#you know i can go on forever about his nasty side

[diminuel]

Angsty headcanon: even in the AU where they stay together 5ever and raise ASL together, I think prior to Luffy’s birth or very early on (way too young for Luffy to remember) Crocodile and Dragon have a REALLY nasty breakup. They get back together, less than a year apart, Crocodile moves on from it completely. Would tell you (or a therapist forcing it out of him) that the breakup was just the result of flared up and immature emotions — a man too young and immature to handle a benign, routine, conflict as gracefully as he should have. It shouldnt have been a big deal and he’s thankful Dragon was so patient with him about it.

Dragon never quite gets over it, like a bone that doesn’t heal quite right and creaks when it rains. He takes *full* responsibility for the fight. He can’t let go to that core of guilt (he can only build around it, proving to himself and others this fight won’t ever happen again.) because deep down Dragon knows Crocodile was *right* even if he had never meant to hurt his Wani he still *had* he had *failed* them *deeply* and it *haunts* him.

In a terrible, terrible, series of moments of less self awareness and self control and self accountability than Dragon holds himself to now he let his upbringing get the better of him, let himself be *too* comfortable, too prideful in his own masculinity and strength, and thank the *gods* Wani snapped him out of it, rightfully punished him for it in their absence. The love of his life’s manhood just starting to blossom and he had stomped on it again and again out of sheer *instinct*. Wani didn’t have the words for it. Didn’t know where this was coming from, other than it was a sign of gross disrespect. But Dragon knew immediately he was miming the way Garp had *always* treated him and it disgusts and terrifies him.

For the first time in years he is around a man who he knows could not *easily* kill him and his instinct was to assert his own dominance *and he didn’t even notice until it’s gotten so bad Wani is threatening to walk out of his life forever*

When Wani comes back he does take the opportunity to tease Dragon about it a little a la “you better not think im less of a man for birthing *your* child” and it always brings a deeply sincere apologetic side out of Dragon. (Wani missed his big marshmellow boyfriend too of course. The reminder he cares just helps the initial remaining soreness)

Ooooh. Thank you for feeding my need for angst.

I can see that happening. Dragon does have a side to him that is quite harsh, which we see a couple of times when he's interacting with other members of the RA, even Iva and Kuma.

It might just be that he initially struggles with Crocodile figuring out his sense of self and not taking a pretty straightforward path towards being a manly man. (Crocodile maybe wouldn't adopt some of the rather stupid ideas about masculinity that we sometimes see characters exhibit in One Piece.)

Maybe he's thinks he's helping him out by being rough and belittling because that's how he learnt it - with Garp's though love that is never gentle and also in the marines that might not have allowed for self-expression that defied certain expectations of manliness.

Maybe he's reacting to any small challenge to his authority rather negatively even though Crocodile has always been someone who would stick his fingers into the gaps of Dragon's persona and see how much he can push his boundaries. And that was okay before, but now he would just very much like to keep his boundaries intact, thank you. He is barely holding it together anyway!

Because maybe his attitude might also just be a sign of stress because Dragon doesn't quite know how to deal with juggling multiple roles. Especially fatherhood. It's very likely that he never expected that, that he's torn about it and maybe even thinks that they should let Garp handle it. And Crocodile pushes back. Even though they maybe initially agreed that it's the best choice for Crocodile ambitions and for Dragon's goals?

Hm hm hm, much to consider! ♥

But yes, I can totally see Crocodile fully moving on, with maybe some teasing. And Dragon just doesn't get over it properly because he feels so bad about it. ;w;

[dimalry]

Second you in loving depressed, dark circle, chronic insomniac Azriel with demonic possession undertones. I feel like often he’s portrayed as very soft uwu baby or dark daddy dom when really he’s a workaholic grouchy introvert with a fucked up sleep schedule.

Do you think he has any connections to Hel in the larger Maasverse? I’ve had a theory for a while that he’s a descendant of one of the princes which would explain how he ended up with Truth-Teller.

Anyway, just want you to know that I picture your version of both Az and Gwyn when I write in canon, so thanks for the inspo!

Yes, absolutely! Though I’ve never thought of what kind of connection Azriel might have to Hel until now. Your ask got me to think…

What if Shadowsingers, rare as they are, were actually created by one of the Princes of Hel? I wish Truth-Teller wasn’t Gwydion’s twin, but rather a long-forgotten weapon once wielded by a long-dead Prince of Hel. Azriel could have discovered it eons later, feeling a strange connection to it, as it was the very weapon responsible for birthing his kind.

(Excuse my poor attempt at drawing shadow- soldiers/beasts. This is basically what I had in mind. This too)

Let’s say Shadowsingers were once a single shadow entity. But over time they split, with shadows becoming just one part of a person rather than their whole form.

A good number of them remain in Hel, but they've transformed into strange, nasty creatures. In Prythian, there are hardly any left, and Azriel may be the last. There are a few in Throne of Glass and Crescent City worlds, but they differ from Azriel.

It is very difficult to find any information about Shadowsingers. No one knows where they come from or how they came to be.

Who gave them the title 'Shadowsinger' anyway? What if it was simply a fitting name given by a mad scholar who first encountered someone with dark, shadow powers? What if these soldiers originally had a different name, given to them by the long-dead Prince of Hel?

And let’s give Shadowsingers the ability to shapeshift. I’ve always found it strange that Azriel is considered the best spymaster in the world, yet everyone knows he’s the Night Court's spymaster, which defeats the whole purpose of being a spy. It’s like imagining a Russian spy working in an American office, and everyone there knows he's a Russian spy. (Lol)

But what if Azriel could change his identity through his shadows? That would truly make him the best spymaster. He wouldn’t need to go through the trouble of creating fake identities; he could simply turn himself into one of Beron’s personal guards. People might know who the Night Court’s spymaster is, but they’d never know when or who he’s pretending to be. Additionally, he could winnow through his shadows instead of using the typical method. By commanding his shadows, he could transport himself anywhere, making him even more powerful than Rhys in terms of winnowing. He wouldn’t need to pause for breath like Rhys; he could take 10 people with him effortlessly.

Connect that to the shadow soldiers from Hel. They used to transform into whatever they liked (like this) and winnow with ease, which is why the war went on for like forever. The prince’s army was incredibly difficult to take down.

Shadowsingers still speak the language of Hel to this day. Azriel uses it to communicate with his shadows, and only Shadowsingers can understand this language—no one else. They don’t even have to learn it.

Okay, wait—can we consider that the winning side was the mother, leading her own army? That Gwydion was wielded against the Prince of Hel? Thus, the Maas universe was forged from the remnants of that eternal war ages ago.

And while Gwyn isn’t related to the sword like Azriel is to the dagger, nor to the soldiers who fought for the mother, as a priestess who worships her, she does have that little connection.

It would be quite amusing for the Fates to pair a descendant of those Hel creatures with a priestess who worships the Mother as mates.

Good god, I somehow pulled this out of my ass. Now I have to incorporate that idea into my story cause it‘s kind of awesome.

Anyway, I’d Iove to read your fic. It makes me happy to know that people use my art as inspiration 🥹

thank you for the ask! Have a lovely day 💕

[makasdisaster]

thinking about nasty denji again but this time its my time of the month sooo we talking about periods!

(minors don't interact this isn't for you so scram) 

wether you're a girl, boy, nonbinary ect ect ect, if you're bleeding from down there, Denji knows, he can smell it and it only makes him more aroused. Sure he still doesn't fully understands it but you didn't think he'd be way too curious because of it.

"What do you mean its "dirty"?" "can you eat it?" "will it stop?" " Whys there so much??" "Just lemme smell it"

this boy will ask it all, and you know he'll never stop talking if all you continue to reply with is "no", so for what's reason you give into his curiosity. one night in bed you let him go down on you and oh damn were you left speechless, he's never eaten you out like this before. maybe hes just pent up? or maybe its his primal devil desires kicking in when it comes to drinking blood.

this man is folding you in half, the tightest grip around your thighs to keep you in place, licking and slipping up every single drip that dares to fall from those red stained lower lips. Denji's practically making out with your pussy, thrusting his tongue in and out trying to get everything there in you, he even takes it a step farther when it drips down your ass his tongue doesn't miss a beat when flattening darting to your puckered hole, with a long hot dragged out moan licks up your ass to your pussy.

growing in satisfaction, the blug in his pants practically begging for relief. a big pre cum stain making a sticky mess against his lower abdomen, you can tell that if he keeps this up any longer, he'll end up getting himself off without you having to lift a finger, and that power alone was enough for you to let him keep going.

[poisonf0rest]

The Best Dreams Come in Threes

♱⋅── rafayel x reader x xavier

♱⋅── about: Rafayel and Xavier have always been there for you. One is your fire, your passion, the twin flame to your temper. The other is your light, a guiding beacon, your twin star. So when you have a nightmare, they take it upon themselves to comfort and remind you of their unconditional devotion. Even if it does lead to competition every now and then.

♱⋅── word count: 7.5k (mf...)

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, it's just nasty, threesome, jealousy, somnophilia, oral, pussydrunk boys, breeding kink, double penetration, slight spoilers

♱⋅── a/n: apologies to the two random strangers on the plane that I sat next to when the idea of this fic possessed me. I really, really hope you didn't read anything I was frantically writing down in the midst of me finishing my work report cause that shit was nasty.

art credit and inspiration due to the wonderful @/sakimenz

Lonely star, who do you shine for?

The weight of all your pasts- of all your futures- the guilt and pride you carry will only cause you to collapse, and all that will be left will be an all-consuming black hole. 

Your desperation won’t bring your sun back. 

Lonely king, don’t you know a kingdom devoid of life is a crown devoid of purpose?

You were the fire that left them, and all you have to show for the betrayal is a drowned memory and a heart wrenched from your chest, a broken promise and a forgotten story. 

You’ve changed with each lifetime, but you’ll forever be at the mercy of fate. 

And you? You’re the very curse that haunts them. 

Claws, so cold they burn, emerge from the darkness before piercing through flesh, tearing through muscle and bone as they dig into your ribcage, dragging you down into the shadows. Drowning, falling. You’re spiraling through lifetimes of failure, lifetimes of pain both your own and not, all while the claws dig closer and closer to your heart, clutching the muscle like a songbird in a cage. 

It’s the price, the price you must pay for all this pain you’ve caused, for dooming a star and killing a god. 

The clawed hand wraps around your heart, the piercing into the fluttering pulse faster and faster until—

You wake up crying. 

A hot trail of tears slides into the pillows, and a sniffle rakes through your body, the sudden movement causing a subtle disturbance to the two forms still sound asleep on either side of you. 

Funny, you can’t remember a thing, but there’s a painful throb in your chest. You’ll take another dose of your heart medicine in the morning. 

But for now, your bedroom is still dulled by the pale blue moonlight filtering through the curtains, and you’re in no hurry to get out of the warm covers and their embrace. 

The nightmares have become routine at this point. You never remember what they are, but you wake up with a sense of fear and dread, as though you can feel the pain all over again. It’s best not to think too much about it.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you inhale shakily one last time, trying to shake off the looming feeling when the arm around your waist shifts, tugging lightly at your loose sleep shirt before slipping under to massage the skin beneath. You let out a soft sigh, a light shudder going through your body as the gentle hands work away the tension.

“The same?” Rafayel’s words are slurred with sleep and concern, hot breath dancing along the crook of your neck as he props himself up on his elbow. You nod.

Rafayel makes a small, displeased noise before his other arm pulls you closer, his bare chest now flush against your back. The sudden movement forces Xavier, who was once tucked against your shoulder, further away, grumbling at the loss even in his sleep.

His face scrunches, brows furrowed together before the corners of his lips turn downward, and he blindly reaches for you. He eventually finds the curve of your waist, and his hand tightens on the fabric of your shirt as it slides in above Rafayel’s.

A huff, and Xavier buries his face back into your chest, his warm breath tickling you. And then, gentle snores— you should've known better than to think that would be enough to wake him.

Rafayel, still pressed firmly against your back, begins to move, propping his body up just enough to look you in the eyes as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek. "Wanna talk about it, cutie?"

“I… I think you were there, both of you. But it felt lonely, painful.”

Rafayel's face contorts into a worried expression, his hand moves down your cheek, cupping your jaw, and you lean into his warm caress with a sigh.

You place a kiss on his palm. "It's okay, just a scary dream. Nothing real. Nothing to worry about." You repeat it, more to yourself than Rafayel, but his arms wrap around you anyway.

And yet Rafayel looks at you with a deep furrow in his brow, a seriousness you’ve almost never seen on him.

You give him a questioning look, but his lips press to yours in a searing kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. He pulls away only for a second, whispering sweet nothings against your skin before returning his lips to yours, the hand cradling your face slipping down to rest on your hip.

He kisses you softly, gently. First pressing a trail of light, chaste kisses along your jaw, the corners of your mouth, and nose, then moving back to your lips. “We’ll never leave you. We’d tear through every universe, every destiny to get back to you.”

Strange, how Rafayel says it with all the reverence of a vow. 

You want to tease him for the sudden declaration, for making all this fuss over a stupid dream, but you never have the opportunity, not when Rafayel's signature smirk settles back onto his lips. 

His hand slides down to your thighs, fingers teasing around the band of your sleep shorts, toying, pressing, but never crossing the self-imposed boundary of your clothes. “Unless, you’d prefer it if I proved it to you?”

“Rafayel,” you warn, hoping your narrowed glare would dissuade him.

Of course the man only seems to take that as a challenge, smile widening as you flinch at the cold touch creeping under your shirt. One palm traces up your ribcage, long, nimble fingers rubbing circles against your skin until he brushes the underside of your breast. 

You shudder, hissing out another string of curses before turning around so your back is to Rafayel. 

Really, you should know better than to think that alone would be enough, and a hot trail of kisses now joins his wandering hands down your shoulder blade. They start innocent enough, sweet, lingering touches along the hem of your shirt, but that quickly changes when Rafayel’s arm under your shirt practically yanks it up, sucking wet, messy kisses into the bare curves of your chest.

Each nip against your sensitive flesh forces the possibility of sleep further and further away, and you resort to distracting yourself with the motionless silhouette of Xavier. Petting through his hair, your rhythm is jolted every time Rafayel decides to leave a mark, nails pulling through Xavier’s locks as you bite your lip on a moan.

You don't miss the curve of his smirk against your skin, and the next kiss is accompanied by a bite, hard enough to elicit a sharp gasp that stirs Xavier. Tense, you scan the blonde's face, but he's nothing if not a heavy sleeper, and he nuzzles further into your touch, still unconscious as his head tucks under yours.

You don't get to sigh in relief. Instead, a whine builds in your throat, the wet heat of Rafayel's teeth tugging on the strap of your underwear as he fists your sleep shorts down.

"Rafayel, stop it,” you hiss as his hot breath hits the already embarrassingly damp center of your underwear.

His smile grows, lips brushing against your clothed core as he tilts his head. “Hmm? But you don’t sound like you want me to stop. And she certainly doesn’t sound like it either.” Two fingers dip under the band, and he parts your cunt with a lewd click.

Your face flushes in embarrassment, refusing to acknowledge just how easily your body gives in to them. One hand leaves Xavier, roughly fisting into Rafayel’s curls as he groans from the sharp pressure. “That’s because you and Xavier refused to wear protection!” 

The accusation earns a hushed laugh, his shoulders shaking against the insides of your thighs. It would have been innocent, the same contagious sort of smile gracing Rafayel’s face, if not the shadows cast across his face in the dark, teeth gleaming like fangs as he traces his tongue up the entire length of your clothed cunt. 

"M’sorry, we thought you'd enjoy the mess," he says, words muffled over your thighs, nose practically buried in between. "How can I make it up to you, cutie?”

You don’t get a chance to respond, not when Rafayel’s tongue dives into your clothed cunt, moaning against the soaked fabric as you gasp and force him closer by his hair. To muffle his sounds, you tell yourself. A pathetic lie considering how much louder he gets now, nose grinding up against your clit as his tongue tries to press into your fluttering cunt even with the barrier of cloth in between. 

God, he’s addicted, and it doesn’t take long until Rafayel’s spit and your slick soak through your underwear, the near-translucent fabric sticking to your lips as the bare minimum friction nearly drives you insane. 

“Say it,” Rafayel whines, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Please, just tell me how badly you want me. Tell me, and I’ll do anything you ask.”

Like he wouldn’t already.

But how could you ever deny him when he begs so sweetly? 

Your palm cups his face, watching his near-wrecked expression and flushed skin tremble beneath your fingers.  “I’m yours, Rafayel.”

And the fabric is ripped into pieces. 

Refusing to even breathe, Rafayel places an opened-mouth kiss on your cunt, lapping up your slick with the most satisfied moan. He doesn't waste any time, not while your confession coated his mind with the sweetest type of intoxication, eating you out like he was depraved.

He might as well have been with how he moans, hips grinding desperately against the edge of the mattress, his not-entirely human tongue curling in and out of you as it writhes with terrifying accuracy against your walls.

It feels too good to be ashamed of the noises you make, gasping and crying out until you slam your palm over your mouth, biting down hard as the other claws into Rafayel’s hair. You can barely control yourself, half fighting to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure, half rocking your hips up and down his face as you jerk him closer. 

“Mhm, greedy.” Fucked-out, broken little grunts leave his throat before his words are muffled into your cunt, not baring to part for even a breath. “Pull on it, please. Harder.” 

You tug Rafayel’s hair almost in vengeance when he purposefully kisses away from where you need him most, licking and sucking obscenely into your thighs just to hear your frustrated cries even over your hand. 

He loved being used like this, so long as it was you. 

So long as it was him that turned you into such a beautiful, pathetic mess. 

It's not long until Rafayel pulls you close to the edge, nose pressing against your clit while thrusting his tongue into you, eyes rolling back from the taste and from the thought of your tight heat fluttering around his cock instead. 

And then, he stops, pulling away and leaving you gasping into the tear-stained pillow.

You bite back a sob, releasing only a choked little noise that has Rafayel's eyes flicking up to your face, the soft, concerned look in his eyes melting into something far more dangerous.

With viciously dilated pupils and your slick dripping from his mouth, Rafayel stares you down as every inch the dangerous siren the legends claimed him to be. He smiles, tongue raking over his teeth as though he couldn’t get enough of your taste, and you swear you’d let him eat your heart and soul. Gods, you’d let him eat you whole. 

You realize you must have made a sound, because Rafayel hushes you, pressing quick kisses to your knee. "Aw, what happened to being quiet? Aren't you afraid we'll wake the poor sleeping bunny?" 

At the mention of your other partner, you turn to where Xavier’s nuzzling his face further into your side, each warm breath damp against your feverish skin, still lost to the realm of dreams.

Not that Rafayel allows your attention to turn away from himself for too long. 

He leans over Xavier, the hand that wasn’t supporting his weight cupping your face, and his lips are crashing into yours with all the viciousness of a summer seastorm. Your lips part, and Rafeyel fucks his tongue into your mouth the same he did your pussy, wet and desperate, the taste of yourself enough to make you dizzy. 

"Tell me,” Rafayel’s tone dips into something darker, kissing down your throat and stomach as he eyes Xavier. “Who’s the better lover?" 

Xavier's fingers flex, the tips brushing against the curve of your breast as he sleeps, and Rafayel's smile is almost predatory.

"D-don't ask stupid questions you dumb fish," your voice cracks as Rafayel's mouth ghosts over your cunt, teeth bared to your thigh, threatening to bite. "I chose you both."

The confession, as expected, doesn't please him. If anything, he seems overly offended, pouting and huffing a cold breath of air right against your aching core. The chill makes you squirm, trying to force him back to your center with the grip you have on his hair.

"No. Nope. That's not an answer."

"Raf–"

His name breaks off in a moan, sound ripped from your throat as Rafayel's thumb starts rubbing firm circles around your neglected clit. He doesn't relent, the pressure too much, too quick, your body already trembling from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to torture you with.

Only, it seems that all your sudden noise and movement have finally begun to affect Xavier. Not enough to wake him, but enough that you can hear his breathing become heavier, following your every twitch and buck from Rafayel’s onslaught as his body begins to grind into yours.

Mumbling into your neck, Xavier’s hand tightens around your waist before slipping under your shirt to palm your breasts, squeezing and kneading until the touch has you keening.

Xavier's still fast asleep, nonsensical words slurred against your skin, and yet his body is now far from it. His erection is thick and heavy against your hips, grinding desperately into your warmth almost in time to Rafayel’s ministrations, whimpering under his breath with every forceful thrust. 

Rafayel notices too, his gaze drifting up to the blond. You can't see his face, already busied between your legs once more, but a pleased hum vibrates through his entire body, fingers finally slipping into your cunt as he curls them just right, your back arching off the sheets with a silent scream. 

Xavier whines at your sudden thrashing, tugging you closer and unknowingly forcing you immobile and at complete mercy to Rafayel’s unfairly skilled fingers. "Mhm, so warm. Please, m’want to..." Another needy, slow grind against you follows his sleepy request. 

"Rafayel," you choke out a muffled plea, but his eyes only narrow, taking a breath as his free hand grabs at Xavier's ass, the touch just light enough to tease and make him rut harder against you.

"What is it, cutie? Don't pretend like you don't want more, not when your pretty pussy's drooling for his cock. She’s so needy, am I not enough?”

Rafayel rests his head on the inside of your thigh, fingers thrusting roughly into that sweet spongy spot inside you just as his other hand wraps around the base of Xavier's cock through his boxers, thumbing over the pre-cum staining the dark fabric. 

You're forced to bite down on the pillow beneath your head to stop the desperate cry tearing itself out of your throat. "This isn’t- ah- isn’t right."

"Isn't it? You’re dripping and the little bunny’s still asleep, yet look how desperate he is, rutting against you." Rafayel's voice dips, a raspy edge from his throat still fucking into you making it even more sinful, slurping everything you give him around his fingers before it drips down his wrist and into a puddle below. A huff, “I should get rewarded with how much effort I’m putting in.”

You cry out, legs trembling as his thumb begins its relentless attack on your clit, tracing mindless circles just random enough to keep you on edge. You're close, and Rafayel can feel it.

Xavier isn’t faring much better, whimpering a string of incoherent pleas into the crook of your neck as his hips keep rocking into the fist around him. He doesn't take his mouth away from the skin of your shoulder, biting down on it as he cums, shuddering and whimpering as the mess splatters down Rafayel's knuckles and onto your thighs. 

“You’re next. If you won’t be honest with me, I’ll make your body is.” Rafayel’s taunt is the last coherent thing you remember before you come. Hard. His words ring against your skull as his fingers pump into you faster, and the pressure against your clit becomes almost unbearable, and you're falling apart, crying and thrashing, the only thing keeping you grounded is the feeling of Rafayel's weight and the scent of Xavier's strawberry shampoo, and then—

Rafayel finally shuts up to let you ride his face through your high, letting you use him as your thighs lock around his head, grinding desperately as though he were no more than a toy. No chance of breathing, no chance of escape. 

Not that he could care less, not as long as he could keep his lips around your gushing cunt, humming and sucking into your release as cum sprays over his tongue and down his chin. Gods, he could never get enough of this.

You're still shaking through your orgasm, pliant and stupid from the dizzying pleasure, that you don't notice the rustle of sheets until a second pair of hands slide down your thighs. 

"You’re doing this without me?" 

Xavier’s voice is a whisper, husky from sleep and his orgasm as he presses a kiss right below your ear, fingers squeezing rougher against your breasts.

"S-sorry. Didn't want to wake you," you try, biting back a gasp when his thumb flicks over a nipple. Rough. Mean. 

Rafayel snorts. "I think it's a bit too late for that.” A glare at Xavier over your leg, showing off your cum still dripping from his lips and fingers. ”Besides, I didn't need you."

You want to argue, really, but then Xavier is grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging just hard enough to push your head back, coaxing a moan from your throat as he marks down your neck with kisses intending to bruise. He’s pouting, grabbing your jaw as he forces your gaze away from Rafayel, nipping your bottom lip until you surrender to his drowsy advances.

“Why…” Another kiss before Xavier's licking desperately into your mouth, “Why didn't you wake me?"

The question comes out a little breathless, almost petulant, eyes hooded and dark as he looks over the mess Rafayel has made of you. He can't tear his eyes away, watching Rafayel even as he kisses you. His fingers flick over your nipple again, twisting and pinching until you're shaking, your thighs squeezing Rafayel's face, all while Xavier watches.

Said man only smiles, all smug arrogance. "Didn't you hear her, Xav? She said she didn't want to wake you, so don't blame me."

Rafayel drags a wet, open-mouthed kiss over your cunt, the overstimulation making you break the kiss with a gasp.

"Liar." Xavier's voice trembles, and you can't tell if he's referring to Rafayel's words, or the way he's staring longingly at Rafayel's lips now, still slick with your release. "You just wanted her all to yourself."

He doesn't bother giving Rafayel a chance to retort, taking the punishment out on you as he dips his head underneath your folded-up shirt, groaning as his hot tongue rolls over your nipple, sucking at the stiff peak as his hand continues to assault the other. The onslaught has you whimpering, pushing and clawing against Xavier’s shoulder to try and fight him off as he refuses to let go for even a moment. 

Rafayel's not one to be ignored, not when he has the advantage, and his tongue is back to fucking into your cunt with no reprieve, a cruel smirk on his face as you writhe and beg for their mercy.

Your hips roll, torn between pleasure and oversensitivity, unable to escape either of the men. It's overwhelming. Too much, too quickly, you only just came and you're already getting dragged back.

"Ah! Stop, I'm already mhm—"

You're interrupted by Xavier's tongue slipping into your mouth, a filthy, lazy slide that makes you grind up into Rafayel's tongue. It's like he doesn't even need to breathe, the wet, sloppy sounds of him eating you out drowned out only by the sound of Xavier kissing you senseless, pausing just to nip and suck at your breasts as though he'll get rewarded if he just tries hard enough. 

"You want him to stop? Is the mermaid not enough to satisfy you, princess?" Xavier taunts, lips brushing against your ear as his hips push up, grinding his cock against your thigh. "If that's the case, perhaps we should switch. I can give you exactly what you want, remember?"

“Shut up, I’m the one making her cum.”

“Only cause I wasn’t awake yet.”

“You snooze, you lose. Whose fault is that? Oh ya, yours.” 

They're at each other's throats yet again, practically clawing and snapping at each other, and you're helpless to try and intervene when they take their faux anger out on your poor abused body. 

You can't think, can't focus, can't do anything but shake and pant and sob into the pillow, their combined weight on top of you, forcing your pleasure higher and higher. 

“Xav—" He cuts you off with a kiss. 

“Shh, just take it."

You can't even tell who’s sloppier anymore- Xavier fucking your mouth with his tongue or Rafayel still eating you through your second orgasm, the sudden hit of it thundering down your body. 

“You look so pretty when you come," Xavier moans into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and glazed, hand coming up to stroke your cheek as he watches you, a sharp contrast to the other still rolling against your swollen nipple, loving the way you jerk into his touch. Then a glare to the man below. "My turn.”

Your body is still trembling, Rafayel's merciless fingers not allowing you to come down from your high, aftershocks of hypersensitivity crashing down your spine as every muscle spasms. No more. No more, please. You can’t possibly come again. 

You don't realize you’re begging out loud, not until Xavier shushes you with another bruising kiss. 

But it doesn't seem like Rafayel has any plans on stopping, not until Xavier’s hand skims down your thighs and yanks him up by the chain of his necklace. 

Rafayel growls as he's practically forced off your weeping cunt, eyes bleary and unfocused as he fights the blond's grip. And god, he looks absolutely wrecked, spit and cum dripping from his mouth and chin, connecting his lips to your pussy in sticky wet strands before they break, and you feel the unmistakable bulge of his cock straining against his soaked boxers. 

Xavier yanks him forward, pulling the necklace chain until he crashes his lips onto Rafayel's, all teeth and tongue, desperate to get a taste of your cum from his mouth. It's filthy, and Rafayel is the first to give in, still drunk off your taste and now Xavier's too.

"Mhm, you taste like her," Xavier whispers, pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed together, his mouth still moving against Rafayel's swollen, parted lips.

"Ya?" Rafayel’s grin is predatory, all fang and sin. "You wanna try too, don’t you? Give in then, bunny, lie down for us.”

"I don't take orders from you." 

Xavier scowls against Rafayel's lips, but you can feel his resolve breaking, his arm trembling where it rests against your thigh. 

"No, you take them from her, and she asked us so, so nicely to make her come. You wouldn't dare deny her that, would you?”

The Lemurian is nothing if not dangerously persistent, one hand coaxing Xavier backward so gently you don’t think he realizes how easily he’s falling, the other clawing down his abs as Rafayel bites against the erratic thud of Xavier’s pulse. Sharp and bruising, a silent promise for what to come. "Or do you wanna eat her out like I did? Have her ride your face while I fuck into her poor, desperate cunt? I can't decide, there are so many options."

“No.” It’s more a plea than a demand. Xavier's voice shakes with need, and you watch, dizzy and panting, as Rafayel's fingers slip underneath the waistband of Xavier's boxers. His fingers, still dripping with your cum, brush down the length of his cock, thumb circling the sensitive head and smearing the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from it. “You had y-your turn.” 

He can hardly finish his objection, not when Rafayel’s thumb comes up to abuse his leaking slit, Xavier’s words slurring into a desperate whine as he practically collapses back onto his elbows. Immediately, Rafayel is atop him.

"A competition, then." Rafayel leans down to whisper into Xavier's ear, but the words are purposefully teased out loud enough for you to hear, “But you lose if you cum first, and I get to fuck her.”

It's a low blow, a challenge he knows Xavier can't turn down. 

A challenge that somehow has you poised once again as the torment and the reward.

And it's true, because the second the words register, the blond's eyes shoot open, and his cock jerks violently against Rafeyel’s palm, a broken sound leaving his lips as his eyes lock back onto yours with all the promise of a starving hunter.

"Deal.”

Xavier doesn't allow the agreement to go without a price. Something snaps, the bedroom flickering with a sudden darkness as all the light vanishes. 

One moment, you’re lying against the bed, and the next Xavier manhandles you to your knees, one hand forcing your arms behind your back as he tugs you against him, the other pinning Rafayel to the mattress.

Rafayel’s the very picture of smug sin, the feral expression far more genuine, less threatening and much more amused as he nestles further into the pillows, one arm tucked lazily behind his head. 

Cold fingers dance up your hips, and Rafayel drags your bare cunt over his thighs and onto his lap, a pleased sigh escaping his lips as you're pinned deliciously between his cock and Xavier's sculpted back.

"So needy, little bunny."

"Shut up. I'm not the one who's leaking."

Rafayel snorts, and before the two can start fighting again, you're leaning forward, a hand resting against Rafayel's abs as you cup his erection through his boxers. And when he moans you believe every myth, every fairytale singing the doom of sailors to a siren song, because every sound he gives you is addictive and sweet enough that you’d drown to hear it again. 

Pulling Rafayel's cock out from his boxers, you’re stunned yet again by the slightly non-human beauty of it, heavy and thick in your palm, the flushed, ruddy tip already drooling precum as you thumb at it in vengeance. You know Xavier's watching from the way his own cock twitches against your back, hands digging bruises into your hips. Then, the warmth at your back disappears. 

Instead, a pair of hands drag your ass up, forcing you into a deep arch as you scramble for purchase against Rafayel’s thigh and the bed below.

“Closer.” Xavier’s hand laces into your hair as he pushes your head down, forcing your mouth to nuzzle against the base of Rafayel's cock. 

The movement pulls a gasp from both of you, your hot breath teasing the sensitive skin of Rafayel's shaft and forcing a shudder from his entire body. 

Seeing the two of you completely at his mercy does terrible, horrible things to Xavier, and his fingers dig bruises into your hips as it takes him everything not to forgo the competition and fuck you right there. 

"Good girl,” he hums, voice trembling as his grip tightens against your hair, giving you a harsh glare when you whine and squirm in his hold. "Now open."

You can't bring yourself to say no, not when the sight of Rafayel's eyes rolling back the second you do makes your stomach clench. His cock twitches against you as you lick at the copious amounts of cum leaking from his tip, then obediently wrap your lips around him.

With a smile that would have you shaking, Xavier leans down, barely able to continue guiding your head as he’s entranced with the mess between your legs, licking up the slick dripping down your thighs as he sucks against the delicate flesh, marking right over the sensitive bruises Rafayel had only just left behind. 

 “This- hah-” Rafayel curses under his breath, the single word breaking off into a moan, the sound muffled by his palm as his chest heaves. “This is hardly fair.”

But his complaints feel half-hearted, not with the way he’s already rutting into your mouth, Xavier’s iron grip keeping you in place as Rafayel thrusts himself into your mouth in one breath. You yield pathetically quick, flattening your tongue against the slick underside of his cock, another stream of pre-cum flooding your mouth as you nearly choke on it all, unable to pull off to even take a breath as Xavier guides your head up and down in a steady rhythm that has Rafayel falling apart. 

It’s cruel, but you can't help each pathetic moan that gets muffed onto Rafayel’s cock, the vibrations forcing his back to arch off the bed, head rolling back as it thuds against the pillows, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps in shallow breaths.

You almost wish he would let you see his eyes, but then you'd miss the view of his chest, every muscle tight and twitching under his skin, the mesmerizing sight now blurry from the tears forming in your eyes. You can't resist reaching up, dragging your nails down his abs, watching his body jerk against every new line of red.

"Please,” you're not sure if the broken whimper belonged to Rafayel or yourself. “Please, I can't wait anymore, wanna feel you— fuck— wanna fill you up again, please let me cum." It's like just the very thought has Rafayel keening, his hips jerking up into your hot mouth with reckless abandon as Xavier forces your spine up into a deeper arch.

You're nearly bent in half, the new angle leaving no part of you hidden from Xavier's hungry gaze as he watches you practically drool over Rafayel’s cock, lips meeting his pelvis as he breaches your throat. 

Xavier’s going to win. He needs to win. 

The thought makes him frantic, tongue fucking past the tight resistance of your cunt, his hand sliding up to tease at your clit. He won't be the one to finish first, not this time. Not when he's wanted nothing more than to feel your cunt gushing around him ever since Rafayel woke him up, ever since the two of you had the audacity to start this without him.

Rafayel can’t last much longer, especially not when you bring one shaking hand down to massage his swollen balls, hardly in control of your own movements as you feel dizzy on the addictive combination from the lack of oxygen and pleasure as Xavier begins to eat you out like a man starved. 

The room’s filled with the sounds of each slick, messy movement, whimpers from the man beneath you and breathless pleas from the one behind, bed rattling with every thrust. 

And yet you’re still so painfully empty. So, so, empty as your cunt flutters around Xavier’s tongue before he relents to kiss your clit once more, dragging a dissatisfied whine from you as you fight yourself off Rafayel’s cock. 

"F-fuck me. Please," A sob, and you feel both Rafayel and Xavier shudder. "It’s not enough. Want your cocks inside me, wanna cum on it. Need it, please-"

Oh, and when you beg like that, they should have known they never would have stood a chance.

"Shit."

"Ah, please-"

It's a blur. A rush of hands, of pleasure and pain, all of it colliding and dragging you to the edge. The room spins, the ceiling above you falling until the familiar, comforting feeling of slick muscle embraces you, grounding you as you focus on the erratic heartbeat between each ragged exhale. 

You're still sandwiched between them, lying on Rafayel as Xavier's weight drapes across your back, head propped up on the former's chest as you stare blearily at his silver pendant, unable to move. You're not even sure if you can, not with the way Xavier's still gripping the backs of your thighs, spreading you open as he forces one leg higher up.

Then, the blunt head of his cock grinds between your folds.

Xavier’s pressing his forehead against your back, wrapping his arms around you before biting into the crook of your neck. "You mean it? You’ll let us come inside again?"

Rafayel laughs, a raspy sound still raw from his orgasm. "Well, we both lost. Now what, bunny? We can't just leave her like this, poor thing is trembling." 

"Mhm,” Xavier forces you up, “We both fuck her then."

His words only make you whimper, body jerking uselessly against Xavier's grip. His hands lift you as Rafayel flips you around so you're now facing the blond, flinching violently as his cock brushes your swollen clit, any semblance of protest quelled as Xavier pulls you into another messy kiss. 

It’s demanding, Xavier mumbling achingly sweet praises into your open mouth as he begins to press you down, faster, harsher, forcing you onto Rafayel’s lap in a reverse cowgirl as you slide down slowly, taking inch by inch of Rafayel’s throbbing cock. There’s hardly any blue left in Xavier’s blow-out pupils, too mesmerized by the slick mess you’re gushing down their thighs. And just when you begin to squirm, impatient and desperate, Xavier slows their pace even more.

"Shhh, we need to make sure you'll be able to take both of us."

Rafayel's hand is wrapped around your waist, thumb rubbing small circles into your stomach, and if it weren't for Xavier's arms locked around you, holding you upright, you would have collapsed the second Rafayel pressed into the spot his fingers had found.

"Look at you," he purrs, a low sound that has you gasping. "So pretty when you’re needy. Can you feel me?"

It's hard not to. Everywhere feels warm, and every slow thrust, no matter how gentle, has a small burst of ecstasy building in your stomach, a wave crashing higher and higher as the two of them slowly fuck you full. Just as you’re nearly seated all the way onto Rafayel’s length, Xavier’s palms come up to the back of your knees, folding them up and forcing you backward until you’re practically lying prone atop of Rafayel.

Your head lolls uselessly against Rafayel's neck, gasping at the force of the new position,  and you're not sure if it's the tears in your eyes or the overwhelming pressure against your walls as they stretch around his cock that's making the world so blurry. Xavier soon follows you down, pressing you closer into Rafayel’s chest as his lips trail your jaw, your neck, your sucking against every sensitive spot behind your ears until you're distracted from the pain.

"You're doing so good, princess. Just a little more."

The sudden onslaught of pressure of both of you atop him has Rafayel flinching, and he hisses out a pained moan, hips jerking up into the slick heat of your pussy, and it's only Xavier's grip that keeps the two of you from slipping off.

"Hah- hurry up-" Rafayel's eyes are glassy, his head tipped back and face twisted in pleasure. 

Strings of incoherent pleas are whispered against your ear, Rafayel marking up the left side of your neck while Xavier’s still busy with the right, that is, until Xavier switches sides, biting right over Rafayel’s marks until he’s pulled up into a desperate kiss.

The wet sounds of their lips are filthy and obscene, each hot breath and moan brushing past your ear as you writhe, pressed between them. Rafayel's cock is already swelling, twitching against the fluttering walls of your pussy, unwilling to fully pull out, settling to just grinding up in slow, cruel thrusts before something in him snaps and he switches to pounding against your abused walls.

Every time you think you’ll finally come Rafayel switches pace, the obscene slap of skin on skin muffled only by your sobs and their kissing. 

You’re close, so so fucking close you feel your muscles begin to shake. Xavier only pushes you down further, every angle a new cruelty, smothering you between them, rendering you unable to do anything but take it.

Again, Rafayel slows, and you slur curses down at him as your thighs tremble from overstimulation, shaking violently until you feel something grab your calf. Xavier massages the quivering muscle, gentle until he’s suddenly pressing your knee higher and higher, going until it’s pinned to the mattress up against your head.

And now Rafayel is hitting impossibly deeper, abusing your poor g-spot with each thrust. 

Xavier kisses your ankle, then calf, making his way up your leg until he can nip at your inner thighs now folded over his shoulder. And then you feel the pressure of his cock at your already full entrance. Xavier’s hand dips down between your bodies, trying to bully himself in alongside Rafayel, but his cock slides past your navel, slick and covered in your combined cum. 

"No, no no, not gonna fit- ah- Xavier!"

Your words break off into a wail as he tries again, grinding closer so you’re tightly cradled between the two, Xavier leaning fully atop you both. A snarl grits through his jaw when his cock slips past again, readjusting you so your legs fall apart wider, the burn in your thighs turning delicious and overwhelming, pussy weeping around Rafayel’s cock as Xavier’s swollen, leaking head bumps against your clit. 

Xavier watches the mess, every thrust and messy squirt of cum, brows furrowed and flushed a deep red, as he whines into your shoulder, "Please- can't stop- please let me fuck you too, you'll look so pretty with both of us filling you up, taking us so good- don’t make me stop."

He’s reduced to babbling against your neck, biting down hard enough to bleed when your cunt finally yields to him too, cockhead bumping into Rafayel’s as he slowly pushes in inch and inch, trembling from the combined pleasure of your walls and the violent throbbing of every vein now grinding together.

It's too much, it’s not enough, the stretch and the friction and the pressure leaving you fucked stupid, hands scrambling for purchase. Rafayel grunts when your nails drag across his thighs, his own hands coming to latch onto your wrists, pinning them above his head, forcing you motionless between them.

You can do nothing but sob, tears streaming down your face as your entire body convulses. And when they finally, finally bottom out together, the world goes white.

"Shh, you're alright," Rafayel soothes, although his voice is trembling, the sound broken as he tries to catch his breath. "Doing so well for us, cutie, so perfect."

Xavier growls, his hands grabbing the headboard. He's barely holding on, not with the way Rafayel's cock twitches against his own, your hot walls clenched tightly around the two of them as you beg.

"Please, can't- too much, more, I need-"

There's a broken sob, and then Xavier’s slamming his hips forward, fucking into you with a brutality he usually saves for Rafayel, the force sending the three of you rocking against the mattress, headboard splintering under the strength of his grip. The other leaves to thumb at your nipples, lips following suit as he rambles, drunk off your pussy, "These would look s'pretty filled, even more sensitive. Bet you'd let us milk you, fill you up even more."

"And here, you'll feel us here too, won't you?" A hand moves lower- whose you no longer are coherent enough to care- brushing over the swell of your abdomen, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing where both of them are thrusting violently into you. "Be a waste not to. Imagine it, a painted mess filled with us.”

And you are. You can't think about anything else, not with the way they're stuffing you full— every time Rafayel's cock would settle near your g-spot Xavier’s would ram back in, forcing the former up against your cervix before pulling out entirely, repeating the vicious rhythm as the pain bled into pleasure. 

Tears stream down the side of your face, room spinning into dizziness until all that remains are the burning trails of their touch, the only things keeping you grounded. 

Rafayel's sucking into your shoulder, biting the sweat-slicked flesh, and you can feel his hips begin to stutter underneath you, already reaching his high despite Xavier still pounding into you with the same intensity, desperate to catch up.

The moment Xavier feels Rafayel's release, it's over. Your back arches up against him, convulsing against their hold, your abused walls clenching down so tightly that you’re practically begging for them to come inside, sucking them in deeper and deeper until it’s impossible for them not to follow.

It's a violent orgasm, hot squirt of your cum drenching Xavier’s abs, the intensity of it causing Rafayel’s vision to white out too, unable to hear the desperate sounds of your moans, not when his blood is rushing past his ears.

Then, the world comes crashing back.

Rafayel’s panting, still thrusting weakly into the slick, tight heat as he emptied himself inside you, the sheer overload of it gushing down your legs and onto the sheets. 

"Ah- Xavier," you whine, the sound muffled into his chest as Xavier continues to chase after his high, too lost in his late orgasm to pull out.

The overstimulation is torture, your body twitching and trembling with every sloppy thrust. The moment he finally pulls out, the mess follows, thick, white rivets leaking down your thighs, the sheer volume near damn concerning had you the capacity to focus on it.

Rafayel laughs, fingers swirling through the cum as though painting your thighs, "That's not going to be easy to clean up."

"S'gonna look pretty. Messy. Full." Xavier murmurs, still pinning the both of you beneath him as he collapses in exhaustion, fingers dancing over the small swell in your stomach. Pressing lightly, he watches in fascination as their mixed cum gushes out faster, and you whimper, gripping his wrists to stop before they get any more ideas. 

You're not sure what's worse, the fact that they're both still hard and the way they're looking at you, or the fact that their words have your exhausted body already trying to recover, a shiver running through your sore muscles as the room's cool air brushes over the slick, sticky mess between your thighs.

"You're both so disgusting," you groan, the words coming out slurred and barely audible. 

"You love it."

"Yeah," Xavier's agreement is soft and almost hesitant. "You love us."

"Yes, I love both of you. Now get the fuck off of me." A shove, your shaking arm barely affecting Xavier as he finally relents, a small smile on his lips as he rolls the three of you down into the bed, resting on your sides. 

The muscles in your thighs scream in relief as they’re finally placed down, every inch of your body sore and marked up in one way or another, every visible bruise and bite getting pampered in faux apologies by the two men snuggling up next to you.

It’s a tangle of limbs, Xavier already claiming your chest again as he nuzzles into your breasts while Rafayel simply curls himself around your back. A hand there, an arm there, and a little more muffled bickering. Yet you all fit together, and sleep comes easy now. 

And the nightmares never return. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

UPDATE What's up, it's the proposal guy. You said you wanted to know how this turned out, so I figured I'd tell you. First some context though, because I'm mean and I wanna keep you in suspense longer.

1- I don't wanna doxx us so I'm not telling you where we live, but suffice to say, neither of us are American, and gay marriage has been legal here for less than five years. For both of us, this is the first relationship we've had where marriage was even an OPTION, and I think that's where we've been getting some of that whole 'this has to be a REAL proposal with EVERYTHING' idea.

2- I gotta figure out how to explain this properly. So, I'm pretty used to being the GUY guy in relationships? I was always the one who did the nice gestures, not the one they got done for. Before I met my dream guy, I didn't really notice or care that it was such a thing, I just assumed that's how shit worked. Also, I promised I wouldn't talk a lot about his stuff here, but his last boyfriend before me SUCKED. Anyway point here is, it turns out we both REALLY like feeling swept off our feet sometimes, and a big part of finding each other has been getting to feel special for once? That's a stupid sappy way of putting it the point here is I think all that's what morphed into "I need to be the one getting proposed to, also it has to be completely perfect", and then our Petty & Extra genes got involved.

So I'm sitting in bed thinking about all that up there, and watching all the comments coming in basically being like "Dude, you are BLOWING this" on repeat, and telling me to compromise, and I look up and see him flossing in the bathroom and making all these doofy faces at the mirror, and it's like a switch just flips in my brain, and I'm like "Oh, I'd rather he gets to have his perfect proposal than we both have an okay one". I'm gonna do it.

Morning rolls around, and while I'm 'out for my jog like normal' I hit up a pawn shop for a temp ring (the ring pop thing is cute but NOT HIM). I found one I was at least confident wouldn't get ruined the first time he got his hands greasy (he fixes old machines as a hobby it's hot as hell), got back home, and hid the box in the toe of my nasty ass workout shoes in the bedroom closet, since I figured he'd check there last.

He was still asleep, because he stays up late no matter what and then is SHOCKED he's tired the next day, so I called and booked a table at our usual anniversary spot. (Side note about the 'he picks bad restaurants' thing. This isn't an 'I like Greek, you like Chinese' situation, dude's just BAD at finding places. He either assumes pricey is tasty and I get to eat some overrated gourmet bullshit, or he'll try and find something hip and underground and risk giving us food poisoning again, and he REFUSES to give up and pick somewhere we've been before when it's his turn to plan date night. I'm obsessed with him <3.) Date was set, I'd propose on the 21st.

Some of you might have noticed this, but fun fact! It's currently the 16th.

Last night I'm doing dishes and he's been sent to our room for mug collection duty, and he's taking FOREVER, so I go check just in case he found the ring, because the man's a gift tracking BLOODHOUND. Turns out he hasn't, he's found my Angry Box.

I assume other people have an Angry Box? Basically, we had this huge messy fight right when we first moved in together, and I never wanna let it get that bad again, so I have this shoebox where I keep a bunch of our stuff I can look at if we're fighting and hopefully cool off. There's one of those photo booth roll things, letters we wrote when he moved back with his parents for COVID, the wine cork from our first date, shit like that. Anyway, he's just sitting on the floor staring at it, and I explain about the Angry Box, and then he! Proposes!!! Kind of.

He definitely didn't have anything prepared, because by 'propose' I mean 'ugly cried & rambled at me for several minutes before I figured out it WAS a proposal', but once I got on the same page it was amazing. I said yes, and he had to admit he didn't have a ring for me because he was CONVINCED he'd win and I'd do it, so I grabbed mine because, yeah, he was right. He was like "this is the ugliest ring I've ever seen" and I was like yeah well the plan is to replace it later and he went "No. You can pry this off my cold dead fingers. After I'm buried with it." So I guess it's not a temporary ring anymore.

I'm just gonna go ahead and skip to this morning. I pointed out we still have the reservation, and he said I should propose there anyway because "We can get a free dessert. They have those creme brulee shot glasses you like. And for love, or something" and I said ok deal, but that means you gotta get me a ring to keep it fair, and his eyes LIT UP. When I swung by his work for lunch he was still on the phone with a jeweler and he had a whole page of notes on three other ones. Pray for me.

OH PS: I was RIGHT that he'd been the one behind the cat biting me, but it wasn't about the proposal stuff, it's because I paid my baby sister three dollars to shout 'fuck you' every single time he enters a room she's in for (if you ask me, he should be madder at my sister for charging so little), and he did it by giving her a bunch of treats for biting his hands too, so now neither of us can pet our baby girl without oven mitts on. HOLY SHIT I love this man.

Oh my goddddddd I love everything about this <333 I awwww'd out loud on a voice call, like, six times while reading. You two are friggin perfect for each other and so obviously smitten with each other and I wish y'all all the happiness in the world

PS Are y'all planning to have a big wedding? If so oh boy I can't WAIT to get that one in the inbox

Original post

[thehighladywrites]

ACOTAR MEN X READER, BANNING THEM FROM INTIMACY

☀︎ — summary: you let them know they’re not allowed to touch you in any way, shape or form. How do they react!

☀︎ — warnings: 18+, nsfw, az being a slut as per usual, cassian being yummy, touchy needy fae males, slight dumbification in lucien’s

☀︎ — amara’s note: lucien was my fav one to write omgggg, also i hope u sluts enjoy😈😈😈😈 also enjoy while i work with tutor az👀👀

RHYSAND

“You’re putting me on a ban? You can’t be serious.”

“Nuh-uh Rhys, you flirted with that girl so have fun by yourself for the unforseeable future.”

Rhysand didn’t actually flirt with anyone, he was being his usual self and the way the girl was leaning towards him made you angry so you just blamed him instead

He gets through the first few days calmly although he is mildy irritated. Especially when Cassian and Azriel tease him about it.

“So no sexy time for you Rhysie, that must suck,” Cassian says as he ties his hair back.

“Well, not really much sucking these days, right?” Azriel snickers, getting ready for the inevitable fight

Rhysand takes out his frustration on them for their smart little comments.

Rhysand has quite a high libido so that man usually fucks you good atleast once a day even when you’re both busy.

“Darling, please forgive me. I will never do it again. Tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness.”

He begs and begs because he’s going a bit crazy

In the end, it takes him only three days for you to forgive him and lift the ban. The man is charming and seduces you into dropping the ban

The second you drop the ban, he grabs your waist, throws you over his shoulder and winnows to the cabin where he fucks you for a week straight.

“That oughta put that nasty idea out of your head forever” he says, patting your head while smiling at your ruined self. Mascara running, laboured breathing, and a pounding heart is your only answer

Yeah this man wrecks you and you never pull this stunt again…

YUMMM MHE IS SO DELICIOUS 👹👹👹👹

ERIS

“You may not touch me or have sex with me in any way until I say you can.”

He narrows his eyes as he slightly smiles when you announce a ban on all intimate activities for the unforseeable future.

“Is that so?”

You cross your arm on your chest, lifting your chin in defiance.

“Yes, that’s right. Since you want to entertain Nesta Archeron, you may not be in my vicinity.”

You are being waaaaaay too dramatic. He didn’t even spare her a single glance until you pointed to her. Nothing at all happened, I mean the male didn’t even know she was at the ball until you told him.

Nesta walked up and was a bit too close to him and even though Eris moved to your side, giving her an unamused look, you were still irritated

And since you couldn’t take it out on her, you take it out on Eris.

But Eris knows what you’re doing, he knows how extremely dramatic you are being, so he just lets you cool off, let’s you huff and puff around the house

You are a mess. An absolute mess

You find yourself longing for Eris's touch, even just a simple headpat from him would send you into cardiac arrest.

The fact that you lasted an entire week is insane bc you’re both touching each other in some way all the time

When you’re lounging; his head rests on your chest, and you lovingly massage his scalp, running your fingers through his hair. Alternatively, he pulls you closer to his body under a warm blanket, nestled in his neck, while he warms his hands for you, acting as your personal heater.

When you’re in public; he always has a hand on your lower back, waist or you walk hand in hand. You also wrap your hands around his biceps, caressing the arm when you feel tired

When you’re in a meeting; your hands naturally seek each other under the table. Whenever one of you gets heated or irritated, the other soothes them by rubbing their thumb on the back of their hand, offering quiet support.

After a week of torture you finally breakdown in his office, storming in and placing your palms on his wooden desk. He looks up at your curiously, an eyebrow raised.

“Okay, I can’t do this anymore, please touch me, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Eris is just as desperate as you are but he wants to drag this out just a tiny bit more before giving in

“Interesting. You initiated this ban, yet you’re the one who can’t follow through? You were fine without me for a whole week, I think you’ll manage another one.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. Another week? No, you’d rather die.

“I think not. I will beg if I have to. Touch me, please. I will probably die if I go another week without you.”

He leans back in his chair, puts his arms behind his head as his arms bulge. One of your biggest weaknesses

“Normally, I’d make you beg but I missed you aswell. Come here.”

You damn near cry in relief when you sit in his lap and nestle in his arms. His warm hands rub your back and thighs, making you impossibly more relaxed

“This was one of the dumbest things I have ever done. Never again.” You whine against his neck, kissing it over and over again.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, emotional as he press a kiss to your head

AZRIEL

“Okay.”

That is all he says when you tell him your banning him from touching you. Honestly, you thought he’d have a bigger reaction so you start getting second thoughts.

But you thug it out bc you still want to prove a point even though he looks super unbothered

In reality, Azriel is panicking on the inside

Although he knows he can physically withstand sex, it’s the love and intimacy he misses the most

So he does the one thing he knows you won’t resist

He sluts around the house

Okay, he walks around shirtless or with super tight black shirts thst highlight years and years of working out

Azriel knows you’re weak for his muscles and body so flaunting it around is step one of his plan.

Step two of his plan draws him extremely close to you, mere inches away. He leans in as you speak, exploiting yet another weakness.

He wears delicious colognes that make your eyes flutter. He wears chains around his neck and leans over you.

Azriel’s final and ultimate slut move is waking up in the morning, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he speaks. It's all it takes for you to cave in to his charms.

You find yourself the one begging for his touch, unable to resist the longing for his embrace. You babble about never wanting to go so long without feeling his presence again.

CASSIAN

Cassian’s love language is most definitely touch so when you tell him that he is banned from here on out, he freezes.

Like it doesn’t make any sense, he actually can’t grasp the concept.

“What does that even mean? What do you mean I can’t touch you?”

Tha man is flabbergasted

He will follow you around, apologizing for his behavior over and over. You’ve already forgiven him since it was a minor thing but he doesn’t know that

Cassian starts carrying a pillow with him, imagining it is you. He craves touch, and if it's from a damn pillow, he'll gladly take it

He pouts as you try to surpress a smile at his expression. He’ll give you puppy eyes in hopes of you dropping the annoying ban

Eventually, Cassian levels up and becomes extra touchy with the inner circle instead, seeking any physical touch

A confused Azriel gets extra pats on the shoulder, but Cassian's hand lingers, staying put longer than usual, leaving Azriel puzzled by the sudden change in his behavior.

An amused Rhysand receives more hugs, but Cassian's hugs linger, holding him close as if imagining you there for a moment.

Obviously, nothing compares to you, and the whole situation only makes Cassian more irritated.

No sex is just unbearable. Jerking off isn’t fun at all and he can count on one hand how many times he had to use his hands since you got together

After only one and a half day you start to miss his touches and get jealous that your friends is getting his warm touches instead.

You’re also very horny and since you and cassian have a VERY active sex life, it makes a lotta sense. This male usually fucks you 1-2 times everyday, and I mean EVERY day

Seriously not a day goes by without some action, whether it be fingering, bjs, handjobs, nipple play, him eating you out, 69 just anything really

When you finally, after 1,5 excruciating days let him touch you, he smiles and thank the Mother then drags you to your bedroom

Y’all don’t come out for a solid 2-3 business days

Ever since the ban, he is stuck to you like glue fr

LUCIEN

Lucien is very calm for someone who isn’t allowed to touch his mate

“You’re banning me from touching you? That’s really cute,” Lucien remarks casually, a hint of amusement in his tone as he takes a sip of his peppermint tea.

You furrow your brows, pouting. “I'm not joking, Lucien. If you touch me, I'll scream,” you assert firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. With lifted chin and proud gaze, you stand your ground, making your new and temporary boundaries clear.

Lucien chuckles softly. “Yeah? You’ll scream? Love, you scream real nice for me when I touch you anyway, so what's really new?” he teases, getting closer to you.

“I mean, do you really want me to not touch you?” Lucien asks, his voice low as he inches closer and closer until your faces are mere inches apart.

He gets so close, his warmth leaving you breathless. His soft, plump lips barely brush against yours, the touch so light it's almost not there.

“Tell me, my sweet, perfect girl,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours, “who put this idea in your head?”

You are barely functioning, your words stuck in your throat as you struggle to come up with a response.

“I know you're too out of it to properly respond to me right now, and it's okay,” Lucien says gently, his tone teasing. “I guess using your brain is a tough task, hm?”

You nodded absentmindedly, distracted by his charming smile

“M'sorry, Lucien,” you mumble, your words breathless and slightly slurred. “It was just a joke. I really want you to touch me,” you admit, your voice trailing off as you become increasingly dumbfounded in his intoxicated presence.

He tsked with mock sympathy. “It's okay, sweetheart,” he said gently, gripping your chin. “Let’s not say things we don’t mean the next time, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t.” you say blushing at the proximity before giving him a sweet sweet kiss on the lips. Lucien pulls you in closer and y’all fuck right there on the kitchen table but damn it was good

Yeah, banning Lucien from intimacy will never work

🏷️: @thelov3lybookworm @redbleedingrose @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @clairebear08 @rowaelinsdaughter @artists-ally @berryzxx @aroseinvelaris @cupidojenphrodite @jeannineee @daycourtofficial

[kentopedia]

I loooveee the way u write nanami 🥺🥺 was wondering if u could do a mini fic on nanami x reader but when they were in high school :O I feel reader would constantly flirt with him but he stays unbothered until she stops 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thank uuuu

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS — nanami kento

omg thank u so so much, you're very sweet <3 i think i was taking requests when you asked this, so im so so so sorry i took forever to answer :( this isn't exactly what you said but i hope it's close to what you had in mind <3

contents: sfw, high school nanami & reader, mutual pining, silly teenage emotions, fluff, it's not even really romantic but they're best friends that won't admit they have a crush on each other, reader is shorter than him, gn!reader — 1.2k

“you can’t stay mad at me forever, kento.”

your best friend — or so you thought — stayed silent as you walked through the abandoned warehouse, searching for the curses that needed exorcising. so far, they’d evaded you, just as kento had all of your questions.

he glanced over at you, mouth drawn into its usual line. “i can if i want.”

“oh really?” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued forward, following him through the building. “are you fifteen or five? you’re supposed to be the mature one!”

kento rolled his eyes, but didn’t dignify that with a verbal response, letting his blade dangle loosely at his side. an odd sound echoed through the hallways, but it wasn’t quite menacing enough to be a curse.

you groaned. “don’t you know everyone will just keep pairing us up on missions until we work this out?” if kento was going to continue to be a pain, you wouldn’t allow him the silence he wanted so desperately. he’d been ignoring you for over a week. “haibara’s lucky. he gets to go with the second years.”

nanami glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow, before looking ahead once more. “you mean he’s lucky he gets to go with gojo.”

though you weren’t sure if it was supposed to be an insult to you or not, you laughed. “maybe.”

“yeah,” kento scoffed. “i thought so.”

the tone was flatter than usual, even for someone like kento, and you raised your eyebrows, letting the words settle between you.

“you’re being so sour. you know, you never even told me what i did wrong. you’re so mad at me, kento, and i don’t even really know why.”

kento watched his feet take one step, then another, the opposite ones moving ahead. he’d grown a lot over the summer — a fact you’d somehow only realized. since when had he been that much taller than you?

“i’m not mad,” he finally settled on. a weak argument as to why he’d been ignoring you for the duration of your mission, and the week before.

you frowned, chewing the inside of your mouth. although kento had a kind heart, you knew how nasty he could be to people he didn’t like. you didn’t want to be one of those on the list. “kento… i really am sorry. if i’ve done something wrong.”

the tension drained from his shoulders. he sighed. “you haven’t.”

despite wanting to push the issue further, you let it die, deciding to listen to the silence in case of any curses. though, it had been nearly half an hour, and you hadn’t found any yet. you were beginning to think that maybe your teacher had led you astray.

“can i ask you something?” kento, after ten minutes, finally interrupted the quiet again. and though that sort of phrase was never a good sign, you would’ve taken anything to get him talking to you again.

“of course, kento.”

he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, seeming shy, almost. had it not been so dark, you would have seen the slight tint of pink on his cheeks, that you only assumed was there to begin with.

“what is it about gojo that you like so much?”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“you’re… interested in him, aren’t you? like that?” kento shifted awkwardly, holding his body as if it wasn’t quite his own. “i mean, i just assumed…”

all over, you great hot, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, a wave of dread heaping onto your stomach. “you think i have a crush on gojo?”

“don’t you?”

you thought about it for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“maybe?” kento pinched his eyebrows together. “what the hell kind of answer is that? you either do or you don’t.”

“i think he’s...” you stumbled over the words, not really sure when you’d started talking to nanami kento about these sorts of things. the words tasted sour in your mouth. “well, i suppose he’s attractive, isn’t he? he’s certainly charming. he makes me laugh.”

“you’re always flirting with him," kento said skeptically.

you shrugged. "i'm just teasing. if you consider that flirting, then i guess i am."

“hm. you sound like you think you’re supposed to be interested in him, just because he’s gojo.”

that raised a small laugh out of you. “maybe you’re right. i think i might just be interested in people i know won’t ever like me back.” kento’s eyes flashed, and before he could say anything, lips parted, you continued. “but what do i know about anything, anyway? teenagers are supposed to be dumb like that, aren’t they?”

kento frowned, brown eyes softer than you’d seen in awhile. “i don’t think you’re dumb.”

“thanks.” for some reason, that made you bashful, darting your eyes away as you smiled at the ground. “have you ever had a crush on anyone, kento?”

he gave you a tiny little smile, poking you in the temple, before repeating your words from earlier. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“you’re so stupid.”

kento laughed, then, a light noise that was more familiar to you than it was to a lot of others. “you know, if it makes you feel better, i think gojo likes you. really, i do. he thinks you’re pretty. he likes when you laugh at his jokes. geto told us. he talks about you to him all the time.”

and though you’d expected the words to send a wave of glee over you, the sort of silly emotion that came with a teenage crush, you didn’t feel excited as you should've. perhaps because satoru had never been the one you wanted.

“gojo just likes to be admired. besides, everyone likes when people laugh at their jokes. that's not special.” you kicked at the floor. “anyway, geto’s probably just telling you all that so you’ll tell me and i’ll make a fool of myself in front of them. that would really make them laugh.”

kento frowned, contemplative. “i don’t think he would do that.”

he wouldn’t. it just seemed the only good way to diverge the conversation.

you threw your hands up, expelling a loud sigh. “well… whatever. honestly, it doesn't matter. i don’t think i even want a boyfriend.”

kento gawked at you for a moment, lips slightly parted, before he shook his head, another snort of a laugh leaving him. “you’re so confusing.”

“you should be relieved. wouldn’t you be miserable if i started dating gojo?” you were only teasing him, bumping his shoulder with your own, a playful grin on your face.

but kento’s voice was gentle when he returned his answer, and the relief was evident on his face. “i would.”

whether you knew it then, or not, that little confession had changed the course of your life. you brushed it off easily, gripping your cursed tool tightly as you turned the corner again.

“hey kento?”

“what? the curses are going to sneak up on us if—”

“you’re my best friend, by the way. even if i was dating gojo, you’d still be my best friend. you’ll always be my best friend.” you stopped him, serious now. “no matter what happens.”

kento smiled softly, barely there at all. he squeezed your hand in return. “i hope so.”

[theoldsports]

SOUR.

Art Donaldson x Reader (Patrick Zweig x Reader) | SORRY series | 4.2k words

it’s finally here by popular demand. Patrick has entered the plot. this is set before all of the prior chapters, two days before the Donaldson wedding. can be read as part of the SORRY SERIES (read more episodes of their lives here) or on its own. lemme know if you’d like to be on the taglist.

warnings: 18+. angst. it’s brutal angst. more than allusions to Patrick’s canonical use of hard drugs. rehab, allusion to an OD, mention of Art’s disordered eating patterns. they’re bad for each other in a good way. the Donaldsons have a friendly dog. coveting another man’s wife. discussion of niche sexual fantasies. making out. biting. tornados/extreme weather. running away from your problems.

“Art?”

“Nngh.”

“Artie, wake up.”

“‘M up. Fhhh… ‘m up. What’s the matter?” Art grumbled with half shut eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” He whispered even though they were alone. It was nighttime which meant whispering to Art.

“I don’t like this storm.”

What a sign that storm should have been.

Art smirked. “We’re getting married in, like, three days and you’re worried about the weather?”

“There’s a tornado warning. Or watch. Whichever the worse one is. I saw it on the news.”

Art frowned. “You ever been through a tornado?”

“No.”

Art rolled over from his position in [Y/N]’s arms to face her nose to nose. “I have. A lot. Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. His arm slotted into the dip of her waist and pulled her closer. “Close ‘em for me. That’s it, that’s it.” He coaxed as she followed his directions.

“I don’t see what this has to do with—“

“Shh, listen,” they both got quiet. Rain pelted against the windows. Wind whistled. Branches cracked and crunched. Thunder boomed. [Y/N] could see the gleam of lightning even behind her eyelids. “Hear it?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Congrats. Your ears are workin’ best as they can,” Art teased to try and get his fiancé to crack a smile. “Now, which one’s the loudest? Which of the sounds?”

“You breathing.”

“I’m flattered. Which one outside?”

[Y/N] listened. “Right now? The rain, I think.”

“We’re in the clear for now. Let me know when the wind’s louder. Like that real, real crazy whooshing, whistling sound. When it starts whipping like that, we’ll go in the bathroom and lock the doors, yeah? Hell, we can head in now if it would make you feel better?”

“What if I fall asleep before the weather gets worse?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay awake,” Art yawned. “How about I get you up if I notice a disturbance. I gotta take care of my wife, right?”

“I’m not your wife.”

Art sighed. “…I know. I’m just practicing.”

Fortunately, no tornado ever touched down. And Art was still there when [Y/N] woke up.

It always amazed her that Art was still there everyday. For every nasty thing she said to him that she didn’t mean, every argument where she told him Patrick was right, every tennis match won or lost, every natural disaster, every tear shed. Art was there for all of it. He liked the bad moments as much as the good ones because it meant simply more time spent by [Y/N]’s side. He wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

It was too much power, [Y/N] frequently thought, that she had over Art.

[Y/N] faced Art and brushed his strawberry blonde hair away from his forehead. Art often looked exhausted. He wore his tiredness on his face and shoulders. The exhaustion of constantly chasing, people-pleasing and being a professional athlete could destroy a kid. Art wore it like a Boy Scout badge. [Y/N] could watch him look relaxed forever. It was so rare he looked like that.

“Good morning, guard dog,” [Y/N] whispered. Art stirred. She could tell he was awake even though his eyes were shut due to that crease the reappeared between his eyebrows. It was never not there in his waking moments. Slowly, Art’s hand crept up and gently clutched [Y/N]’s wrist. Art used his grip to slide [Y/N]’s hand down his own drowsy face. He planted a kiss on her palm before tiredly looking at her. “Good morning.” She repeated to him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” [Y/N] replied. Gray sunlight filtered through the window. “You ready for today?” She smirked.

“What’s today?”

“Patrick’s in town.”

Art dramatically threw his arm over his face and groaned. “I thought he was in tomorrow… Everything was so peaceful… And quiet,” Art mumbled into his elbow. He couldn’t keep a straight face for long and resolved into a soft laugh. “Whose babysitting?” He asked, peering his blue and brown eyes over his arm.

“I’m picking up the cake today, so I figured I could use his strength.”

Art sat up a bit. “You’re getting it today?”

“In the later afternoon, yeah. Why?”

“It’s gonna be, like, stale.”

[Y/N] glanced over at Art. “If we had gotten cupcakes like I wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You’re such a little jerk.” Art teased.

“Me!” [Y/N] gasped. “It doesn’t even matter because it’s not like you’re gonna eat it anyway because you don’t eat anything.”

“Little jerk!” Art said with his crooked smile widening. He leaned in, slotting an arm over her. “You heard me. You’re a little… troublemaking jerk.” Art’s nose almost pressed against hers.

“Oh yeah? Why are you marrying me then, hm?”

“…You’re pretty,” Art grinned almost timidly, bowing his head. His flat vocal timber sounded like the verbal equivalent of a blush. “Like, really, really pretty. Even if you suck.” Tenderly, Art leaned the rest of the way in to kiss [Y/N]. Once and then twice and then seven times. Maybe fourteen.

And they would have stayed like that all day.

They would have.

BANG BANG BANG.

Like gunshots.

Their lips parted and they held long eye contact. They paused. They sighed.

“Patrick.” They both said.

With a bend of his arms, the full weight of Art’s toned body collapsed on top of [Y/N]’s.

“Pretty baby!”

“No. ‘M pretending he’s not out there,” He laid flat on her, head on her chest. “Can’t go anywhere now.”

BANG BANG BANG on the front door again. Cheese, the couple’s Labrador mix barked at the sound from downstairs.

“Art!”

“Mhm-mm. Nope. Too bad. Sucks for Patrick.”

[Y/N] huffed. “You’re upsetting the dog.”

“He’s upsetting the dog,” Art started to laugh. “He showed up early. I’m just laying here. Hey, hey!” Art jeered as [Y/N] wiggled out from underneath him from backwards. She tried to inch away off the side of the bed. Her shoulders slumped against the carpet, while Art held her legs in place on the bed. [Y/N] dangled in a half on-half off sort of way. Her oversized Stanford t-shirt rolled up during the drama, exposing her breasts to Art. Unashamed, he stared.

[Y/N] twisted her foot into the side of Art’s face, causing a small cry of disgust from him. Just enough chaos for her to slip away. Without hesitation, she tossed the lightweight door open and skittered down the stairs with Art’s long gate keeping pace behind her. His arms reached out in an attempt to grab her. “He’s early! He can wait! He’s never been early in his whole fucking life!” Art laughed. Cheese jumped and barked at the hysteria.

The chase continued until [Y/N]’s hand hit the doorknob and chain. She unlocked it immediately. As [Y/N] ripped the door open, Art’s arm encircled her waist yanking her to the side with the force of his momentum, causing her to laugh with glee.

And on the other side of the door was Patrick Zweig.

Smiling impishly, Patrick took in the disheveled appearances of his two favorite people. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Nice boner.” Patrick smirked at Art, while he pulled [Y/N] into a side hug.

Art didn’t have a boner, or at least a proper one. But the comment was enough to get Art to look. He rolled his eyes and pulled Patrick in for a hug. Cheese ran over to the door for attention, when Art greeted Patrick.

Art closed the door. Patrick ducked down to greet the Labrador too. He liked Cheese, but wouldn’t necessarily choose to be around a dog in his free time the way that Art and [Y/N] did. Cheese really liked Patrick, much to his chagrin, so he pretended to be nice. While Patrick sat on the floor with the animal, he looked up at his best friends. “What’s with the clothes? You just get up?” Art with no shirt in just tube socks and boxers, and [Y/N] in Art’s old college shirt and underwear. They had all seen each other like this so many times growing up that no one particularly cared that the future Donaldsons looked so post coital. It was pretty normal. Patrick’s smirk sliced further across his unwashed face with the ghost of a laugh. “Were you guys fucking?” He said like a horny teenager.

[Y/N] laughed hard and kissed her lifelong best friend on top of the head on her way to make a pot of coffee in the kitchen. “No.” Art sighed in disappointment, flopping onto one of the barstools in the kitchen. This disappointment was either disappointment in Patrick for asking, or disappointment in the lack of sex due to Patrick’s arrival. It was Patrick’s fault either way.

When the dog got bored, Cheese wandered into the kitchen for nonexistent scraps. Patrick pulled up a chair next to Art and dropped his backpack on the floor. “How’s it going, man? You look good. Feeling ready?” He asked, leaning forward to tap Art across his bare knee.

Art nodded as if it say it’s a sure thing. “Thanks. We miss you. We appreciate you being here. It means a lot.”

“I appreciate you being here,” [Y/N] cut in. “Because you’re in my half of the wedding party.” She and Art were always in constant competition over who loved Patrick more. Art wanted him to be his best man. [Y/N] won out, though, having known him since the age of seven and Art only since age twelve.

“Ladies please. Not all at once.” Patrick said. He stood from his chair and wrapped his long arms around [Y/N] in a proper hug finally. Briefly, his chin rested on her head. He stopped before it went on too long.

“Good to see you, kid. How’s it going?” At two months older, [Y/N] had been calling Patrick ‘kid’ diminutively for almost two decades. It was cuter before he got so tall.

“I called you yesterday.” He replied dryly, stepping back to look at her. [Y/N] noted Patrick’s intimately familiar eyes. Too wide, pupils too dilated. Hm. He wore a long sleeved sweater and jeans. And dirty tennis shoes.

“You bring something nicer than this for Saturday?” She teased, pulling on one of his holey sleeves.

Art snorted at Patrick’s expense and cracked a smile. His freckled elbows leaned onto the counter. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here for two seconds, ‘n you’re already giving me tsuris?” Patrick quipped to [Y/N].

“Tsuris… Never thought I’d say it, but you sound like your mom, Patrick.” [Y/N] scoffed. Art snorted a laugh too.

Patrick frowned. “Guess I have to kill myself then.” He joked harshly to more laughter from the other two. M

“Yep. Have some coffee. Both of you. I’m going to put pants on.” [Y/N] turned away and moved to the stairs.

“Aw, do you have to?” Patrick called after her. [Y/N] tossed a middle finger up over her shoulder as she walked away. Art hissed at Patrick’s comment.

“Do you have to flirt with my wife?” Art sneered without malice.

Patrick smiled that boyish small, wicked, unassuming smile. “She’s not your wife yet.” He snapped back. Art smiled at him in return. The two held each other’s gaze adorned with sick grins for a moment before both of them dissolved into laughter. Everything was a competition, but it was only real if they brought it up.

Fast forward a few hours and Patrick and [Y/N] were in the car. Art had taken off for a haircut because his mom thought he looked like a messy little punk and wedding pictures were forever. [Y/N] drove because Patrick drove too fast and without mercy. He had a sports car once when he was in school and still spoke to his parents daily and had notably wrapped it around a telephone pole and walked out without nary a scratch. How’s that for nine lives?

[Y/N] had a sedan.

She and Patrick both held a cigarette out each of their respective windows as she drove.

“You should really quit, y’know.” She told Patrick.

He leaned over and blew smoke in her face. “Yeah, I’ll quit when you do.”

Patrick’s rude gesture didn’t bear acknowledging. “It’s different. You’re an athlete. I watch movies and review them for a living. It’s expected of me. You… you’re making your performance actively worse. You’re kneecapping yourself by choice.” [Y/N] explained.

“I’m good enough to take the hit.”

[Y/N] laughed and took a drag of her cigarette, asking it out the window. “And you’re arrogant enough to make that comment. Sometimes I look at you and you’re still thirteen. I swear to God. It’s fuckin’ funny,” she said. It was quiet for a moment. “Art, though. He doesn’t smoke anymore.”

“I don’t believe you,” Patrick replied immediately with a wild look in his eye. That was apparently a big surprise. “He’s totally lying to you. There’s no way—“

“Nope! Quit on his own too. He just decided he was done with it one day and got all pro-athlete about it.”

“Y-you’re wrong! You’re so wrong. He’s a liar. Last time I was in town, we—“

“No. No fucking way,” [Y/N] shook her head in manic disbelief. “When you came by to—“

“Mhm. Yep. On the patio. You didn’t notice?”

[Y/N] shook her head. “No sense of smell because of… I’m a smoker. I just… He’s such a shit.”

“A shit and a hypocrite!” They both laughed. When the glee dampened naturally and the cigarette butts were pitched out the window, Patrick looked over at [Y/N]. One good, long look. “You ready for Saturday?” Patrick asked because he was a masochist.

[Y/N] found herself often thinking back on this moment. Was this when it had gone wrong beyond repair?

[Y/N] sighed. She would only ever tell Patrick and maybe Art this. “Yes and no.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t say it like that. I have been ready to marry Art since I was, like, seventeen years old. It is unfathomable to me how much love I am capable of giving him, y’know? If he wanted the Mona Lisa, I’d be robbing the Louvre tomorrow. He’s it for me,” she said. Patrick faked a smile very convincingly and nodded for her to go on. “What I’m not looking forward to is everyone I know being in the same room at the same time. I don’t like other people except you and Art. And my editor. That’s about it.”

“You’re not at all worried about spending all that time married to someone?” Patrick tried to jab at her with his words while he scratched his right forearm.

“Not with Art.”

“Wow. That’s awfully grownup of you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m a grownup. With a smokin’ hot fiancé. And he actually cares if I live or die. Isn’t that crazy? My parents weren’t like that with each other. It’s… Am I allowed to say how grateful I am to you for bringing him home for break that one time, or is that stupid?”

“It’s kinda stupid,” he agreed teasingly. In reality, he wanted more than anything to put himself out of his misery. My fault, my fault, my fault. The words looped in Patrick’s head on constant repeat. He wanted to rip his skin off for so many different reasons. He couldn’t take it and he was trapped. Fuck.

Patrick scratched his right forearm again.

“Truth or dare?” Patrick slurred. He was twenty-one and drunk for [Y/N]’s birthday. She, Art and Patrick sat on the disgusting archaic carpet in Art’s dorm room.

“Uh, truth.” [Y/N] said too soberly to sober.

“Boring!” Art said, putting his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh.

Patrick took a long swing of his beer while he thought. “Okay, okay. What’s your weirdest sexual fantasy?” He asked.

“Ew.” [Y/N] wrinkled her nose.

Art thought the question was epic, but wasn’t going to facilitate his girl’s discomfort. “Hey, it’s her birthday, she doesn’t have to—“

“Um, no. I’ll do it. This is an actual dream I had. I think about it kinda all the time. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. It so dumb. So, it’s Art and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with coffee or something. And Art… sings me Happy Birthday like Marilyn Monroe did for JFK. And he’s dressed like Marilyn, but like a boy. No dress, but like the boy version of that look. Then we fuck. That’s weirder than you wanted. That was weird, right?” [Y/N] rambled.

Art leaned in closer to her. They were all drunk as skunks and he couldn’t help bite his lip. His arm pulled her closer to him. Art was handsy when drunk, they were all learning.

“Whose Jackie O?” Patrick asked.

“No Jackie O. And I’m not JFK. He’s just Marilyn. Gentlewomen prefer blondes.” [Y/N] had laughed so hard at that while she tangled her fingers in Art’s sandy hair.

The car ride to get cake and the drive back was the last proper conversation [Y/N] and Patrick had. The pair got home. Nothing seemed unusual to [Y/N] at all. They talked the whole time without any dry spells. The cake, in pieces to be assembled, was carefully toted in and placed way out of the way from disaster. Patrick took his bag to the bathroom, claiming he was going to shower.

[Y/N] shouted after him. “You know where the towels are!”

Patrick looked back over his shoulder at her with a smirk and closed the bathroom door behind him.

And he went out through the bathroom window.

[Y/N] had no idea he had gone until she heard his car start. For a minute, she thought it was the neighbors. She walked halfway down her hallway and saw the bathroom door open. No running shower water, no half nude Patrick shaving or something. She ran back down the hall and glanced out the kitchen window and watched his new white SUV whip out of the driveway.

[Y/N] stood there for several minutes. Staring and staring and staring after him. Not a single effort to move. The first thing she did was pick up her blue slidephone from beside the sink. She called Art, not Patrick. Patrick made his choice.

[Y/N] hadn’t realized she was crying when Art picked up on the other line.

“Honey? Honey, you there? You buttdial me?” Art said. [Y/N] thinks he said shit like that for several moments before she spoke. She just faced the window and stared for what felt like ages.

“Patrick’s gone.”

“Hm?”

“Patrick’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone.”

“He climbed through the bathroom window and drove off. We-we didn’t have a fight. Or-or… He just left. Like it was nothing.”

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

Art rushed back in his blue-black jeep wrangler. It ripped into the smooth driveway causing the tires to damn near squeal. When he got out of his car and bounded to the door, it was clear that about half of his hair had been cut instead of all of it. [Y/N] would have laughed in an ideal situation.

“Baby, hey, what happened?” Art said breathlessly as he unlocked the door. [Y/N] sat at the seldom used dining room table the two of them used to hold their junk mail, sitting straight up and looking through Art. Art was alarmed. She never sat at the table and rarely was her face so expressionless. She was always feeling, expressing, something. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but her eyes were red.

“Patrick seems to have decided not to join us this weekend.” [Y/N] said clearly.

Art closed up the door behind him and walked over to [Y/N]. His scraggly hair and bewildered expression lessened into some devastated softness. He knelt, as he often did, in front of her and took her softer hands in his. “Can you tell me what happened?” Art asked quietly. He felt angry tears sting at the corner of his own traitorous eyes.

“We went out, got the cake, got smoothies, and came back. We… He didn’t say anything weird. Nothing happened.”

“Okay. And then?”

“No, I mean, nothing happened. Like, he was on his best behavior. Like, he was doing so well. He seemed okay. Really okay, y’know?” [Y/N]’s voice broke and finally betrayed her. She choked on her last words and the tears followed. Art’s right hand traveled up the side of [Y/N] face to rest there in comfort. “We talked about everything, like always. He was totally fine. I swear. Then we got home and he says I’m gonna take a shower, or something. And then I heard his car pull away. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna fucking murder him.” Art said, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. He stood from the floor and pulled his own phone out of his pocket. Art leaned against the table [Y/N] sat at. He called Patrick. Then he called him again. And another time. Up to what felt like twelve times or so. He left voicemail after voicemail.

“Hey, call me.”

“Hey, it’s Art. Call me.”

“Art again. Call me back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry about the last one. Patrick, call me. Are you coming home?”

“Hey, man. Fuck you. Fuck off.”

“I’m sorry about the last one too. I’m… Understandably, I’m kinda… Fucking pissed at you. I don’t need to talk to you like that, though. Are you okay? Are you safe? What happened? You can talk to me.”

“You’re an asshole. I wish you could see the look on [Y/N]’s face right now.”

“Don’t come back.”

Eventually, the voicemail box was full.

[Y/N] reached wordlessly for Art’s hand. She could feel his rare anger climbing. He got this ridiculous blush across his cheeks when he got angry and she could see it against the sunset’s glow. “Art?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened,” He said, turning his eyes to her. “I’m so sorry, hon.”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize, pretty baby.”

“Yeah, but he’s my best friend. He’s your best friend,” He ranted. “That was a dick move to leave like that. I’m sorry that happened to you. He’s a piece of shit.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No! I do. I do mean that. For the last year, he’s treated us, especially you like trash. Do you not see how much more you deserve, [Y/N]? I don’t know what’s going on with him… Do you?”

“He’s…” [Y/N] looked down. “You think he’s using again?”

Art didn’t say anything, he just looked down. That was answer enough. [Y/N] buried her face in her hands with a shuddering sob. Art pulled her to her feet and into his chest. He buried his face in her hair, unable to hold his own tears back. Eventually, the pair landed on the sagging green couch. Art’s legs wrapped around [Y/N]’s middle. They kept the news on all night. In case he matched an accident description. They called hospitals and hunted for John Does that were over six feet with dark hair and stubble.

“What are we gonna do? He’s… He’s not coming back, is he?” [Y/N] whispered. Cheese rested his heavy beige head on her thigh. He obviously didn’t understand why Patrick had gone either.

“No, I don’t think he is,” Art replied, lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry.

Pathetically, [Y/N] raised her head to Art. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything.” He said. [Y/N] forced Art to lean back against the couch and she laid her head on his chest. Cheese circled for a new position where he could be touching them both at the same time.

[Y/N] knew it was a little bit her fault. She leaned up and kissed Art on the corner of his lips. “It’s my fault.”

“Then it’s both of our faults. You can’t talk about yourself like that. You’re the only you I’ve got, babe.” Art huffed tiredly.

[Y/N] dug her hands into Art’s hair the way he liked. “Can I fix your haircut? Haircut’s a generous way to describe it.”

“Damn, I was actually trying out this new thing. You don’t think it’s cool?”

“Yeah, it’s big for guys who blindly answer their wife’s phone calls, I hear.” [Y/N] said weakly.

Wife was all Art heard and he melted.

“I have never known someone I love as much as you,” Art said. “I’m all in with you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do.” [Y/N] did know. She sunk her teeth into the freckled skin on Art’s right shoulder gently and he moaned. Over top of the spot, [Y/N] left a trail of kisses down Art’s bicep.

“I’m gonna call his mom.” He said once [Y/N]’s pace had slowed. Art’s stomach growled. When he got upset, he didn’t eat. [Y/N] told herself it was because he had forgotten to in stressful moments, but wondered if it was a punishment instead. She pretending she hadn’t heard the sound.

“They don’t talk.”

“I know. Just in case he turns up.”

Patrick did turn up. About ten hours later, wet and unconscious in the emergency room. Following a psych eval, Patrick went to a short stint in rehab. He had gone once prior at the age of twenty. Needless to say Patrick missed the wedding. It was too much money to up and cancel, according to Art’s piece of shit stepfather, Douglas. Patrick made no efforts to contact the Donaldsons since leaving, as he left or following rehab. Despite all of Art and [Y/N]’s tireless efforts to find him, all they had to show for it was his disconnected phone number and a crippling feeling of shame and loss. Patrick had vanished from their lives without giving either one of them a say.

Patrick was gone.

But Art was there for all of it.

TAGLIST:

@toxiclovergirl @basicallynotbreathing @miniemonie2001 @valentine333 @tremendoushorsepeachbanana-blog @athxnss @babyspice6 @diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @avylanchce @shysstuff @soberbabes @ysuftmikey @pussy-f41ry

[p4ranormaluv]

I AM YOURS ‧₊˚

part 2 of “aren’t you mine?”— but can be read as a stand alone [?]

pairing) puppy dom!jake x f!reader

genre) smut [nasty, filthy, shameful smut], hybrid au

warnings under cut

contents) jake has a big breèdeř còçk & bàłls, blow jòb, some còcķ warming, bálł worship [don’t look at me like that!], breath play? [you choke on his dícķ- and you like it], çúm facial, brief màsturbàtion, húmpíng, light húmiliátion kínķ, everything’s consensual!, hair pulling, man handling, heavy [?] dêgrádatíon, some praise, desc. of jake yelling once, a few ‘sir’ mentions, doggy style [lol], some spänkíng, brêedíng kínk, cûmmíng inside, not mentioned but reader’s on pill, not proofread

wc) 3.3k

ever since jake’s total attitude shift in the bedroom, things have been…different. while at the same time not different at all.

he’s still your sweet little puppy who waits at the door for when you get home. he’ll whine for cuddles and yip when he’s happy. his brown eyes still have that innocent sparkle and he does his best to be a good boy for you.

the difference is, you know the other side of him that lays beneath all of that.

beneath the puppy eyes and wagging tail and clingy attitude, there’s a ravenous dog who knows just how to make your knees weak and legs shake.

and you’re starting to get really impatient to see that again.

to feel that again.

you’re just not sure how. at least at first you weren’t.

you’re too embarrassed to tell jake you want him to fuck you like a wild animal again, and if you ask for sex he’s gonna approach it with the attitude of a puppy receiving a treat, like he usually does.

so in your mind, you really only have one choice.

piss jake off.

forcibly peel off the layer of innocent puppy he clothes himself with and reveal the beast.

luckily, you think you have a pretty good idea on how to make jake unleash his inner wolf again.

jake is currently in the second bedroom, which is dedicated as an office and gaming area. his headphones are on, but with his advanced hybrid hearing you’re sure he’ll be able to pick up on what’s about to go down.

opening your pajama drawer (because jake would probably find anything you’re attempting to hide if it was in your underwear drawer), you reach all the way to the back and pull out a vibrator. you haven’t used it in forever. you haven’t needed to with how insatiable jake is. and yet, you’re already wet at the thought of using it now, knowing what will come after it.

turning the vibe on to a gentle but constant rhythm, you sneak it past the hem of your shorts and tease yourself with it, going around your clit but never making direct contact.

things escalate pretty quickly. probably because you’re incredibly horny and impatient for some actual dick to be inside you. (specifically jake’s monster cock.)

you let yourself moan as much as you want, hoping the noises travel well through the door you left open and down the hall to where jake is. you quickly move the toy in and out of you, your embarrassingly wet pussy making for an easy glide.

and yet…no jake.

you’re honestly being loud as fuck already, but you up the anti, moaning like a porn star while trying to angle the vibrator so it makes wet squelching noises every time you fuck it back into your pussy.

you’re about to orgasm until you think too much about how jake isn’t catching you red handed like he was supposed to, the disappointment chasing off your high before you can reach it.

your hand falls against the sheets of your bed with a pathetic thump, eventually getting up to go to the connected bathroom, wash off the toy and your hands before banishing the toy back inside your drawer.

“y/n?” you hear jake call. you sigh, knowing he’s probably just gonna ask you to make him some food or something.

jake gives you an adorable smile when you appear in the door way, lifting up one side of his headphones to speak to you.

“do we have pizza?”

“yeah, pup. there’s some in the freezer.”

jake puts his puppy eyes in full gear, clearly begging as his tail moves in little hopeful wags.

“yes, jakey. i’ll make it for you.” you roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed when you’re really not. his cuteness is making you forget about your lost orgasm and failed attempt at getting dicked down.

“thank you, y/nie~” jake sings, hands leaving his keyboard and mouse for a moment to outstretch his arms, feet making happy little tip-taps on the floor. you quickly oblige, giggling as the second you hug jake, the puppy’s nuzzling his face into your tummy. you give him a kiss on his head, about to pull away when you feel his shoulders go rigid in your hold.

“puppy? you okay?”

“…why do you smell like cum?” jake asks against your skin, deathly still and voice eerily calm.

a chill runs through your body. you were so focused on getting jake to hear you that you didn’t think about how he could smell it.

“i- um…” you’re completely thrown off guard, the bratty attitude you planned to have vanishing from your abilities.

“you came…without me?”

jake finally lifts from your stomach to give you what you can only call a ‘death stare’, and- oh, there’s that feeling again. the one that makes your knees weak and heart faint.

“no! i didn’t, jake, really! i just…i wanted you to fuck me…h-hard like before so bad, but i was too shy to ask, and…”

“so you did something you knew i wouldn’t like? why? did you think i’d get mad and fuck you how you want?”

your cheeks burn, the twist of humiliation in your gut urging you to look away from his judging stare, but you can’t bring yourself too. whether it’s from fear or entrancment, you can’t tear your eyes from his, and neither can you seem to get any sound to come out of your mouth, nevertheless a proper response.

“well, i’ll tell you, y/n,” he begins coldly, none of his usual cute pet names for you in sight as he takes off his headphones and sets them on the desk, game completely forgotten. “you were right about one thing. you wanna guess what it is, slut?”

the pure venom in his tone has your panties clinging to your wet cunt and thighs literally trembling. jake finally can’t ignore it anymore and acknowledges it with a scoff, grabbing you by the waist and pushing you onto the floor so you’re kneeling between his legs.

you whimper in pleasure and fear at the rough treatment, but otherwise stay silent, staring up at him. you feel so, so small when he’s looking down at you like this, like you’re nothing but an annoying scuff on his shoe that he now has to take care of.

jake grabs a hold of your hair and yanks your head upward with a pull unexpectedly hard, causing a yelp to leave your lips as you look up at him, eyes pleading and confused.

“your brain really does go all dumb for some dick, doesn’t it? i said guess, bitch.”

“i- um…i…” you feel like your tongue is 100 pounds. your heart is pounding out of your chest and a distant voice in your head is screaming out from the fog to just say something, anything! but nothing comes out.

jake growls at your seeming disobedience, speaking through bared teeth as he leans down into your face, fingers that are still entangled in your hair gripping tighter and causing your scalp to burn.

“so fucking stupid, i’ll just have to tell you, huh? you did succeed in making me mad, y/n. jakey’s really, really angry. can you tell, baby?”

he asks his question almost nicely, if it weren’t for how he’s clearly talking down to you, his intentions to make you feel small and pathetic- needier for him.

“y-yes, jakey.” you answer as submissively as you can, and the hybrid is cooing before you’ve barely even finished. his hand finally releases your hair to pet your head as he pouts at you mockingly, finding your poor attempt at conjuring some mercy from him humorous.

“yeah, baby. you knew just how to make your puppy mad. you got one of the things you wanted.” he smiles, head tilting to the side in a way you usually find cute. but right now, it just feels sinister.

and you’re right, because a second later it drops back into that cold expression, big brown eyes morphing to sharp slits that stare at you so darkly they almost look black.

“but what you won’t be getting is my cock in that nasty fuckin’ cunt.”

“no! jake, please! i’m so sorry, but i need you! i did it because i need you!”

jake laughs humorously, leaning back in his gaming chair and man spreading his thighs. your eyes immediately follow the movement and your rewarded by seeing his massive bulge through his grey sweatpants. your mouth waters as jake stares at you with complete disinterest, veiny hand groping and squeezing himself a bit over the fabric with a deep, lazy groan.

“yeah, well, bit late to be telling me that now, isn’t it? i don’t want to be inside a loose cunt that’s been stretched out around some toy.”

“i’m not! i’ll be good, i’ll make you feel good, jakey, promise-“

“shut the fuck up!” jake yells.

like, properly yells, his voice booming against the walls and making you fall completely silent.

“god, i’m so sick of hearing you whine.”

as he says this he slides off his pants, leaving them to pool at his ankles along with his briefs. he slides his hips to the edge of the chair, his big cock with a glistening head bobbing along with the movement and his balls hanging over the edge. they look heavy and full of cum, the slight blush of them matching the pink of his tip.

you have to swallow from all of the spit collecting in your mouth.

“think this’ll be enough of a mouthful to keep you from talking, huh?” he smirks, and you nod, eager for anything he’ll give you.

“c’mere.” jake orders, the timber in his voice causing your pussy to squeeze around nothing as he pulls you closer by the nape of your neck. “this is for me, not you. i’m gonna use you as much as i want and i don’t want to hear a single complaint, got it?”

“y-yes sir.”

jake smirks at the title before snaking his hand from your neck to your jaw, gripping it firmly as a silent order for you to open up.

you do, sticking out your tongue for good measure.

jake hums appropriately and grabs his cock with his other hand, slapping it against your tongue. it’s so heavy that it makes a little wet sound every time it lands on your awaiting, desperate tongue, you failing to keep in a whimper as the taste of his salty pre cum ghosts over your taste buds. jake continues to tease you, rubbing his leaky tip across your lips like it’s a tube of lipstick. you resist from begging, but the way your eyes water and your thighs squeeze together don’t go unnoticed by jake.

finally, he mercilessly slides in all at once, tip hitting the back of your throat as drool gushes out from your mouth at the sudden intrusion.

“ah, yeah. fuck, be a good cock sleeve for me, hm?” jake groans, holding you by the hair as he keeps his cock resting in your struggling throat. you can’t help but squirm as you try to hold the little breath you have, your nose squished against his pelvis. a bit of pre cum dribbles from his tip and slides down your throat, causing you to cough and choke, frantic hands pushing and squeezing at jake’s thighs.

he pulls you off with a sigh, letting you gag and catch your breath for a moment before he’s forcing your mouth wide open to take him inside again. he presses you tightly against his pelvis once more before he starts fucking your mouth, pace deep and fast.

you uncontrollably emit embarrassing noises as jake repeatedly thrusts down your convulsing throat, balls slapping against your chin that’s covered in your own spit. you constantly feel like you’re about to run out of breath or choke, but the way jake is using you like an object or some lifeless fuck toy turns you on more than you imagined. how he’s just yanking your head up and down his shaft has you humping against the floor, trying to rub your clit against the seam of your shorts as subtly as possible. and with the way jake is slamming into you, you doubt he’ll notice your small movements.

“ah, fuck yeah! fuck,” jake moans. he pulls you off unexpectedly with a juicy pop from your lips sucking desperately at his tip, guiding your head lower. you think he’s going to tell you to lick up his shaft, but he surprises you again.

“suck on my balls like the filthy whore you are. m’sick of seeing you pretending.”

you let out a shuddering breath, then- “yes sir.” before your arching your back to bend down and encompass both his balls into your mouth in the first try.

it’s a struggle for sure, you feel like you practically have to unhinge your jaw to accommodate them, but you manage to suck them in. you hold them in your warm mouth, getting them all wet as you explore them with your tongue all over. jake growls and you hear him throw his head back, hips twitching upward slightly as he starts jerking off his own cock.

you moan as you pull off, taking a look at your work. a bead of drool runs down his balls and you lick it up with a long stripe of your tongue. you can tell jake is getting needier and more caught up as he lets out a whimper that sounds a little more like your puppy. but when he speaks it’s still throaty and deep.

“yeah, good girl. keep lickin’ me like that.”

the small amount of praise has your heart and pussy pounding for more, so you keep at it, licking and kissing at his heavy sack like you have no shame.

and you really don’t, at least in this moment, with his fat cock and balls bouncing with the speed that jake is tugging at himself with.

he’s moaning more frequently and louder, letting you know he’s getting close. your legs spread wider as you start humping the floor again, whining against his balls as you do your best to look up at him from the awkward angle. you want to make him cum so bad, even if it isn’t in your pussy.

it’s too good for jake to handle, your whorish tongue licking and the sound of your sweet little kisses against his balls, sucking the delicate skin into your mouth. all while his rough hand harshly pumps his shaft.

“c’mere, stop,” he demands even though he’s already forcibly pulling you off, his hand showing his desperation as it goes faster, practically in a blur as jake tries to keep his whimpers under his breath.

“stick out your tongue, stick it out- yes, yes! yeah, baby. just like that. fuck-“

he cums all over your face and tongue with a loud, throaty moan. one that you’re sure your neighbors can hear.

your eyes are shut as you feel his juices run across your skin, you licking up as much as you can. jake wipes at your eyes, but is amused to see that you keep them shut, too lost in the taste of his cum as you try to collect every last drop.

you don’t even realize that you’re still humping the ground, little rhythmic whimpering escaping your lips until jake is pinning your hips down with his two feet.

“y/n…” jake warns, and you feel your body freeze over with shock.

you look up at him, and he can tell you genuinely were doing it unconsciously from the regret and anxious anticipation that’s evident in your cautious stare.

“ah, fuck it.” jake whispers under his breath, kicking off his pants and briefs that still hung from his ankles and pulling off his shirt. “strip and get on all fours.”

you’re surprised, but you don’t dare question it, practically tearing off your clothes before turning to get into the position. jake laughs at your eagerness as he still sits at his chair, looking down on you and making you feel utterly stupid and pathetic. you feel a sudden surge of sass that leads you to arch your back, presenting your ass and pussy to him much like a hybrid bitch would. you don’t hear jake laughing anymore, you realize proudly, letting out a giggle as you sway your hips from side to side.

there’s sounds of movements and then a hard slap is mercilessly landed on your ass cheek. you yelp, body flinching with the hit as you look behind you.

jake is on his knees behind you, tail raised but unmoving as he scrutinizes you.

“you’re as bad as a bitch in heat. you don’t deserve my cock but you need it, don’t you?” he emphasizes this by tapping the head of his dick against your hole, you whining and trying to push back on it so he’ll go inside. he spanks you again with his big hand, the sting making you wonder (hope) that it leaves a mark. “beg for it.”

“yes, jakey! i need your cock so bad. feels so good in my little pussy. pleeease fuck me, puppy? i’ve been waiting so long.”

jake hums, smirking as you flash him an annoyed little pout.

“think i’m gonna shove it all in at once…” jake threatens as he breaches his tip in your cunt. “bad little whores like you don’t deserve to be prepped.”

“i- but, no, jakey! i-…you’re too big.”

“you’ve taken me all at once before?” he smiles evilly, eyes sparkling from how bothered you look. you’re incredibly turned on and losing patience by the second and he knows it.

“yes, pup, but it hurt. couldn’t walk the next day.”

“awww~” he coos, giving you a pout that’s anything but genuine. “that’s because you’re my breeding bitch, baby. doesn’t matter if you can’t walk, all you’re supposed to do is lay down and take it.”

that’s all he says before he rams his monster cock in your small hole, you crying out as you turn your head to burry your face in the carpet.

“thaaaat’s right, that’s what my slutty baby needed, huh? just needed a big dick to pound her little pussy into the ground.”

“oh, f-fuck, jake,” you moan, sounding like a porn star for the second time today, but this time it’s genuine. his cock is stretching you out so good and his balls hit against you with every thrust.

“no. not jake.” he pants, hands groping the flesh of your hips. “call me puppy. say that i’m your good little puppy with a huge cock.”

“god, yes, puppy! you are, you are my good little puppy with a huge, huge cock! please keep fucking me, puppy! don’t stop fucking me!” at this point, after accidentally edging yourself and all the teasing and build up, you’re so close. you want to cum so bad but you don’t want to piss jake off anymore at this point, afraid he’ll pull out if you do.

jake changes his angle just slightly, and you’re seeing stars, body trembling as he continues to rail you.

“oh, i think i found your spot, didn’t i, baby?”

“please, puppy, please!” you beg, though you’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this point.

“wanna fill you up again, shit. you’ve really fucked me up, baby. got me thinking about how good this pussy feels when i fill it with my cum, always gets so tight.”

“then cum in me, puppy. fill me up, please? i’m yours, make me yours!”

jake feels his dick twitch inside of you at your words and he knows he’s a goner.

“cum for me, y/n. cum like the slutty bitch you are for this cock.”

your walls constrict as you cry out in white, hot pleasure, jake letting go with a growl as he pounds his cum deep, deep, deep inside your pussy.

when he’s finally done, he pulls out to watch it drip out of you, gripping your ass to stretch open your already stretched out hole even further.

“god, i love it when you make me mad.”

❤︎ REBLOG IF YOU LIKED ❤︎

taglist) @jaeyunwon @strxwbloody @starfallia @annoyednblax @acousarah @heeseungshim @haelahoops @jakeyismine

[dark-konohagakure2]

Could I request a Gaara X reader. Please

He sees her admiring his tattoo while at a neighbouring village, decides that noone will mind him taking her home with him. Gives her a matching tattoo somewhere on her body only he'll be able to see.

tw: dub/noncon, kidnapping, scarification, womb marking, possessiveness, power imbalance, breeding, obsession, abuse of power

All characters depicted are 18+

Gaara is somewhat insecure about his kanji shaped scar, having had it since he was a young boy, and he's never once been complimented on it, only pitied and mocked. So when he's visiting a small village on official business and a very cute villager girl expresses her admiration of his 'tattoo', it awakens something within Gaara.

Gaara is the Kazekage, and a respected one at that, so surely this tiny village wouldn't mind him taking a little souvenir with him, so that's exactly what he does. The red haired Sand shinobi feels a sense of contentment as he makes his way back home with his prize tucked snugly underneath his arm.

Despite his unconventional means of acquiring her, Gaara treats her rather kindly, doting on her and not letting her leave his side, and nobody bats an eye at the fact that the Kazekage suddenly has a woman they've never seen before at his side at all times. Gaara thinks it's fate, she complimented his biggest blemish, the mark of 'love' on his forehead, and he wants to give her one to match.

Gaara already knows exactly where he wants to leave his mark on her. He won't do it anywhere too visible, he wants it to be somewhere only he can see, so that it's a special secret just between the two of them, although it will hurt quite a bit.

"This mark means 'love', something very important to me... I'll give you the same mark right here, on your most precious spot, then we'll be bound together by our love forever... It only hurts for a moment..."

He'll use his sand to leave the kanji shaped scar just above her pussy and directly over her womb, marking her precious womb as his property and his alone. Gaara will even gently hold her hand in a comforting manner until the pain and her tears subside, although it doesn't take long before he finds himself getting a bit excited.

Now that he's marked her womb, he wants to fill it as well, claiming her body both inside and out. He needs an heir anyway, and he can't think of anyone more qualified to be the mother of his children then such a sweet and perfect girl who was able to see the beauty in something as nasty as a scar.

Gaara will be gentle despite the fact that he's practically forcing himself upon her, easing his cock in and out of her tight pussy, his face buried in the crook of her neck and he pants heavily and murmurs words of praise and love to her, his hips firmly yet gently grinding against her own.

This will go on for a very long time, taking hours until he's completely sure that he's thoroughly bred her full of his offspring before he finally pulls out of her, leaving her pussy leaking with his semen as he looks down at her with a gentle smile, a rare expression from the usually stoic Kazekage.

"Th-There... You did a great job, my love... I'm sure our children will be just as sweet and caring as their mother..."

Gaara is glad that he has found what he believes to be true love at long last after so much yearning for love, and he's not going to let her go anytime soon, and if she does get away, he wouldn't mind giving her another mark, just somewhere much more noticeable.

[slutforsjy]

“Can I be Layla’s Mom?”

Synopsis: You made Jake mad (?) and uncomfortable with your banner, so he invited you backstage to talk about it 😇

Genre: SMUT!

Pairing: Idol!Jake X Engene Fem!Reader

Warnings: Making out, blowjob, deepthroating, cum eating, spit kink, grinding, almost sex, pervert jake, nasty jake, dom jake, PURE FILTH!

Word Count: 3k +

a/n this is my first time writing pls bare with me 😭 also eng is not my first language so….rb and comment if you enjoy it 🥰

You and your friend, swept up in the pulsating energy of the crowd, singing along with your favorite group, etching memories that will forever linger in your mind. The venue is a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, with flashing lights illuminating the stage and electrifying the atmosphere.

Attending a concert had always been a dream, lured by the promise of electrifying vibes, enchanting ambiance, and the palpable connection with the performers, especially your favorite, Jake.

There were so many banners and signs around for enhypen to read and yours were the one that caught the attention of the members.

It says….

“JAKE! CAN I BE LAYLA’S MOM?” with a picture of him and Layla that he posted on twitter.

For the rest of the members they thought it was funny, but for Jake, it sparked a different reaction. The moment he saw you waving that banner, it was at first funny to him at least, until his gaze traveled from your face down to your tight ass dress pushing your breast out a little bit, his reaction shifted.

You tried to catch his attention more as you started jumping, shouting, singing, and dancing not knowing how your boobs wiggle in front of him. His jaw clenched at the sight and you didn’t miss the way he licked his lips. Of course, your fans around you went crazy duh 🙄 but for you? you can’t seem to read what was that expression.

As the concert drew to a close, with each member delivering their heartfelt messages to the crowd, your eyes remained fixated on Jake. When he finished speaking, you seized the opportunity to capture his attention once more, by showing him your banner. However, instead of amusement, you sensed a flicker of irritation in his demeanor. You saw him cock his head looking annoyed by your actions as he diverted his gaze over to the other side of the stage and started waving at the fans instead.

You got worried, fearing that your playful gesture may have crossed a line and maybe it’s not an inappropriate banner for you to show him in the first place. But you just shrugged it off as you put your banner inside your bag and just enjoy the rest of the concert.

Everything inside the venue happens so quickly, and clearly, you don’t want to go home especially that your bias is mad at you. During their encore, you never miss a time when jake steals a look from you. He would look at you with a sharp eyes and then look at somewhere else when you catch him looking directly at you.

At this point you are so worried maybe because you truly made him uncomfortable with that stupid banner.

You’re so stupid!

Consumed by guilt and disappointment, you didn’t enjoy the rest of the concert. You really feel like crying, wanting to apologize to Jake which makes it worse as the thought of never meeting him again hits you and you’re never gonna have a chance to tell him that you’re sorry.

Once they bid their final goodbye, a wave of melancholy washed over you watching how the stage slowly closes hiding the seven most precious human beings for you.

“Bitch what was going on with you and jake?” you were jolted by your friend’s sudden question

See? Your friend noticed it too!

“Right? I really don’t know what I did wrong” you screamed, the weight of uncertainty pressing upon you.

“Dude he stares at you like he’s going to kill you” she says jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Damn! maybe i made him uncomfortable with my banner” your friend nodded noting how you didn’t use your banner at the latter part of the concert.

For the record, it wasn’t your intention to make anyone uncomfortable especially Jake, you made it for fun! even you friends and the other members find it funny. How is it not funny for Jake too!

As the crowd dispersed, your friends lingered for a final photo, offering a brief distraction from your swirling thoughts. Lost in the digital snapshots of the evening, you were startled by an unexpected interruption.

“Excuse me” he says tapping your shoulder.

You thought it was another engene asking you to take a photo of them but to your surprise you saw what is written in his shirt.

‘STAFF’

“Uhm sorry we’re actually done taking photo, we’ll head out quickly after this” you smiled at him.

You are about the go out of the venue when he calls you again.

“Uhm actually someone wants to see you…… at the backstage” You are so shocked and confused.

“W-what? Why?” your asked nervously

“Just go there, he just wants to talk to you” he then walked away shooting you a smile afterwards

“He?” both of you exclaimed

“Girl what the fuck is goin~?!” you cut your friend off and went immediately to follow the staff

You left your friend there and just shouted to her to just meet you at the hotel.

You’re so nervous walking towards the staff in front of you as he pointed at the door telling you to go inside.

Stopping in front of the door, heart racing, thinking if you should go inside or not.

Just by looking at the door, you think it is a storage room or whatever. You spent few minutes guessing what or WHO could be inside this room.

Once you got the courage to open the door, you were so shocked from what you see.

There you saw Jake,

manspreading, both arms on the head rest of the couch, staring at you with a smirk on his face, eyeing you up and down while licking his lips.

Wearing his soundcheck outfit earlier!

Your knees started trembling, seeing those gaze he gave you earlier at the stage as you nervously averted your gaze to look around the small room.

But this isn’t the time to be nervous, and so you brushed off your own thoughts and say hi and tell him how he did well.

“Hi Jake, i really enjoyed the concert, i can’t believe you called me i~” you were cutted as you heard him speak by his deep voice with thick accent

“come here” he commands while tapping his thigh

You blinked for a while as you look at him confused

“i said come here” his tone is very commanding and scary

You slowly walk towards him and he immediately grabbed your wrist and draw circles on it using his thumb

“so…” he paused looking at you directly in the eye

“you wanna be layla’s mom” that devilish smirk perked up on his beautiful lips once again

You gulp nervously at the question you knew that this was about the banner

“look Jake im sorry i didn’t mean to make you~” he shush you

“you know how hard it was for me to hide a fucking boner?” he raised his eyebrows at you

“what?” you ask sincerely looking at his bulge

He took your hand once again and guided it to palm his hard cock through his pants.

“JAKE!!” you shouted his name and step back a little bit taken aback from what he did.

GOD IT’S HUGE 😭

He smirked again from your reaction as he let go of your hands and quickly removed his glasses and leather jacket leaving him only with tank top perfectly flexing his biceps and showing his toned chest through the tight material.

You tried not to look at his body but failed anyways

“So” he licked his lips and started placing both of his hands at the back of his head, spreading his legs even more to pull you closer to him.

Youur mouth waters from the sight alone and jake noticed it and smirked again for the hundredth time.

“To be layla’s mom, first you should know how to suck my dick” he looked up to you waiting for your response

Your eyes widened from what you heard.

“WHAT?!!” you’re so confused right now

“can you make me feel good” palming his hard cock through his pants, once again biting his lips, and winking at you. “I want someone who can take care of my cock too, you think you can do that?”

This is guy is so perv but you love it. It’s not all the time that you could suck a dick like jake’s 🤷‍♀️

You don’t know what’s going on with your mind as you nodded to him slowly kneeling down and you put both of your hands on either side of his thighs

“that’s a good girl” he said patting your head as he tucked your hair behind your ears

You can’t really talk right now. All you can think of is HIS cock and the taste of his cum.

Without any hesitation you immediately reached for his pants unzipping it in no time. He lifted his lower body so you could pull down his pants together with his boxers.

You gulped at the sight in front of you, it’s average in length but what shocked you the most is its thickness, it’s fat FAT!

You tried to scan his fat cock a little bit more as you also noticed how veiny it is. Well this isn’t so shocking for you because you see how veiny his hands are.

You can’t help but to lick your lips as you can’t really wait to savour his cock. You’re basically drooling over his cock. “you like what you see baby? why don’t you show me how you like it hmm?”

You wasted no time putting your pretty lips around the tip of his cock

You hummed as you try to please him with only the head

He leaned against the couch and put his hands at the back of his head

HE IS SO HOT! you were so turned on at the sight of him looking down at you with smile, biting his lips and his armpit on full display.

You try to taste every inch of his fat cock starting from the head, you started sucking it like your life depends on it. He guided your hands into his balls implying you to massage it.

He can’t help but buck his hips wanting to hit your throat immediately.

After a few minutes of sucking and licking just the tip you gave it a few more peck while looking at him still looking down at you with a smirk as he caress your cheeks

You tilt your head and work on the base of his cock this time. You gave it a long lick from his balls to the top of its head. You could literally feel in your tongue the bumps of his veins running through his cock. HE TASTES SO GOOD!

“baby i want more, please suck it more” he whined getting boring with your way of pleasuring him.

You got sad cuz you want to take your time, to WORSHIP his cock. But this isn’t about you, so upon hearing his words you’re eager to please him more, to SATISFY him.

You started by spitting on top of his cock as you locked eye contact with him. You saw him nodding at you flashing his eyebrows encouraging you to do more.

You worked your mouth down on his pretty cock reaching the back of your throat in one go earning a few cuss from his him.

“fuck that’s it, so fucking tight and warm ahh..” he grabbed the back of your head and pushed it down a little bit more.

He guided you as you bobbed your head up and down aggressively until you choked out loud, causing you to immediately pull his hands off of your head and let go of his cock for a second.

You looked at him with teary eyes, catching your breath, signaling for a pause.

“im sorry baby did i go too hard?” he asked while tracing your lips with the head of his cock STILL smirking.

“just a few more, i know you can take it” he leaned down to lick the corner of your lips where your saliva is dripping and asked “right baby?”

damn he’s so hot and nasty 😵‍💫 but you like it. You like how he’s being rough with you

“please” he says with puppy eyes

and who are you to ignore his cock?

“stick your tongue out for me please”

As the cock slut you are you stuck your tongue out as he placed his heavy cock on top of your tongue rubbing it slowly.

You both stayed like this for a while feeling the heaviness of his cock while he says a few reminders.

“when i cum down this mouth i want you to swallow all of it, understood?” you badly want to make this the best blowjob he will ever get, so you immediately lick the tip of his cock as a response while nodding

“fuck” he hissed at your actions and pulled you out of his cock by your hair and held your chin up

“you can’t wait huh? you really want my cum?” he says slapping his cock against your cheeks

All you can do is to nod at him, your eyes watching how he hits your face with his cock tapping it all over your face harder and harder spreading his pre-cum

He teases you like this for a few seconds as you go after his dick sniffing it and catching it with your mouth

He chuckles while looking at you so desperate looking like a dog going after its toy “Slut!” he slapped it one last time against your cheeks and started patting your head

“good girl, now open up i’ll go hard okay?” he stands up, forcefully gripping your jaw using his one hand and spat on your mouth which you gladly took and swallow like it’s yours.

“god you’re making me crazy” without a warning he shoved his cock all the way in to your throat. You looked at him with teary eyes while he harshly fuck your throat like there’s no tomorrow.

He pulls out for a second to give you a break as he pats your head and caress your cheeks “so good for me, taking me so well”

“please fuck my mouth jakey” you beg

“oh baby i will” you try your best not to choke as he picked up his pace this time. You gripped around his legs as a support as he uses your mouth like a flesh light with every hard thrust letting a sinful moans and grunts from him.

You keep sucking, using your tongue to rub the underside of his dick that's filling up your mouth. He pulls your hair again causing you to moan around his dick and you close your eyes, only to feel a slap on your cheek.

You open your eyes and look up at him to see him looking down at you with a frown, hand still on your jaw. " You're gonna keep looking at me got it?" He said, his thrusts never faltering. You hummed in agreement and his smirk returns.

“ughh fuck this mouth so good for me” he thrusts slowly but deeper this time angling his hips.

“you like this huh? such a good girl for me yeah?” he asked mouth wide open and eyes squinting as pleasure takes over his body.

You stay like that for a few more minutes, unmoving as Jake uses your mouth for his pleasure, swallowing saliva and precum, until you feel his grip in your hair get tighter and his thrusts gets deeper.

“Im close baby, remember what i told you?” he says as his speed increases, the sounds of you choking and gagging bringing his climax ever closer.

You felt him grabbed your head with both of his hands as his thrusts started to get sloppy and shallow indicating for him to reach his climax.

Hearing his sexy moans and gasps made your pussy clench around nothing. So you tried to reach for your pants and work your own orgasm.

Jake is too lost on his mind to even notice how youre trying to pleasure yourself. With that he just continues to punish your pretty little mouth mercilessly.

“ah fuck! fuck! fuck! im cumming, ah” he cried so loud enough for people outside the room to hear

With few more thrust he buried your head against his cock, the tip of your nose hitting his pelvis as he shoot his load to the back of your throat as you hollow your cheeks even more getting all the cum out of his cock.

You looked at him head thrown back, furrowed eyebrows, mouth wide open moaning out loud, body twitching, and gasping for air. His face says it all.

You felt his dick twitch one last time as he shots his 6th cumshot in to your throat, some spilling down your mouth.

He thrusts one last time to make sure all of his cum goes down your throat.

“fuck” he fell down the couch sweat all over his face looking at you proudly as you showed him how you eat and swallow all of his load~draining him.

“fuck i came a lot, didn’t I?” he moves closer to your face as he brought his thumb to wipe off the remaining of his cum on your chin and shove it back inside your mouth.

You hummed sucking his thumb while looking at him, your pussy is now forgotten as you came just from tasting his seeds.

“good girl” you’ve lost count on how many times did Jake called you that. It boosts your ego.

You started getting up on your knees, and grabbed your things, and the reality just hits you now. You can’t process what just happened “jake i have to go, thank y~”

You were cut off once again

“wait” you glanced over him as you see him get something from his bag

He walk over you still with his cock hanging between his legs and hand you a piece of paper~with his contact number written on it.

You find him cute on how he just stood there, smiling at you like a puppy as if he didn’t just choked your life out earlier.

He leaned closer to your ear as he grabbed the back of your neck and whispered something to you

“i still don’t know your name, pretty” he said in a flirty and sexy tone making you wet once again.

You were about to say your name when you felt him bit your ears.

“Jake uhmm wait” you tried to stop him as his mouth went its way down to your neck sucking it desperately.

“mhmm jake please” you cried tilting your head to give him more access to your neck

It took a while before jake got his senses back as he stared at the mark on your neck proudly with a smirk.

“so…how do you want me to call you baby” he looked at your eyes

“y/n” you said voice shaking

“what a sexy name” he says with a raspy voice squeezing your ass up pressing your clothed pussy on his once again hard cock

“feel that y/n?” you moaned as you feel his cock against you with your pants the only boundary. At this point, both of you are so hungry and desperate for each other. You follow the rhythm of his body, grinding against him.

He grabed you by your head and started lapping, eating, devouring, the entirety of your mouth almost licking all parts of your face. Making you gasp and open your lips for him. But he doesn’t gave you time to catch your breath as he pushed his tongue inside your mouth feeling him suck on your tongue harshly. You placed both of your hands on his shoulder as you try to kiss him back with the same intensity. You continued for a few more minutes exchanging salivas while still grinding against each other until you heard a knock from the door calling for Jake.

You pulled back from the kiss and saliva dripped down your lips but Jake is too quick to catch it with his own tongue. Licking your chin all the way up to the tip of your nose. He groaned, disappointment evident from his face.

“Damn baby you’re so hot, but i need to go” he said while putting his Calvin Klein underwear back on together with his pants.

“call me by the number i gave you…” he thrusts in to you one last time…

“Im going to MAKE you a mom” he whispers pecking your lips one last time

Leaving you dumb and speechless

Leaving your pussy dripping from your second orgasm

Leaving you wanting for more

Leaving you curious about his last words~

THE END

HI! OMG thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoy 🥹

[star-suh]

One Fleshlight and Two Boys

Seok Matthew x Male Reader

cw: sex toys, masturbation, nipple play, some bicep worshiping, fingering, cum swallowing.

an: this is nasty.

—

matthew organized a movie night with his friends but only yn showed up, the rest cancelled at the last moment ‘damn bastards’ he thought.

“so what are we watching tonight” yn asked while grabbing the food and the drinks. “what about a horror movie?” matthew showed the other some of the top movies of that genre. “choose the vest one" answered the guest.

two movies and a lot of empty beer cans later the two guys were tipsy and being so touchy with each other. “your biceps are so big matt” yn slurred touching the other's arm, “yeah? you like them?” he flexed his arm leaving yn amazed with the sight. “hell yeah…” yn left some little kisses on it, kisses that burn matthew's warm skin “hey!” he yelled “my mouth's here” he says pouting, something that made yn smile, “silly” he murmured.

both share a kiss, but it was a desperate one as if they were waiting for that moment forever, sometimes matthew would open his mouth wide so that yn could suck his tongue. saliva being smeared all over their faces. “hold on” matthew broke the kiss, “wait here i have something you might like”.

the two were naked now, stroking their cocks while matthew was preparing a fleshlight. he slowly introduced his cock on it, moaning so loud, “shit… this is so good” he laughs.

yn grabs the fleshlight and starts moving it up and down matthew's cock while the latter strokes yn's cock with his hand. “how does it feel matt? is it good?” yn eagerly asks, licking his lips. “wanna try it?” matthew take out his cock and push the toy down yn's, “you tell me.. how does it feel”.

minutes passed and the pair keep sharing the toy, yn uses it for 10 minutes and then matthew use it for another 10 minutes. suddenly an idea pops up in matthew's mind, “what if we do a competition?”, yn looks at him, curiosity plastered all over his face, “let's see with how many loads can we fill this toy, but the first one to run out of cum loses and will have to drink all the content”.

“your nasty matthew” yn comments, “come on it's not like you haven't swallowed my cum before” he grabs yn's chin “and i know you like it” he whispers and then kissed him. yn reluctantly agrees and begins to masturbate matthew with the toy as fast as he could. “you can do more than that” a cocky matthew said mocking yn's jerking ability, “shut your mouth” he said and starts sucking the other's chest, sucking and biting at his nipples until they're red and sensitive “why the fuck haven't you cum yet?” he was about to give up but finally the other came with a loud growl and some whimpers later. yn was amazed for the amount of cum that matthew had ejaculated, "shit, do you have a factory down there or what?, milkman”. matthew just laughs and adds “yes, a whole factory and it can be just for you”.

matthew slides the toy down yn's cock and he immediately starts to whimper, the toy hugs his cock so well but the sensation of matthew's warm cum acting as lube was heavenly, “shit” he murmurs, a wave of pleasure going through his body everytime matthew moves the toy. his hand starts exploring yn's body until it finally reaches his hole, yn didn't realized what was happening until he feels one finger inside of him, “hey! what do yo think you're do–” matthew didn't let him finish speaking when he accelerated the pace of both his hands. with stimulation on both sides it was a matter of seconds for yn to cum.

jets of white sticky cum being shot inside the plastic toy filling it up and mixing it with matthew's seed.

hours passed and the pair was still going at it, while yn was already feeling tired and empty, matthew was like he just poured his first load inside the toy.

“i can't anymore” yn sighs pulling out his flaccid dick out of the toy, “then i guess i won” matthew says still stroking his rock hard cock. “what's with the cocky smirk?”; “you have to drink all of this, remember?” matthew shakes the object “open up for me please” he removes the lid of the toy and spills all the liquid into the other's mouth, with some of it falling out of it and sliding down his neck, “you look so sexy right now” matthew throws the object and start kissing the other, playing with the remaining cum with their tongues “what .. if we play.. something else” he says between pants “ let's see how many loads can i put inside you this time”, the tip of his cock already sliding on yn's hole. “i'm gonna drain your balls matt” yn replies guiding the cock towards his hole, putting it all inside.

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: Uh… I might do a part two to this? But it randomly came to me and I wanna try something different.

Warnings: Language, hurt, angst, unrequited/one sided feelings, sadness, anxiety, mentions panic, body issues, and mentions self-esteem problems.

You’re hunched over the counter, skin taunt over your knuckles, bones sharp enough to shred through. A hot, sticky wetness resides in your lungs, the pain of its steam burning in your throat, settling over your lungs. You cannot see through the haze of blurred vision, half-assed attempts to wipe copious amounts of moisture going nowhere. Only when a heavier set of footfalls fall outside of the door and it’s yanked open — you finally cease some panic. Your manager, in all his greasy glory, clings to the doorframe, looking into the storage closet to make sure that you’re alone.

Obviously, because who would go in here with me? Steve never fucking will. He’s probably had other girls in here…

Keith is speaking, sounding like his voice is somewhere above the surface of murky waters. But you make it out. “Hey, uh. I heard what happened with Harrington back there. Let me take you out, show you how a real man can treat a lady?”

If Keith wasn’t so disgusting towards the female population, you’d feel bad for him, but to sink yourself as low as to only get an offer from him? And right after HE saw you get rejected by your best-friend?

Nip it in the butt before it continues. You have to work here, after all…

“No, thanks, Keith. But I appreciate it.” You force a smile so fake that it burns the corners of your mouth.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Fine, but know that if Harrington side stepped you, you shouldn’t be so stingy with standards.” The comment stings, pricks your heart, tearing it apart to bleed out. “I’ll be in my office if you change your mind, sweets.”

One nasty wink later, and he’s back in his office and you’re out the door. This is all too much. You have to go. It’s break time, you thank fuck for, glancing at the clock, but you can barely think, your head pulsating with a pressing pound between your eyes. You punch out for lunch, gathering your purse, and you’re coming out as Robin is talking rapidly to Steve, seemingly scolding him at the front desk.

She’s come in for her shift. They stop immediately, features softening, too observant for your liking. You do what you do best — change the subject. Steve isn’t going to care anyways, so you might as well say it. It’ll help you get outside quicker.

“I have a fucking headache, I’m hungry, and Keith just hit on me, so I’m taking my break.” You blow out a wobbly breath.

It’s also Steve’s break, and he starts to remove his vest. Is he serious? You are so beyond outer limits right now… Granted, you take your breaks together every single day, but after everything that just happened in the past hour?

Steve’s jaw clenches and his body tenses at what you tell them, pausing his removal mid-way, inclining his head to look back in the manager’s office direction. Robin looks mad, tongue clicking as she looks over at Steve and shakes her head. You let them go, about halfway to the door before the bell rings and the beautiful girl that Steve’s been after forever to get a date with — approaches. She’s looking extra special, all dolled up. Sundress, heels, makeup, bracelets, a dainty necklace on her perfect shape.

It’s things you know Steve loves, because it’s also what you’re wearing. It made you feel good, but it was out of your element, yet you’d thought his hints, his behavior with you — Robin and Nancy had encouraged that those things were MAJOR signs. The girl goes straight for Steve, reaching for his massive hand. You’re frozen, having been waiting on him, despite all of your instincts telling you not to. Robin is looking at you with sympathy, something you’d rather never see directed your way again.

The girl, she’s acting as if it’s just her and Steve here. “I know you said this is your lunch hour. Looks I’m free if you still wanna hang out?” She swings her purse in her free hand. He’s been after her for a while — for sex or emotional connection, you aren’t sure. But what you do know, is that doesn’t want you at all.

And you can’t fault him, no one can. As his friends, you should worry about his happiness and dry yourself up, not making him feel guilty for not returning what you have felt for a while. That doesn’t mean that this isn’t pulverizing your heart, dusting your bones to ash, dashing all hopes and future fantasies, telling yourself he did like you, letting yourself believe — it does not hurt any less. It hurts more than you can bear. You feel his mossy eyes filter into your direction, meeting over her head, his nose wrinkling, that tick in his jaw that occurs when he wants so badly to speak, but can’t.

You’re caught in the moments that happened before any of this… Body on fire, doused in flames, tumbling down a cliff side of revelations. You weren’t even sure if reality existed, or if you were feeling too much of every emotion to comprehend anything.

“I really like you, Steve. And I think that, maybe, you like me too?”

“I do.”

“Yeah?”

“More than anyone, probably.”

“Me too.”

“But I don’t… We’re really close, honey.”

“That’s a good thing though, obviously. Right?”

“It’s always gonna be a good thing, trust me. I’ve never had someone in my life like you before.”

“Sooo. What about tonight?”

“I’m so sorry. Any guy would be lucky to have you. And I care about you, more than anyone, but I just… I don’t feel the same way.”

Drowning in an ocean of pity and panic. You’re back to present, watching him see those moments through your eyes, which have now glossed over with tears. He’s trying to be respectful, not accept her in front of you, keep things okay, show he won’t make it weird because of your confession. Normal. Keeping his lunch date with you.

You don’t fake your smile, hand on the door, nodding several times. He doesn’t have to feel guilty, he doesn’t have to sacrifice his happiness. You love him, even if he isn’t in love with you. And that’s all that matters. He deserves this.

When Steve glances down towards the door and back up, the bell is fading against the glass, but you’re gone...

Your sundress blows in the wind of a fresh summer storm as you leave the store behind to walk to the deli, your tears cresting, before rising in a tempo that you don’t control. Your chest feels as if there’s a thousand pounds crushing you, every negative self-image colliding, thoughts flowing free, self-loathing — it all lets loose. And before you know it, you’re sobbing in the middle of the street over Steve Harrington…

[lavandulawrites]

To Save Or Be Saved

Yandere Sethos x reader

This was a request: “Where Yandere Sethos falls in love with reader right after reader saved him or something (or u can use ur idea instead). And Sethos would secretly follows reader to get to know her.”

Masterlist

Warnings: stalking, violence, murder, subtle manipulation

Word count: 1127

Sethos had been lead into a trap and was surrounded by multiple bandits. The had managed to swipe of his vision when he had tumbled down the hill after he tripped on their snare. His clumsiness was uncharacteristic and he cursed himself for being so reckless.

One of the bandits, a tall and gruff man with greying hair, slammed his boot against Sethos’ side. The brown haired man coughed and sneered up at the man. Just as the bandit was about to kick him again, a yell could be heard.

Sethos’ eyes snapped up to the sand dune and were met with the sight of you. You were screaming at the bandits to let him be. In your hand was a crossbow pointed at them ready to shoot.

They quickly left, no before dealing a final kick at Sethos. Sethos rolled over to his knees and slowly got up. He groaned at the pain. He was going to have nasty bruises.

“Are you alright?” you were sliding down the dune, your eyes wide and filled with worry.

You placed the crossbow down on a stone and quickly ran your hands over him checking him for injuries. “Fuck you’re bleeding!” your voice was frantic. You patted your pockets in search of something to use in order stop his nose bleeding.

“I’m fine. Really” he placed his hand over yours as he smiled gently. “Thank you for saving me. I owe you” he winked.

You stilled in your movements, clearly caught off guard. Your eyes snapped from him and began scanning the ground. You bent down and handed his vision to him. The purple vision sparked in your hold. He paused before he took it.

“No need to thank me. I’m just glad I didn’t have to use the crossbow. To be honest I have absolutely no idea how to use it. I just found it in a ruin close by and decided to keep it” you smiled sheepishly. Your cheeks pink from embarrassment.

Sethos’ eyes widened. Archons you were beautiful. He chuckled at your words. “You are a brave girl” his hand reached out and ruffled your hair. He laughed at your surprised expression. “But promise me to be careful in the future. Okay?” his voice completely serious.

“Yeah…” you nodded slightly. Confusion written all over over your face. “Well I need to get going. Bye! And take care!” you waved as you walked away.

“Bye!” Sethos waved back. He watched as your figure got smaller and smaller. His finger tips itched to go after you. Your very presence had him in a trance. As he hooked his vision to his clothing it finally dawned on him. He didn’t know your name.

Days turned into weeks and he finally finally saw you again. He had taken a trip to Sumeru City and when he entered one of the many cafés he was met with a pleasant surprise. There on to corner, far away from everyone, were you. You were eating a cake and was seemingly lost in thought. Your hair a gently framing your face making you look even more similar to an angle.

When your eyes met his, he gasped. You were ethereal and he was completely at your mercy. He made his way over to you with quick steps.

“Hi. We meet again” he smiled. His green eyes crinkled.

“Hello” you returned his smile. “Nice to meet you again” you motioned to the chair opposite of you. “Sit down.”

He did as you said. The chair scraped against the floor at his eager motion. “Nice to meet you too!” He grinned. “Oh, I never caught your name.”

“[Name]. What about yours?”

“Sethos at your service” he winced playfully. “[Name]” he tasted your name. “What a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman” he grinned. He could say your name a million times and never get sick off it.

You two talked for hours. He was glad you both shared your similarities. Though he was forever grateful you didn’t share his thirst for adventure. Even though you had indeed saved him, you were still not made for a life of adventure. You had said yourself that you were rather clumsy and you saving him was just a heat of the moment thing.

Sethos decided to follow you around. You were friendly to everyone you met and that irked him. Your laughter was something only he should be able to hear. Not everyone else.

Your house was on the outskirts of town and quite lonely. Fear crept through his veins at the thought of someone breaking into your home, so he decided to check your house for any danger. Your house was cozy and filled to the brim with various fairytale books. Your naivety greatly intrigued him and his need to protect you grew.

You were out on a shopping trip and Sethos were following close by. He didn’t want to call it stalking as his intentions were good. He was a good guy and he wanted only to protect you.

You had stopped to chat with a fruit vendor. The vendor was seemingly a good friend of yours, considering your playful banter. Sethos saw red when the vendor’s hand came to rest upon your shoulder. His hands balled up into fists as he plotted on how to quickly and quietly get rid of the man.

Sethos would continue to follow you as for long as he felt was necessary. You were a fragile thing after all and he needed to keep you safe. His patience was not endless and he soon saw himself sick of lurking in the shadows.

He paid some bandits to rob you. As they pushed you to the ground and took your beloved bag, Sethos emerged from the shadows and quickly slammed the bandits to the ground. Blood prickled out from their cracked skulls and onto the stone ground.

You slapped your hands over your mouth as a way to silence your scream. Sethos quickly pulled you into a tight embrace. “Shusssssh…” It’s okay. They can’t hurt you now” he whispered against your ear. He could feel his veins vibrating at your proximity. He burrowed his face shameless into your neck and inhaled deeply. God you smelt divine. “Luckily I was close by. I can’t even imagine what might have happened to you if I weren’t…” he pulled back slightly so he could look at you properly. He stroked your cheek gently. “You are safe now. You are safe with me. Let’s go back to your house. Okay? I will protect you. Maybe you could even move to the desert with me?” he rambled on, not even bothering to see if you heard him through your shock.

Finally you were his.

[skzstannie]

"Just Breathe"

SKZ -> Minho x GN!reader

genre: exes to ??, hurt/comfort, angsty wc: ~1,200 cw: brief descriptions of a panic attack, reader has claustrophobia but it's not directly mentioned

summary: After a nasty breakup, you're hoping to never see Minho again. However, when your stuck in an uncomfortable situation, Minho is right by your side yet again.

A/N: Well hello again! It's been forever, so I thank you for being so patient. School has been stressful as ever (I'm actually procrastinating as I write this), but I wanted to get something out to you guys even if it's short and kinda shitty (but oh well). I have a few requests, and once school eases up, I'll get right on them! Just want to make sure they're good quality.

Not proofread (oops)

Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

"What I wouldn't give to live in a different apartment complex right now," you sigh, standing as you wait for the elevator.

The elevators have had a vendetta against you all week, and you've been trying to not let it get to you, but after waiting for the fifth minute with no luck, your patience starts to run a little thin.

Taking the stairs is always an option, however, you live on the 15th floor, and 30 flights of stairs is certainly not for the weak. You would know, as yesterday you took the alternative route. It left you a sweaty mess with sore limbs and blisters on the back of your heels, something you're not looking to experience on the daily.

Finally, the elevator dings, signaling it's arrival, and you pick your bag up from the floor. A load of people step out the elevator, explaining why it took so long to arrive. You step in, turning to press your floor. The doors begin to close, but a hand sticks itself in to the gap before they close all the way. Your eyes narrow at the person before they're even in your view, upset that you're once again behind held up.

All you want is to go upstairs and lay on your couch to take a nap.

What sliver of patience you had left in you quickly diminishes once you see who has stopped the elevator.

Lee freaking Minho, your ex. Things didn't exactly end well between the two of you. There were multiple accusations of cheating going around about the both of you, and neither of you were putting enough trust in the other person. He thought he was the one to end it, and you thought you were the one to end it- so things didn't end on a very concise note. Not that you were complaining; after the blowout fight you two had, you were hoping to never see him again. This was unlikely though, as he lived in the same apartment complex as you.

His eyes widen upon seeing your agitated stance, and he scoffs when you roll your eyes. You hope for a moment he'll just turn around and walk out upon seeing you, but your heat drops when he doesn't. In fact, he has the audacity to even ask you to press his floor.

"17, please," he smirks at you, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

"What, you can't reach over there yourself?"

"No can do sweetheart, you know I'm not one for unnecessary movements," he snaps back, leaning back against the cool elevator wall.

You scowl at him before relenting, reaching over to press his floor for him.

It's silent for a moment, and you relish in the peace of not having to hear him run his mouth. All good things must come to an end, unfortunately.

"You know, if you keep scowling like that it might stick forever," he comments, crossing his arms over his chest. You once might've fawned at the way his shirt tightens around his chest and arms, but the only emotion you feel now is annoyance.

"I'm sure you know from experience, right?" you shoot back, keeping your head facing forward as to not give him any satisfaction.

Just try to ignore him.

You can see out of your periphery how he rolls his eyes, pulling his phone out of his back pocket to busy himself.

You breath a little easier upon seeing he's going to leave you alone now, and you bring yourself to watch the different floors pass as the elevator goes up.

You watch as you hit floor 10, then suddenly the elevator jerks to a stop. You stumble a bit, not expecting the jolt. The number disappears, and the elevator, once lit with the overhead light, turns pitch black.

Your breathing immediately picks up, and you crouch on the floor to try and ground yourself.

"Y/N?" Minho says, his voice shaky and apprehensive.

"Shut up," you tell him, focusing on trying not to hyperventilate.

"It'll be fine," he says, trying to reassure both you and him, "I'll just press the emergency button, and hopefully they'll have it up and running again soon."

You don't respond. You bring your hands up into your hair, subconsciously tugging at the strands roughly. You squeeze your eyes tightly, anything to distract from the panic bubbling up through your chest.

You feel a hand rest gently on your back, but you immediately push it away. as if it's burned you. Minho's brought out his flashlight from his phone, illuminating the elevator in a soft glow.

"Don't touch me," you rasp out, falling back onto your bottom. You bring your knees up to your chest, burying your head between them.

"You need to calm down, you're going to give yourself a panic attack."

While you'd love to scream at him, tell him that he's not allowed to comfort you anymore. That he's not allowed to tell you what to anymore. That he had his chance to be a good boyfriend, but he threw it away.

You wish you could tell him all those things. Scream in his face, tell him how badly he'd hurt you. He'd hurt you bot only by accusing you of cheating on him, but also with hanging out with your ex-best friend, someone he knew had hurt you very badly in the past, enough for you to cut all ties with her.

While this is what you wanted to do, you know your body needed something different.

Throughout your relationship, Minho was your rock. Through thick and thin, he'd always been there for you. Every accomplishment, every set back. Every celebration, and, in turn, every panic attack. Unfortunately, the latter happened more frequently than you'd like to admit, and he'd gotten quite good over the years at comforting you through them.

So, deciding to listen to what you knew your body needed, you gave in.

"Please just hold me," it came out as a whisper, but Minho had no problem hearing you over the silence encompassing the elevator.

While you were having your own internal battle, Minho was also contemplating his options.

He knew if he held you, if he comforted you, all those emotions he'd suppressed for the last few months would resurface. He'd worked so hard to get his life back on track, all for you to inadvertently ask him to throw it all away.

In his heart, he knew what he needed to do. It was the just the two of you in this elevator, and he'd be a monster to tell you no, especially since he knew what would happen if he did.

So, with that, he quickly dropped down onto the floor. He wrapped his strong arms around you, and immediately you felt the panic begin to subside. It was amazing what this presence could do to your fragile mind in times like these; it never failed to amaze you.

You leaned your head against his chest, taking slow and deliberate breaths to try and slow your heartrate down.

"That's it. You're ok, we'll get out of here. Just breathe." He let his arms tighten around you, and he realizes just how much he missed having you in his arms. How natural it felt for him to comfort you in this way.

"I'll get you out of here."

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

06 — PULL A TRIGGER, CLIMB A MOUNTAIN

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

Graves watches you, a sleazy smirk on his face as he sits in the helicopter, blood dripping from his forehead and empty rifle in hand.

With a wink, he chimes in through your channel, “See you when you’re useful again, baby.”

*

Three hours earlier.

*

“Change.”

Looking up, you give the hulking man the most annoyed expression you can muster, cocking your hip and folding your arms over your chest. He, in response, only raises a brow and folds his own arms, a clear mocking of your own stance.

Everyone else is already in the other room, checking over weaponry and making plans. They’re loud enough to be heard here, jovial laughter and quickly-spoken Spanish filtering in. A song plays, too, a nice kind of melody that you find yourself enjoying.

“I usually need a shot or two first,” you snark, making no move to take the folded clothes from the balaclava-clad man. “You buying?”

As he shoves the uniform into your chest, you shoot Ghost a nasty glare.

“We have stuff we need to do without you,” he quips, pushing against your shoulder hard enough to have you taking a step back. “That uniform’s too recognisable.”

“What, the American flag’s too much for you?” You lean in once more, shoving your own hand against his chest. He doesn’t budge. “I deserve to be involved, when I’m giving you intel. This whole exclusion bullshit reminds me of kindergarten.”

“Then change, and stop acting like you belong in one,” Ghost snaps, and with one final look your way, storms out of the main room, slamming the wooden sliding doors shut behind him as he does.

You’re alone, now. 

The room is vast, and at the small table still sits the laptop.

You’d… just. Done that. Threatened the very man who had taught you everything you know, the very man who had practically adopted you after your mother’s death. The very man of whom you’d just sentenced to death by your own hand. Your own lit match.

“Fuck,” you hiss, burying your face in your free hand.

This was the first time you’d had true solitude since. Well. It might’ve only been a day, but everything that’s happened has made it feel like years. Your throat itches from the knife wound, and you can feel your ribs’ bruising when you inhale.

“Fuck,” you curse once more, looking to the sliding doors.

After the call with Shepherd, the four men had been… well, they’d all had a very individualised response.

Soap had brought you in with an arm around your neck, ranting about how ‘badass’ you had been. Gaz had joined in, ruffling up your hair, placing a hand on your shoulder and asking if you were okay.

You’d said yes.

It had been a lie.

Ghost, without a word, had left to check over his magazines. Price had given you a firm nod and a pat on your back before, he too, left to the other room to sort things out.

“Lucky yer on our side, hen,” Soap had joked goodnaturedly. Gaz had rolled his eyes, saying, “You’re just happy your little Sweetheart can take you in a fight.”

Soap had immediately tackled him to the ground, and that was that.

Now, you stood, lone in the vast space of the room. It was still very early morning, the quiet sound of birds outside mixing with the rambunctiousness of the Los Vaqueros on the other side of the doors. Soft light filters in through the boarded up windows, casting over you in an odd haze.

Dropping the uniform onto the table, your brows furrow when you notice not only the 141’s standard uniform, but also a balaclava not unlike Ghost’s own.

The fabric is oddly soft as you run your hand over it, the paint cracking slightly against the nylon. Putting it aside for now, you then look over the uniform. A black long-sleeve compression shirt, baggy beige cargo pants. They’re definitely a bit too big for you, but admittedly, Ghost was right. It’d be too easy to spot you on the field if you were in Graves’ uniform.

Looking around the room, as if to cement the fact that you were alone, you quickly change, swapping out your bloody uniform for the new one.

It’s when you’re about to pull on the shirt that you look down, seeing the bruises lining your stomach. From the fight with Soap, or from one of your confrontations with the Shadows, you aren’t sure. Pressing softly against one, you can’t help a small grunt at the burst of pain.

You pull the compression shirt over your head, the fabric tight against your skin. How he’d had your size for the shirt and not the pants, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Pulling over the new vest, you transfer all of your old items into it, finding this design much nicer. Not as constricting against your breasts, designed more unisex than Graves’ had been.

Grabbing the balaclava, your feet carry you to the sliding doors, and you open them with little struggle. 

You nearly stumble when you find all of the men within pulling on their own masks, stopping in your tracks at the sight. Ghost and Price’s backs are to you, and when you see Ghost pulling on one of the same masks, everything clicks.

He hadn’t wanted you to see his face – had used getting changed as a distraction.

And yet, here were the Los Vaqueros, some of which had never even spoken to Ghost, having the privilege. It shouldn’t make you angry, you shouldn’t care, but you can’t help the onslaught of rejection that floods your system.

When you step forward, into their line of sight, you straighten your spine and take out your gun from its holster, reloading it in precise movements, not looking down at it once. When the magazine clicks into place, you narrow your gaze on Ghost.

“Are we getting this done or having a fashion show?”

*

“That’s cold,” you murmur, eyes squeezed shut as war-torn fingers swipe grease paint around your eyes, careful in their placement. You sway when the vehicle drives over a pothole, but the fingers continue their ministrations without pause.

Price chuckles softly, wiping his thumb underneath your eye. “Used to do this for Ghost every other day,” he says under his breath, collecting more paint from the pot and continuing to spread it across the upper half of your face.

You’re in the back of a van with both Price and Gaz, Alejandro behind the wheel as you head back to his colonised base.

“You look like one of us now,” Gaz chimes, to your right. Watching you both carefully, his own paint already done, he leans back into his seat. “Uniform, mask… we’ve corrupted you, love.”

You roll your eyes beneath your eyelids. “Good luck with that.”

“Don’t test me,” he laughs, at the same time that Price pulls away once more, looking you over, before deciding that more paint will be needed.

“Feel like a kid at a fair,” you muse, earning a soft chuckle from Price. “Do I get glitter too?”

“Maybe if you’re a good girl,” Price jokes softly, and you let out a laugh of your own. Internally, you register your cheeks heating at the comment, a part of you yearning for such praise from the man. If it didn’t mess up your paint or cause the two to give you weird looks, you’d slap yourself.

“Can’t believe you’re Graves’ Colonel,” Gaz admonishes, and you barely restrain a huff of annoyance. He corrects himself. “Were. Man, he did not deserve you in his ranks. You probably would’ve done better as Commander than he ever could.”

You let your lips curve into a somewhat appreciative smile, eyes still shut as Price continues his studious work. “Believe it or not, we all loved him. Behind the scenes, he treated us pretty well. The guys, anyway.”

You can’t see it, but Gaz and Price share a knowing look, both of them raising their brows. Your eyes remain shut throughout their small, silent exchange.

“How so?” Price asks, gruff, and the tone encourages you to tell the truth.

“Well,” you swallow, unsure of how to approach the issue. You never have, never felt a reason to. “Just. Small things. Jokes, and stuff. I’m the only woman in the Company, actually–”

“What?” Gaz blurts out, not seeming able to stop himself. “You’re serious?”

You let out a somewhat self-deprecating chuckle. “...Yeah? That’s pretty normal in military jobs, y’know. Didn’t think it was that weird. At least I’m a Colonel.”

“You don’t think that’s… weird?” Price asks, and it’s only then that you realise he’s stopped painting your face. You blink open your eyes. “The only woman in his Company, and she’s his Colonel?”

Chewing on your inner cheek, you shake your head. “I was one of the very first to be hired by him. We… He was my partner. In nearly every sense of the word,” you admit, a small truth. “I mean. I don’t think that I loved him. Just. Never really had anyone else.”

“How old were you when you joined Shadow Co?” Gaz asks, slowly, carefully.

You mull it over, before supplying an easy answer. “Eighteen, or so. He was twenty-seven when he started, and –”

“That’s so fucked,” Gaz curses, burying his face in his hands. “Seriously. He’s a fucking asshole.”

You’re desperate for a change of topic, anything else but this. Not now, not when your wounds are too fresh, not when you’re about to come face to face with him again. With a deep breath, you divert the situation.

“Am I done?” You ask, looking to the window and trying to catch your reflection to no avail.

“...Yeah,” Price breathes, “You’re done.”

Easing back into your spot, you find your leg bouncing once more, the adrenaline of the upcoming mission keeping you antsy and energetic. You haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours, but you somehow find yourself more awake now than you had been hours ago.

Resting his hand on your knee, Gaz gives you a reassuring smile. “You ready?”

Letting out a low, unsure exhale, you find yourself nodding. “Yeah. I think so. I know what I’m going to say to him. I’m. He’ll come around.”

Gripping your mask in your hand, you move to pull it over your head, the fabric snugly fitting around your skin. It’s an odd sort of comfort, a way of protecting yourself from the emotional wreck that this mission will create. For the first time, you think that you can understand the attachment Ghost has to it.

“If we kill ‘im,” Price starts, but when you instantly flick your gaze to him, starts to backtrack, “If. If it comes down to it. You can’t hold it against us.”

You just check over your ammo, your cartridges, before simply replying.

“I’ll kill him myself.”

“We won’t make you do that,” Gaz says, adamant and firm as he leans in closer to you. “You don’t have to kill ‘im. I know most of us are wanting to do the honours, anyway.”

“I know Soap and Alejandro are just about begging to,” you acquiesce, but you find yourself focusing on the gun in your hands to reset your mindscape anyways. “But. It’s different. If he’s really done all of this… I want closure.”

“You’ll get your closure. Bloodshed or not,” Price pats your back, and you give him a small tilt of your lips, before realising that your mask covers the movement.

“You still good to split with Price and meet with the other team from the helo, hermana?” Alejandro calls from the front, turning slightly to look to you. You give him a thumbs up, and even with his mask on, you can tell he’s wearing a toothy smile.

“Your gun all good?” Gaz asks, jerking his head to the weapon. “Ammo in your pockets, cartridge full?”

Pulling your free hand into a gun gesture, you smile. 

“Pew.”

*

It’s with the weight of the world on your shoulders that you watch Price’s helicopter get shot.

“We’re hit! We’re hit!” Price calls through your shared radio channel, his voice frantic enough to have you skidding to a stop. Distantly, you think you can hear Ghost say something, but it’s quickly shadowed by Price’s, “Going down. We’re going down!”

You’re about a hundred feet away from where Rodolfo and Soap stand, the two also seeming to pause behind a warehouse of some sort.

When you see Soap move to push Rodolfo up the wall, you run as fast as your legs will take you to their position, calling out to them, “I’m coming with!”

“Thought you weren’t making it, cariño!” Rodolfo calls out as you fall alongside them, your heartbeat raging in your ears. 

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” you jest, then pause when you see Ghost to your side. Jerking your head to the wall, you ask, “Need a personal invitation?”

“Price and the pilot need help. You three finish this,” he shakes his head, before turning and leaving for the crash site. Shrugging, you spin back to where Rodolfo’s extending his hand to help you up, which you accept, reaching the top of the wall and swinging your right thigh over it, straddling the brick.

Extending your arm down, you pull Rodolfo up, Soap taking his other hand in a firm grip. When Rodolfo swings around to sit between you both, he curses under his breath. 

“Look!” Soap hisses, and when you do as he says, your own stomach falls down to the dirt floor beneath you.

“That’s not ours,” Rodolfo murmurs, and you can barely find your voice.

“A tank,” you say, mindlessly, watching on as a fucking tank pulls into the training area of the compound. “Graves… he has a fucking tank?”

Neither of the two respond, both instead jumping off of the wall, falling into a crouch as they land. They both extend hands to you, more of a supporting gesture than anything, but you don’t take them as you too land on the other side of the brick, entering the training area.

“Ye ready for this?” Soap asks the two of you, a hint of mania creeping onto his blood-flecked face.

“Hell yeah,” Rodolfo breathes, before looking to you with a friendly smile. Ruffling your hair, a familiar gesture, now, he squeezes the nape of your neck. “If you come out of this alive, hermana, we could use you in the Los Vaqueros.”

You bark a laugh, stunned, almost, before shaking your head. “You should talk to your boss about recruiting people, first.”

Rodolfo shrugs. “Ale likes to make me happy.”

“Interviews can happen later, aye?” Soap chuckles, and the three of you look to the tank once more. “Bigger fish to catch, and allat.”

You go to say something else, when –

“Didn’t realise you boys were into kidnapping women now. That’s a bit sketchy, ain’t it?”

Graves. He’s – he’s got a radio, he’s talking, he’s here, he’s. He’s fucking with you, trying to play mind games, trying to break you all over –

“Can’t wait to bake this bastard,” Soap grunts, and you find your footing once more. Sure, you were ready for battle, but your entire reason for being here was to talk to him. Get him to realise his mistakes, come forward, go back to the man you knew.

Rodolfo and Soap are running somewhere, doing their part, and you –

“Is what they said true?” It’s the most important question you have right now. The answer you yearn for.

A moment passes.

“Where did you go, gorgeous? When’d they get ya? Did they blackmail you in Las Almas?” He diverts, and you tighten your grip on your gun, swallowing your litany of curses.

“Answer my questions, Commander. Is. What they said. True.”

“It doesn’t matter, baby. Remember where your loyalties lie,” Graves takes on a sweeter tone, a more… condescending one, you think. 

“Please,” you find yourself whispering, begging for him to just. Break this nightmare, rebel against it, be Phillip. “Please tell me this isn’t really you.”

“Oveja pequeña,” he coos, and you swear your spine erupts in hives, “I’m still your Phillip. You’re the one who’s changed – look at you, running off with the 141. I’m disappointed.”

You erupt, then, like a dormant volcano, finally gathering the final push to let lava reign free.

“I’m going to fucking kill you! You just killed fathers, tore apart families! I fucking hate you!” You yell into the radios, no tears falling, merely anger and vengeance clouding your vision.

“Don’t forget that you are under my orders. Whether you’re in my bed or not, you’re my Colonel,” he seethes back, and like a shot while you’re already down, you realise that this is a hopeless cause. You weren’t going to save Shepherd. You weren’t going to save Graves.

All you had left to save was yourself.

They’d lied to you, an indefinite amount of times, for how long, you weren’t sure. Your whole relationship – was that a lie, too? Was your entire life?

“I’m your second in command,” you finally admit out loud, hiding behind a crumbling wall as the tank shoots just a few feet away from you. “So when you get taken down, guess who comes out on top?”

“Listen to yourself!” He shouts, his voice cracking in his sudden anger, “Listen–”

“No, you listen!” You find yourself crying out, taking a few shots at the tank, allowing Soap and Rudy to do their part. “Listen to me, Phillip. You’re going to regret this – all of this. When were you going to tell me you were under Shepherd’s orders, huh? How long have you been fucking me over!”

“Whenever you first came around my cock is my guess, baby,” he responds, icy and cold.

His words only seem to further encourage you to breaking point, adding more and more fury to rush down your veins like its very own hit of morphine.

“Guess what, Commander?”

“Don’t bull–”

“That first time, and every time since?”

He doesn’t bother to interrupt you.

“I faked it.”

With that, you switch Channels to one shared with all of you.

You had heard everything you needed to, and along with it, realised something of vital importance. A small inconsistency that changed everything.

“Ghost team,” you say, neutral and unforgiving, “Graves isn’t in the tank.”

“What’re ye talking about?!” Soap calls through, exuding exhaustion, the sound of explosions crackling through behind his vocals. “He has to be–”

“He’s not,” you say, firm, absolute in your decision. “I don’t know where he is – but he’s not in there. Not his style, anyway – prefers to be in the spotlight.”

“What do we do then, hermana?” Rodolfo asks, sounds strained just as Soap had.

Your answer is easy. “You guys focus on the tank – I’m taking Graves down.”

With that, you run for the wall once more, and with nothing but your intuition, you know exactly where you’ll find your ex-Commander.

*

As per usual when it comes to your gut-feelings, you’re correct. 

It’s within the hanger on the compound that you find him getting into a helicopter – a wound on his forehead and tactical glasses on. Somehow, he’s already found himself injured – a small, selfish part of you satisfied with that information.

“Commander!” You yell as you break through the small window of the hangar, using the butt of your gun to do it. It’s as the door to the heli shuts that he notices you – and you switch back on to his radio.

“This is your last chance,” he grits out, his voice thin and furious. “Before this becomes more than a… domestic fight.”

You wince as the blades start turning, taking shelter behind one of the cargo boxes, wary of any bullets being shot your way. “The only domestic thing about us was your inclination for treating me like your little wife.”

“Always did think you’d look pretty barefoot and pregnant,” he muses, and oh, have you never wanted to kill a man more in your life.

“Aww,” you mock, as the blades’ whirring gets louder and shots echo around you finally, “See, I think you’d look pretty bleeding out at my feet.”

“You did look rather good at mine,” he retorts, and your emotions get the better of you as you peek, shooting three Shadows behind the heli with easy headshots. You’re barely there for two seconds before a burning pain echoes through the side of your shoulder, and you duck down once more.

“Couldn’t even get off,” you pant, relentless to the very end even as your breaths turn into heavy falls of your shoulders, “Was like fucking a Ken doll.”

“You’ve always been a petty bitch,” he snaps, and you smirk.

“I am a bitch, you’re right. And you know what bitches do when someone taunts them? They bite.”

You raise your gun, and for a scary, short second, you realise that blood is flowing in a stream that’s causing the sleeve of your black shirt to grow sticky and damp. Now isn’t the time to care, however, as you take aim at one of the windows of the heli.

Pulling the trigger, the bullet bursts through the window, glass shattering and falling to the ground. It’s as soon as it does, however, that it takes flight, boosting in its acceleration immediately.

Fully peeking, this time, you watch as the helicopter quickly takes off, and even if you had the capacity to shoot at it, it wouldn’t hit the intended target, not with your trembling hands.

Graves watches you, a sleazy smirk on his face as he sits in the helicopter, blood dripping from his forehead and empty rifle in hand.

With a wink, he chimes in through your channel, “See you when you’re useful again, baby.”

You get one final sentence in, before the radio cuts off. Even though you can’t see him from this distance, you’re sure you’re making eye contact as you deal your final blow.

“My callsign isn’t baby. It’s Sweetheart.”

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author's note. to everyone asking about the covid, its prettyyy bad haha. i can hardly leave my bed and need 3 blankets in the peak of summer!

at least that means i have downtime to write before my life gets VERY hectic. thank you all for your support again, the feedback and praise for the last chapter made me feel 10x better and i genuinely appreciate you all SO much. thank you thank you thank you!