: Why does that matter? Would me yelling right now help anything? Solas: It might help you know who you are.

option: It's a lot to accept. Rook: I was thinking I'd be accepting hurt feelings, not a whole fortress falling to darkspawn. Solas: Sometimes the hurt feelings are worse.

option: I guess? Rook: Weisshaupt could've fallen without us killing Ghilan'nain's Archdemon. That would technically be worse. Solas: Technically.

option: That's still true. Rook: And I stand by that. Solas: Truly? You watched a fortress fall and Wardens die, and it touches nothing within you?

Solas: I expect that you call it professionalism.

Solas: No hesitation. "We stopped you. We'll stop them."

Solas: No concern. Just targets. "Any other surprises we should know about?"

Solas: What are you so desperate to avoid feeling?

option: Numb. Rook: Nothing. Solas: So no fear, no anger, lurks beneath the surface?

option: Terror. Rook: Ghilan'nain was so much worse than anything I expected. She's a god.

option: Fucking furious. Rook: I am so fucking tired of being the one who has to do this while the rest of the world ignores the problem!

Solas: And while your grief is valid, the situation is not as dire as it seems.

Solas: And while your fear is valid, the situation is not as dire as it seems.

Solas: And while your frustration is valid, the situation is not as dire as it seems.

Solas: You have slain an Archdemon, a feat only a few have accomplished over the centuries. Solas: Ghilan'nain is now mortal. If you can find her and catch her unprepared, you can kill her. Rook: So how do I find her? Solas: Your team has ties to organizations with connections you lack. The Shadow Dragons in Minrathous, the Veil Jumpers in Arlathan, and so on. Solas: Strengthening your team will strengthen those groups. Prove your value as an ally, and they will give you the openings you seek. Rook: Okay, I'll see what I can do. Solas: Good. And Rook... I am sorry for the necessity of this lesson.

option: No, I appreciate it. Rook: You don't have to apologize. I know you're trying to help, so... thanks. Solas: Don't. Don't thank me. Solas: Our talk today will lead to Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain falling, but it is not a kindness. Solas: Good luck.

option: It's not wholly unexpected. Rook: You talk with the Dread Wolf, you gotta be prepared to bleed a little. Solas: A painful assessment, but more than fair, especially today. Solas: If I knew some other way to prepare you for what lies ahead, I would do so.

option: Whatever. Goodbye. Rook: We're done here. I'll talk to you when I know something. Solas: Of course. Then I will simply wish you good luck.

[angrythingstarlight]

How would Bucky react if Bee came home one day and had a bouquet of flowers that one of the PTA dads gave her for Malyshka? 👀

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumbleebee

Word Count: Drabble

A/N: Written on my phone, unbeta'd. Part of the bumblebee series.

Bucky carefully takes the flowers from Bumblebee's hands, his affable grin sliding off his face when he stands up, towering over you.

"Who gave you these?" His voice is deceptively calm, in stark dichotomy with the storm brewing in his keen blue eyes. His darkening gaze sends a shiver down your spine and it takes every ounce of your willpower to suppress your smile. This is probably not the best time to tease your mobster. Bucky knows the answer without even glancing at the card attached to the bouquet, he merely wants confirmation.

"Bucky," you stretch out his name, wrapping an arm around his neck, going on your tiptoes, you smooth the lines forming between his furrowed brows with a light touch. "I barely remember the guy. Chris something I think. It's not important."

"I remembers Mommy. Mr. Cole gave 'em to you and remembers how he—" Bee states a little too helpfully, squishing a stray lavender petal in her palm, blissfully unaware of what she started when she skipped in the house straight to Bucky to show him Cole's flowers."—he wanna touch your butts. You remembers?"

Don't laugh. Don't laugh.

"Thank you, Bumblebee." Bucky sees your lips twitch and a dark, menacing glint creeps over his bearded face. God, he's sexy when he gets like this. One day you'll figure out why that particular look makes your knees weak.

"You welcome, Papa," she sings out. Done with her part in this fiasco, she heads off to her playroom, leaving you alone with Bucky.

"Oh Cole. Right. That one. Yeah, they might be from him," you admit.

"Cole Turner. Farmer. Divorced father of two. Works upstate. Asthmatic." His gaze flicks to the flowers crumbling in his grasp. "Cheap."

Bucky knows all about the farmer, ever since the man first flirted with you. Bucky's been biding his time, content to let you handle him.

Until now.

If the way he's crushing the stems in his large tattooed hand or the way his heady gaze pins you in place wasn't enough to reveal how your mobster feels about another man giving you flowers, his accent slipping out as he lists off what he knows, says more than his words ever could.

Oh, he's furious.

And jealous.

It's not a bad look on him. You glance down and see the veins along the back of his hand, your eyes trailing up to his thick bicep barely contained by his tailored suit, and over to his face just in time to catch his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not bad at all.

Still, you can't let him hurt the asthmatic farmer even if Cole can't take a hint.

"James, whatever you're thinking, the answer is no." You clutch the sides of his jaw, making him look down at you. "I don't care about the flowers. Or what's his name. I love you." His expression doesn't change but you see his eyes soften. Pulling him down, your lips brush over his ear as you whisper. "I only want you. No one else. And if you agree to leave him alone, I'll show you how much you mean to me."

He knows that and he trusts you. He's not concerned about that. Bucky believes you're fucking irresistible and he can't blame other men for wanting you as badly as he does. Actually, he can and he will. Bucky drops the flowers and takes your face in his hands, his warm palms brush over your cheeks as he tilts your head back. "I'm going to need a lot of convincing Malyshka. It's going to take all night."

"Promise you're not going to do anything to him."

"I won't hurt him," Bucky offers with a casual shrug.

"Bucky."

"That's the best I can do. And Malyshka, you should be focused on how you're going to handle all the things I'm about to do to you." A smirk pulls at his lips and his unrelenting gaze skates over you in one smooth pass. His voice deepens, the sound vibrating over your skin as his lips find the side of your throat. "Remember what happened the last time you promised to make me feel better?"

Oh.

"I--"

"Don't worry, I'm about to remind you."

The following Monday.

You're dropping Bee off when you overhear Keaton talking to another mother. "We'll need someone to cover Cole's snacks for the rest of the year. I can't believe he up and left like that."

Your eyes widen as you subtly glance over your shoulder, listening carefully while taking Bee's little backpack off.

"What happened?"

Bucky what did you do? Without being too obvious, you take a step closer to the gossiping duo, their voices carrying over the sounds of the classroom.

"Apparently he just inherited a house in D.C. He told Kristen that it was left to him by some uncle but one of the conditions is he has to live there for ten years to keep it," she states, picking her keys off the desk. "And get this, right after he finds out about the place, I'm talking two seconds after he hangs up with the lawyer, he gets an offer to take over some vendor that's a mile or two from his new place but they wanted him to start immediately. So he...." Her voice starts to fade as she strolls down the hallway.

No, he didn't. Laughter spills out, you slap your hand over your mouth to conceal the sound and wave goodbye to Bee. You spend the entire walk back to the car teetering between amusement and astonishment.

Bucky's waiting for you, leaning against the side of the car. A gorgeous, colorful bouquet of flowers in his hand. But it's the smug grin on his face that has your attention. He doesn't have an ounce of shame in him and you both know he'll do it again.

"You're ridiculous, you know that right?" You say, taking the flowers from his hand. That cocky grin of his widens as he opens the door for you. "And insane."

"Only when it comes to you."

[tiramissyoucake]

The bath blurb was absolute GOLD!!! love it so much!! Tho it made me question, for the other Mark variants how would they react to the threat of no longer being able to bathe with their boo ever again as well?~~~

first time trying this format, so let's hope it looks right! Based off this

Includes: Sinister, Mohawk, Omni. Lmk if you want any other specific variants !

Cw: little gorey description but nothing drastic, tagged just incase:

♡ Threatening him with no more baths together if he doesn't bail out of a fight immediately

Sinister Invincible

Who tf do you think you are. You can't take that from him. You're not allowed.

It's like a switch goes off in his brain, fists shaking as he clenches them and grinds his teeth together, completely forgetting about whoever he's dealing with

"That's not up to you. Sit tight. I'll kill this fucker and deal with you myself." Then crushes whatever communication device he had jammed in his ear in his fist, leaving no room for discussion

After bursting the skull of whoever he was dealing with in between his hands easily, he flicks off whatever innards clung to his hands and his body, leaving the beheaded corpse for someone else and zooming straight back to you.

You're desperately trying to communicate with him any way possible, but with the earpiece gone there was no way— it's fine, he was right behind you anyway.

"You think you're so fucking smart." He mocks, grabbing your jaw and turning you to him. "Home. Now. You're scrubbing this shit off me."

It took you a moment to establish he meant the blood on his suit and whatever seeped beneath the fabric to his skin, his malicious smile told you this would be a bath that would leave you two overly soaked and pruny.

Mohawk Invincible

Immediately tries to argue, that was sacred. How could you.

His focus completely tears away. "What the fuck?! What did I do?! Just because I'm taking a little longer than usual?! Get back on the damn line! I know you can hear me!!"

He let's out a loud groan when you demanded for him to return again. He was half super-powered alien. Who gives a shit if he took 5 more minutes to kill someone?

"I know you can't live without my dick, but trust me— I'll kill this loser and come straight home! I'll even splatter his guts so you'll know I need that bath!"

"Don't care, bail out. Now." His hands clutch his forehead and drag his skin down to his chin in a frustrated facepalm, he's gotta kill this guy. And fast.

It was messy, he made sure of it, by the end of the massacre the corpse was unrecognisable and his suit was more red than blue and black, he looks up where he knows there's hidden cameras for GDA stalkers to watch him.

"Did'ja see me?" He sounds giddy. "See how filthy I am?" He gestures down to his suit. "I'm comin' to pick you up, we're running that bath the moment we get home!"

Omni Invincible

He tries to act like it doesn't bother him but deep down he feels like the bell tolled for his soul.

"Calm down." He's not sure if he's telling you that or himself. "Don't talk about our private things around those GDA pests."

The definition of 'lock the fuck in.' Because he does immediately after, you see him zip around on the screens before his opponent is grabbed by the throat and ultimately crushed. You thanked God for the distance between the camera and the scene itself.

He grunts as he drops the neutralised enemy and lets the blood drip off his gloved hand. "Threat down, I'm heading back now."

No objections, he was asked to deal with a problem, and he did. He didn't want to waste time around government dogs, picking you up and flying off wordlessly without waiting for your agreement.

"Don't ever talk about when we bathe together around those... parasites." He speaks softly to you as he flies you home with him, keeping out of civilian sights.

"And don't ever threaten not to bathe with me." He sounded more frustrated. "Or I swear, I'll throw that fancy bathtub we own into space and let it land in Alaska."

[pucking-rowdy]

[2.9k]

blowing smoke (1/?)

pairing: luke hughes x childhood best friend!reader, ethan edwards x fem!reader summary: things have never changed since knowing luke. a quiet shift in your dynamic has you falling into the arms of his teammate, much to luke's dismay. now you have to decide which one you want more. ethan or luke?

warnings: underage drinking, drunk dry humping notes: this part is pretty ethan heavy, but trust luke will get some love soon!! luke hughes stop being a dummy ur in love with ur best friend

part two | part three

unedited

the smell of the lake house never changed. in your nearly twelve years of being invited up during the warm, michigan summers, the smell never changed. the smell of sunscreen lingering from ellen hughes' attempts to save you from the pains of sun exposure. the smell of hotdogs singeing on the grill as jim got distracted by whatever game was playing on the tv. the smell of jack's overwhelming cologne that he swore "got the ladies going," whatever that means.

of course, now, at nearly twenty, there was no ellen chasing you and the boys around with a can of spf 50, quinn was the culprit of burnt hotdogs, and jack's cologne offended your nostrils more than ever. nevertheless, nothing changed.

luke hughes had been your best friend since the first grade. he was a quiet kid, smaller than most of the other boys in your grade, and he generally had trouble making friends. that was until you, as rambunctious and loud as a seven-year-old could be, found him crying under the playground slide, nursing a scraped knee. you had walked him to the nurse's office, hushing his fears with solemn swears to never leave his side, your pinky wrapped around his in oath. of course, you held true to your promise, arguing with the nurse as she attempted to send you back to class because you were nothing if not a pinky promise keeper.

after that day, luke remained glued to your side. he followed wherever you'd lead.

middle school was no different. you'd spend your evenings and weekends at the hughes' house, teaming up against jack and quinn for a game of mini sticks in the basement, or at the rink, tucked under a blanket with ellen hughes as you watched the boys play.

things didn't change. even now, enrolled at umich, you spent your evenings and weekends at the hockey house, teaming up against adam and mark for a game of beer pong, or at the rink, tucked under a blanket with some of your girls as you watched the guys on the ice.

of course, luke was a bit different now. he'd hit a growth spurt in high school, sending him heads above you. he was a bit thicker now, gaining muscle from all his time spent prepping for hockey season. he was still quiet, but he didn't struggle to make friends. people seemed to flock to him, whether it be for his nhl star brothers or that quiet charm he seemed to possess.

the lake house is alive with energy as everyone scatters about. so many friends had tagged along this year that you were starting to lose track. quinn had opted to bring some of his buddies from vancouver, jack, as always, invited trevor, cole, and alex along, and you and luke invited some of the umich boys, as well as your good friend, emma.

you're snapped out of your thoughts as the backdoor slams and ethan edwards dramatically drops the cooler he'd been carrying onto the deck. he wipes a bead of sweat from his face, panting.

ethan was one of your closest friends. you'd met through luke, of course, and hit it off almost immediately. if you weren't with luke, there was a good chance you'd be with ethan.

"man, if only i had someone to help me carry this down to the dock," he gives an exaggerated sigh, glancing over at you. you bite back a grin, staying quiet. he continues, "you know, someone really kind and helpful, and lowkey kinda hot-"

you laugh, cutting him off, "alright, alright. i get it. you get that side, i'll get this one."

as you grab the handle, ethan lets out a dramatic sigh of relief, "god, you're the best. i could kiss you on the mouth."

you snort, huffing as you pick up the cooler, "don't."

ethan grins and nods, "yes ma'am."

you make it halfway to the docks before a hand lands on your back, snatching your side of the cooler. you let out a breath, wringing out your hand from the ache of the heavy cooler.

"i got it," luke grins down at you, an easy smile that has you matching it immediately, your stomach turning in unfamiliar knots.

you huff in faux exasperation, but the grin on your face gives you away, "i had that."

luke nods, "i know, but now i've got it."

he eyes your hoodie and shorts, a soft frown pulling at his lips. "you know quinn said if we weren't ready by ten, he was leaving us on the dock."

you shoot him a look, "no, he said if you weren't ready. quinn wouldn't leave me, i'm his favorite." luke huffs, hip bumping you. ethan sighs, struggling to keep hold of the cooler.

"yeah, yeah. we get it. you're the golden child. now, if we don't get this cooler down to the dock, my arm is gonna fall off."

﹌

the boat is crowded. even with a few of the boys staying back at the house, you can't find anywhere to sit that doesn't make you feel smushed between two hockey players. finally, getting tired of watching you roam, jack pulls you down between him and luke right as quinn starts up the engine. you huff, your thighs sticky as they're trapped between the brothers'. jack's cologne floods your senses, and you make a mental note to buy him something more tolerable for christmas this year.

eventually, the boat lulls at mid-lake and the boys filter out, doing flips and tricks off the sides and into the cool water. you strip your shirt off, moving to the back of the boat to lay out across the seats for a bit.

you're half-conscious, the sun beating down on your back as you listen to the boys mess around in the water. you jump at the feeling of water droplets hitting your back and huff as you're casted in shadow.

as you glance up, you're greeting by ethan's wide grin. his hair, soaked with lake water, drips onto your back. "you're blocking my sun."

ethan just laughs, "why aren't you in the water? we're gonna play chicken."

you hum, letting your eyes flutter shut. "just wanna lay here."

ethan's quiet. he nods, moving to cram in next to you. you huff, scooting over, "what're you doing?"

he waves off some of the guys who are asking if he's playing before turning back to you. "laying with you," he says it as if it's the most casual thing in the world, as if your ass isn't pressed right up against him in the tight squeeze of the boat seats.

you give him a look, "i thought you were playing chicken?" ethan shrugs and the movement of his shoulders causes your arms to move as well. "i don't have a partner."

you laugh, nodding over to the boy perched on the side of the boat, "trevor could've been your partner."

ethan laughs, "zegras is cool, but i don't think i want his legs around my head."

you bark out a laugh and ethan does too. "around your head? i don't think you're playing chicken right."

"hey, do you wanna-" luke stops, his eyes flickering between you and ethan. his eyebrows draw together as he analyzes the way you're pressed together in tight boat seats. "oh, uh, nevermind. you look...busy."

you sit up a bit, straightening your top, "what's up, lukey?"

he grimaces a bit. "i was gonna ask you to be my partner, but it's all good. i'll ask emma." you ignore the way your chest grows tight at the thought of your friend perched on luke's shoulders, his strong hands wrapped around her thighs and her hands tangled into his curls as she fights for balance. you swallow thickly, nodding. "oh, yeah, okay."

he heads off, a bit quicker than needed, and you lay back down with ethan. he frowns, noting your odd expression, "you good?"

you nod, turning to face ethan as you attempt to drown out emma's squeals and luke's loud laughter.

﹌

the rest of your time at the lake house seems to be spent similarly. it seems that every time you go looking for luke, he's wrapped up in emma. he saves her a seat on the boat, your seat. he helps her practice her swing at the golf course. hell, he even helps her to bed one night after she's had too much to drink.

to make matters worse, emma comes to you, giggling and gossiping about how nice luke is, how much she likes him.

to soothe the ache in your heart that comes with missing your best friend, you latch onto ethan, spending most of your days in his company. it's not like he minds, the contrary, in fact. he eats up the attention. just like luke, he's saving you a seat on the boat, helping you practice your swing, and refilling your drink when it's empty.

the summer comes to an end all too soon. quinn and his friends return to vancouver, jack returns to jersey, and you and your friends return to umich for a brand new semester.

it's a welcome return, and you're optimistic that being back in ann arbour will heal whatever awkwardness is festering between you and luke.

the hockey house is different than the lake house. it's loud and rowdy, whereas the lake house aways emits a sense of peace and comfort. it's a mess and frat-like. you don't dare slip your shoes off until you're in the comfort of someone's bedroom.

nevertheless, it's become a second home, an escape from the cramped dorm-life you've grown to resent. you've never felt unwelcome there, often heading over to hang out whether luke was home or not.

this time, rather than being perched in luke's bed, watching him study plays or notes, you find yourself tucked away in ethan's. there's a respectful amount of distance between you as ethan scrolls through movies on the tv. despite being attached at the hip, you'd kept everything relatively platonic. ethan didn't make any moves, which you couldn't tell if you were grateful for or not.

ethan speaks up, breaking the quiet, "you're coming to the party on friday, yeah?"

"i didn't know you guys were throwing this weekend."

ethan finally glances over at you, bewildered. "luke didn't tell you?"

you wince.

"we haven't really..." you trail off, avoiding his gaze. ethan nods slowly, letting out a soft "oh." he doesn't push the subject, which you mentally thank him for.

"well, yeah. you should come. won't be much of a party without you."

you snort. "what? so i can keep the corner company?"

ethan sends you a light glare, "hey, you're our best mixologist. don't make me put mark on drinks duty." you giggle, cringing at the thought of whatever concoction mark would come up with.

"seriously. you should come. for the good of the community. "

you sigh, hesitating. the pleading look in his eyes makes the decision for you. "yeah, okay. i'll get here early and help set up."

ethan grins, slinging an arm over your shoulder and tugging you into his side, pressing play on the cheesy romcom he's picked, "you're a dream."

he doesn't let you go, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head as you engross yourselves in the movie.

﹌

you push your way through the crowd of bodies, letting out a breath of relief as you make it to the kitchen. the music booms and blares from the large speakers dylan had rented earlier that day. you pour yourself another drink, lighting up as ethan wanders into the kitchen.

"eddy!" you cheer, slinging your arms around him. your drink sloshes and spills a little down his back. he grimaces, but doesn't say anything, grinning down at you.

"oh, you're drunk."

you nod, handing him a drink, "and you need to catch up."

it's not long before you're both plastered, grinding to the music that's blaring through the living room. ethan's hands are snug on your waist as your ass pushes back against him. across the room, luke watches, an ache in his chest. his arm is wrapped tight around emma's shoulders. the rest of the guys around him laugh and jest. "eddy finally got her, huh?" mark grins, watching the two of you dance. luke stiffens, his expression unreadable as he gives a jerky nod.

luke knew of ethan's crush on you. it'd been obvious since the day he introduced you, and ethan had never made any move to deny it. but watching you reciprocate his wander touches made his stomach churn.

ethan's voice is low as he mumbles in your ear, "upstairs?"

you eagerly nod, letting him pull you through the crowds of people and up to his room. ethan tugs you inside, shutting the door and locking it. you quickly push him to sit at the edge of his bed, straddling his lap.

ethan's head tilts back as you straddle him and he lets out a breathy groan. "god," he mumbles, "wanted this for so long."

you giggle, your hands tangling in his brown hair as you tug his lips down to meet yours in a messy, drunk kiss. ethan groans into your lips, his hands finding your hips. his tongue slips into your mouth, fighting with yours.

you shift, accidentally grinding against his lap. ethan freezes, letting out a strained moan. "fuck, you can't just-" his words are cut off by another groan as you rock your hips again, testing the waters.

you both pull back, eyeing each other as you pant. you lightly tug the hem of his shirt, a questioning look in your eyes. ethan nods, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it away. it's your turn to groan, your nails raking down his defined chest. it's not an unfamiliar sight, but it's one you've never seen in this sort of context.

his hands guide your hips again and you let out a soft moan as the fabric of his jeans catches just right beneath your skirt. you hold your arms up, letting ethan slide your top off. he swears under his breath, his eyes glued to mounds peaking out of your black, lacy bra.

he mumbles, sliding you along his lap, "fuck, you're so gorgeous."

you whine, your hands finding the button of his jeans, "ethan, please."

he nods shakily, unbuttoning his pants and lifting his hips as you tug them down his legs. his boxers are tight, and you can see a damp spot forming right at the front. you groan, sliding your skirt off and tossing it to join the rest of your outfit on the floor.

your hands find ethan's shoulders, pushing him to lay back. he complies, laying on his back against the mattress. you align yourself over his clothed bulge, moving back and forth. ethan groans, his hands so tight on your hips, you're sure to have bruises tomorrow.

you gasp sharply as he bucks up, rutting against your clit. your voice is whiny and breathless, "fuck, eddy, like that."

his hands snake around to your bra clasp. he looks up at you with pleading eyes. "can i?" you nod, and he undoes the clasp, freeing your tits.

you continue rocking on him as he leans up, capturing your nipple in his mouth. he groans, sucking and swirling his tongue as his eyes flutter shut. your head tilts back, hands tugging in his dark hair. you can feel the familiar knot forming in your belly.

"eddy, 'm close."

he pulls away from your tit to kiss and nip at your neck, leaving behind blotchy marks. "me too," he groans, guiding your hips. it doesn't take much for your orgasm to wash over you. your hands clutch into ethan's hair, crying his name as your legs tremble. he follows suit, releasing thick ropes into his boxers with a strained whine.

you both pant, coming down. ethan grimaces at the sticky feeling beneath his boxers. he gently pulls away, kissing your head. "stay right here." you nod, laying back into his pillows, too exhausted to move much.

a few minutes later, ethan returns in a pair of fresh boxers. he hands you a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a warm washcloth. you snort out a laugh as ethan rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

"sorry, i would do it, i just didn't know if that was like, a line that you didn't wanna-" you hush his rambles with a warm kiss.

"relax, eddy. it's fine."

he nods, letting his shoulders relax a bit as you head to the bathroom to clean up.

when you return, he's curled up in bed, another cheesy romcom playing low on his tv. he holds his arms out, inviting you in. he looks so warm, so cozy, that you couldn't possibly say no.

you fall asleep like that, curled into ethan with some shitty movie playing as background noise. you decide you're content like that. who cares about luke or emma when you get to be wrapped up in ethan?

[aninipanin1]

Hello!!! I have a little suggestion for the manager!reader series.... What if manager!reader made tiktoks/little skits around each stratum for blue lock tv promotional content? I can imagine a lot of people fighting for the spot next to the reader when they do silly tiktok trends hehe ( ＾ω＾ )

Anyways, that's all from me!!! Take care of yourself, and thank you! (*^▽^)/★*☆♪

SUSPECT!

Notes: I don't have TikTok so I don't know much about it. But this turned out to be more player focused lmao enjoy!

"We have to do a what?"

"Some tiktok challenges. Our media manager has already made you guys an account and um, they want you to film some videos so the show can get even more popular!"

You can hear most of them groaning in complaint. Its not that they do not use the app, but most of them could not care less about the cameras or how popular the show could get. As long as they got to continue playing and being in Blue Lock, then everything is all good.

"Can I not join in, Y/n-chan?" Niko asked and most of them soon followed, asking the same question.

"Eh? Oh okay...um, I'll try convincing the JFU but...they said you need to be in it." You said, a sad look in your eyes, knowing that the JFU would probably scold you again when they found out you let the boys do whatever they wanted again.

Isagi, being one of the most sensitive ones in the group, noticed the look in your face. Now, if it was just him, he would also rather say no to whatever the JFU wanted. But knowing that you will probably struggle in convincing the higher ups, and the possibility of you being scolded again, he straightened his posture before clearing his throat.

"Actually, Y/n-chan. We'll do the filming! Right guys?" He said, a fake smile on his face as the rest were just confused.

"What? You do it alone-" Otoya was about to say when Isagi elbowed his side discreetly, before giving a chilling smile.

"Right, Otoya! We'll all do it, Y/n-chan! What do we do?"

Most of them did not like the sound of that, but seeing your face light up in happiness made them get what Isagi wanted. So they just shut their mouths up and let you tell them what to do.

"It's been a while since we even used our phones for fun, didn't know so many trends already came and go." Karasu said as he listened to the trend they were supposed to be doing.

"How do you do this 'suspect' trend, Y/n-chan?" Bachira asked, peeking his head through your shoulder to look at the tablet in your hand where a video of the said trend played.

"So basically, one person will be filming another. The one shown in the camera will be running while the one holding the camera would call them 'suspect' before saying something about themselves that is embarrassing or funny. That's the gist of it, but you all can say what you want, as long as it doesn't cross too many lines."

Oh.

Oh.

A shiver ran through your spine at the smirk on everybody's face. Of course, they all knew each other's deepest habits and secrets, perks of living with each other in this large facility. And exposing and dissing each other? Oh, this was just the thing they have been waiting for.

And that was when you wondered if you picked the wrong trend for the boys to do.

"Um okay, I'll be doing something else in the meantime. I'll leave you with this phone so you guys can film. Um, you can go in whatever order you want. Please try to keep the language to a minimum as possible."

You said nervously, handing a phone provided by the facility to Rin, who just accepted it without a thought. You personally did not know how to feel about this. You trusted them, but definitely not enough to say the weirdest and most out of context things, especially when it comes to their fellow Blue Lock players.

'Oh god, I hope they dont end up fighting...'

The moment you left, they immediately went up to Rin to set up everything and started to point on who will be the scapegoat and be the first one.

"I vote for Barou to go first." Nagi said with a yawn, which only angered the said striker.

"What did you say, you lazyass? How about YOU go first?"

"Hey, hey no fighting!" Bachira cheered.

"Yeah. Hmm, how about rock paper scissors, and whoever loses gets to be the sacrifice." Hiori commented, to which most of them agreed.

It took a while to play the said games due to their number, but as the minutes passed and more and more people won and got eliminated. It was all left to Otoya and Chigiri.

"It's missy versus ninjass!" Karasu laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Karasu!" Chigiri muttered, taking the game very seriously.

But, lady luck wasn't on his side today as he pulled out paper and Otoya pulled out scissors.

"YES! GOODLUCK MISSY!" Otoya cheered. Chigiri fell to his knees at the lost before being pushed up by Isagi, who was laughing at his misery.

Being the one who currently held the phone, Reo snickered at a thought that appeared on his mind as he pressed the video button and started recording the running Chigiri.

"Suspect can't outrun us for too long in this video, or else he'll be in crutches the next day." Like bowling pins, most of the boys fell to the ground laughing at the words. Reo, was busy snickering and making sure that Chigiri's reaction was caught on camera.

"You absolute crud! COME HERE, YOU ASSHOLE!" Chigiri said, fuming, chasing after the chameleon-like striker who just ran away and continued laughing at his offended face.

"Suspect got brotherzoned by Y/n-chan because he started to say slurs on the field!"

"BITCH?! COME HERE CHIGIRI!" Isagi said, feeling offended and a bit heartbroken when he remembered that certain time.

"Suspect thinks his bad taste in fashion brings the girls closer, but actually just shoos them away from him."

"WHAT?! Excuse me, my fashion is good." Otoya tried to defend himself from Karasu's words. But the rest of the boys just shook their heads.

"Your beanies are hideous."

"Nah, its just because they're on him."

"HELLO?! WHY IS EVERYONE SO RUDE TO ME?!"

"Suspect is a closet gay for Hiori." Rin said, filming Karasu who stopped in his steps with wide eyes at what he said.

"What the hell? I'm not gay." But the rest of the boys just laughed at the straight tone Rin said what he said and the expression Karasu currently had.

"Shut the hell up, you crow. You ain't ever gonna beat the allegations!"

"You aren't any better, Shitdough! You are so gonna get it from me!"

"Hey, you're the one who keeps commenting about how erotic Hiori is." Kunigami rolled his eyes.

"I second that. I still can't forget how you called my left leg erotic." Hiori pitched.

"THAT WAS A COMPLIMENT?!"

"How gay can a compliment be, chat?" Otoya joked while slapping Karasu's back, who only yelped.

"Suspect would either get hepatitis from his dreams of Itoshi Sae or his 3 weeks unwashed pillow case!" This time, it was Oliver who filmed Shidou.

"And I don't have anything to hide about that."

"Jesus Christ, you both are disgusting." Rin commented in disgust at both Oliver for what he said, and to Shidou's whole humanity, or what was left in that guy's said humanity.

"Ya'll are getting more unhinged as this challenge pass by." Yukimiya added as he shook his head, not even knowing what you, Ego or Anri would say when they start to view the footage.

"Suspect can't run too fast or else he'll trip because he can't see what's in front of him."

"HAHAHAHA Bachira did not pull any punches." The rest laughed, meanwhile Yukimiya's glasses fogged, his smile clearly fake as he was legit pissed at what the striker said.

"We're here to offend not to ammend, baby."

"Suspect watches anime more for the agenda than the plot."

"So what?" Niko sassed towards Kiyora, who just shrugged while the rest just snickered.

"Nah bro, don't tell me you're one of those in the agenda piece community." Kurona said, only for Niko to shrug.

"Maybe or maybe not. You never know."

"Suspect is a closet mean girl."

"Pfft Isagi!"

"Nagi being a closet mean girl is so true, though."

"All the victims of Nagi Seishiro arise!" Otoya said as Isagi, Barou and even Reo raised their hands while laughing. Nagi, on the other hand just plopped on the ground, not wanting to even continue moving.

Needless to say, the video was a whopping success in social media. Everyone had a good laugh at found out the chill and funny side of the Blue Lock players. But, the JFU was less than pleased of what was in the video.

They expected the boys to behave and say respectable things about each other, not ruin their damn reputation just for jokes and laughs. But, nerdless to say, nobody cared much about their anger because the video did blow up in popularity, and numbers never lie, especially when it brings over money and revenue.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

BLUE LOCK TV TIKTOK COMMENT SECTION:

User1: TO SAY I SNORTED WHAT I WAS DRINKING WHILE WATCHING THIS?!

User2: I swear I always forget these guys are the same age as me, meaning we share the same humour☠️

User3: THE KARASU ONE?! THE GAYNESS IS REAL

-> User4: Idk who to ship anymore Y/n-chan w him or Hiori

User5: I did not expect Rin to actually be funny, good to know he doesn't have his brother's dry sense of humor.

User6: I LOVE THIS! Like I didnt know Nagi and Niko were filled with sass nor did I know Rin can be funny. I NEED MORE OF THESE

User7: Okay, but the brotherzone thing w Isagi proves to me that maybe the crazy harem shippers are right LMAO

-> User8: RIGHT?! Now I'm wondering like theres no way you would use the word brotherzoned if there is no feelings there.

I know this strayed away from the request but I really wanted to incorporate the Bllk boys' friendship so I hope yall enjoy this. I may make a pt 2 that fits more of the request huhu

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[mamawasatesttube]

started ... something? as a warmup of sorts earlier tonight to fight writers block. idk where its going/if i'll ever finish it but here's 800 words of the usual fools :) cw for internalized homophobia!

“I need to talk to you,” Tim says, grabbing Kon’s arm. “In private.”

Kon freezes.

Normally, Tim needing to talk to him wouldn’t be scary. But normally, Tim wouldn’t announce it like this—melting out of the shadows, grabbing his forearm, and staring at him with the intensity of a man heading to the gallows. There’s a furrow between his brows and a firm set to his jaw, and his heart is beating faster than normal.

Whatever he wants to talk about is bad news. Kon knows that just at a glance.

“Yeah, of course,” he agrees, and follows Tim out to the Titans’ Tower rooftop. Stars twinkle overhead, whatever few of them aren’t choked out by all the Bay Area light pollution; the air smells of sea salt. “What’s wrong?”

Tim’s shoulders are rigid and tense. He drops Kon’s arm as though it burns him the moment they’re outside, clasps his hands behind his back, and starts to pace. As the wind picks up, another wisp of silky-fine dark hair escapes his messy half-ponytail. Kon almost reaches over to tuck it back for him—almost.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Tim says brusquely, and clears his throat. The soles of his boots tap lightly against the rooftop with every step. He reaches the end of the balcony railing and whips around, razor-sharp, to stalk back towards Kon. “I just… need to say this.”

“Okay,” Kon says, shifting his weight uncertainly from foot to foot. Tim is tense, uncertain, and nervous… about something he needs to tell him. That doesn’t bode well. Butterflies flutter through Kon’s stomach and stir up anxiety in his chest. “Take your time, man. I’m here.”

Tim blows out a short breath. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, his gaze fixed on the horizon as he continues to pace, back and forth. “About the other week—I guess it was a couple of months ago, now. When you told me you’re gay.”

Kon’s stomach drops all the way to his toes. Oh, no.

“And I know at the time, I told you I’m straight, but it doesn’t have to mean anything for our friendship anyway,” Tim continues. He’s not wearing his cape, but Kon can imagine the dramatic way it would whip out around him as he turns neatly on his heel again. “And that’s all well and good, but lately, I’ve started… noticing some things, about myself.”

Oh, god. Kon bows his head, unable to look him in the eye. Shame wells up in the pit of his stomach, thick and cloying; nausea creeps all the way up into his throat.

Here it comes. Tim’s gonna tell him he’s not actually comfortable with him anymore, that he doesn’t want Kon to touch him, that he doesn’t trust Kon to share his bed or be nearby when he changes clothes. He’s gonna tell Kon he needs some space. He’s…

“The biggest one has been that I’ve noticed, well…” Tim frowns deeply, then turns again. He lets go of his hands behind his back in order to fold his arms over his chest instead, stopping at the railing with his back to Kon. His heart is pounding a mile a minute, his shoulders so tense they’re hiked up almost to his ears. “My gut does the weirdest things around you—acrobatic things.”

It would have been kinder if he drove a Kryptonite stake into Kon’s chest. The breath leaves Kon’s lungs as if he did anyway. “…Oh.”

“And it seems like it’s been doing that for a long time, but I only recently started to realize what might be the cause of it,” Tim continues. Kon watches with horrified, sick fascination as he digs his fingers into his arms so hard his knuckles turn white. “As in, that it’s related to you telling me that you’re—”

“Tim, you don’t need to beat around the bush like this,” Kon says, queasy and heartbroken and loathing himself for it. “I get it. You—you’re trying to tell me you don’t want to be around me for a bit now, right?”

“What?”

Tim whips around, so shocked he seems to momentarily forget how tense he was. His mouth falls open as he gapes at Kon, then furrows his brow, narrows his eyes, tilts his head like a confused dog.

“No, not even a little—I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you! What the hell are you talking—”

Kon’s voice jumps a whole octave. “You what?!”

Tim apparently replays what he just said, then goes as red as his shirt. He stands his ground, though, planting his hands on his hips. “I said what I said! What the hell did you say?”

“I, uh, I thought, I… um…” Kon stammers, his voice petering off into nothing as his heart thunders in his chest. “I…”

[quarterlifekitty]

I blame you for turning me into a Nikolai lover, what do you mean he's bouncing us on his lap, that's crazy 🙈 I imagine you'd be delirious with exhaustion and what can you do but lean into his chest, so tired that you can't even try to bite him and just go limp, trusting him in some small way bc you can't get your bearings yet and everyone's a stranger, and a loud stranger bit you and you don't know where you are and who or whatever holding you is nice and sturdy and soft enough to be comfortable, and everything's so scary and dangerous, surely you can rest your eyes for a moment while whoever's holding you so nicely is bouncing you? and what a nice voice that rumbles in your your ear, even if you can't pick out what he's saying, surely someone so nice won't mind if you catch a little shuteye

absolutely love your writing, it's like you pried open my brain and went "hmmm what would be as attractive as possible" I hope that makes sense 💕💕

So. This is completely unrelated and I mean this in a humorous way. But I am a little paranoid when reading message previews right after getting an anon that disagrees with me on how I'm doing things. So I'll see so many asks like this where the preview in the notifications will just say "I blame you..." and I'll be like oh god oh fuck what have I done and then I'll click on it and be like oh lol it was a fun and cool thing nevermind.

Anyways.... it's no secret that I love Nikolai as a softdom/caregiver type guy. So I love this so much. And honestly you can crucify me if you want but I'd like to take it even further if you'll follow me to see what's behind door number one...

CW: this is kinda edging on ddlg/cgl and by that i mean its got mindless finga suckin'

From Nikolai's point of view, Johnny is barely past being a fledgling himself. Hardly fit to be siring his own vampires, even less fit to take care of them. And besides, if he knows Price (and he likes to think he does), Johnny will likely be separated from you while John comes to a decision of what to do about this whole kerfuffle. So you're without guidance, as it stands. And that won't do.

It's already clear to Nikolai that Soap was too excited with his new find that he didn't even bother to find you a meal before spiriting you back to the den. You're certainly acting starved and dizzy-- easily pushed around. He pulls at your lip to inspect the fangs that have only just begun to take shape from your incisors. And if your wincing is anything to go by, they're still very sensitive. He can't very well take you out now, so he does the next best thing.

A drop of his own blood lands on his tongue as his fang punctures the calloused skin of his index finger before slipping it into your mouth. You perk up a little when a rivulet of ichor slides back into your throat, gently sucking at the wound before teething a bit mindlessly at the flesh by his knuckle.

The older vampire keeps you curled into him, murmuring praises and encouragements and sweetness against your hairline in words you can't fully parse, but just listening and tasting him and closing your eyes makes it all feel so much easier.

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 04

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

Dedication — for @rivaiken, iykyk! <3

The next couple of days have been radio silence. You don't try to communicate with Rafe and he doesn't try to communicate with you. You just throw yourself into your work, scolding to yourself how this was such a bad idea.

It wasn't meant to be a fuck relationship. It was meant to be fake. Nothing more than public displays of affection and going on to ignore each other behind the scenes. Rafe, himself, said that he wanted to continue doing all the shit he's doing now, just with you as a shielded layer of protection against his father.

Whenever you think back to that moment in the country club bathroom, your stomach recoils. Not because of the sex, but because of how willing you are. You always saw yourself as an independent person. Someone who can handle your own needs. You had to be; you grew up with no parental guidance and raised two younger sisters. You take care of people, you think of others. You handle everything yourself.

But you remember you were deep on your knees, ready to give him anything; when you were splay against the counter, begging him to make you come. God, you feel embarrassed by your own desire.

Maybe it's the control. Maybe it's because you're so used to it in the real world, for once, you want to give the reins to someone else. Especially in the bedroom. And Rafe perfectly takes it.

The only problem is he doesn't give it back.

Asshole.

You're behind the counter, telling Miranda about the new backlog of orders that the system hasn't placed, and a spill in one of the corners, when the bell rings, signaling the entrance of another customer.

"I'll be right with you!" You shout over your shoulders, quickly summarizing the last of the tasks for Miranda before turning to the new customer who walked in.

You plastered on your service smile, ready to take their orders.

Only to realize it was Rafe.

Your smile drops.

"What do you want, Rafe?" You ask pointedly, setting the towel down on the counter as he slides into the seat before you, a casual demeanor to his own presence.

"I need you to play the part again." He says, without so much as an apology or acknowledgement to what happened the other night. "It worked. My dad likes you."

"That's great," your voice is empty of emotions. "Are you coming here to tell me about what a perfect plan you made?"

"No," he shakes his head. "I need you to attend a party with me."

"Business?"

"No, at my house."

Your answer is immediate. "No," you say, shaking your head. "Can't make it."

"You don't even know what it is about."

"Let me guess," you cross your arms, pretending to ponder. "Your dad trusts you enough with me, so if he sees you and me at your party, he would assume I'll be able to control you and you won't push yourself over the edge?"

His reply is silent. That's how you know you're right.

"Guess my Pogue brain caught up fast enough."

You turn around to grab a small glass, pouring out a shot of tequila on the table before tipping your head backwards and taking it all in without a chaser. You need it for whatever this conservation is about to go. "I won't be able to go. I have a double shift."

"I haven't told you the day yet."

"I have double shifts all week," you declare sharply, the bitter taste burning your throat. You squint your eyes for a moment, readjusting, before you find his gaze again.

"I'll pay you."

"God, is this party that important?" You huff out of astonishment at his persistence. "The answer is still no. I don't want your money."

Rafe's brows furrow together. He doesn't understand why you're acting so cold to him. He came in with a good proposition; you wouldn't have to do any of those silly dinners with his father, all you had to do was make an appearance at a party long enough to satiate Ward and then you can do whatever the hell you want. Why are you being so difficult?

"What the fuck is your problem? Why do you have such an attitude?"

You laugh, abruptly, because this is so ironic and humorous to you that the sound rips out. The reckless prince, the man who received a collegiate degree from UNC Chapel Hill doesn't know what a Pogue is thinking.

You don't answer him, deciding to take one of the tasks off of Miranda's hands and clean up the spill yourself. It’s better than being cornered by Rafe. You move to the other side of the counter for the flip-door exit, stepping out from behind the booth.

Heading to the back to grab the supplies, Rafe follows you. Once you step into the backdoor, grabbing the mop, he slips in behind you, blocking the exit.

"You gonna talk or just avoid me all day again?"

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

His forehead wrinkles. He truly doesn't know. "What the fuck are you goin' on about?"

Having enough, you throw your arms out in frustration. "I'm talking about the fact that you're the one who fucked me in a bathroom after some problem with your dad," you snap, lashing out from all your pent-up anger. "You refused to talk to me. All you did was used me as your fucking toy."

He staggers back for a moment. Before a cruel smile appears on his lips.

"I remember you were begging for it."

You slap him.

It was so unprecedented, without thought, that it shocked the both of you. The next few seconds were quiet, too quiet, like it was a live wire waiting to spark.

Your voice is calm, almost deadly. "I want you to leave."

His anger comes back tenfold. It's almost a match made in hell; how your rage matches his, how he doesn't back down—but neither do you.

You were going to drive each other insane.

And some sick part of you liked it.

"When have I ever fucking talked to you, Pogue?" He snaps back with dark fury. "We're barely even friends. If I want to fuck you, and you let me, I'm taking it."

"Whenever you had a problem with your dad, you came to me, in this bar," you gesture out to the door. "You talked. I listened. That was the deal."

"We never said that in our relationship."

"Well, I'm putting it in," you declare. Approaching him, stepping a foot closer to close in the distance between the two of you. He doesn't move. He doesn't waver. He watches your step with heavy breathes, dark eyes. In a low breath, you warn, "you want to fuck other people? Fine. I don't care. You do that. They aren't the ones sticking with you, helping you with your dad. They don't have to carry the weight of you being you."

You know the last line was a hard hit, but it was true. You were tired of being seen as another Pogue, someone on the bottom of the litter meant to be used and thrown away. You need to make your stance firm.

"But if you want to fuck me," you conclude, pointing to yourself, "you talk to me, first."

He says nothing. Your anger is filling your adrenaline. It could also be the tequila. Whatever it is, you don't know what provoked you to say the next sentence.

"I wasn't on the pill, goddammit."

For a moment, sobriety reigns over Rafe's features. His eyes widened. "Did you—"

"I bought a Plan B, you asshole." You cut him off, not wanting him to think you're too stupid to think of the consequences. You knew. That's why you told him to pull out. "I wasn't going to carry your babies in me. But, it was expensive. Do you know how much that cost out of my paycheck?"

To him, that may seem like nothing. Nothing more than scraps rolling around his room, in his pockets that he could spare. But for you? That's money that could've gone to paying off your debt, to helping Sailor, to taking care of your siblings.

He remains silent.

You continue.

"You cover for me however you want. You host that party if you want to so fucking badly. But I can't do it. I have work."

You push past Rafe and he lets you, grabbing the mop out of the corner and stepping back into the open atmosphere of your bar. You may hate the noise that comes from the place, but it was better than being suffocated in a room with him.

Rafe quietly follows after you after you return behind the counter.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but his words were not coming out. His gaze flicks to you, jaw clenched.

"I... I didn't know," his voice is a whisper, almost indistinguishable, that you can't help but let out a bitter chuckle.

"Yeah," you agree. "Because you refused to talk to me."

He says nothing, muted by his own anger, looking down at his hands, before he walks out of the bar. He doesn't bid farewell and you don't expect him to. All you know is he's going to get shit-faced soon and you had nothing to do with it.

—

As you are helping your little sister with her math homework—where all her struggles were about multiplication tables and recognizing whether a fraction is improper—you miss the early days of your life. Where you don't have to think about anything else.

About the bills. About the loans. About how to take care of your siblings.

About a stupid Kook prince you can't get out of your mind.

Your baby sister is seated on the couch, reading some children's book that you made a couple of years ago, stringed together with yarns and colored pencils. Her delicate voice echoes through the joint living room, sounding out the words on her own as she heard you read them million of times before.

Your sister, Amara, pulls you back to reality as she taps your arm, pointing to her problem on the kitchen counter that she's struggling with. She points to the question, reciting her logic of how she got there, and you return with praising her thought process but reminding her of her multiplication tables.

"Ohhhh," her voice drags, giggling at the realization. "I see."

You chuckle softly, laying your chin on her small shoulder and picking up your phone off the counter. While she fixes her mistake, you scroll through social media.

A notification flashes at the top of your screen.

topperthornton: hey

Why the fuck is another Kook sliding into your DMs?

you: hello?

He quickly responds, asking if you are your name.

you: why?

topperthornton: idk if u know but rafe is hosting a party tn

you: so i heard

topperthornton: well, you should come

you: i don't think so, white boy

topperthornton: it's rafe.. he's asking about u

Something in your chest sputters. You pretend it's not your heart.

you: ?? for what

You hope you didn't come off too eager. You don't want to be. You should be pissed, goddammit, but something about knowing Rafe, drunk right now, is thinking about you, makes you weak.

You hate it.

topperthornton: idk what happened between the two of u but he's drunk and crossed out of his mind and he's just been rambling about u

You stare at the text for a hot minute, before another one follows.

topperthornton: u need to come immediately

Fucking hell.

You know you shouldn’t. You just came out of a long, tiresome shift. You have siblings to take care of. You have a math problem that has yet been corrected. But, something in your chest caves. The idea that Rafe needs help, that he's asking for you specifically, and you aren't coming? Makes you uneasy. 

You have to go.

There's no other way around it.

Scrambling, you pull your Amara off your lap as you run out the door and race down the block. When you stop in front of Pope's house, you pound your fist against the door, praying someone is home.

It's Pope.

"Hey," he greets. "What's up?"

"I know this is last minute but I need you to watch the kids," you announce breathlessly. His eyes follow you, concerned.

"Everything okay?"

"It's fine," you wave off. "I just have to go somewhere and I don't know how long I'll be. Amara is doing her math homework and Leilani is just reading a book. They're really sweet, I promise."

Pope laughs you off casually. "I know," he says with a smile. "I've babysat them before."

"So," you string the words together slowly, hoping your anxiety isn't coming off too strong. You don't want Pope to feel obligated. "Can you... do it?"

He nods. "Of course. Pogues help each other out."

You smile, pulling him into a quick hug, before handing him the spare key to your house. He heads over to take care of your siblings while you run to your beaten-down car, reversing out the road.

When you arrived at Tannyhill, you truly underestimated how large the party was going to be. People crowded all over, dancing, swinging, just having a reckless and wild time at Rafe Cameron's place. While you know you should be slightly embarrassed by the long pajama pants and braless baggy tee you're wearing right now, feeling overdressed, you step out of the car and head inside.

Topper spots you at the porch.

"Thank God," he mumbles under his breath. "He's been out of it."

You wonder if Topper knows about your arrangement with Rafe.

"Yeah," you nod. "Where is he?"

"I put him in his room with some water but I gotta tell you, he's wasted. Some of the things he says... may not be tasteful."

You scoff. We've already crossed that bridge. "I think I'll be fine."

Without another word, Topper pulls away and you head up the familiar stairs of the estate, descending down the hallway you were here just days ago. It feels, for some reason, like a lifetime since you visited.

You knock on the door, twice, to no answer. Deciding to go for it—praying you won't walk into some lewd act—you step into the room to find it peacefully quiet. Rafe laid out on the mattress, his eyes closed.

You scan the room, trying to see if there's any destruction—any thrown chairs or broken bottles—to find everything in the same condition as you visited prior. The only difference is a pink bag, sitting in his drawer with a bouquet of flowers sticking out.

Your stomach twists in jealousy as you wonder who that could be for. At what fool is receiving such gifts or who gave him such.

When you peek inside, you notice a couple of things: a white envelope, a bundle of red tulips, and like ten-plus stacks of Plan B.

You stiffen your laugh. You realize the fool is you.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach.

The bed creaks and you jump at the sound, seeing Rafe pulling himself up on the mattress into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, before he finds you, standing in front of him.

He says your name. He thinks he's hallucinating from the drugs.

"Yeah," you nod, cautiously approaching him as his glazed eyes follow your every move. "It's me."

"I thought you said you had a double shift."

He didn't mean for his words to come off so sharp.

"I locked up an hour ago." You explain, brushing past his aggravation.

Rafe nods at your explanation, but his movements are sluggish. Lag. He truly is out of it. You're surprised he went this hard.

His head hangs, staring at his lap, before he asks quietly. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug. You don't know either. You thought he needed help. The idea of him asking for you, but you weren't there for him, kills something inside of you. But, you can't say that. Not after everything you said to him. Not after what this relationship is based on.

You are nothing more than a fake girlfriend.

"Topper said you needed help," you evade any sense of responsibility. Of care. "He texted me."

His jaw clenches, and he looks up at you. "Top has your number?"

"No. He found my Instagram," you answer, wondering if that is jealousy you hear. But, you settle that it can't possibly be the case. "He DM'd me and I came over."

Now it's your turn to be vulnerable.

"I thought you needed help."

Rafe scoffs, bitterly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Unless you can get this headache out of my heart, I don't think there's much you can do, sweetheart."

You nod, your feet shift to the door, ready to leave. If this is all, if that's all Topper is worried about, Rafe should be fine.

"Come here."

You find yourself listening. Again. Your feet pads against the hardwood floor as you streamline over to him, stopping just in front of his legs hanging off the ledge of the mattress. His head tilts up to meet your gaze; his cloudy blue eyes staring back at you. You bite back a thought.

"I know something that would make me feel better."

You scoff at the suggestive tone. "Let me guess: fuck?"

"Sit on my lap."

You hesitate for a moment. You don't want to be another fuck. But, when his hand lands on the side of your thigh, gentle and earnest, you relent.

Slowly, you settle onto Rafe's lap, both legs on either side of his waist. Your body facing him, and despite him in the lower position, he meets you at eye level.

"Better?" You tilt your head, watching his shoulders unwind every-so-slightly.

"Much." He murmurs, his eyes tracing your face. "God, you're gorgeous."

You flush, knocking a weak palm against his broad shoulder. "Shut up," you say, feeling anything but. You're wearing scraps for clothing, something you planned to go straight to bed—not attend an extravagant party hosted by one of the island's finest.

"I'm fucking serious." He snaps, but his voice doesn't have that hard edge. You blame that on the alcohol too. "I saw all those girls tonight. And yet, here you are, in your fucking pajamas and getting me hard."

You scoff, turning away. "So it does lead back to sex."

"No, it means that they pale in comparison to you," he cups your chin, gently, pulling your gaze back to him. "I'm serious, sweetheart. Believe me."

You're afraid that if you move up against his lap, coming closer, you would feel his erection. Not to mention, if you do, you don't know if you're going to start dry-humping him like you did the other day. But, you remain firm on your stance.

You're not going to let him fuck you unless he talks to you.

The atmosphere thins into a silence, as you take in the low hums of the downstairs party blasting in distant music.

"How was the party?" You ask, probing for a conversation starter. "Was it everything you dreamed of?"

He scoffs. "You're looking at it. I basically drank and smoked until I got sick."

His vices. At least you didn't have to hear about the women he hooked up with, if that's the case. Something deep inside of you hope there isn't.

You nod silently, finding your fingers tracing the outline of his shoulders, your nails scraping against his hot skin and trailing up the crook of his neck. Rafe lets his eyes flutter close for a moment, breathing in a shaky breath.

"Don't do that."

"Why?" You ask, genuinely curious. "I'm just tracing."

"Because anything from you right now feels good," he confesses quietly, and your breath caught in your throat. You hand stills. "Fuck, don't stop."

"You're going to have to give me one signal here, Rafe," you roll your eyes. "You can't say green and red light at the same time."

He pauses for a moment. Contemplating your words.

"Green," he whispers. "Definitely green."

You return to your outline of Rafe's silhouette. He lets you. He says nothing as you follow down to the curve of his arms, skimming against his defined biceps and the muscles instinctively flex under your touch. It made you smile. You pretend you aren't proud of it.

This is done in complete silence.

Then, out of nowhere, Rafe confesses, "I shouldn't have touched you like that."

You freeze. You knew immediately what he was referring to.

"I—I was out of it. I took it out on you."

He still doesn't get it.

You abandon your artwork and use both hands to cup the underside of his jaw, forcing him to tilt his gaze and look up at you. With a sigh, you say, "that wasn't the problem." Your eyes study his face, "it was the fact that you didn't talk to me or explain to me what happened."

His gaze is broken; so incredibly so. The whites of his irises are a faint shade of red, bringing out the deep set of his blue eyes.

"I need to know these things, Rafe." You continue gently. "It's not about me being nosy, or a bitch, or anything. If I'm getting into something with you, I need to know the full picture so I can help you." You swallow your voice as you mumble out the next one. "So you can help me."

You hope he doesn't know the strain in your tone, how hard it was to say those words. You hope he doesn't press on it.

"Okay." Rafe nods, dipping his chin into your palms. "I get it."

"Easier said than done, darling."

Rafe knows it is. He's been struggling to string words together before you came into his life, much less with you in it. But, he was willing to try.

He begins at the dinner. With a stumbled start, he explains how Ward doesn't think he was good enough for you.

You stop him to ask questions. "He said that?"

"No," Rafe shakes his head. "But it's the look on his face. It's—the way he acted. You should've seen how he looked at me when he complimented you, like I'll never compare."

You frown at those words; you didn't even notice.

When he satisfied your questions, Rafe continued on with his story. Rambling further. Each word spilling out easier than the last. He assumed it's because of the alcohol, or the drugs, or perhaps it was neither altogether and it was just you. All in all, he knew.

It was easiest to talk to you.

It reminded him of the bar. He put himself in that setting. His words tumbles out of him with the impression that you won't share it with anyone else. The idea that you were just you, a bartender, who probably had to deal with this shit a thousand-times-over with other talkative customers. That it was you, who he is confessing a vulnerable part to, without the retaliation of judgment.

Rafe breakdowns the comments Ward made. The little conversation they shared after dinner, when you were helping with the caterers. Your clothes. It all became too much to him; like he was the problem. That nothing he did was good enough. His mind was spiraling by that time and having nothing else to pour it into—the drinks, the drugs, the partying—all he had was you.

And he used that to his advantage.

You listen intently, nodding along and following his words without further interruption. Only on things you truly need to clarify. When he finished, even with his incoherent noises and words, something in his chest lightens. It feels more at peace.

You stare at him for a few moments, digesting the information. A protectiveness forms in the pit against your stomach because fuck Ward, you decided. Sure, there may have been admiration from your end about his ability to become a Kook but that means shit now. You hate how he treats Rafe. You hate how you didn't notice.

"God, your dad is a dick."

Rafe doesn't agree like you expect him to. His gaze hardens, like he can't stand you insulting him. You realized, in that moment, you crossed a line. That he may harbor all these hurt and anger and resentment, at the end of the day, it's still his father.

"Sorry," you mumble softly. "I didn't mean it like—"

"I know what you mean."

That came out with an edge.

You swallow, deciding that you should leave. Maybe you being here isn't the right decision. Your legs are starting to cramp from their overstretched position and the inside of your thighs burn from the overuse. You peel your hands off his shoulders and slowly will yourself off of Rafe's lap.

"I should go," you declare, glancing at the exit.

Something in his chest tightens. He wasn't mad. He just wasn't used to regulating his emotions, especially about his father. All he knows is that he doesn't want you to leave.

"Wait," Rafe declares as you pause in front of his bedroom door. He stammers for an excuse. "I never made you come."

Your eyes slightly widen from the suggestion. "It's fine," you say, even though, in that moment, a small part of you hated him for that. "I... I finished myself off when I got home."

The image of you, in your bed, alone, touching yourself to relieve your aches, does something to him. Both in guilt and in arousal.

"No," he raises from his bed, approaching you. Now, with him standing on his own two feet, he towers over you—dominating and intimidating. "It's only fair. I should give back."

"Rafe," you place a hand on his chest, laughing awkwardly, because you don't know how you feel about him pleasuring you. "It's fine. It's not a tit-for-tat thing. You don't owe me anything."

He feels frustrated again. That's not what he meant.

"Fine." He snaps. "You want my words? I want to make you come. I want you to feel as good as I did that day."

You stare at him, the air stolen from your lungs, not knowing what to say. Then, suddenly, an idea occurs to you and a sly smile rises to your lips.

"You want to help me come?" You ask sweetly, watching as he nods his head like an obedient dog. "Okay."

Your hands travel down to the hem of his pants, to his belt, and unbuckle them. Rafe's face conveys surprise, that you're so eager to accept, and when you pull out the leather strap, you stop. Just for a moment, you glance back, asking in confirmation. "My pleasure, right?"

He doesn't know what you're trying to do, but he nods anyway.

"Turn around."

Rafe does what you say. You take both of his wrists into one of your hands—a struggle that Rafe had to assist with—and pins them behind his back. Using the belt, you tie them together.

"Sweetheart..." His voice is low, unsure of how you're able to proceed, but the arousal travels through his body at the uncertainty.

"Trust me." You whisper, buckling them into a firm lock. When you walk back around to face Rafe, your panties dampen at the sight before you: him, standing tall, with his arms pinned behind him, almost helpless. "Sit."

Rafe takes the seat on the desk chair you pulled out, his bounded arms touching the back of the seat as his focus is pinned on you, standing before his bed.

You let out a shaky breath, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the idea of what's about to happen, before your fingers hook to the band of your pants, slowly pulling them down to your ankles. He watches every little move; like a strip tease catered specifically for him. Something he can see. Something he can't touch.

Rafe can feel his erection hardens in his jeans.

"What are you doing?" Rafe's voice is rough and once you step out of your pants, revealing the white panties underneath, he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to make myself feel good," you declare evenly, trying to calm your racing heart, "and you're going to watch."

His Adam's apple bobs. "How do I help?"

"I look at you as I do."

A complaint lodged in his throat but you caught it before he proceeded. "My pleasure, right?" You remind him, to which he, with great reluctance, nods.

You leave your shirt on, deciding it would be unnecessary to take off, and settle down on his bed. Your back pressed against the mattress, you position yourself comfortably in a way that allows Rafe to watch.

And he's watching.

"Are you going to use your fingers?" Rafe asks, deciding that he needs to talk to keep him sane.

"Mhm," you answer, spreading your legs. Arousal licks up your stomach as you feel the cool air brushes the inside of your thighs, raising goosebumps against your skin. You feel the urge to laugh to dispel some discomfort in your body, at how intense Rafe is studying you, but you choose not to. "I might only use two. It'll be tight."

Fuck, Rafe thought.

With a tentative hand, you brush your fingers against your panties, feeling your wetness forming a spot. The light touches ignites heat in your core and your eyes flutter close for a second.

"Look at me." Rafe commands, trying to regain some control. It doesn't work, but you listen anyway.

You watch him as you continue to stroke yourself, pressing against your clothed pussy, not quite entering, as a light coat of your slick covers your fingers. You tip your head back with a small moan.

"Sweetheart," he groans, "stop torturing yourself."

When he truly means to stop torturing him.

You pull your hand back and stuff your fingers into your mouth to cover with saliva, tasting the faintness of your arousal, before returning back to your pussy. Pushing the drenched fabric to the side, a forefinger slips inside easily.

A whimper escapes you, your back arching slightly from the intrusion of your touch. Rafe's breath hitches in his throat as he watches you steadily pump yourself, in-and-out with one digit. You focus on your own pleasure, how good it feels, with the heightened sensitivity of Rafe's attention all on you.

And he's fucking hard.

Rafe watches as you spread your wet folds, slipping in another finger to your tight cunt. It kills him that he can't do anything about it. 

"I bet my fingers would fill you more," he offers seductively, trying to remind you of his existence. That he can do it too. You laugh softly, not taking the bait. "What are you thinking about?"

"How good this feels," you whisper, hearing the sound of your wetness squelching in the air. You mewl. "You."

Rafe grunts at the confession. You try to keep your eyes set on him, to remember what you're doing, who you're doing it with, but the build-up is causing you to lose control and makes you close your eyes.

"Eyes." He demands, his voice sharper than before. You open them with great resistance, each second longer is a struggle to keep them focused on him. 

"Oh, god," you moan, quickening your pace as you connect your gaze with Rafe. The way he looking at you right now. It reminds you of the night at Topper's house, the time in the country club's bathroom. "Yes, yes, fuck."

He can't stand this. He's straining against his jeans, his cock painfully hard without any relief, while his wrists are bound and reddened by how tight you locked him in. How he's pushing against the leather, trying to break free.

You close your eyes again in pleasure. Your orgasm is getting close.

Rafe swallows hard. "You feelin' good, sweetheart?"

You nod eagerly, flicking your gaze back to him. "You enjoying the view?"

He clenches his jaw, not responding, but you can tell. The impressive outline of his bulge against his pants, how hungry his eyes are. How much he wants you.

It lights something carnal within you. You start to pump harder and faster inside your pussy, your moan growing louder and without inhibition; Rafe's very own porn show in front of him.

He has enough.

"I need to touch you." Rafe declares desperately, rising from his chair, his eyes never straying from the perfect image of you, on his bed, fucking yourself, writhing in ecstasy. "Come on, sweetheart, I can—fuck—I can make you feel so much better."

He's bargaining, goddammit.

A small laugh leaves you, mixed in with the sound of your own pleasure, and you don't acknowledge his comment. His pleads. He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

Rafe growls out your name.

You glance up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze. "Hmm?" You say innocently, pulling your hand out of your pussy. His eyes glance down at your slickness glistening off your fingers, his chest tightening.

"Say yes." He demands weakly, his voice rough and filled with so much restraint, like he's seconds away from losing it. "Tell me I can touch you."

You pull yourself to your knees, bending before him, your smile full of satisfaction. "You want me that badly, baby?"

He doesn't even bother denying it anymore. "Yes."

"My pleasure, right, baby?"

"Fuck, yes," he groans. "Please."

You grin, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and pressing it against his full lips. He takes you in, sucking your arousal clean from your hand, his eyes still on yours, and you, finally, finally nod.

"You can touch me."

Rafe breaks his belt buckle in one swift motion, surprising you, before his hands immediately cover your body, grabbing at any flesh he can find. His mouth claims yours, pulling you into a hungry kiss and pushing you back against the mattress as his weight pins you down.

"You can't get enough of me." You tease, moaning at how good he tastes, how you can taste yourself on him, and your fingers find his hair. When he breaks, his hard eyes land on your face.

"You don't know how fucking badly I want to punish you right now," he confesses lowly, his hand lowering to the space between your legs. "For torturing me like that."

"It doesn't feel good, does it?"

Rafe scoffs, capturing your cheeks in one large hand, squeezing them together. He runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, mumbling, "this fucking mouth."

You provoke further. "You love it."

He doesn't answer you, silencing himself with a bruising kiss against your lips and sucking all the air out of your lungs. When his hand lands on your pussy, his fingers begin to run tight circles around your clit, causing you to arch into him.

"Oh, god," you moan into his mouth as he swallows the sound. Breaking from the kiss to glance down, he watches at how responsive your body is, how you're writhing under his touch, and smirks.

"Feels good?"

"So good," you whisper needily, "please keep doing that."

Rafe descends down your body, kissing a trail from the navel of your stomach to your wet cunt, aching and waiting just for him. "I'm going to make you come on my fingers, tongue, and face. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?"

He doesn't give you time to answer, covering his mouth over your swollen nub and sucks.

"Oh, fuck," your hips involuntarily bucks against his face. He grins against your pussy, in satisfaction, at how good he's making you feel. At how good you taste. To be denied of this, for the past hour, was torture. He wants to pleasure and punish you, all in one. "Don't stop, don't stop."

Your legs wrap around his head in a lock as he ascends you towards your peak, slipping two thick fingers into your pussy. The size makes your walls clench around them. Rafe groans, the vibration against your clit pushing you further into your climax.

"Please don't stop, please." You moan in desperation, afraid of him pulling out again, tipping your head back against his pillows, your fingers gripping his hair harder. Rafe twists his fingers, entering at a new angle, allowing the cool sensation of his ring against your hot cunt and amplifies your sensitivity.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

Rafe quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in with precision and hitting all the right spots. In addition, he slurps harder, tonguing your clit in a way that causes stars to blanket your vision. Writhing in pleasure, you moan and whimper, racing towards your orgasm. 

"Come for me," he commands, feeling your walls twitching towards a desperate end, “let me hear my girl."

You release with a heavy cry, coming on his face and slumping back against the bed from pure exhaustion. Combined with the day you had, the double shifts you've been pulling, and the incredible orgasm you're given, all you want to do is sleep.

"Get up," Rafe declares, but you don't move. "Come on, sweetheart."

"Give me five minutes," you yawn, holding out five fingers while your eyes flutter. "I just need to..."

You don't finish your sentence, closing your eyes for a brief moment. That's what you tell yourself, and the last thing you remember before you fall completely in your slumber. 

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Navigation — Part 03 | Part 04 | Part 05

[victorbutnotreally]

SCREAM!

A/N: This is intense, so if you're not comfortable with anything given in the warnings, i'll see you in the next fic <3 CNC/Consensual Non-Consent is communicated, and consented to beforehand. warnings: boypussy!minho, CNC, role-play, mask kink (ghostface), knife play, threats (consensual), reader is a bit mean?, degradation, praise, unprotected sex, overstimulation, manhandling, rough sex, size difference, belly bulge, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, clit slapping (once), face slapping (once), dacryphilia, handcuffs, swearing, nicknames, established relationship, aftercare

You've done CNC before, but not like this.

Not this intense.

It all started with an innocent Halloween party…Minho dressed as a playboy bunny, and you as Geto Suguru. Both of your costumes were pretty low effort, but you can't deny you guys looked good. Especially Minho who looked absolutely delectable in a black latex babydoll with bunny ears and a pretty collar. When you got home, you still had the Ghostface mask someone handed you during hide-and-seek.

"Be really scary." "Fine, but only if I get to spoil you afterwards."

"I'll kick and scream but don't you dare stop, okay?"

The words rang in your head even on the way home. The words which made you leave the party early. Hell, you didn't even dance to conserve your energy.

As soon as you got home, you locked the front door shut and wearing your Ghostface mask, carried Minho over your shoulder. Minho, who was as light as a feather, as small as a kitten compared to your towering frame, kicked and screamed as he said he would. You heard him scream, and you could only smirk behind your mask. You trusted him to use his safe word if needed, and he trusted you to stop if he does.

You toss him onto bed and hovered over his small body, pinning his hands above his head. He looked at you in terror…god, he was such a good actor.

"P-Please…what are you doing? Let me go.."

"Let me go!!!", he yelled as you took out the knife you had as part of your Geto costume and pressed it against his throat. Thank god it was blunt.

"I'll slit your fucking throat if you make a sound", you said, lowering your voice to up the scare factor. He wanted scary, you'd give him scary.

Minho's eyes widened in feigned terror, although his heart was racing with excitement beneath his skimpy costume.

"Oh god oh god, please don't hurt me!" He whimpers loudly, tears welling up in his eyes for effect. "I-I have money! Take my money, just let me go!" Despite his pleading words, he arches his back as the cold blade pressed against his skin.

You toss the knife aside and grab both of his wrists in one large hand to pin them above his head while the other ran up his thighs, sliding the soaked panties to the side.

"I bet you're enjoying this, you slut." You spat, slapping his clit harshly, making him cry out.

"A-Ah please…no," his protests start to turn unconvincing as he bucks his hips upward.

He squirms and writhes under your grip, face flushed and chest heaving. Despite his protests, his dripping arousal is evident, juices glistening on his inner thighs.

"You're hurting me! This isn't what I wanted!" He cries out, voice cracking. He tries to clamp his legs shut but you easily part them further. "Please, I'll do anything, just don't do this! I'm begging you!"

He played it well. You almost felt bad. But you remind yourself that this is what he wanted. You knew he'd use his safe word, and that was all the reassurance you needed to proceed.

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want, you whore."

You say in the same lowered tone. You release his wrists only to cuff it with the handcuffs you grabbed from your nightstand drawer. Your hand which was now free from holding Minho's wrists went to wrap around his neck, putting light pressure, making him gasp and cry as you took off the lace panties and inserted two fingers in, scissoring roughly while your thumb pushed back the hood of his pussy and rubbed harshly against the extremely sensitive clit, making his milky, plush thighs shake and squirm.

Minho thrashes and bucks wildly as your long fingers invade his sopping cunt, scissoring roughly, thumb abusing his aching clit. Tears stream down his flushed cheeks, drool escaping the corner of his mouth as choked sobs spill forth.

"No! Aahh! S-Stop! You're r-ruining me!" He wails pitifully, even as he clenches greedily around the pumping digits. The handcuffs clink as he yanks fruitlessly at the restraints, only to spread his legs wider for your harsh touch.

"Am I? Good." Your tone was harsh, and you could see Minho fighting back a smile.

He was in heaven. Not being able to see your handsome face and hear your actual voice made the fear factor go up exponentially, but it was just as arousing since he knew that it was none other than his beloved boyfriend.

"I'll ruin you, you slut. I'll fucking do that."

Just as those words went past your lips, Minho came undone, sobbing as an intense orgasm took over him.

"You say you don't like this, but you're cumming so fast."

Tears run down his face as he looks up at you with glazed, half-lidded eyes. You reach out, breaking character for a second to run your thumb over his cheek.

"That's a good little slut," you whispered, pulling out your fingers and licking them clean. But you didn't intend to stop there. You undo your pants and boxers, revealing your erection. You gasped as the cold air hit your warm skin. "Let's see how well you can take dick."

"It won't fit! You'll tear me apart!" Minho whines, a pretty pout on his glossy lips. Despite his arousal, he finds himself shutting his quivering thighs, playing into the act. And god how you wanted to kiss those pouty lips you loved so much. But you were enjoying this too much, a big part because of how pleasured Minho looked from this.

"Shut up, whore."

You say harshly, slapping him across the face. You throw his pretty thighs open forcefully with your hand, gazing at the glistening folds through your mask before sliding your dick in, the process easy due to the arousal fluid as well as the previous orgasm's remnants on Minho's pussy.

"So fucking tight, little bunny."

Minho lets out a whimper as your cock spears into his tight heat, stretching him wide. His velvety walls clench and spasm around the invading thickness, moans and curses slipping past his plush lips. Tears run freely down his contorted face as he throws his head back, dark hair splayed across the pillow. His feet flex and toes curl from the intensity.

"P-Please…too big…gonna break me…"

"Stop resisting or it'll hurt more." You say menacingly as you thrust in roughly, every thrust making a bulge in Minho's belly, visible through the tight latex babydoll. He looked so pretty like this, his little hands reaching out to touch you but not being able to because of the restraints.

He whimpered between ragged breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. The brutal pounding of your cock is merciless, each thrust sending waves of excruciating bliss crashing through him. A wet squelch echoed with each snap of your hips, his pussy drenched and gaping around the invading shaft.

You wrap your hand around his throat, moving the index and middle fingers past his lips.

"Y-You fucking whore. Made for taking dick," you groan between thrusts. The words and your relentless abuse of his g-spot made way for the second orgasm which was signalled by his walls clenching around your cock, milking it for all its worth.

"Cumming already like a bitch in heat and you have the fucking nerve to resist me."

His tongue swirls around your fingers obediently, his loud screams muffled by them as he came again. His whole body seizes up, back bowing off the bed. His vision blurred by tears, he looks up at you again, knowing you won't stop.

You smile behind the mask, wanting to kiss his pretty face, but thrusting regardless. You bring his legs up, throwing them over your shoulders as you slam in with more force. Your grip on his thighs was bruising, and the sight of your large hands on his thighs made him clench around you. The assault on his senses made Minho let out the prettiest, most pathetic sounds. You could tell he was sensitive from the two orgasms, but you also knew he had good endurance.

His legs bring you in closer, heels rubbing against your back as he tried to stay still. His tiny hands fist at the sheets the best he could with the cuffs still on. Your thumb rubs at his clit and he bucks his hips, his walls fluttering and clenching around you.

"F-Fuck…"

You felt your climax approaching as your thrusts grew erratic.

"Gonna fucking breed your cunt. Show the whole world who owns you."

He makes a sound between a sob and a moan at your words, mumbling unintelligible protests in a weak attempt to stay in character, but his body screamed otherwise as yet another orgasm overtook him. Tears ran freely down his cheeks as he squeezed your back with his legs. As if on cue, you climaxed as well, riding out your high as you moved in and out of his heat weakly. His small frame trembles beneath yours, slick juices dripping down his thighs as he's pumped full of cum. He pants, not a single thought behind his eyes as his walls flutter around your softening member.

You pull out slowly, watching the beautiful sight of his pussy coated in cum and arousal, dripping wet and fluttering. You remove your mask, pulling your clothes up to wipe the sweat from your face. You pulled him onto your lap and wrapped your arms around his waist, taking off his babydoll and pulling him close to your chest.

"Baby?" Your voice was tender, a stark contrast to the menacing tone from earlier.

"Hm?" Minho melts into the embrace, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. He looks at you, a contented smile playing on his lips. "You did such a good job, Mnie," he giggled softly, pressing a kiss to your pulse before continuing. "You scared me half to death and filled me up so well."

"And you did such a good job taking it, darling," you say, kissing his forehead. You wiped his tears and kissed his soft cheeks, a protective instinct taking ahold of you as you see how tiny he is in your arms.

"My pretty baby…my Minnie did so well, hm?"

A warm blush spread across his cheeks at your praise, his heart swelling with affection. "I try," he said, trying to be demure and modest, bringing a fond smile to your lips. You kiss his lips for the first time since you came home, humming at the taste of his chocolate lip gloss.

"I love you baby," you say, looking at him adoringly. He smiled. He would get so overwhelmed by the look in your eyes sometimes, whether it be tender or intense. You nuzzle his nose, tilting your head to give him another little kiss on the lips.

"I'll run a bath for you, okay princess?"

"I want burgers afterwards."

"And curly fries, I know."

[extinctlesspains]

Hi! Could you please do a spicy story were kwon×y/n are enemies and they are supposed to hate each other, but can't seem to control the lust and love between them, pretty please????????????

𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑔

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑇𝑤𝑜 & 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒!

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒/𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒!

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑢𝑡𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠. 𝐻𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔, ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐻𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒, 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐻𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑔𝑢𝑡𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑝𝑒𝑡 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑑𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘?, 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔.

☰ ☱ ☲ ☳ ☰ ☱ ☲ ☳☰ ☱ ☲ ☳ ☰ ☱ ☲ ☳☰ ☱ ☲

It'll be fun they said. We won't leave you alone they said. Well turns out, both of those statements were wrong. You and the other Miyagi-Dos had escaped to see the beautiful wonders of the city of Barcelona, and now you were at the bar, alone while the others scattered who knows where.

You sighed and took another swing of your mojito, slamming the glass on the counter. "Careful there, Y/n. Don't want to get woozy." The familiar voice ringed in your left ear. "Back off Kwon." You scoffed and turned to face him. "Oh?" He laughed, looking around the bar.

"Did your friends get bored of you and leave? I would too." He sipped on his vodka, facing the people on the dance floor. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to give him the attention.

Kwon was an arrogant bastard. You guys had met on the first day of the tournament and he was such a jerk. All you wanted to do was greet the Cobra Kai team with a soft smile but he returned it with a scoff and a push out of the way. He got on your nerves ever since then.

"Ugh, whatever." You clenched your jaw and thought for a while. You contemplated whether or not you should go dance, I mean you did come out to have fun? Right?

Your body moved toward the dance floor, already wanting to dance. Maybe it was the alcohol talking and taking control over you, but you just wanted to dance, not paying attention to Kwon, or anyone.

Kwon chuckled, looking at you with a soft smirk. His eyes drifted to your hands maneuvering over your body, tracing your curves. He watched from a distance, his hunger for you, growing. It was a sudden change in his attitude, and a shocking one too. He had never seen this side of you, but he loved it.

He was burning up in lust. He took off his jacket, showing his toned and muscular body that had a black compressed shirt. He was almost suffocating, watching you continue to dance and move your body. His eyes drifted to a man approaching you, touching your waist and bringing you close to him. Scoffing, he slammed his glass down and walked over to you.

"Back off man." He pushed the guy off you. "Whoa-" You stumbled, grabbing Kwon for support. "God, I shouldn't have to be babysitting you." Kwon grumbled and dragged you out the bar.

"Let go!-" you whined, pulling your arm away. "Are you always such a slut?" He grunted, looking at you. "Excuse me?!" You defensively replied. "You heard me. You were practically dancing on him." You rolled your eyes. "It's called having fun."

"Whatever, let's just get you back to your room. I don't trust you to go back to the hotel alone." He grabbed your hand and started walking fast to the hotel. "No! I'll just get one of my friends-"

"Do you see your friends here?!" He shouted at you. A frown was placed on your face. "No..." You softly said. "Exactly. I'm the best you've got." Kwon continued walking, dragging you along side him.

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

"Thank you..." Your soft voice echoed in Kwons ears as he leaned on your doorway to your hotel room. "Mhm" He hummed. "Maybe you aren't so bad." You sighed. "Shut up." He grumbled. "Okay, I take it back."

He chuckled and stared at you, glancing down at your lips. You followed his eyes that landed on your lips, getting flustered. "Before you go..." You grabbed Kwons arm to prevent him from leaving.

"Consider this as a token of appreciation." You whispered before clashing your lips onto his. He groaned at your action, cupping your face. He pulled away and glanced around the ball before pushing you into your room and taking off his jacket while shutting the door.

There was no doubt there was some tension between you two, maybe not rivalry but... Something different.

Your arms wrapped around Kwons neck, tugging at his hair as you continued to kiss. Kwons lips moved from your lips to you neck, gently laying you on your bed and kissing down your neck, to your chest. Eager to please him, you tore off your shirt. "Patience baby..." He whispered against your soft skin. "Can't... Want it-" you whimpered, tugging at his shirt. "You really are a slut aren't you?" He laughed, removing his shirt.

"Don't worry baby... You'll get what you want soon." He said, moving his hand lower to undo your jeans.

This night had taken a turn. You were no longer alone... And you were certainly having fun.

☰ ☱ ☲ ☳☰ ☱ ☲ ☳☰ ☱ ☲ ☳☰ ☱ ☲ ☳☰ ☱ ☲ ☳

A/n: Hiii ♡ it's the author here! I just want to thank every single one of you who have showed support in all these short stories! I still have many ideas for more and I love hearing your suggestions! I am okay with writing smut, angst, fluff,etc. I would just love to hear from you guys and know what you think. Anyways, thank you so much! ♡

[bvrnesher]

can you do an ask game with maybe a few pros and cons of dating the pjo boys and include ethan nakamura please? or how and how well they take care of you when you’re sick? if im asking for too much im sorry and feel free to ignore this!

❝ Pros and Cons ! ❞ ― pjo/hoo boys !

— 💬 a/n: hehe I love this. + i'll definitely do the one about how they would take care of you soon 🤘🏻 ask games opeeeen :D

— 𝒫ercy 𝒥ackson ;; dating him is like rawdogging the ocean: thrilling, emotional, and occasionally deadly.

Pros:

– rides hard for you in every way. holds your hand like he’s proud of it, kisses your cheek like it’s instinct.

– treats you like you’re sacred. deadass. you say "I don't feel pretty today" and he looks at you like you just insulted a sea goddess.

– down SO bad. puts you on his shoulders at the beach, writes your name in the sand, kisses you like it’s a prayer.

– loyal to a delusional degree. protective to the point of stupidity.

– surprisingly soft. lays in your lap, plays with your fingers, whispers “I missed you” like he’s ashamed of it.

– you’ll catch him staring and he won’t even look away. just shrugs like “yeah. you’re hot.”

– randomly blurts “you know I love you, right?” mid-convo. doesn’t even realize he said it out loud.

Cons:

– emotionally bottled-up until there’s yelling or blood involved. then suddenly he’s like “you’re my everything.”

– forgets plans, birthdays, and to text you back—but will remember the exact date you first kissed.

– has too many near-death experiences to process feelings properly. makes trauma jokes and thinks that’s therapy.

– a little reckless. says “trust me” way too much for someone who barely has a plan.

– when you fight, he gets real quiet. not because he’s mad. because he’s scared you’ll leave.

– angry crying. he will yell at you and cry in the same breath.

– impulsive with his love. wants forever, right now, all at once—and it can be a lot.

— 𝒥ason 𝒢race ;; dating him feels like loving a statue that only melts for you. everyone sees perfection—only you know where he breaks.

Pros:

– soft but solid. forehead kisses. opens doors. hand on the small of your back like a prince.

– remembers everything you say. casually brings it up weeks later. “didn’t you like that book? I got it for you.”

– protective in a quiet, unshakable way. He doesn’t start fights—he ends them. efficiently.

– listens. fully. with those devastating blue eyes and that “I’d die for you but also I’m taking notes” look.

– respects you more than he respects himself. says “whatever you want” and means it.

– brings you flowers without making it a thing. says “I saw these and thought of you” with zero drama.

– holds you like you’re sacred. you get forehead kisses, temple kisses, hand squeezes in crowds.

Cons:

– he's a little emotionally dumb. like, tries so hard but sometimes he thinks “i’m fine” counts as vulnerability.

– not good with spontaneity. you’ll say “let’s run away for the weekend” and he’ll ask if he needs to file a leave form.

– his ex is Responsibility. you’re always fighting for attention with his job.

– SO emotionally slow-burn. like you’ll be five months in and he’s just now realizing he’s in love.

– asks “what’s wrong?” but won’t push if you say “nothing.” you have to spell it out.

– overthinks to the point of inaction. wants to do the right thing so badly he sometimes does nothing.

— ℒeo 𝒱aldez ;; dating him is like dating a raccoon with a blowtorch and a heart of gold.

Pros:

– makes you laugh so hard you forget why you were sad.

– builds you weird shit. a jewelry box that purrs. a necklace that glows when he misses you.

– clingy in a cute way. wants to hold your hand constantly. even while fixing things.

– surprisingly soft. falls asleep on your lap, mumbles your name in his sleep.

– sings to you while working. bad voice. 10/10 charm.

– confesses love mid-meltdown. “I swear to the gods, I’d blow up the sun for you. that’s not a threat. it’s a promise.”

– calls you pet names like “babygirl” and “nerdface” with the same amount of affection.

– once built a machine that played your laugh on loop. don’t ask where it is now.

Cons:

– self-worth in the dumpster. flirts to cover it up. you’ll have to teach him he’s lovable.

– will not let you compliment him without deflecting. “you’re so smart” “ok but YOU exist, so.”

– uses humor as armor. you say “you hurt me” and he says “haha same.”

– lowkey runs if things get too real. backpedals out of vulnerability like it’s on fire.

– gets insecure real fast. like “do you think he’s hotter than me?” fast.

– jokes through every serious convo until you’re like “LEO.”

– will accidentally blow something up while trying to be romantic.

— ℱrank 𝒵hang ;; dating him is like dating a soldier with the soul of a golden retriever and the heart of a poet.

Pros:

– insanely respectful. asks before touching you. looks like he wants to marry you every time you smile.

– big strong arms. will carry you to bed if you fall asleep on the couch.

– you cry? he tears up too. instantly.

– always calls to say goodnight. even from battle.

– the kind of guy who brings you soup when you're sick and holds your hair back when you puke.

– loves quietly but devastatingly. folds your blanket over your shoulders, kisses your hand while you sleep.

– softest good morning voice. brings you tea and kisses your shoulder.

– turns into animals for fun. once became a bear to cuddle you because you said you were cold.

Cons:

– shy. like “asks permission to kiss you after dating for a month” shy.

– doesn’t know how to flirt. like at all. his version is “you look… nice. really… face.”

– way too hard on himself. if he thinks he messed up, he shuts down and disappears until you drag him out.

– overthinks everything. “did I hold her hand too long?” no, Frank, hold it longer.

– grandma trauma. feels like he needs to earn love.

– when he gets jealous? baby goes SILENT. will stare down a wall instead of saying he’s upset.

— ℒuke 𝒞astellan ;; dating him feels like kissing the storm right before it hits. thrilling. devastating. unforgettable.

Pros:

– flirt level: dangerous. says “you’re mine” in that voice. touches your waist like he’s memorizing it.

– will absolutely take a knife for you. has. probably.

– smart, confident, knows exactly how to push your buttons—in and out of bed.

– makes you feel like the only person in the world. like he chose you over everything.

– gives you stolen trinkets like “found this. thought of you.”

– flirts like it’s a weapon. smirks, low voice, one hand on your knee.

– can’t help but protect you. even when he’s self-destructing.

– deep down, just wants to be chosen. when you do? he melts.

Cons:

– ghost vibes. disappears into his own head and doesn’t tell you why.

– pushes people away when he’s hurting, which is always.

– loves like it’s a war. intense. consuming. dangerous if you’re not built for it.

– you never know if he’s leaving. and he doesn’t either.

– acts like he doesn’t care to protect you from how much he does.

– loves you in a way that always feels like it’s going to end.

— 𝓔than 𝓝akamura;; dating him is like reaching for something beautiful in the dark—every time you get close, he flinches like you’re a knife.

Pros:

– intense eye contact. stares at you like he’s trying to burn the memory of you into his soul.

– insanely observant. notices when you’re quiet, remembers what you wore on your third date, knows when you’re lying and won’t call you out.

– protective in a vengeful way. doesn’t need credit. just makes sure no one disrespects you twice.

– shows love in action. fixes things before you ask. stays up all night when you’re sick. will sit with you in silence just so you don’t feel alone.

– remembers everything. the way you laugh, the exact words you whispered once, your favorite kind of rain.

– touch-starved but terrifyingly good at loving. he kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. holds you like you’re proof he exists.

Cons:

– emotionally guarded. you’re always trying to peel back layers he won’t give.

– has never, in his life, believed he was truly wanted. you’ll have to remind him. Every. Single. Day.

– pushes you away when he’s scared. and he’s scared a lot.– kinda scary when mad. doesn’t yell—goes silent.

– self-sabotage king. will start a fight just to feel something.

– always looks like he wants to say something. never does.

– refuses comfort. like physically recoils from kindness if he’s not ready.

– always seems like he’s preparing for the worst. like he never really believes you’ll stay.