in the original myth mulan isn’t really a clumsy fish out of water. she’s strong and smart and the reason she goes to war is because she’s the most qualified person in her family to fight, regardless of gender.
so how about this: mulan’s a fighter. she knows exactly who she is, like in the original myth, she’s knows how to be the blossoming flower and the great stone dragon. she’s still mulan though, so she still doesn’t memorize the silly ways she’s supposed to be a good wife and has little patience for appearing graceful while pouring tea. she’s innovative and courageous and beautiful, but no one is under any illusions about what kind of wife she’ll be.
and the matchmaker is the matchmaker for the li family as well, for this great big part of china. and general li wants his son to be married before he goes off to war, wants his son to have a reason to fight to live, like a wife waiting for him. and the matchmaker reads the stars and the tea leaves and the astrology charts, and no matter what all the signs point to one thing: the honorable li shang is destined to marry the insolent, arrogant fa mulan.
the matchmaker isn’t going to let that happen, she refuses to be responsible for that disaster of a wedding. so she sends her most beautiful girls, the ones that are obedient and quiet and know their roles, the ones that are eager to marry into the li family.
and each of them are entertained and met and sent back. shang is many things, but smooth isn’t one of them, he has nothing to say to these quiet girls who smile at him, feels large and awkward around their polite smiles. so he and his father go to the matchmaker’s village, shang reluctantly and his father to demand she stops messing with them and provides a proper bride.
it’s on the day that mulan and the other girls are parading in the street. shang sees a girl - mulan - hurry into the end of the line, jumping over a bench and darting around a careening wagon to get there, and stifles a laugh.
then there’s no reason to laugh at all, because a group of huns have decided that this village is in their way, and attack.
everyone scatters, women hide, children hide, and most of the men do too. shang and his father join the fight with some of the other men who hadn’t hid, and these men are starved, clearly not with shan yu, so even though they’re outnumbered they’ll likely win.
shang sees a hun go to attack the girl he’d seen earlier, the girl for whatever reason hadn’t run and hid. the hun raises a sword above his head to strike her down, and shang is so sure he’s about to see this pretty girl lose her head.
but she doesn’t. instead she rolls out of the way, and pops up, headbutting him in the stomach. she takes his sword from his now-slack grip and plunges it into his chest. without hesitation or pause the girl joins the fight, swinging the sword expertly and cutting down every man who stands against her. soon they’re fighting back to back, and shang has never felt more in sync with another person. she cuts off the head of the last hun, and shang has never seen anyone more beautiful than this girl, dress ripped and make up smudged and covered in blood that isn’t hers.
“mulan,” one of the other girls says, peaking out of a store front, “is it over?”
the girl, mulan, looks out over the dozen dead men and says, grimly, “it’s barely begun.” she searches the crowd, finding and old man and yelling, “gather the bodies, we’ll burn that at dusk outside of the village. everyone else,” her eyes sweep across the gathered people, and shang is struck by the fact that this girl isn’t well liked. there’s anger and disapproval in many of the faces, but they’re listening. these people don’t like her. but they do trust her. “let’s clean this all up. these were bandits, not soldiers. there’s nothing more to fear.”
“what if there are more?” the other girl asks, arms wrapped around herself.
mulan raises her stolen sword and says, “then i will slice them to ribbons. this is our village, and this is our country. any who would try to take it from us - from me - will suffer the consequences.”
and it shouldn’t be comforting, hearing words of violence from this young girl, yet everyone around them relaxes, and gets moving, gather the bodies and tending the wounded.
“who are you?” his father asks, and someone who doesn’t know him might think he was angry, but shang can tell he’s impressed.
mulan turns to them and bows, “my apologies. i am fa mulan, daughter of fa zhou. thank you for helping us.” she stands, and shang meets her eyes for the first time.
he swallows, and blurts out, “you - you fight good.”
his father coughs to hide his laughter, but mulan’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “thank you. you do as well.”
and they just keep standing there smiling at each other until his father claps his hands and is like okay - they’ll have to report this to the emperor, no time to dawdle, have to go now.
so they take their leave, and shang thinks this is the last time he’ll see fa mulan.
except there’s still the draft, and this time mulan doesn’t take no for an answer, won’t hear of it. her father is injured and old and she is young and fit to fight. she will go in his place.
so she arrives at the camp, prepared to pretend and lie - except she goes to meet her commanding officer and it’s him, that boy who had fought with her. shang’s eyes widen, but they’re in front of too many people. he can see it on her face, her fear, and she hadn’t shown any fear when she was facing down over a dozen huns, but she does now. so he makes his choice and says nothing, pretends he buys her story.
she tracks him down that night and demands an explanation. he says this war is too important to kill good warriors, whatever gender they are. he swears to keep her secret. mulan is his best soldier from the beginning, and means to treat her like anyone else, but it’s impossible. she isn’t like anyone else, is strong and smarter and braver than them. they argue tactics, and she’s the only one who can give him a workout in hand to hand, and he doesn’t have trouble finding his words with her. he finds himself falling in love with her, but doesn’t say anything. she’s not here for love, she’s here for a war. he vows to say something if they survive this, but it’s unlikely that will happen.
they head to the front earlier. they get there in time to provide back up for his father and his army, and it’s a loss but not a slaughter. his father is too distracted to notice ping is the girl from the village. all he knows is this soldier had led the second wave of attacks, and it was thanks to her any of them were alive at all. they prevent half of the huns from getting through the pass, but that’s still an army heading for the imperial city. the general is injured, so mulan and shang lead the army after him.
they find him at the mountain, and just like before mulan uses the cannon to destroy the army. she knew it would spell their death, but it was worth it, for her people, for her country, for her family. this time it’s shang that won’t accept her death, that tries to drag her unconscious body to safety. only he fails, and mulan becomes buried under the snow.
they return to the city, and shang is besides himself - the woman he loves is dead, she saved them all and she’s gone, and he’ll never recover from this. only he can’t tell his father this, their friends. they think he mourns a friend, not the woman he wanted to make his wife.
except mulan survives, and sees the other huns as well. only she kills them there before they can get to the city, and decides this is for the best. fa ping dies honorably in battle, and fa mulan is free to return home to her family.
so general li decides that it’s time to go to that matchmaker again, and demand she stop playing games. the matchmaker confesses that she thought the bride was unsuitable, and the general demands she send her anyway.
so mulan has barely had the chance to settle back home when the matchmaker shows up at her door saying she’s sending her to see a potential husband, but not who. so mulan shows up all made up to li household and shang drags himself into the room, already resigned to a loveless marriage, when they see each other. “mulan?” he demands, and his father is all pleased because it’s the fighting girl from the village.
but then his son starts crying and they run to each other. shang picks her up in his arms and she clings to him, and shang is babbling about how he thought she was dead, and mulan is so overjoyed that she’s with shang, and shang wants her, that she kisses him without explaining.
except now shang’s father demands an explanation. so they give it to him, the whole story comes tumbling out, and he stares hard at her, and remembers her as ping, the brave soldier that had saved them all. he’s not upset - he ecstatic. he goes to the emperor and tells him everything, and the emperor officially offers mulan an officer position in the army. she accepts, as long as shang is by her side. shang seconds this, and they set in motion the plans for the wedding.
fa mulan and li shang get married and lead armies and live happily ever after, just like the stars intended.
smut, slight humor, drama || brother’s best friend!au
warnings → public indecency, dirty talk, a lot of teasing, jimin’s porn preferences, and boobs
☆ word count → 6.3k
The long time running game between you and your brother’s best friend started when you noticed his fascination with boobs—yours specifically. It was never supposed to amount to more than harmless flirting and lingering glances, but now, one year later, Jimin was ready to change that.
alternatively: Jimin and you play a game. the loser is fucked. metaphorically. literally. all the above??
→i had to split this into 2 parts rip (& in this work of fiction, jimin’s penis isn’t a jelly bean) happy 3 months !!
Isa pulled me to my feet. “Just a second,” he said,
scanning the area.
I didn’t feel dead. I could feel the wind on my skin and my
heart hammering in my chest. My hands were trembling with adrenaline. That had
to be a good sign.
“Kat,” Isa said, startling me. I had been staring at my
hands so intently that I hadn’t noticed he was holding out his hand to me
“I’m not dead,” I informed him a bit giddily, taking his hand
Isa didn’t smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled. “This
way,” he said, pointing with his free hand. I looked, but he seemed to be
pointing towards thin air.
He led me away from the broken highway and my silver car, wading
through the faded brown grass. After about twenty yards he stopped and turned
“I need you to think of a place,” he said, “Any place.”
My mind went blank. “Any place?”
“Anywhere. Visualize it in your mind. Got it?” I hesitated
before nodding. “Good. Now we’re going to take one more step together.”
I looked at the grass before us. It didn’t look any different
from any other patch of grass we’d passed. I drew a deep breath.
As we stepped forward together, the air went…soft. Like a
deep, thick mattress. Like holding an overripe peach in your hands and slowly
pressing in your thumbs, letting them sink into it. Not hot or cold or anything
like that. Just soft.
Less than a moment passed before the softness was gone; I didn’t
even have time to blink. We were still standing in the grass by the highway. I
could see my car close by and the mountains looming in the distance. But the
edges of the mountains were vague and unclear, and the light that filtered
through the clouds was tinted red, almost as though it was shining through
rose-colored glass. More telling was the quiet. The wind had disappeared, and
the grass was silent and still.
“You know,” Isa commented, “I think people usually choose
somewhere other than the place they’re currently standing.”
“I panicked,” I responded, taking in everything around me,
“Which seems to be my basic state of existence at this point.”
Unlike everything else, Isa seemed more real than ever. The
basics were still the same: pale, ashy skin stretched tight over his body,
white hair, and jet black eyes set deep in their sockets. His fingers and limbs
were overly long for his body, and he was wearing a black hooded coat with
loose sleeves, grey pants, boots, and a t-shirt with a vintage ad for spam.
However, his skin lacked the translucent quality it usually had,
and his shadow -
“You have a shadow,” I blurted out, “You have a - the
grass. You’re actually crushing down the grass.” I knelt down and confirmed for myself that yes, the grass could be pressed down, and then I turned around and thrust out
my hand. The softness was waiting just feet behind me. “Where are we?”
“This is an inbetween place,” he replied, watching as I shuffled
a few feet to the side and stuck out my hand again, “We needed somewhere safe
I pulled my hand from the softness and tried again. “And the
deserted highway wasn’t cutting it?”
Isa pressed his lips together. “It’s not humans that I’m
worried about overhearing us.”
I paused mid thrust. “Oh.” The
fear which had almost been forgotten in my wonder flared up.
“Here,” Isa said, and he took my hand again, leading me around
whatever invisible portal we had passed through. Almost mindlessly I walked
towards the car.
“Are we safe here, then?”
He shrugged. “Should be. I don’t think I was followed - there’s
no good reason anyone would, really, I’m not a major player. But it’s not wise
to talk about these things in the open on principle.”
We reached the car, and I stretched out my hand to touch it. It
was solid under my fingers, but the numbers on the license plate were
scrambled, changing every time I blinked.
Isa stopped me as I went to open the driver’s side door.
"I just wanted to see if it would start,” I said.
Isa shook his head. “It might, but it’s not wise to go through any doors here. There’s no telling where you might end up.”
A little disappointed, I perched on the trunk instead,
pulling up my legs and wrapping my arms around them. Isa stood before me, hands
shoved in his pockets.
“So…” I started, Isa looking at me
expectantly, “Are you an angel?”
Isa burst out laughing. It was an odd sound, out of place in the unnatural silence of the inbetween.
“No, and I wouldn’t let an angel hear you say that if I were
you. Actually, it would probably be fine; most angels I’ve met are quite nice. But trust me, if you ever meet an angel, you’ll know it. People tend to fall over when they show
“Okay, not an angel.” There went half the theories I’d ever
read. “Then what are you? And don’t say a reaper.”
“I never really liked that name anyway,” he replied. He kicked
the ground for a moment, thinking. “I’m the guardian of your soul. I’ve
been with you since your soul first joined your body. I will ensure
no one touches it until your life is complete.”
“…And when my life is complete?”
“I take your soul,” he answered nonchalantly, “ - Kat?”
I rolled off the car, running into the field, running towards
Maybe he wasn’t an angel after all. But there were other theories about the reapers.
“Kat?” he called after me, “I’m not taking your soul here and now.”
I stumbled to a stop in a panic. The grass all looked the same. Whatever gateway we’d walked
through wasn’t marked by any kind of visual cue. I was effectively trapped.
“Maybe you’re not taking it now,” I said as I turned, arms tight by my sides, hands clenched, “but you’re going to.”
Isa walked towards me slowly, “That probably wasn’t the
best way for me to phrase that.” I shrank away from him instinctively, and he sighed.
“This would be easier if I was an angel. They’re good at explaining things. Can I try again?”
He waited until I nodded hesitantly.
the guardian of your soul. I was bound to you the moment your soul entered your
body. While you live, I’ll protect your soul from harm. When your days are
complete, I’ll carry your soul to its rest. I’m not going to kill you, consume your soul, drain your life force, steal your corporeal form, keep you in a tortured disembodied state devoid of all sensation, or anything else of that kind.”
I stared at him. “That’s…really specific.”
“But you’re not running this time,” Isa noted.
“If you’re lying, I’m screwed anyway,” I retorted.
“Ah.” Isa’s body seemed to droop ever so slightly. “I liked it better when you just trusted me.”
“And I liked it better when I wasn’t afraid I was going crazy,” I snapped. I shut my eyes and paused, willing myself to breath deeply. “I’m tired. I’m stressed and exhausted and I have no clue what’s going on. You disappeared for two weeks and I didn’t even know reapers could do that, and now you’re talking and you touched me and I’m somehow not dead and we’re in a freaking alternate dimension or something and it’s just a bit much.”
“I didn’t intend to let things get this out of hand,” Isa admitted, “I only thought I’d be gone for a few hours at most.”
Finally, the question that had been burning in my chest for weeks. “What happened? Why did you leave?”
“There was a reaper who needed help. He and his human were being targeted, and they weren’t going to make it.”
“Are they okay?”
His face brightened a bit. “They are. The woman died and he was able to deliver her soul safely.”
“Your definition of a happy ending and mine are a little different,” I muttered, “What did they need protection from?”
Isa looked grim. “There are many beings who would want to misuse a human soul,” he said softly, “And there are others who would like nothing more than to see a reaper give into the temptation to take advantage of their charge. Some of these were attacking this reaper in the hope of either claiming the soul for themselves or, if nothing else, forcing the reaper into a position where he drew on the soul for power. I thought they’d back off once I came to his aid, but they fought until the end.”
Behind Isa’s shoulder, I saw something like a dark smudge on the horizon where the mountains met the sky. A horrible sense of wrongness settled in my gut.
“I didn’t mean to leave you for so long,” he continued, “And it shouldn’t -”
“Isa,” I interrupted, pointing urgently, “There’s something here.”
Isa turned to look. The smudge was getting larger. “No,” he said, “No no no no!” He grabbed my hand.
“We need to move now!” He took off across the field, dragging me behind him. We passed through the softness and the world shifted, the rosy light turning grey. We sprinted back to my car.
I looked back towards the mountains. I couldn’t see anything.
“Get in the car,” Isa ordered, and I hurried to do so. After buckling myself in, I looked up to see Isa pull out a gun.
“Drive home as fast as you can,” he said, ignoring my shock, “And don’t stop until I say so.” With that, he swung himself onto the roof of my car.
I turned on the car and made a U-turn, pressing the pedal to the floor. A minute later gun shots rang out, and I looked into the mirror to see something burst through the portal and hurtle down the broken highway in pursuit.
“So let me get this straight, your brother’s bringing his
girlfriend home for dinner this weekend and you ‘sorta’ blurted out that you
have a girlfriend too just because you want to prove that he’s wrong about you
not being able to keep a girl?”
Sheepishly, Jungkook smiles and rubs the back of his
neck. “Yeah, sorta.”
At his nonchalance, you lightly smack his chest; it’s not
like he’s going to feel anything if you straight out punch him anyway. “He’s
wow the way that matt when he’s surprised lets out that lil gasp like “ah!” and his eyes get really big and how he always looks confused but in an adorable way and how when he gets excited his new york accent gets really thick and his voice gets all squeaky and how he talks with his hands and he gets all flushed and caught off guard when people compliment him and how he always is so polite with fans and introduces himself and how he gets so nervous when fans ask him for his signature for tattoos cause he doesn’t want to mess it up and how he knows random historical facts and cares so much about this show and alec and malec and wow i just really really love every little thing about matthew quincy daddario
so gang!phil interrogating rival!dan but phils usual techniques (slapping, hitting, etc.) are just turning dan on, so instead phil just edges him til he gives in 💙
Phil cracked his knuckles, sighing as he pushed open the door to the interrogation room. He was instantly hit with a rank stench, and he flinched, crinkling his eyes in disgust.
Dan Howell sat in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, a gag over his mouth. He didn’t seem to notice Phil entering.
He had a black eye, and a cut on one cheek, so it was clear the boys had had some fun with him when they had caught him. He was still pretty cute though. And despite all this, Dan’s eyes were dry.
“Dan,” he said loudly, and the boy looked up, glaring at him fiercely.
Phil stepped forward, yanking the gag down, and Dan immediately took this opportunity to spit at him.
Phil calmly wiped it away, and Dan laughed. Phil shook his head, fiddling with the straps of the gloves they used to make punches hurt the offender less and the victim more. It was an old intimidation technique, but Dan didn’t flinch.
“You’re a goddamn idiot, Howell.” His voice was low, and he leaned down so he was at Dan’s level, their faces inches away.
“Maybe,” Dan said slowly, staring him down. “Or maybe you just don’t know why I did what I did.”
Phil stepped back, putting his foot on Dan’s chair, his clunky black boot resting between Dan’s legs.
“Unfortunately for you, that’s why I’m here.”
Dan’s subtle smirk grew, and Phil couldn’t help but growl under his breath. He was infuriating.
“Why would that be unfortunate?” Dan’s voice was light; teasing. “You know I adore our little chats.”
Phil was reminded why Dan was used for things like this - he was the best spy imaginable, and when he got caught, he wasn’t easy to crack.
Phil didn’t hesitate to swing at him, slapping him in the face, hard. Dan’s head was thrown to the side, but he came back smiling. He yawned, a strand of messy brown hair falling between his eyes.
“Thanks,” he said, his eyes flashing. “I needed that. I was falling asleep.”
Phil grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward roughly and practically strangling him.
“Look Howell,” he hissed, and Dan’s eyes widened slightly. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. And either way, you’re gonna fucking tell me why you were spying on my base, and what you know.”
Dan searched his icy blue eyes, determined not to let his confidence waver.
“I think it’s gonna have to be the hard way,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Because I’m not telling you shit.”
Phil huffed through his nose, and grabbed a handful of Dan’s hair. He tugged back roughly, and Dan let out a soft whimper, of surprise or pain, Phil couldn’t tell.
Dan’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his exposed throat somehow made Phil want to bite him. Instead he fastened a hand around it, making Dan cry out.
“I could snap your fucking neck,” Phil growled at him. “I could slit your throat. Tell me everything, and it’s all over.”
Dan gagged softly, squirming in his tight grip. “No. Hit me again, fucker.”
Phil obliged, letting go of him just to backhand him. And it looked like it hurt like hell; the impact split Dan’s lip. But Dan fucking moaned.
His eyes glinted with red hot fire, a wild grin melting to his features. “Again,” he breathed, and Phil stared at him.
Dan was a mess; he was visibly shaking, he had a black eye and a lip that was bleeding down his chin. But he was asking for more…? What did it take to break this kid?
Phil glared at the boy, punching him twice in the stomach, and shoving him backwards. The chair toppled backwards, and Dan landed on his arms, his head hitting the ground as well.
He cried out in pain, but there was something else in his tone, a sort of whine, and oh my god, this was turning him on, wasn’t it?
Phil swallowed, moving to stand over Dan, hovering above him. Dan grinned at him cockily, until Phil grabbed his face with a firm grip, and he squeaked.
“You think this is hot, don’t you?” He asked quietly, getting as close to Dan as possible without being tempted to kiss his broken lips. Dan laughed.
“And you don’t?” He smirked. “Having me like this, completely helpless? Ruining my pretty face, fuck, like the worthless piece of shit I am.”
It all clicked in Phil’s mind- why no one could seem to make Dan break. It was impossible to get information from him, simply because he liked the abuse. It made Phil even more pissed.
Phil stood back up, grabbing Dan by the hair and pulling him and the chair back up. Dan whimpered; fire shooting through his head.
“We’re gonna try something a little different,” Phil said calmly, his voice coming out sickly-sweet. Dan shivered.
“Do whatever you want,” he spit, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m not saying anything.”
“Oh really? That’s too bad.” Without warning he leaned forward, his hands placed on either side of Dan’s hips, his breath brushing over the side of Dan’s neck. He ran his hand over Dan’s waistband, and then down to his (obvious at this point) bulge. “Guess you won’t be coming anytime soon, then.”
“Wha-” Dans breath caught and the words got stuck in his throat as Phil ran his fingertips over his hard on, certainly not making it better. “What d-do you mean?” He choked out.
Phil ignored him, pushing his hand into Dan’s pants, under his boxers, and ran his thumb over Dan’s tip.
Dan whined rather loudly, squirming on the chair, but the ropes made it so it was nearly impossible for him to move.
“Phil,” he breathed, trying to shift his hips away. “What are you d-doing…?”
Phil grinned maliciously. Finally, he had found something that would actually affect Dan. And he was going to have some fun with it.
“Mmh, just giving my whore what he wants,” he breathed in Dan’s ear, and Dan couldn’t help but moan.
Phil moved his hand, wrapping his fingers around Dan’s length. He watched Dan bite down on his bottom lip as Phil moved his hand, slowly teasing him, his thumb brushing over Dan’s slit occasionally.
Soon enough Dan was a whimpering mess, and he seemed to have given up any integrity he may have had left. His head fell back on the chair, his eyes closed, and he was attempting to rut against Phil’s hand while letting out an endless stream of high pitched moans. Phil had to be honest, it was sexy as hell.
Phil could tell Dan was getting close by the increase in pitch of his noises, and the way his hips stuttered. His cock was leaking precum, which made it easier for Phil to slide his hand up and down Dan’s shaft.
“Now,” he said softly, sweetly, even, slowing down his movements to a near halt. “Are you gonna tell me what you were doing outside the base, slut?”
Dan whined, his eyes opening, and he licked his lips.
“Answer the question.”
Phil stopped his movements all together, holding his hand at the base of Dan’s dick so he couldn’t cum even if he was able to.
Dan searched his face, chewing on the inside of his cheek before muttering, “no.”
At that Phil just smiled meanly, biting down on Dan’s throat and sucking hard, leaving a dark bruise in its place.
“That’s okay.” He laughed, and Dan looked almost scared. “We’ve got time.”
That began the next unbearable moments for Dan, with Phil scratching bright red marks down his thighs and occasionally leaving hickeys all over his neck and jaw.
And here’s the thing; Dan did not want to beg. He hated begging. Begging was admitting your defeat, and that was something Dan simply couldn’t do. But right then, Dan was probably closer to breaking down than he had been in his entire life.
He wanted to cum, he had been so close, and when Phil had stopped-
It was worse than any physical pain he could inflict.
When Phil started moving his hand again, Dan almost cried. He started slow again, gradually speeding up, stopping occasionally to flick his wrist around Dan’s head.
“Mmph, fuck,” Dan whined, his head falling back, beginning to lose his mind again. “Ph-Phil, please make me cum, please.”
“You wanna cum?” Phil growled softly, speeding up even more, and Dan practically screamed.
“Yes-! F-Fuck, n-need to…!”
Phil smirked, watching Dan’s face and admiring how he fell apart just from some pain and a hand around his cock. He was gorgeous, his face all roughed up and his hair falling in his eyes, sticking from sweat. Phil wanted to fuck his brains out, but then wasn’t really the time.
“Too bad,” he said finally, stopping again right when Dan was the closest possible.
Dan let out an incredulous noise, groaning, his hips bucking into nothing, desperate for friction.
“Fuck you,” he said breathlessly, his voice breaking. “Fuck you, Phil Lester. Let me cum.”
“Tell me what I need to know, sweetheart.” He dipped two fingers under Dan’s chin, bringing his face up. “Or, trust me, I could do this all day.”
Dan shook his head.
Twenty minutes later, and Dan was visibly shaking again. Tears streamed down his face, and he didn’t even remember when they had started. His hips constantly twitched, and he had to gasp for breath.
“Please.” His voice was soft and broken and desperate and sleepy; goddamn beautiful. “Please, Phil, I need it, I-”
“Aw.” Phil stuck out his lower lip, mocking him. “Poor baby. Poor desperate little whore, do you need to cum, my love?”
Dan shuddered, nodding frantically, not even above falling for Phil’s teasing.
Phil slapped him, the noice echoing through the room, and Dan moaned.
“Then tell me what I fucking need to know, Dan. It’s that simple,” he hissed through his teeth.
Dan whimpered, sleepily shaking his head. But then Phil’s mouth was on his dick, his jeans shoved down, and god, he had been close for an hour now. He just needed it so bad.
His eyes rolled back in his head, and he squeezed them shut.
Phil had been edging him for so goddamn long, he was going crazy. He was so weak, and every second that Phil touched him, he got closer. The very edge, and Phil’s hot, wet mouth was closed around him, humming, and fuck he was going to cum. It was right there, and then…
Phil pulled off with a pop, glaring at him. Dan could scream. And then he lost it.
“Phil, f-fuck, your mouth is so good, please-” he choked on the words, the emotion and need getting caught in his throat, and there were tears on his cheeks again. “Please, need to cum, please let me, p-please-” he hiccuped, shaking his head desperately. “Please, no more. N-No more, I’ll tell you!”
Phil smiled, drawing his thumb down Dan’s cheek.
“Mmh, good boy,” he hummed, and Dan soaked up the praise, nuzzling against Phil’s hand like a kitten. He didn’t care anymore. “That’s all I wanted. Tell me everything, and then you can cum.”
Dan nodded frantically, sniffing, the words spilling from his mouth like a waterfall. How he had been sent to scope out the new recruits, how his gang had been planning to kidnap one of the new kids, hold him hostage. Even how they had anticipated that Dan would get caught, and how he would try and get information on the inside as well.
At the end Dan broke down, a sob catching in his throat, still so fucking hard, his dick still leaking and straining to reach his stomach.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Phil said sweetly, fastening his hand around Dan’s cock for the thousandth time.
Dan sucked in a sharp breath, his head lolling backwards, whimpering softly.
Phil got him off in a matter of moments, and Dan moaned loudly and high pitched as he spilled over Phil’s hand and his stomach.
Phil untied him, seeing as he was practically passed out, and Dan slumped to the ground.
He stood over him, looking over the exhausted, broken boy laying on the ground beneath him, breathing heavily. What a gorgeous mess.
He leaned over, kneeling next to him and lifting his head up by his hair. Dan didn’t even react, except for glancing at him sleepily.
“Needless to say, you can’t go back to your gang,” Phil said calmly.
“You gonna kill me?” Dan asked, more like a statement, as if he didn’t even care what the answer was.
“No…” Phil hummed, letting Dan lay back down and running his fingers through his tangled hair. “I was thinking you’d stay here. With me.”
Dan made a noise of acknowledgment, licking his ripped up lips.
“If it means we can do that again, then I’m down.”