#zero ability to control his face

[julyberet]

"don't think for a second that this guy next to me doesn't take preparation seriously"

...you know what, don't worry about it, based on that look i'm sure both of them are very diligent about it

[mariasont]

HEAR ME OUT!

post prison Spencer and shy!reader bonding over being total nerds. Books, shows... you name it

Bookstore Physics - S.R

summary: spencer suggests you should compare moral biases more often. you think he's making a philosophical point. he thinks he just asked you on a date

pairings: post!prison spencer reid x shy!medialiaison!reader

warnings: fluff, second hand embarrassment im sure, philosophical debates that are probably wrong bc i had to google and i know hardly knowing about mr kant, existential crisis but make it romantic, post prison reid, shy reader, prolonged eye contact

wc: 1.6k

a/n: thanks for requesting my lovely! happy superbowl to those who celebrate! go birds!

You were so close. Just one more inch, and your fingertips would finally graze the spine of the book that had been taunting you from its impossibly high perch. 

Rising to your tiptoes, you reached with all the reckless confidence of someone who had severely underestimated basic physics. The shelf wobbled under your grip, your shoes squeaking against the polished floor, and in that split second, you were faced with a terrifying possibility that you were about to take out the entire bookshelf, along with your dignity.

Something grabbed ahold of you, steadying you before you could faceplant directly into a pile of literary fiction. 

You went completely rigid. Because that wasn't just something. That was a Spencer Reid hand, long fingers, warm palm, and a freakishly strong grip for a man who treated physical exertion like a concept rather than a practice.

"Oh. Hi, Dr. Reid," you blurted, the words tumbling out clumsy and unpolished, as if your tongue had forgotten how to function. You winced instantly. "What are you doing here?"

Spencer didn't answer right away. His grip on your arm slackened, but he didn't step away, didn't even give you an inch of space, like he had no intention of letting you breathe properly.

Oh, that's fine. Air is overrated anyway.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated as if he were genuinely considering the question, but you knew better.

His expression hovered somewhere between pity and uncontained glee, the corners of his mouth twitching. 

Your lips parted, but your mind refused to cooperate, stuck on an endless loop of oh my god, did you actually just say that?

To Spencer Reid. The same Spencer who had, on multiple occasions, resorted to scribbling entire paragraphs on the back of receipts and once, when truly desperate, his own wrist. Spencer, who physically flinched at the sound of a cracked spine and once spent seventeen uninterrupted minutes explaining the significance of marginalia. Spencer who read like breathing and talked about prose like it was something alive.

And you, a person allegedly with working cognitive abilities, had just asked him what he was doing in a bookstore.

You opened your mouth, whether to correct yourself or just inhale enough oxygen to function again, you weren't sure, but before you could, Spencer, with precisely zero struggle, reached up and plucked the book from the shelf like it had been placed there specifically for him. 

"You should've asked for help," he murmured, and oh, that was definitely amusement in his voice.

"I-I had it under control."

One brow arched, unimpressed.

"Sure you did," he mused, lips twitching like they couldn’t quite decide whether to commit to a smirk. "Although, considering that 20% of bookstore-related injuries stem from ill-advised attempts at reaching high shelves, you were probably just one statistic away from a minor concussion."

You narrowed your eyes. "That's not — there's no way that's a real statistic."

Spencer barely reacted, flipping open the book with the same casual disinterest of someone checking the sky for clouds, except this wasn't a change in barometric pressure, and you were positive your entire nervous system had just gone into meltdown mode.

Your face burned, heat creeping up your spine and flooding through you veins at an alarming speed, and — oh, no — you had officially run out of places to look that weren't him.

And he (unfortunately) made such an easy focal point.

His shirt was rumpled like he'd spent the whole day forgetting to sit properly and a barely-there ink smudge kissed the edge of his palm, the kind only noticeable if you were close. His hair was at war with itself, some strands curling forward rebelliously against the collar of his cardigan, others falling forward, brushing the edge of his cheek.

He didn't glance up as he murmured, "Philosophy?"

The words barely had time to settle before your brain supplied an immediate translation: he was about to analyze you.

You could practically hear the gears turning, the internal mechanisms of his brain whirring at a speed that actually did defy physics. If you concentrated hard enough, you might've been able to hear the faint whir of neurons firing, piecing together a framework of analysis that was surely seconds away from being spoken into existence. He was surely already forming a hypothesis, already constructing some impossibly insightful revelation about what this particular title said about you, your worldview, your subconscious motivations.

"Well, yeah, that one," you said quickly, the words tripping over each other. “I mean, it’s not real philosophy — well, obviously, it is, but not in the way you would define foundational philosophy, but it still presents some really interesting moral dilemmas, and the writing is surprisingly digestible considering the subject matter is so —”

You clamped your mouth shut so fast it was a wonder your teeth didn’t rattle.

What were you even saying?

"Um — yeah. Philosophy. Or... something like that."

Spencer's lips twitched, and then, in a move so profoundly unsettling, he smiled.

Not just any smile, either. A real one. The kind that didn't just curve his mouth but softened him entirely, the corners tugging upward, a barely there dimple surfacing at his cheek. 

It hit you like a perfectly aimed dart —sharp, direct, and entirely crushing. Something fluttered wildly in your chest, light enough to feel stupid, but heavy enough to be a problem.

Then, still smiling, he tilted his head, leaning in just enough to invade your space, his voice dipping like he was handing you something fragile.

"I didn't take you for the existentialist type."

Your first instinct is to argue, to insist that you're far too well-rounded, too multifaceted, too impossible to be pinned down by a single school of thought. But before you can even begin to string words together, Spencer tilts his head just a little more, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that feels dangerously close to that same expression of analyzing once again.

And suddenly, you need to redirect this conversation, desperately, urgently, before your body betrays you, before you start visibly sweating or keel over like a fainting goat. Neither feels like an optimal outcome.

"I — I mean... I could say the same about you."

His lips quirk. "Interesting. And why's that?"

"I don't know. I always assumed you'd be more of a rationalist? Like, Descartes' methodical doubt feels like something you'd respect, and even Kant's categorical imperative, although that's more deontological ethics than strict rationalism, kind of aligns with the way you view morality and decision-making, and —"

You stop. Blink.

Oh no. You’re heavily invested in this man’s philosophical alignment.

You purse your lips, clearing your throat like that’ll erase the absurd level of thought you’ve just admitted to having.

"I mean, I'm probably way off."

Spencer flips the book closed, considering.

"I supposed you could argue I lean toward rationalism," he allows. "But morality is messy. Kant insists on universal law, and let's be real, most people abandon objectivity the second emotions get involved."

He glances at you then, a shift so small it shouldn't feel significant, but somehow, it does.

“For instance, we all make exceptions. We justify things we probably shouldn’t. Sometimes we prioritize people in ways that defy reason.”

His lips twitch. 

"Hypothetically speaking, of course."

“Well, yeah,” you say, caught up in the current of the conversation before you even realize you’ve been swept away. “People make emotional calculations constantly. Even when they claim objectivity, their decisions are shaped by personal attachments.”

The thought unspools too easily, words tumbling forward, carried by momentum.

“And it’s not just morality, it’s cognition in general. Have you read Jonathan Haidt’s work on moral intuitionism? He argues that people make moral judgments first based on instinct, and then rationalize them after the fact.”

You glance up, expecting a rapid-fire counterargument, some impossibly well-structured debate. But Spencer is just watching you.

"So what about you?" he asks suddenly. "Would you say you make exceptions?"

You pause.

"I mean… yeah? I guess I do. Everyone does, right? If someone I care about does something morally questionable, I’d probably be more inclined to defend them than if it were a stranger. I mean, that’s just human nature."

Then shrug. 

"But that doesn’t mean I’m being hypocritical," you add quickly, as if you just realized how that sounded. "I think there’s a difference between conscious favoritism and subconscious moral bias. It’s not like I have a specific person I’d automatically justify no matter what."

Spencer exhales. "I think you're more consistent than you realize."

You blink at him. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, lifting the book in his hands, fingers drumming idly against the cover. “You try so hard to rationalize your emotions. But I think, if it came down to it, you’d make an exception for someone. Just one.”

Your stomach knots, and it's humiliating how obvious you must be. You can feel your pulse everywhere, in your throat, your wrists, your temples, like your entire body is broadcasting, Hey, Spencer Reid is making you malfunction because he somehow sees right through you, somebody send help.

“I — well, I mean —”

“Relax, it’s just a theory.”

But something about the way he says it makes you not relax at all. And before you can scramble for some kind of coherent response, he nods toward your book.

“You should get that one,” he says lightly, handing you back the book. “I’d love to hear your take on it next time.”

You freeze. Next time?

Oh. Oh no. The words settle over you like an ill-timed realization, and your brain is running the math like you're about to file a report on your own social incompetence. Next time implies... a prior time, a recurring time, a pattern of times. Next time implies he assumes there will be a next time. 

And you assume that he assumes that you are the kind of person who could logically expect another bookstore trip with Spencer Reid as if that's just a thing that happens in your life. Which is absurd.

Your fingers tighten around the book, like holding onto an overpriced paperback will somehow restore balance to your rapidly deteriorating world. Your pulse is a problem and your ability to think critically is a casualty. 

You scramble for something, anything, to say, but before your brain can reboot, Spencer is already moving. 

Then just as he disappears into the next aisle, he tosses one final parting shot of his shoulder —

"See you soon, then."

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[visionsofmagic]

◜ mk1 men breaking the bed/headboard while fucking you ◞

▸ characters: bi-han, syzoth, liu kang, raiden, kuai liang, johnny cage, tomas◂ ▸wc: 4k+ [wow]

▸ tags¬es: REQUESTED by @luvv4lurd. drabble but long (like very long), fluff, nsfw, breaking, licking, ropes, inappropriate usage of power/abilities, humiliation, rudeness, rough, biting, power, begging, fingering, swearing, monster fucking (kind of), power play, pet names, calling god/goddess, possessiveness, protectiveness & more in the work, enjoy! [didn’t want to write this long & I am not sure whether @luvv4lurd wanted it to be this long but couldn’t hold myself, they’re so cute! hope all of you like it, have fun!]◂ ▸ m.

BI-HAN doesn’t care about hurting you that much, yet, he gives you a safe word to make him stop when it is needed. clearly, he wants to fuck you well enough so that he can show you only he can fuck you like this. this goal of his brings him to an edge that he put your body down on the bed, ass up, cock thrusting deep inside your walls as your body jolts forward and backward in sync with his cock’s rhythm going in and out of your pussy full of cum - since you have cum like two times already.

he’s a bit rougher than he is usually because he heard a few other lin kuei’s members talking about you - how they are mesmerized by your presence whenever you come into view, however, they complained about how they can’t talk to you because you’re always with the grandmaster, sub-zero.

that moment, he decided to fuck you hard enough to make you have difficulties with walking, making everyone realize who fucked you - their grandmaster - they will know who you belong to and that was why he is rough right now.

you don’t complain though, well, until he makes you scream his title - “my - ohh - my grandmaster!” he loses his mind, releasing his power; hands get colder as ice appears on them from fingertips to the arm, and since his hands on the headboard, to hold it tight and fucking you with a great strength, it covers with ice, making the surface so easy to break into pieces and this is exactly what happens.

the headboard breaks into countless pieces, the room’s temperature going down in an instant, your eyes widen but bi han gains his mind’s control, hands turning to normal as they touch your waist, sending a chill down your spine with their coldness - bi han begins to fuck you harder as if it’s even possible, blaming you.

“see what you made me do whore? it’s only because of you! have to get a new one now, but you should pay for what you have caused pretty slut and you will pay by giving this beautiful wet pussy to me - to the rightful owner of it. will fuck you until you can’t walk for the next week, my dumb whore.” 

SYZOTH tries his best not to use any of his strengths during the make-up sessions you share - getting intimate yet shy while doing it. he wants you to stay healthy even after the sex, only maybe some of the marks on your body that he likes to leave. however, sometimes you become a brat, acting naughty, trying to play with his nerves of pleasure and instincts enough to make him go rougher, and since he doesn’t want to hurt you, his hands find the sides of the bed while he’s fucking you with the position of missionary, green innocent eyes focusing on your face that full of cries, parted lips, half-closed eyes watching him with such delight he wants to prove himself further – wants to fuck you so good that your body cannot forget about it in the following days until the day he fucks you again.

and he loses himself when a hand grips him by the hair, pulling his face down at your level, ear to ear, you say in a whisper which is followed by a little moan afterward, “cmon pretty boy, I know you can do better than – ohhh – this!”

who is to decline your offer? who he is to hold himself still instead of fucking you harder – better?

syzoth whimpers at your words, he lets your legs hug his bare back, hands wrapping his neck as his hands begin to hold the surface of the bedsides tighter to find a balance after shoving his dick into your wider pussy rapidly than before, roughness and lust dripping from heart to body within actions.

“oohhh –“ he moans in sync with you, “tell me how good it is my love, please, please –“ he stops himself from crying by biting down your shoulder a few times, listening to your cries mixed with both pain and pleasure with full attention, and when you praise him, his edge comes, making him lose himself, and letting his nature form in some parts of his body; a tail appears on his back, it wags on its own – eyes turn darker green – and hands are covered with the skin of his true form, all green until it reaches to the arms.

all feelings double when his strength rises, weight becomes hard to endure, dick bigger – definitely rougher, going in and out of your aching yet wet pussy, and you reach climax at the same time – the exact time when a few crack sounds are heard, causing you to look into each other’s face – looking both excited and peaceful because of reaching the climax and shocked when the bed break into two, its middle swallows your bodies as syzoth hold you from the back from an instant, turn you around so that his back meets with the rigid surface of the floor under the bed.

hands on your back, hugging, turning into human form, and tail disappears as he looks at you with innocent and shy eyes as if you’re not lying down on the ground, inside a broken bed, cums still dripping.

“I’m so sorry y/n – but it – it was too much for me to handle. my love, how can I make you forgive me? I will do anything for you – just say it and I will show how sorry I am but please don’t judge me. I can’t hold my thoughts together when I have your pretty pussy.”

LIU KANG can be the steadiest person – or a god but you don’t know any other god aside from him, but not in bed, no, never. he is that steady, straightforward, gentle, cute, and all these kinds of things under the lights of daylight, however, when it turns into a dark sky when you visit him in his room – or you in yours, exchanging a few words, questions only to begin to fuck after the formality.

it’s not that he uses you as his fucktoy – yes, it feels like it because it turns you on, but no, he’s in love with you – so deeply that he loses his mind whenever he sees you, and when it comes to getting intimate, oh, he forgets about the timeline he has created entirely, focusing on you – your pretty face he likes to watch, your magnificent body he finds as the most beautiful thing on all realms, your voice that comes into his ears as prays while you moan his name and even his title whenever you feel like it, and oh, your delicious pussy that neither his fingers, his tongue nor his dick will ever get bored of – it will be such disrespectful thing to be bored when you open your legs wider to him, showing your pink pussy that begs for his caring and affection – that he gives you what you want right away.

he’s a god, yes, but he can kneel in front of you if it is needed – to eat you out, or even to beg you.

on a night, when he lets you do whatever you wanna do with him, you chose to ride him in order to show him how you love his dick so much as he watched you from below, making you feel so powerful because of having the god of fire, liu kang, under you – moaning your name, eyes blurry, a bit of fire travels on his shoulder since he hasn’t logical side in the brain, no longer when you ride him so good – it feels as if you’re his goddess and you can’t deny that it doesn’t turn you on just by thinking about it.

smiling widely, you let yourself get the pleasure at the highest level, so, you throw your head back, and hands travel on your body from hair to shoulders, from breasts to abdomen, from there to your ass – literally exhibiting your own body to liu kang while bouncing on his lap – pussy clench around his length whenever you sit down only to rise up and repeat the action rapidly, riding him, fucking him.

and liu kang’s last logical side screams him not to hold you – because if he does it, he is sure he will break you into pieces. he doesn’t want to hurt you, especially when he witnesses the sight in front of him – breathtaking, making him lose the balance of his strength. instead of holding you, he grips the headboard behind him as he sits there, having you on his lap – watching you riding him beautifully.

then, you look down, and chuckle, “let your goddess take you to the stars, pretty boy.”

he never had this kind of situation with any other person, so, when you reflect his own words with yours – ‘let your god take you to the stars, pretty girl’ – he really sees stars, hands get tighter, and he breaks the bed with his power of strength and fire, moaning your name loudly, “aggh – y/n!” as he cums hard into your warm walls.

the moment he opens his eyes once again, he sees your smirking face first, one of your soft fingers travels on his cheek as you kneel down closer, “oh, couldn’t pretty boy resist it and cum in an instant?” you chuckle, mocking him, “where is the god of fire, huh? maybe, you should be the one who calls me goddess instead.”

he doesn’t waste a moment, holding you from the waist, he closes the gap between your bodies – nose to nose, white eyes devour yours only by looking at them intensely, and he smirks – darker than yours, radiating fire.

“darlin’, you are already my goddess but you need to learn who you belong to. don’t worry, the lesson you will have now will be enough to make you remember it to no longer forget about it. I will teach you personally while fucking you on this broken bed.”

RAIDEN is a stranger to his own power that has been given by liu kang to fight with it to protect the earthrealm, however, now it sticks with raiden every second of the day and night, and he can’t leave it even while fucking you.

he says he should get used to it in every situation. he’s shy about it while saying it but you know that there are other reasons behind the desire to bring his lightning power into the bed ‘cause, that way, he can send a tickling jolt to your body – even to your pussy, making your pleasure rise up, wanting him to continue what he’s doing.

he knows you like it too – how he can’t anyway? you love seeing his eyes turning to light blue from time to time, love to let it flow through your skin, sending chills down your spine, getting you closer to the edge.

raiden discovers your kink contains electricity accidentally, and in a weird situation when he forgets to leave his amulet bonded to his hand while getting intimate with you.

he doesn’t realize holding it even when he goes hotter as he lowers down on your body, kissing every inch of you, reaching your exposed pussy soaking wet to the ground because of his gentle, slow yet effective approaches. he’s so gentle with you that he literally begs to taste your cum in his mouth.

letting him, you lean onto the headboard, wide open legs meeting with his soft-looking eyes, making him whimper at the sight.

you look so pretty that even after having your cum in his mouth, he can’t stop - he says he wants to thank you for letting him eat you out passionately by hovering over you, hands find the headboard behind you as he thrusts into your wet and fleshy pussy again and again with a pace driving you mad.

you scream how good he’s making you - to make it double, he uses some electricity that flows through your body without even noticing it, and the sudden sensation makes you clench around his length, swallowing it entirely, giving raiden a heart attack because of the pleasure he has never felt before, and it ends up with him using his strong muscles to hold himself in balance by gripping the headboard harder, making it crumble and break into pieces in a second.

to protect you from the falling pieces of it, he lowers down, covering your body within his but it makes all things go worse – or better as you say afterward; his cock reaches the end of your pussy, and it even becomes visible on your abdomen – and the scream, moans you made causing raiden to lose his mind – he begins to thrust into you, balls hitting your ass, forehead touches yours, eyes turn into light blue when you look at them.

“you have no idea how beautiful you look right now, my love. so – so beautiful. I am so sorry to break the bed but I can’t stop now. how can I? your pussy begs for me to continue fucking you. ohhh – it feels so good. I am offering myself to you as a forgiveness gift.”

KUAI LIANG is a man who lives to give you, his beloved lover, what you deserve – the whole world, as he believes. loving doing the things you want, he’s no longer a gentleman in bed as the bond you share grows more powerful as well as the intimate sessions you have an increase in passion and trust.

he becomes rougher when you need him to be. being such a needy lover for him, you choose to trust him enough to let him have you in ways you can never imagine on your own because he looks fragile from the outside – he still is but not when you get into the bed after a long and exhausted day, ready to find your peaceful hours, inside each other’s arms which turns into a hot moment since you can never resist the urge of getting closer – he turns into a beast, you can see the sparkes he has inside his eyes – reflection of the fire he has within his soul and body.

on one of the nights you become lustful for each other, kuai has you on your knees, ass up in the air, and your second cum’s juice flows through his thick warm cock onto your inner thighs and ass, however, he can’t focus on the mess you’re making because all his attention is on your wrists which are roped with his kusarigama – it has no kama yet the coldness of metal chains around your wrists are enough to send you chills since kuai’s entire body radiates warmness.

holding your wrist, he increases the pleasure you are getting from the way he fucks you into the mattress, moans coming from you mixing with the swears and praises he says between his rapid breaths, dripping sweats and moans – only you can make him so weak, so fragile yet powerful at the same time – it causes him to try to prove himself to you in a greater way that you can never forget about it, that your body screams his markings.

the sound that is created by the lewd sounds of his thrusts hitting your soaked clit build twist feelings inside your stomach that is pushed down onto the bed as his left hand holds the wrists that have chained while the free one is put on the headboard’s edge, holding it tightly because he needs to find a source of stability to stay still but it doesn’t work – not when he finds this new angle amusing, begins to shove his dick into your warm walls faster, then, when his climax hit, the solid tool cracks – collapsing.

when he comes to his senses, getting off his high, he realizes what he has made.

he looks a bit guilty, eyes finding yours, his face has an expression of a man who seeks forgiveness yet he seems to enjoy it, and he smiles when you chuckle, joking about how he can easily turn into a madman only because of having you like this.

as he agrees, he caresses your hair, hands playing with the chain to open it. he turns your body over, hugging you from the shoulder, he still doesn’t take his dick off of you.

“’m so sorry honey, didn’t mean to break the bed but weren’t it the head of the bed, I would break you – was so good – you feel so good. fixing it will be the first duty for me after I get more of you – can I? please say that I can because I need you – one more baby, please, give me one more. promise I will be more cautious with our surroundings. don’t want to get you hurt. you will only get pleasure until we’re done, my love.”

JOHNNY CAGE can be the most reckless fucker in the whole timeline. interested in you only, he loses the last logical side of his brain – if he has any when he has you in different situations yet each one of them is as effective as the others.

being energetic, having almost superhuman strength, and going wild in sex, he is sure unreliable while fucking. creating a sense of fear with excitement in your abdomen, ideas rush into your mind as you think about what he will do differently this time in every intimate moment. his uniqueness can be pointed out even while fucking you or letting you fuck him.

he’s also loud, talkative, preferring to let you know that you feel wonderful, perfectly taking his dick – or him, entirely, destroying his mind because of the beauty you have as lust cages him like a chain.

he seems like a madman too with his mind full of thoughts about how he can turn the sex you have into something more bustling, catchy, and entertaining for the two of you, maybe a little more for you ‘cause he prefers to be an unforgettable lover. he addresses you as his queen, and he is determined to prove himself right by treating you as one.

to do this, he tries to get his ideas turn into realities while fucking you.

not caring about your surroundings, not thinking consequences of being unconcerned, not realizing what he has done until his highness’ effects of being pussy drunk decrease. the reality hit his face when he saw the world around him, you still under him, mind dizzy, mouth dry because of moaning non-stop, eyes half-closed as you looked up at his face, cries cleaning your heated face.

the bed, worth a million dollars he chose to fuck you onto, now has a broken headboard – the pieces falling onto the floor and the bed’s soft white fabric. the memories of the moment before rushes into his mind as he looks at the broken material inside his fisted hands; he understands that he is the one that caused this. he fucked your wide-open pussy so mindlessly that when he gripped the head to find something to hold on to, he broke it without realizing it. 

as you still soak wet with your cum, and his own getting out of you, he jokes about the situation; chuckling while pointing out the power he has enough to break the bed’s head in one movement, showing it to you with such proudness you roll your eyes – this time not because of his dick, but because of his silliness.

he puts his hands on your sides, smirking down at you, winking, and having no shyness about breaking the bed.

“oh princess, it was worth a million dollars but doesn’t matter. you are worth more than anything in entire timelines. to have your pussy, I can break all of ‘em pretty. but can we appreciate how strong I am? ‘is all because of how good you’re makin’ me feel – ohh, pretty lady, making my mind go crazy like that – ‘is because of you that I broke it, but, what about we break the couch too? wanna do it – wanna break it too while eating you out. c'mon princess, gotta fuck you in every piece of furniture in this house.”

TOMAS is not like his brothers – he is not like the rest of the men at all. he’s a lover who puts your well-being before anyone else, including his desires, and passionate when it comes to that decision in times he has you inside his arms, standing naked from head to toe, giving yourself completely to the man you trust the most, you love the most.

his fragile manner doesn’t let him go hard on you even if you want him to do so. afraid of hurting you even a little bit prevents him from becoming rougher and harsh to you. he listens to all your pleases, begging him to fuck you harder, wanting him to believe he can never harm you, yet, he chooses to stay still even when you act so bratty, trying to get into his nerves, making him let it go.

tomas, being a cute shy boyfriend, delicate when the matter is you, stays determined for a long time ‘'til the day you plan everything out and make him lose his gentle manner, causing the loss’s emptiness to be completed with the new one – greed.

the greed he has for you builds up from his deep soul to show itself through his actions after he sees you sitting on the bed, on your knees, the dress you wear is thin and represents the color of tomas’ armor, the delightful body underneath it is visible to his widened eyes, looking innocently yet devilishly to his eyes, smiling widely as you rise your hand for him to hold and get into the bed with you.

who he is to resist? his determination is not that great – and both of you realize it when tomas gets into the bed, a moment later, when his cock meets with your already soaked and prepared pussy after he fingers you, he feels warmness, fire building within his body, making him want to devour you, unlike the times you had before, he’s a bit dizzy now.

he moans your name over and over again, lips curl only to moan, whimper, and beg for more. you let him though, saying he can get what he needs – you say he can use your body for his pleasure, and when he finally admits it feels euphoric to go rough on you, moans coming out of your pretty pink lips like a melody to his ears, encouraging him further.

he grips you from the waist while fucking you; he uses your body as he pleases, moving your body front to back, his thrusts meet with your walls in mid-air, earning rhythmic moans from both of you.

throwing his head back, he decides to hold the bed under your body because he realizes the red marks on your waist due to the grip he has on there. when his hands reach for the mattress, he grips the white covers strongly, hands turn into fists, and those fists hit the bed’s rigid surface – the bed breaks into two the moment he cum carelessly into you after you praise him, call him your good boy.

he swears for the first time, eyes closed shut, his cum meets with yours, forehead connects with your chest as you hug him from the shoulders.

breathing deeply into your breasts, warmness flows from his breaths to your exposed skin, smoke appearing on the curves of his body slowly, and you feel his tears because of both pleasure he has felt and quilt coming from breaking the bed, making your bodies go lower a little bit.

“oh, I’m so sorry, so so sorry, didn’t mean to – I – I just want to prove myself and get lost when you moan my name like that, calling me your good – ohh – boy. ‘m so sorry my goddess, please, forgive me. wanna say it will not repeated but I can’t – it felt so good that I wanna do it again – right now. my love, would you let me do it again? say yes, and I will be a very very good boy for you – only for my goddess.”

what a journey of rut! here's a cake for you because you deserve it after reading this, bearing it with me! 🍰

❤️ tagging: @lookingforgoodthings , @snowprincesa1 [taglist]

[sailorsoons]

greedy (k.sy & c.hs)

PAIRING: Soonyoung x f. reader x Vernon

SUMMARY: Vernon is good at a lot of things - Soonyoung wants to help him be good at one more thing. 

WC: 1,151

AU: Idol AU

GENRE: Smut/PWP, Established Something

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Zero plot, all porn baby. Not as detailed as I would like it to be because I’m trying to behave and keep this as a drabble. Explicit language, explicit sexual content including vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, squirting, something akin to subspace after an orgasm, implied poly-relationship of some sort, one (1) instance of spitting. 

A/N: I’m going to be honest I wanted this to be better because this is literally my dream pairing but I am trying to keep this to a reasonable word count and very specific to what was requested instead of writing an entire 15k fic about these three idiots. 

A/N 2: Written for this request. 

MASTERLIST | ASK | FOR MY MILESTONE EVENT | PERMANENT TAG LIST

“DO YOU THINK I NEED TO PRACTICE THAT PART MORE, HYUNG?” Vernon’s voice is raspy as he looks beyond your shoulder to where Soonyoung leans against the couch. Nevermind that your back is pressed against Soonyoung’s bare chest, sliding as you melt further into the couch between his legs. “I want it to be perfect.” 

“No it’s perfect,” Soonyoung assures, hooking his chin over your shoulder. You’re heaving against him, short of breath and twitching. “You’re always a fast learner.”

“Can you not talk about dance practice right now?” You beg, squirming in Soonyoung’s lap.

It’s a fair question. You’re overheating, near the edge of insanity as Vernon’s fingers slow, pressing deep into your cunt where you throb around him while he talks to Soonyoung about fucking dance practice. You don’t give a shit about their dance practice right now, more focused on the fact that Vernon’s worked you toward an orgasm three times now, only for Soonyoung to force his hand away.

You are on edge, nails digging into the sides of Soonyoung’s thighs. He hisses in pain and pleasure, always liking when your teeth and nails come into play. 

Vernon wiggles his fingers and you feel pressure against your g-spot, making you whine. “Sorry, were we not paying enough attention to you?”

No, you think, but can’t say it. Vernon steals your ability to speak again, dragging his fingers along the walls of your cunt. It makes your eyes roll back and you tremble, feeling the pressure mount in the lower part of your stomach.

Soonyoung presses his mouth to your shoulder, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he makes his way toward your ear. He nips your earlobe playfully and you twist in his arms until they lock around your middle, keeping you controlled. 

“Greedy,” Soonyoung murmurs in your ear, his hot mouth pressed against you. His voice is gravely and rough. You clench around Vernon’s fingers, making the youngest of the two laugh. “I’m trying to teach Vernon something.”

“Vernon knows how to deny an orgasm, Soonyoung.” 

You throw Vernon a venomous glare and he grins, shuffling back and forth on his knees to get comfortable. He leans over your pussy and spits before pressing his thumb firm against your clit. You whine, unable to escape him while Soonyoung keeps a grip on you. 

Vernon looks half demon, half angel. He’s still fully dressed but his face is flushed along the cheeks, hair a little sweaty from the effort of edging you for what feels like eternity. His eyes are blown and dark, watching you with the type of awe that makes you see stars. 

“Please,” you beg. You’re not sure which one of them you’re asking. The dynamics between the three of you change every time you’re together, never quite the same, but always comfortable. “Please let me cum.” 

“He’s going to,” Soonyoung promises with a quick kiss to your temple. If Vernon is the angel-demon between your legs, Soonyoung is the god Vernong answers to right now. “But he’s trying to make you squirt, baby. That’s not always easy. Now hush while I teach.”

Fuck. Soonyoung has never been unable to do something he has set his mind to, and he’d been able to figure you out pretty quickly. Which is why it’s him instructing Vernon to fuck his fingers into you until you almost come before stopping again, which is why he makes Vernon drag you so close to an orgasm that you’re ready to cry. 

It is right there. You feel it as Vernon starts to pick up the pace again, fingers pressing in leisurely. You close your eyes, breathing shakily at the relief, feeling the slow build of your orgasm again. It winds deep in your cut, a feeling so tight that you know it’ll happen this time.

Soonyoung can sense it, so attuned to you that it’s like he knows what will happen before you do. One of his hands unwraps from around your waist, sliding down your stomach until he’s right above your pussy, hand settling over your lower abdomen. He murmurs something you can barely hear over your own heavy breathing and presses his palm firmly down.

A strangled fuck leaves your mouth. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to force air in and out of your lungs. The pressure from Soonyoung’s hand on your lower stomach mixed with the way Vernon’s fingers hammer home each time boils your blood, turning you molten. It is so much and you can’t escape it, rooted between the oppressive heat in your stomach and the way they push and pull you. 

Your nails dig into Soonyoung’s thighs, sliding and raking down his sweaty skin. He ignores the sting, pressing his hand down harder as your ears start to ring, breath caught in your chest. It feels like you’re swelling, the pressure so packed that you’re going to pop and cease to exist.

Finally, you come undone with a hoarse shout, feeling the sudden flood of your orgasm as you melt around Vernon’s fingers. He doesn’t let up, the wet schlick of his fingers as he continues to finger fuck you audible over your gasping. 

“Fuck,” Soonyoung growls. “Just like that, good fucking girl. Keep going until she can’t take it, Vernon.”

You don’t know if you want to punch Soonyoung or thank him. Instead, you do nothing but turn into a puddle in his lap, going boneless when you finally can’t take the onslaught of Vernon’s fingers, giving way to nothing. 

On queue, Vernon’s fingers slow until gently, he removes them entirely. You’re twitching in Soonyoung’s hold, the sparks of your orgasm still firing even after it dies away. Soonyoung cradles you, pulling you further into his lap to keep you against his chest. 

Someone’s mouth is on your knee - Vernon’s - while Soonyoung’s is on your jaw, mouth gentle and murmuring something that you can’t hear. You’re successfully soaked from the waist down, feeling the air cool on the evidence of Vernon’s success at making you squirt around his fingers. 

They keep you like that, content to press butterfly-delicate kisses on your skin until you’re more coherent, coming back to yourself. You feel the weight of Soonyoung behind you, the rough scratch of Vernon’s fingers as he rubs his hands up and down your calves. 

“Fuck,” you wheeze, voice broken. Vernon chuckles, kissing your knee. “I think I died.”

“La panini more or whatever they say.”

Vernon sighs and corrects Soonyoung, “La petite mort.”

“That’s what I said,” Soonyoung assures him, nuzzling into your neck. That draws a tired smile from you. “Now get out of the way, Vernon. I want a taste.”

You make a strangled sound. “Who's greedy now, huh?” 

All three of you are gluttonous. You have been ever since whatever this was started a little over a year ago. It had been Soonyoung at first, taking as much as you’d let him and giving back tenfold. Vernon had somehow ended up in the mix, but now you can’t imagine him not being in the picture. 

Carefully, Soonyoung helps you out of his lap. He kisses Vernon briefly on the temple as they swap places, Vernon’s touch just as gentle and reverent. He murmurs a sweet thank you against your ear, squeezing your hip. 

You grin, happy. Happy and greedy. 

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn@thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched@eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy@gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume@yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries@archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersonaa @beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen@mingumis @kimsaerom @imlonelydontsendhelp @eunyi@smiileflower @gyuhao365 @thefrozeneternity @heechwe

[angeltees]

cry baby, jack hughes

pairing jack hughes x fem!reader warnings smut, riding, sub!jack, licking tears away, spitting in his mouth, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mentions of him coming inside, established relationship wc 0.9k

“f-fuck, baby, h-hurts.” jack rasps between open-mouthed gasps, his eyes squeezed tight shut as he pushes his head further into the headboard. 

his body fought with itself. his mind unable to decide if he should thrust his overstimulated cock up deeper into your warm cunt or pull it away due to how sensitive it was.

his eyes snapped open at a particularly harsh roll of your hips, his pulsing tip hitting up inside you in the perfect way. and his mouth dropped open with a quiet moan, his eyebrows furrowing tight in pleasure.

the noises echoing across his room were nothing but sinful. the loud wet smacks of your thighs dropping back down against him and your equally loud moans were like his favourite song. 

and right when he thought it couldn’t get better– or worse due to how overwhelmed his body felt– it did. because when his vision cleared enough for him to see the familiar white ring around the base of his bare cock he almost died.

his chest felt heavy due his lack of oxygen, his breath stuck in his throat as he was too locked into the sight to allow himself the luxury of air. he was almost too scared to breathe, too scared to do anything that could potentially break his focus.

his stomach caved in on itself when your hand moved down from its spot on his good shoulder to rest against his lower stomach, your palm pressing almost too hard against his bladder. 

and when he glanced up at your face and saw the way you smirked at his reaction, his cheeks burning in  retaliation– knowing you watched the way his body practically curled into itself at your touch. after all these years together you had the ability to read his body better than he could, and you used it to your advantage at every given opportunity. 

which is why you pressed harder against the same spot and did nothing but squeeze your pussy tighter around him when his legs started shaking beneath you.

“too much?” your voice came out in a low hiss, your pleasure still heavy in the way you panted against his ear. when your boyfriend nodded you saw a stray tear trickle down his face and without a second thought you parted your lips, your tongue warm as it chased it down his cheek. 

his throat visibly moved when he swallowed his thickened saliva and his hands tightened around your hips, his fingers white due to the pressure he was putting into his hold. 

and as much as he was overstimulated, he wanted more. so he used his hold to pull you down harder on his spent cock, his cum from earlier forcing its way out from where your walls gripped around him. 

both of your breathing hitched at the new pace. your back arching even closer to him with your tits now bouncing just below his chin. and poor jack was suffering even more. 

through his clouded mind he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to pull your nipple in his mouth or to press his lips against yours. he wanted to taste you everywhere at once, to feel the way you fall apart against him whilst he swallowed whatever you gave him, whether it be your moans or cum, and drown them with his own.

but before he could make a decision, you did it for him. your hand pushed off his stomach in a fluid swipe and to wrap around his throat.

jacks neck always fit so perfectly in your hands. you could feel the way his pulse quickened at your bold move and you loved it. you obsessed over the control you had over his body, and you adored feeling it even more. 

your lips met his in an intimate, open mouthed kiss. your teeth nipping at his with every quick head tilt, your tongue pushing against his as you attempted to swallow his moans to ensure they melt against your tongue. 

when you pulled away you noticed the way his eyes were downturned and zeroed in on the strings of your shared saliva that attached the two of you together. 

and when he looked up at you, you knew exactly what he wanted. so you used your thumb and index finger to press enough pressure beneath his jaw, a gesture you always saved for this moment.

his mouth opened right away, his tongue pushing out passed his lips. you had a spark in your eyes when they connected with his, a silent message passing through them when you let a glob of spit land against his awaiting tongue. 

it was gross, and you loved it. especially when it always, without fail, was followed with your boyfriend's sweet groan– his eyes filling with more tears as his high crashed over him with no forewarning. 

“you’re such a cry baby.” your voice had no real bite to it– which he knew. but still, it made him shy away. his eyes closed when he turned his head down towards his chest, the action squishing your hand between his head and his shoulder. 

“but you’re my cry baby,” you moved his face back up, his eyes blinking open when you pressed a small kiss against the corner of his mouth. “you’ve only ever been mine. no one else’s. ever.”

he just modded and shakily moved one hand to press against your clit, his fingers expertly circling around it the way you needed it to. because he too knew your body better than you did. 

[clickety-clacker]

Introducing: ARTIFRACTURE, my newest GGG AU!

Summary: When the rift was opened, the gods weren't entirely sucked from the rift... but some gods ended up losing more than others. Huzzle Mug and Click Clack have to work together to find the parts of their minds that they lost, with their quest being made much more difficult by two certain mortals...

More info below the cut!

To get a little bit more in depth, this AU relies heavily on my own personal headcanons of how gods function both physically and mentally, and how that can be manipulated and explored. It's also in part a foray into the relationship between Huzzle Mug and Click Clack, two gods I don't see interacting much, but I have a lot of thoughts on their relationship.

Essentially, a god is not just their body.

While their 'body' is their tool to interact with things (and is easier for them to control because they used to be humans), their entire realm within the rift is them. When Inspekta pries open the rift at the end of the game, you can see things from their realms flying out, forming the debris around the spire. This physically 'damages' the gods, and though the rift is closed, a lot of them are left very tired, drained, and sickly until they can recuperate.

But some gods lost more than others. Huzzle Mug and Click Clack both have something in common they don't share with the other gods- dual consciousnesses.

I've touched on this a bit for Click Clack in my fic Act Zero, but essentially...

When a god ascends, their mind is also changed to help them better process their new role, depending on their domain.

The human mind cannot properly multitask. Thus, gods who needed to constantly multitask had their consciousnesses split in two, which now work together as one being.

Huzzle Mug is the god off innovation, yes, but also the future. To be so good at inventing and innovating, it has to be able to see future possibilities. But seeing every possible future is too much for one mind to handle, so it has one mind that is constantly perusing futures, and one that's focused on making decisions in the present. The 'future sight' consciousness will supply any information of what will happen when the active/present consciousness decides something.

Click Clack does something similar. He has one mind that processes the script of the world- the narrator- and one that is the 'character' or the editor. One cannot be both!

But having two means they sit 'looser' within their realms, more prone to dislodging... and that's exactly what happens.

When parts of the God realm are sucked out of the rift, Huzzle Mug's future sight consciousness and Click Clack's character/editor conscious are sucked into the mortal realm.

This changes how they portray themselves, pictured above.

Click loses his 'face' as he's lost his character, and Huzzle Mug loses it's floating eyes and limbs. It also gets more splotchy and drippy when it gets emotional, and it's feet posses thumbs.

On the left is how they look at the 'beginning' of the AU, and on the right is how they look near the 'end' once they begin to function better together... and thus influence each other.

Meanwhile...

Disconnected from their realms and cut off from the rest of their bodies and minds, the parts of their consciousness they lost have to go dormant to survive (as opposed to fading into nothing), and take the form of objects. Click Clack's consciousness takes the form of a fountain pen, and Huzzle Mug's takes the form of a bag of marbles.

These items are found by Patience Zero and Dr. Cara respectively.

Though they're inert, they still possess some of their powers. The pen still has the power to make minor edits to the world, and the marbles still have the ability to tell possible futures. Patience uses the pens to actually edit her stories to make people enjoy them and listen to her, and Cara uses the marbles to evade getting in trouble... until one day, he gets a vision of Huzzle Mug finding him and Patience and being utterly pissed.

He assumes the worst, and goes out to find Patience, and convinces her to go 'on the run' or else the gods are going to hurt them. Not true, but fueled by paranoia, they go on the run... not realizing that what they possess aren't just objects that belong to the gods, but part of the gods themselves.

Huzzle Mug and Click Clack, on their own, struggle to function- but together, Click Clack's narration acts as Huzzle's future sight, and Huzzle acts as Click's 'character' and direction.

Equally, Patience and Cara have to work together to avoid capture from the gods and their followers.

There's a bit more to the AU, but this is the gist! If anyone ever has any questions, comments, concerns or thoughts, PLEASE feel free to send in asks! I'm happy to talk about them! :D

[scoopsahoy]

alr i have kind of a wild request so ignore me if you dont wanna write it. you and eddie go to a house party thrown by steve (before they really knew each other) and you're dressed really provacatively. yall argue, he calls you a whore/slut, and you slap him and that awakens a new kink he didn't know he had, and yall fuck

ぺ  word count ⋰ 2.4k

✰  tw ⋰ none :)

❍  cw ⋰ possessive eddie, swearing, sex + fingering, handjob, face sitting, masturbation, oral (female receiving), top!reader, dirty talk

៚  a/n ⋰ i am ✨ovulating✨ at the moment so i'm a bit feral and horny rn, maybe this will quench that thirst

✐  masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

The second Eddie laid his eyes on you tonight, he felt rage bubble up in his chest. He wasn't a jealous guy by any means, but this... He couldn't help it. Seeing you in that short, tight dress with heels that accentuated your calves — your tits on full display, smushed together and jiggling with every step. It was too much for him to handle.

You wore the dress for him, knowing it would drive him up the wall with desire. But when you looked over at him, all you saw was angry jealousy. You were talking to Steve Harrington, who had a reputation of sleeping around at his parties.

You had zero intention of being the next notch on his belt, but you decided to play into Eddie's jealousy and make it worth your while.

He was protective of you. After all, you were the only girl in Hawkins who loved the Freak. And after finding you, he never intended on letting you go.

Just then, another guy with a reputation of being a bit of a man whore walked up and started a conversation with both of you. When you went to take another sip of the god-awful keg beer in your solo cup, you must've tipped it back too far and a few drops of it landed on your chest. You wiped them up, licking the beer off of your hand.

And you could've sworn you saw smoke blow out of both of Eddie's ears at this. This was the final straw, and he charged over to you, grabbing your bicep.

"Hey, babe," you said innocently.

"Can I talk to you? Alone?"

"Sure." You handed your cup to Steve. "Want the rest?"

Before he could respond, you were being dragged away by Eddie, who pulled you all the way upstairs to Steve's room (unintentionally) and shut the door behind you.

"What's up?" You kept the innocent tone.

"What's up? What's up? Seriously?"

"What? What's wrong, babe?"

"You know what's wrong."

"Enlighten me." You did know what was wrong. You knew completely. He let his jealousy get the better of him and couldn't handle the thought of other men lusting over you. He walked over to you, getting in your face.

In a low, deep voice, he said, "You show up to this party in that... dress. Showing every possible square inch of yourself."

"For you."

"No, no, no. Not for me. Not just for me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Your tone was coy, fighting back a grin. "I think I'm actually dressed pretty modestly."

"Drop the act, Y/N." You rolled your eyes.

"What, I thought you liked public teasing."

"Yeah, when you're not surrounded by guys who would fuck the living daylights out of you."

"I think you're overestimating their abilities."

"You know both Steve and that other guy would fuck anything that moves, and you sit there, dripping beer on your tits and fake flirting with them."

"God, Eddie, I'm sorry. You normally go for this shit. How was I supposed to know it was any different?"

You turned to walk away from him.

"Because you're not usually dressed like a whore."

Without even a second to let that simmer, you were turning back around to face him, and your hand smacked him across the face so hard he froze, his head turned to the side.

You didn't even realize you were doing that before you could stop yourself. It was like instinct took over and you couldn't control yourself.

Neither of you moved for a few seconds. You were breathing heavily, both with rage and surprise.

He raised a hand to his cheek, flexing his jaw. His skin was red and hot, and the look in his eyes changed.

"Well, I guess... I probably deserved that."

"You think?"

Something out of the bottom corner of your vision caught your eye. You looked down to see a quickly growing tent in his pants.

"Eddie-"

"That was, uh... kinda hot."

"What?"

"I think... I liked that."

"What, getting slapped?"

He nodded. "It felt kind of good."

"You're joking."

A few seconds of silence passed before he grabbed your face and slammed your lips together. You immediately kissed back and he began backing you up towards the bed, dropping you down onto it.

"What's the word?" he asked, beckoning your safe word out of you.

"Zeppelin."

He smiled. "Good girl. Want me to fuck you on Harrington's bed, hm?"

"Yes," you moaned, his fingers wrapping lightly around your throat.

Without another word, he dropped to his knees on the floor, grabbing you by the thighs and yanking you towards him. Your ass was practically hanging off the bed, the only thing separating his mouth and your pussy being your underwear.

That didn't last long though, as they slid off your legs easily. He shoved them into his pocket, not intending to give them back for the night. The thought of you going commando at a party right after sex only made him harder, if that was even possible.

"What do you want?" he asked, his breath on your wet skin making you squirm.

"Eddie, please," you muttered, looking down at him.

"Uh-uh, you have to say it. 'Please' won't get you what you want."

"God, Eddie. I want your face buried in me."

"In where?"

"In my pussy. Please."

He didn't comply. He loved to tease you. Make you crumble under him. Instead of doing what you were asking for, he decided to finger you as slowly as humanly possible.

The initial touch was a bit of a relief, but his lack of speed could've made you cry.

"I don't think so."

"Ugh, please."

"I already told you, please isn't gonna get you anything. We're gonna try something new."

Admittedly, this is not where you'd prefer to branch out and try new things. But he moved you off the bed, instead taking your place laying down. He was on his back, his head on the pillow. He motioned for you to come over to him and mount him.

You complied, but he moved you up even further. You were straddling his face, looking down at him.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

Without answering you, he wrapped his arms around your hips from behind and pulled your body down, finally latching onto your clit with his mouth.

You gripped the headboard and gasped, immediate relief from the teasing making you feel warm.

"Fuck," you whispered, one hand reaching down to place itself on top of his. As you ground into his face, you couldn't help but feel like you were suffocating him. You tried to move backwards a little bit and give his nose more room, but his grip on you was strong, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

You reached behind you and cupped his crotch with your hand and he groaned into you. Your head was thrown back, your back arched and your hips desperately swaying into his tongue.

"Fuck, Eddie, I'm not gonna last much longer."

He tried his damndest to hold you still, but for some reason this position was much more intense than normal oral. So when you finally came — hard — you were glad there was music blasting outside.

You tried to cover your mouth with your hand, but he reached up and pulled it away, wanting to hear your whines and moans. Watching you from this angle was driving him insane. He'd never seen how much you really move when you cum, as you were normally on your back. But right now you could move freely, and you couldn't control yourself.

When he finally stopped his tongue, he scooched you down to sit in his lap. He sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close.

He kissed you roughly, smearing your lipgloss all over your faces.

"Baby," he whispered, looking up at you.

"Hm?"

"I want you to be on top tonight."

"But I'm never on top."

"I know. But I want you to be dominant this time."

"Eddie, I'm not dominant. You know that."

"When you slapped me... I liked it. I want you to do it again."

You furrowed your brows. "You... want me to hurt you?" He nodded. "That was in the heat of the moment. I don't think I could do it again if I tried."

"Then I want you to choke me, like I do to you." You gently placed your fingers around his neck, your fingertips pressing lightly. "Just like that. But harder." You squeezed the sides of his throat. His eyes lit up and he smiled. "There you go."

You also smiled a bit and pushed him down so he was laying on his back again. You crawled down between his legs, unbuckling his belt. Seeing you on top of him, undoing his clothes for him almost made him want to flip you over and fuck you as hard as he could. But the idea of you on top of him, fucking him, almost made him feel like he was going to combust.

Your hand around his girth broke him out of his imagination, a soft moan slipping out of his mouth.

"Y'know, the tables have turned a bit, here," you said seductively.

"Mhm."

"I'm used to you teasing me. But I don't usually get to do the teasing." You swiped your thumb over his swollen tip, which made him jump. "You like to go slow when you tease me. Painfully slow." You calmly and casually stroked him, keeping your speed at a minimum. "Now you get to see how it feels."

He was a puddle under you. Normally when you gave him handjobs, you would use both hands, as that's what it took to completely engulf him. But right now, you were only using one. And it was driving him insane. You could see his stomach muscles tensing, rippling at the lack of motion.

"Y/N, please."

"Ah-ah-ah. What was it you said to me earlier? 'Please' won't get you what you want." He chuckled at this, silently cursing himself for saying that. "You want me to fuck you?"

You weren't sure where you mustered up this confidence. Maybe it was seeing him writhing under you, you finally understood what it was like from his perspective.

Having someone whimpering and begging at your actions, pleading for more. Needing more from you.

"Yes."

"How bad?"

"So fucking bad."

You slowly licked a single stripe up from the base to the tip of his cock, making him thrust his hips gently.

You giggled to yourself, adjusting your position again so your hips were on top of his. His dick was pinned between his stomach and your wet pussy. You ground against it, sliding him through your folds.

His hands were on your thighs, his nails slightly digging into your skin.

"Tell me how much you want it," you whispered, reaching down and pushing his hair off his face.

"I need it so bad, baby."

"How bad?"

"So bad that if you don't fuck me right now I'm gonna flip you over and do it myself."

Without another word, you sunk down onto him, both of you sighing of relief. You threw your head back and got used to him inside of you, not used to having to make the next move.

You braced yourself on his abdomen, your hands pressing into his skin.

You got your rhythm down pretty quickly, figuring out how to maneuver your hips and not your whole body. And not long after, your hand found his throat, pressing against the sides.

His eyes rolled back into his head, the slight lack of oxygen at your control feeling ridiculously good. He couldn't believe he hadn't asked you to do this before.

He was beginning to give into the urge of thrusting, and when you noticed, you stopped your movements and stopped choking you.

"What happened?" he whined. That tone was an insane turn-on, how desperately, frantically he needed you.

"No moving," you commanded, which was something he would say to you when he would eat you out. "Keep your hips completely still or I stop."

"God, you're good at this."

You began moving again, and it didn't take long for him to get close. Normally he lasted for a while, but being dominated made him feel like he was going to bust after only about three minutes.

"Y/N, I'm getting close."

"Not yet."

"What?"

"No cumming yet. You have to wait."

The roles were reversed. He loved edging you, forcing you to hold off your orgasm until he said you could cum. And you understood why. Holding someone's orgasm in your hands, forbidding them to reach it until you allowed it was doing something to you.

"I can't- I can't wait," he choked, really squeezing your skin.

"Too bad, you have to." You reached down and began masturbating, getting yourself there so he could too. You squeezed his neck as you felt the familiar sensation building in your belly. "I'm getting close too, I'll tell you when."

He screwed his eyes shut tightly, throwing his head back. He looked heavenly in this position, putty in your hands. He was mumbling 'fuck, fuck, fuck' to himself, taking everything in him to hold his cum in.

"Eddie," you squealed. "Cum."

You'd never heard him scream when he came, but this ripped through him. He was incapable of being quiet like he normally was. His grunts and groans were animalistic and caveman-like. You'd never heard sounds like this come from him. Maybe it was the oxygen being cut off, or the position.

He couldn't resist thrusting his hips up as you came, which worked out perfectly because you could barely move as you trembled.

Tears fell down your cheeks and you moaned so loudly it hurt your throat.

When he stopped moving, you laid your chest against him, his cock still inside of you. You breathed in sync, neither of you opening your eyes. Eventually, he wrapped his hands around your back and held you close.

He planted a kiss to the top of your head and smirked.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. We should've done this forever ago."

"Yeah," was all you could muster.

It took you guys a moment to move, but when you finally did, you pulled your dress back down to cover your thighs.

"Can I have my underwear back?" you asked.

"I think I'll keep 'em. Make it a reminder not to flirt with other guys."

"But if I never teased you, this would've never happened."

He laughed. "Very true. Maybe I'll allow it sometimes."

[pyrodolls]

a request.... yandere bi han self aware x readerrrrr

SELF AWARE! YANDERE BI-HAN X READER

WARNINGS: average yandere tendencies such as possessiveness and delusion, ooc bi-han cuz it's for story purposes, gender neutral reader, lowercase intended

A/N: still a diehard sagau fan after all these years lmao. i made my kung lao self aware fics over a year ago inspired by sagau/sahsrau fics, and i was surprised by how much people liked it. so here i am with a version with bi-han. perhaps you guys may get another version of this with another mortal kombat character... maybe a character that just happens to be a sexy a-lister. (also?? is this like... SAMKAU?? self aware mortal kombat alternate universe?? can we make that a thing?? idk. i'm excited to keep writing this.. uh.. samkau?? stuff.)

- sub-zero was always your favorite character. when mortal kombat 1 was announced, you were overjoyed by seeing his inclusion on the roster, and his new design. you didn’t mind all the changes the new timeline made; you just wanted to have some fun and watch your favorite man kick some ass.

- you wanted to play the story mode as soon as possible before being spoiled by other fans on social media. but when you did, something strange seemed to happen with your favorite character.

- during the story, when you finally got to play as him in a later chapter, he was much more powerful than any other character so far. it's as if fights were over in an instant, with the enemies only needing one hit to fall. but you assumed it was just a harmless glitch. it was a new game and all, so it wouldn’t be abnormal for there to be some bugs here and there.

- but the more you played, the more conscious the game felt. not only was sub-zero the only character with strangely powerful abilities, but he was the only character you could play as. every time you tried to play as someone else, the game crashed. he also seemed to have voice lines when you went idle. if you let the game run while you left to take a break, you could hear bi-han through your headphones saying something along the lines of: "where do you think you’re going? you must come back."

- incredibly uncomfortable by these occurrences, you turned off the game, hoping it was just a glitch that'll be fixed overnight. but as the game was closed and you went to sleep, there was an emptiness on the other side of the screen.

- bi-han was at a loss for words. he felt an otherworldly presence being emitted nearby. he just couldn't put his finger on it, until you controlled him. his body didn't feel like his own. he felt you control his strikes and protect him from attacks by moving his body like a puppet on a string. despite the initial discomfort of losing self-control, it was still a warm, exhilarating feeling. he felt as if his force grew under your guidance. you made him feel stronger, and that's all he's ever wanted. but when your control disappeared, so did the warmth and power. he felt empty without you. his heart ached as your presence faded. you weren't completely gone, but it still upset him that you weren't guiding him anymore.

- especially when you shifted to guide kuai liang. how dare that failure of a brother take you away from him? and how could you leave him so easily, so quickly? he didn’t do anything wrong, so why leave him?

- he was fueled with a rage he never felt before. not just from the betrayal of his brother, but from the betrayal of you. a warm, advantageous figure that he never knew he needed, suddenly taken away once he got the chance to feel you. he had to fix this as soon as possible.

- he tried to guide you, just as you did for him. he did this by making sure only he could be controlled by you. nobody else can have his strength. with you by his side, his power will never be rivaled again. in order to convince you of this fact, he decided to show off a bit and defeat every opponent he faced within seconds. if he showed you how unstoppable you two can be, surely that’ll persuade you into never leaving him again…

- he thought his plan was working. until you powered your device off, and he was stuck in the cold abyss once more. bi-han is used to the cold. it was nothing new for him. but now that he’s finally gotten a taste of you, and felt you? he can’t stand the bitter, soulless atmosphere of his fictitious life anymore. without you, he has nothing. it’s tedious, and lonely. as much as he hates to admit it, he needs you. badly. desperately. he was your favorite, wasn't he? so why leave him? he did so much for you, to keep you from deserting him. he upgraded himself and downgraded everyone else, so you know he's the only one for you. he was clinging onto the hope that you’ll be impressed by his skills, and you won’t betray him again. but this time? he may just lose his mind. come back. you must come back to him.

[angelickisscs]

buying your love ~ blurb ‧₊˚

୨ ୧ ˚₊ pairing ~ jude bellingham x reader

summary: ignoring your ex is a lot harder than you could have imagined

YOUR BACK WAS pressed against the wooden chair as sweat began to settle on your skin. The sun had decided to make a sudden appearance during spring, the humid air emitting from it being enough to push you out of your slowly boiling house. It saved no effort for the summer, instead opting to use it all up on one day.

Your friend’s decision to all meet at the closest pub garden being one that a large number of others had shared. A loud chatter blurred around the edge of your consciousness. Currently, the race that two droplets of water were having to see which would make it to the bottom of the glass first was far too interesting to miss.

There was a disinterest that had followed you around all day. Without any warning, you lacked the ability to focus on anyone’s words or actions. Whether or not that was the heart that clung to you or the brown eyed man that was still trying to get back in contact, you couldn’t be sure.

It was a surprise when your friend’s hand ended up waving itself directly in front of your eyes, its appearance largening in the glass’s reflection.

“You alright?” She questioned you with a cocked head. You sent her a vigorous nod in return, leaning forward to grab a handful of the assorted nuts they had left on your table.

Her eyes watched you atop of her beer glass, your every move forced under a harsh microscope. Your shoulders were beginning to shrink inside of themselves, your body slightly falling downwards in the chair.

Though, when you finally looked up at her, they had been escorted elsewhere. Despite this fact, the discomfort remained in your body, making you shiver no matter the temperature.

You took the chance to look around you slightly. The tables around you were full, little had their umbrellas up, most choosing to catch a tan under the sun’s aggressive rays. Shoulders that had browned were now beginning to taint themselves a particular shade of red, including yours.

One pair of eyes were stuck to your body like super glue when you were about to finish your brief search, their familiar appearance leaving you no choice but to hastily look away.

The water droplets race had now finished, a round two commencing with others running. You had opted for the left side to win, mentally placing a bet on it to see if the distraction could calm your racing heartbeat. Both failed miserably, left colliding with the right side as it was about to cross the finish line.

It left you nothing to do but allow yourself to creep your eyes back in his direction. They met with his once again, his collected appearance being enough for you to glue to him for much longer than originally planned.

A white vest adorned his chest, framing his biceps to such perfection it was worthy of an art museum. The cap he wore shielded his face from most around him but the seats he had opted for gave you a perfect view of him and him, you. Though from the way a cheeky grin had enveloped is face when he realised you were staring directly back at him had you wanting nothing more than to be able to look away.

You could feel your eyes begging to move but your brain managed to keep control of them. It kept them in control for as long as it could before it was deemed as unworthy to be making such decision from your heart. Its delicate outer-layer shattering one too many times by that man to concede zero contact from just a smile.

With that, you rejoined the conversations with your friends no matter how hard it was. His nagging eyes stayed on you, pleading with you for just one more look.

“And my boss just refuses to give me a bloody break!” Your exasperated friend complained one final time before your others moved in to give their equally as annoyed opinions. You had attempted to give your words of advice but the lack of information you had managed to pick up had you agreeing with everything else everyone was saying.

Jude had not left you with that awkward situation for long, your phone soon buzzing with texts from him.

You look beautiful. The first had read, not having a moment to linger in the spotlight before the second came in. I brought you that dress.

You rolled your eyes at both, your hands itching to put the phone down and have a nice evening with your friends like you had promise but it soon became obvious that your brain had appealed your hearts decision and resumed its previous role.

you did. Was all you could muster in that second. The tips of your fingers had moved with such hesitation that it took close to four minutes to type in and send those two words.

It wasn’t even a second before a text from him was shooting back. Maybe I could see more of it tonight.

Looking over to him, you watched as he raised his eyebrows in questioning, pushing you to answer his possibility.

maybe not

You slammed your phone down onto the table after that, the strength at with which you do so mixed with the swiftness shocking all your friends. In attempt to distance yourself from him, you had only ended up closer than ever and that barrier you had set up around your heart was beginning to crumble each time it expanded with more force than it should be.

“I ask again, are you okay?” The final words that Sara had spoken were heavily enunciated, the worry becoming alarmingly clear as she leaned closer towards you.

“Yeah, awesome.” You responded after a few beats. There was a silence that encapsulated your table, each of their eyes on your face with such a violent heat that didn’t mix well with the humidity already getting itself familiar with the air around you.

They all laughed slightly at your answer, obviously not believing either word that you had to say. Though none of them pushed, knowing the effect that it could have if they were to.

Sara used her closeness to snatch your phone from its downward position on the table when everyone had become distracted for a brief second. The notification she had seen on your home screen had her jaw on the floor though she quickly recovered to keep your privacy.

“Him? Again?” She whispered to you as she met with your pleading eyes. Within a matter of milliseconds, it had given her all the information that she could need.

Sara had been the only one to know of the situation that had taken place between Jude and you, her investigative tendencies coming out in full force when she realised you were beginning to become more secretive during hangouts. She wasn’t happy then and nothing had changed since then.

You sighed, a certain sensation that not even you could pinpoint running through your body with a cooling effect. “It’s almost sum-.”

“You’ve tried the summer fling before.”

She was quick in cutting you off, hitting your knee under the table when she did so. Her eyes held such an accusatory look to them that you felt like a child again, your mother scolding you for having a random sweet before dinner.

“He broke contact not me.” You grimaced at your own excuse, “Plus, I turned him down.”

“Take the phone back and tell me you won’t change your mind then.” Her hand was extended in your direction, the pressure that she was putting on you in so many different forms had you doing exactly what she had challenged you to.

The phone case’s corners were lifted out of place before being popped back down, your fingers needing a job that wasn’t texting his latest text back no matter how hesitant they were the first time. He had a particular way of weakening you and you were yet to figure out his exact methods so that you could create a good enough defence to them.

Slowly, you span it around in your hand. The facial ID was quick to recognise your features, your phone unlocking to show you a Venmo notification followed by a text. Out of pure confusion, you made the decision to click on it, already beginning to lose to Sara.

Then maybe I could see you in something else?

The text was sent first, soon followed by the £750 he had decided to send to you.

Your eyes widened so far that they almost encountered your furrowed eyebrows. Looking upwards towards where he once sat, the site of an empty chair and his friends laughing between one another introduced itself to you.

It wasn’t long before you realised where he had ended up, a pair of hands softly falling upon your reddened shoulders. His face was dangerously close to your neck, the warmth of his breath colliding with the flesh on your ears in such a way that it mixed perfectly with the humidity.

“I’ve always liked red on you.”

[lazysoulwriter]

every loss is a win. - chris sturniolo. ✩

*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:i dont have any idea how this game works but whatever *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

Chris was sitting on the couch in his living room, controller in hand, a playful smirk on his face. His girlfriend, who had just stepped into the room, was looking at him with a raised brow.

“You seriously want me to play Fortnite with you?” she asked, crossing her arms, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Chris grinned, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I do. You’ll love it, I promise. And if you mess up—” He paused, winking. “I’ll kiss you every time.”

Her lips curled up in a teasing smile, clearly intrigued. “Kiss me every time I die, huh?”

“Exactly,” Chris said, leaning back on the couch, clearly confident in his ability to teach her. “It’ll be fun, trust me.”

She sat next to him, reluctantly grabbing the other controller. Chris set up the game, his fingers moving quickly as he navigated the screen. “Alright, babe, here’s the deal,” he said, eyes still focused on the screen. “Just follow my lead, and you’ll get the hang of it.”

She nodded, though she wasn’t exactly confident. She had zero experience with Fortnite and had no idea what she was doing. But... the idea of Chris kissing her every time she died sounded like a win in her book.

The game started, and her character appeared on the screen. Chris quickly explained the basic controls: how to move, aim, and shoot. She pretended to listen, but her eyes kept drifting to him. The way he gripped the controller, the intensity in his eyes—it made her feel… something.

The game was off to a rough start. She died almost instantly, and before she could even react, Chris was leaning in to kiss her, his lips warm and soft against hers. She closed her eyes, savoring the kiss, but something inside her stirred. A wicked thought entered her mind.

What if… what if she purposely lost, just to get more kisses? The idea made her smile.

She died again—almost immediately, actually—and Chris was quick to lean in and press another kiss to her lips, this time lingering just a little longer.

She bit her lip, suppressing a giggle. “I think I’m getting the hang of this game,” she said innocently, but her plan was already in motion.

A few more rounds, a few more deaths, and Chris kissed her each time. He had no idea. But she did. The game wasn’t really about winning anymore.

“Damn, babe”

“I know,” she said, feigning innocence. But in reality, she was just waiting for the next kiss. And when it came—this time, a little deeper, a little hotter—she couldn’t hold back anymore.

Before Chris could even react, she pulled him closer, her lips crashing into his with a newfound urgency. He gasped, momentarily taken aback. “Woah, what’s going on?"

She didn’t answer, instead pushing him back onto the couch, her hands tangling in his hair as she kissed him desperately, passionately. The game was long forgotten at this point. Her body was closer to his, her hands moving down his chest.

“Do you—do you want to stop playing?” Chris asked, breathless, clearly taken by surprise at the shift in energy.

“Yes,” she whispered against his lips. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

Without another word, she leaned down, kissing him even deeper. The world around them melted away, and for the next few moments, there was no game, no controller—just the two of them, consumed by each other.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

[moodymisty]

Based off this post sorry I fucking HAD to

Warnings: Vaguely NSFW, Sicarius walking in on you and Guilliman

Why must all his men break protocol? Sicarius wonders if the Codex is merely kindling to them, if they are so willing to break the sacred rules so easily.

Titus, Uriel, and now new men of second company have decided to be a pain. He only hopes reporting this to Guilliman himself will prove to be enough of a threat to his men and whip them all back into shape; Both current and future troublemakers.

In his frustrations, so wrapped up in his own mind on how to deal with this consistent issue, he fails to do a proper knock at Guilliman’s door. Instead he simply walks in, slamming the controls with more force than needed.

Within moments he freezes, as a musky, heavy smell hits his nose and the full noises of the room echo in his ears without the soundproofing in the way.

“Roboute!”

You squeal, hands wrapped tight in the short crop of Guilliman’s thin blonde hair. Most of his head and face are obscured by your skirt- and thighs, which wrap around his head like a vice. The holotable is on but unused, symbols placed randomly from your accidental touches as you sit on the edge.

Sicarius stands frozen, unable to will his body to move as his ears are suddenly filled with the sounds of you and his primarch’s moans- accompanied by then odd, wet sounds of whatever his mouth was doing. What is only two seconds is plenty to him, given how fast his mind moves in comparison to a baseline.

He… was aware of all the basics of sex and reproduction, but the intricacies of pleasure beyond that were spotty at best. He had no need to delve into such useless things, unlike some other, less proper Astartes.

He was also unaware you could do such things with your mouth.

How beneath a primarch’s holy stature; Guilliman’s words have guided armies but now he’s on his knees in penance and using his tongue like its just a-

A loud scream rips through your throat as you spot him and sit up, and Sicarius’ two seconds of internal thought is interrupted as you see him frozen in the doorway with a hand still on the door’s controls.

Guilliman of course is instantly on the defensive hearing your scream, rising to his feet- and removing his hand from his trousers - before reaching for his blade.

Until he realizes it’s Sicarius.

Guilliman relaxes with an angry look on his face; Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before using the same hand spread flat outward to try and shield some of you from Sicarius, and reserve some of your modesty, while you adjust your clothes.

“Did your time in the warp remove your ability to announce yourself before entering, Captain Sicarius?”

Sicarius is angry at his primarch now, and has zero care for you behind him hot faced and attempting to cover yourself to some level of decency.

“I, I did not think it was needed, my primarch. I have an urgent issue that needs addressing.”

Guilliman angrily breaths through his nose, and Sicarius can see the veins in his neck.

“Go. Leave. Whatever you came here for I am sure it can wait until we both forget this encounter ever happened.”

They are both painfully aware that each other have eidetic memories, but they can only hope this moment somehow slips from their minds.

“Yes, my primarch.”

Sicarius finally manages to get his armor to move, and Guilliman sighs. Sicarius swiftly takes two steps backwards and closes the door, facing it at it closes.

He stands there for a moment, the image of his primarch on his knees between the legs of a simple baseline, and a hand doing something in his trousers is seared into his mind. Why is his primarch doing such things when there is work to be done?

“Are you alright Captain Sicarius?”

A marine says as he walks by, looking at his dead expression as Sicarius turns to face him. He points the door.

“Is Primarch Guilliman busy-“ Sicarius quickly speaks, cutting him off.

“Yes he is busy, do not disturb him.”

Sicarius has a far off stare that makes the random Astartes look at him oddly.

“I need to leave. Do not go in.”

Sicarius walks off, rubbing his hair with his gauntlet and grumbling to himself.

[hischiershoe]

hi can I request a Nico blurb for your blurb night using the prompts "So what? You're dating them now?" and "Is it not obvious? Am I doing something wrong?"

I tweaked the second dialogue a bit to fit better, I hope that's okay! i kind of struggled with this one but i hope you enjoy it <3 Warnings: angsty and dialogue heavy

Breaking things off with Nico was one of the hardest things you've had to do, but you knew it had to be done. The arrangement the two of you had, the whole 'no strings' thing, wasn't working for you anymore. You wanted all of him, not just the him you got when you were tangled beneath his sheets, but you were painfully aware that he didn't want all of you. After all, it was his idea to keep things strictly physical all those months ago.

It was easy to avoid Nico when you knew what circle he ran in, but it seemed as if fate had other ideas on this particular night. You had let one of your friends rope you into going out with her and a few others, but what she conveniently left out was she had invited a guy she knew was interested in you. You didn't mind, at first, and you even entertained his flirtatious remarks or subtle touches. For a second, you let yourself forget about all things Nico Hischier, but then you saw him walk through the door and the idea was swept out from under your feet.

Nico saw you the second he stepped inside, and he felt like all of the air had been sucked out of his lungs. You were standing at one of the tall tables, the same drink you always ordered in hand, wearing a pair of jeans that he’d all but ripped off of you two weeks ago. You looked beautiful, you always did to him, and every nerve in his body was yelling at him to go talk to you. However, when Nico finally zeroed in on the way some random guy's arm was thrown over your shoulder, he nearly tripped over his own feet.

Anyone who laid eyes on Nico would be able to tell that he was bursting at the seams with jealousy. He was standing at the back of the bar, his fists white knuckling the beer in his grasp and his jaw wound so tight it was starting to hurt. He had been so focused on glaring at the guy who wouldn’t leave a foot between you that he completely blew off the girl that was fighting for his attention. Every so often he’d make an attempt to catch your wandering gaze, but it was almost as if you were avoiding his on purpose.

You were. You knew the second you made eye contact it would be over for you. It was already taking every ounce of willpower you had to not ditch the man next to you and go talk to him. Just because you knew ending things him was for the best, doesn't mean you were immune to the effect he'd had on you. You were drawn to him in the same way a magnet was attracted to metal. No matter how hard you tried to resist, he was always pulling you back in. It was easy to ignore when he wasn't around, but this was the first time you'd seen him since that night and your self-control was being tested to its highest ability.

"I think I'm going to get some air," You called to your friends around you, discarding the empty cup in the trash can.

You couldn't stop your gaze from sliding to Nico, and you immediately regret it when you did. A girl you vaguely recognized from your various visits to the bar was practically hanging off of his arm, her smile wide and tempting as she tried to grab his attention. Though Nico wasn't giving it to her, his eyes fixated on you in a way that made you feel like he was waiting for you to give him some sort of bait to latch on to.

"Do you want me to come with you," Matt hastily asked, eyes bright and hopeful.

"No, it's okay," You politely decline, ignoring the pang of guilt in your chest when his face fell, "I just need a second by myself, but I'll be right back."

You can feel Nico's burning gaze on your back as you slip through the door that leads to the nearly empty patio, and you know what that means. Though, if you were being honest with yourself, it was exactly what you wanted to happen.

When Nico joins you outside, he doesn't say anything as he hovers a few feet away from you. You force yourself to focus on the gravel beneath your feet, waiting for him to make the first move, but you can't help but feel a small wave of nostalgia wash over you. It was almost the exact situation from when the two of you met for the first time, bar the obvious thick blanket of tension surrounding the two of you now.

"So what? You're dating him now," He practically spits out, as if putting it into words was poison on his tongue.

"No, Nico," You take a deep breath, crossing your arms against your chest as you finally turn to face him, "I'm not dating him. I'm here with my friends."

"Doesn't look like you two are just friends," He gruffly points out with his hands shoved into his pockets.

Nico had never been a jealous person before, but with you? With you, the sheer idea of you being with someone other than him made him want to hurl. He knows he has no right to feel that way, especially when it had been him who suggested the two of you be nothing more than hookups. It was he who said there shouldn't be any feelings, but that doesn't mean he followed through.

"Well, we are," You firmly reiterated, brows knitted together, "I don't know why it matters. It's not like you care."

Nico was visibly thrown off at your comment, his eyes squinting in confusion and his mouth dropping open in slight disbelief. While he hadn't exactly expected you to know how he felt, he never thought you would assume he didn't care.

"I do care," He breathes out, taking a few small steps until only a few inches separate you.

"Could've fooled me," You mumbled, trying to keep your voice steady as you subtly hint at the girl from inside.

"Well, I didn't think you would care," Nico scoffs, running an exasperated hand through his hair, "You're the one who ended things."

"Because I was tired, Nico," You weakly admit, shoulders falling in defeat, "I told you that."

"You did, but you didn't tell me why," He tries, his voice woven with cracks and his eyes swimming in regret, "Was I doing something wrong?"

The way Nico was looking at you, like whatever you said next was going to make or break him, made a sense of hope swell in your chest. It made you wonder if you made the right choice in ending things rather than telling him how you felt. Maybe, just maybe, it would've gone the way you spent hours dreaming of and all of this could've been avoided.

"No," You shook your head, tears lining your eyes as you take a shaky breath, "You didn't do anything wrong. I did. Was it not obvious? I broke rule number one of this whole thing and developed feelings for you so I-"

He cut you off by calling out your name, delicately grasping at your elbow as his eyes dance across your face, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You said you didn't want more," You choke out, pulling your hands up to wipe away at the tears that slid down your cheeks, "You told me that it was strictly sex, and I respected that, but I couldn't keep putting myself through that when I wanted more."

"I know I said that," He thickly swallows, keeping his voice low and shifting himself so you're out not in the eye line of the strangers outside, "I know, and I wish I didn't because it wasn't true then, and it's not true now. I always wanted more, but I was worried that was all you would want from me. That's usually how it's always gone before."

Your heart cracks at Nico's casual admission, at how easily the words slide off his tongue as if they weren't absolutely gut-wrenching. All this time, the two of you had been protecting your hearts from each other when you should've been letting each other in. Without another thought, you surge forward and loop your arms around him, burying your face in his neck as he pulls you closer to him.

He's holding you so tightly that you can barely breathe, almost as if he was afraid you were going to walk away from him again, but you didn't care. You didn't care if he squeezed all of the air out of your lungs if it meant being with him.

"Nico," You murmur as you pull away, peering up at him through glassy eyes, "Can we leave? I don't care where we go, I just want to go with you."

"I'll go anywhere with you," He wantonly admits, moving one of his hands to cup your jaw as he chastely kisses your temple, "I just need to tell Timo to find another ride home."

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter nineteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): book accurate voldemort, canonical violence, angst, talks of battle, notions of manipulation and mind control

series masterlist; previous part; next part

The days following Charity Burbage's death were agonising. The atmosphere in the cottage had grown cold and dreary; the novety of living away from home having worn away with every mission that Mattheo, Theo and Enzo were sent on. They did not speak a word of what happened in the meeting beyond when Remus and Mad-Eye had come to collect information only hours after the boys had returned home.

Before the inevitable event of Professor Burbage's death, Voldemort's men had divulged their fellow Death Eater and Dark Lord of vital information that they could use to undermine The Order of The Pheonix. There were spies everywhere, just as Mattheo had told Granger back at school before Dumbledore's death.

It was still sureal that his Head of House was sat in this room with him, despite knowing since fifth year that Snape was not a loyal member of The Order. To hear him discussing a plan that only top members, like Lupin or Shacklebolt, would know, was as strange as it was unnerving. His father sat at the head of the table, the seat to the right of him empty, hairless and snakelike with slits for nostils and gleaming red eyes. His chosen appearance was nightmare fuel and nothing akin to the very few photos that Mattheo had of him, when he was still Tom Riddle, still had some of his soul intact. As far as Mattheo was concerned, this creature before him was not his father, but simply a vessel of power that Mattheo would have to overcome. Somehow.

"Severus, here," said the Dark Lord, his elongated hands gesturing to Mattheo's other side. He sent Yaxley to sit beside Dolohov, who still sported the scars inflicted by your magic. It sent pride shooting through Mattheo's veins. Most eyes at the table followed Snape until he sat, and he was who Voldemort addressed first.

"The Order of The Pheonix intends to move Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday, at nightfall." Snape said in his usual low cadence.

Confusion shot through Mattheo at that and he visibly stiffened before fixing his mask of indifference right back into place. Despite feeding information to The Order, everyone in the cottage, even you, were not privvy to the schemes that its members carried out in response. He had no idea that Harry's location would be compromised. Did that mean that your's could be too?

He didn't let that thought linger for any longer than necessary.

"Saturday. At nightfall." Voldemort's eyes fastened on Snape with such an intensity that Mattheo was surprised when his Professor did not cower away like so many others would. He looked Death calmly in the face, and Voldemort's lip curled into something resembling a smile. "Good. And this information comes-"

"-From the source we discussed." Snape replied. This seemed to satisfy Voldemort who's snake like features swept over everyone in the room with a sinister, knowing look, zeroing in on Yaxley, who looked about ready to burst.

"My Lord." He stuttered. "My Lord. I have heard differently."

The Dark Lord did not respond.

"Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy's birthday. When his magic becomes traceable."

Mattheo looked beside him saw that Severus Snape was smiling as he responded with a level tone.

"My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. Dawlish is suspectible. He was probably placed under a Confundus Charm."

Yaxley's eyes narrowed upon Snape's. "I assure you, My Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain."

The Dark Lord finally turned to acknowledge his son, who was stood off to the side, eyes raking across each member with cruel scrutiny. He motioned for Mattheo to come forward. "What do you think, my son?"

Mattheo studied the faces of his father, Snape and Yaxley, rationalising his thoughts before speaking.

"If Dawlish was indeeded Confunded, naturally he would be certain." Mattheo summised. "The Order would be smart to give the Ministry different dates. They must already suspect that we have infiltrated the Ministry."

"The Auror Office will play no further part in the protection of Harry Potter. I assure you, Yaxley." Snape said with a nod.

Voldemort did not ackowledge the conversation, instead his gaze had wandered upward to the body that had appeared during the discussion, revolving slowly overhead, and he seemed to be lost in thought.

"My Lord," Yaxley went on, "Dawlish believes an entire party of Aurors will be used to transfer the boy–"

He held up a large white hand, and Yaxley subsided at once, watching resentfully as Voldemort turned back to Snape.

“Where are they going to hide the boy next?”

“At the home of one of the Order members,” he replied. “The place, according to the source, has been given every protection that the Order and Ministry together could provide. I think that there is little chance of taking him once he is there, my Lord, unless, of course, the Ministry has fallen before next Saturday, which might give us the opportunity to discover and undo enough of the enchantments to break through the rest.”

“Well, Yaxley?” Voldemort called down the table, the firelight casting a menacing glint in his red eyes. “Will the Ministry have fallen by next Saturday?”

Yaxley squared his shoulders. “My Lord, I have good news on that score. I have – with difficulty, and after great effort – succeeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse.”

Theo sucked in a barely discernable breath, and from his place, Mattheo saw how Draco tensed beside his mother. This was all vital information that Remus would be desperate for.

“It is a start,” said Voldemort. “But Thicknesse is only one man. Scrimgeour must be surrounded by our people before I act. One failed attempt on the Minister's life will set me back a long way.”

“Yes, my Lord, that is true – but you know, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. It will, I think, be easy now that we have such a high-ranking official under our control, to subjugate the others, and then they can all work together to bring Scrimgeour down.”

“As long as our friend Thicknesse is not discovered before he has converted the rest,” said Voldemort. “At any rate, it remains unlikely that the Ministry will be mine before next Saturday. If we cannot touch the boy at his destination, then it must be done while he travels.”

“We are at an advantage there, my Lord,” said Yaxley, who seemed determined to receive some portion of approval. It made Mattheo scoff inwardly. No one gained the approval of Voldemort. Not even his only living heir.

“We now have several people planted within the Department of Magical Transport. If Potter Apparates or uses the Floo Network, we shall know immediately.”

“He will not do either,” Snape interupted with a barely hidden sneer. “The Order is eschewing any form of transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust everything to do with the place.”

“All the better,” said Voldemort. “He will have to move in the open. Easier to take, by far.”

Again, Voldemort looked up at the slowly revolving body as he went on, “I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs.”

The Death Eaters around the table watched Voldemort apprehensively, each of them, by his or her expression, afraid that they might be blamed for Harry Potter's continued existence. Voldemort, however, seemed to be speaking more to himself than to any of them, still addressing the unconscious body above him.

“I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be.”

He moved his hand in a barely there motion and the body broke free of its invisible bonds, hanging precariously over the dinner table.

“My loyal followers," he says with a sadistic grin, his arms outstretched. "I have a special treat for you all. A little...goft of sorts. Do you recognise our guest Severus? Mattheo?"

Mattheo raised his eyes to the upside down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, “Severus! Help me!”

It was her. The one they were tasked with finding. It was Charity Burbage.

Remus had staggered back when Mattheo finished telling them as much as he could without keeling over from the pain. But the message was clear: the mission to get Harry to Headquarters safely had been thwarted in more ways than they had anticipated; there was evidently a spy in their ranks and Remus couldn't help but think back bitterly to the first time around, his mind filled with the constant 'what ifs' that haunted him with every second that passed without Sirius by his side.

"We need to go forward with the back up plan." Mad Eye said gruffly, his mechanical eye sending shivers down your spine as it zeroed in on you. Mattheo's eyes narrowed, his hand, which rested on your thigh under the table, tightened with anticipation.

"I was under the impression that confusing the dates was the so-called back up plan for whatever it is you lot are scheming." He says, voice low from the excersion of fighting the Dark Mark plastered on his left arm, its curse prowling through his bloodstream like a viper waiting to strike.

"Meadow will be joining us on the mission." Made Eye says, choosing to ignore the seething heir sat opposite him.

Mattheo slams his fist on the table, before he points his finger angrily towards the Auror. "Like hell she is! You heard what I said. They plan to ambush you. She will not be put in harm's way."

"Her power is vital to us. We need her to protect Harry." Mad Eye argues back with equal ferosity, ignoring the way the others around the table watch with wide eys.

"No." Mattheo says with so much finality and malice, making the veins in his neck bulge and the fury in his eyes to ignite. You can feel his anger in your core, and you know nothing will calm him until he gets what he wants.

You make eye contact with Remus, who sits uncomfortably beside his comrade, and drown out the hurls of insults flying out of your boyfriend's mouth as you speak to him.

What will I have to do, if I agree? You ask, brows furrowed with nerves.

You would follow along with the rest of us, disguised as Harry using polyjuice potion. You and six others, so we can confuse the Death Eaters away from the real Harry. Remus tells you and you nod your head in acknowledgment; only Pansy is the one to notice the exchange amongst the shouting match that had transpired between Mattheo and Mad Eye Moody.

"What would Meadow have to do?" she asks, ignoring the way Mattheo's stare cuts through her like a knife. "No one can know that she's the siphon, so how will you protect her while protecting Potter?"

"She won't need protecting because she's not going anywhere." Mattheo seethes at his friend, who merely rolls her eyes at him.

"She is her own person Mattheo. Let Meadow decide for herself." Pansy snaps back, causing Mattheo to pause and turn to you.

You're sat silently, eyes focused only on Remus as he explains the plan in great detail to you. He admires you for a brief moment, drinking in the slope of your nose, the rosiness of your cheeks and the way your lips part in concentration. Mattheo's hand resting gently on your shoulder knocks your focus from your old professor.

"I'll do it." You say, your tone dripping with a certainty that would not be shaken. Mattheo bristles in his place. "Under one condition."

"Anything, Meadow." Remus says softly, his scarred face alight with gratitude.

"Harry cannot know." You say and hold up a hand when Remus tries to interrupt. "He can't. He doesn't trust me. If he sees me there's a high probability that he refuses to leave the Dursleys' home."

"How do you suggest we go about it then?" Mad Eye asks with a frustrated grunt.

"The final safehouse, between Surrey and the Burrow is Headquarters." You say, ignoring the looks from your friends. "The Death Eaters will no doubt suspect that so send me there. Don't send me to the Burrow."

"It's doable." Remus muses with a thoughtful expression.

"There are things in Grimmauld Place that Harry will need. I'll retrieve them for you to give to him at the wedding." you say, brushing your hands off of your trousers before moving to stand.

"You'll be at the wedding, Meadow." Remus says, but the way he's looking at you says he understands your hesitation.

After a moment of silence, Mad Eye is the one to speak.

"Then it's settled. Welcome to your first official induction into the Order Miss Meadow."

~∞~

surprise!!!!! im back baby!!!

a short and (not so?) sweet chapter for you lovely people! im so sorry ive left the story for so long but its a new year, and i have new aspirations that include actually finishing my works (😵‍💫) so more chapters to come!!

fair warning: we're entering deathly hallows territory so its gonna be angst central!!!!!

ive missed matty and meadow so much but i can't wait to do their story justice and im sorry this one was so short but honestly im enjoying building any and all suspense soooo....

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

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@whatsupb18

[feralrabidcrow]

What The Mercs Are Like Drunk

Scout: He gets super affectionate and sappy, going on and on about how much he loves all of the team and his brothers and his ma and everything else that he loves. He's also a total lightweight, to no one's surprise, and is usually the first to pass out completely when they're out at a bar.

Soldier: He's twice as likely to tackle someone for surprise wrestling, and thrice as likely to miss completely and fall flat on his face. He also gets much louder, which is impressive for a man as loud as him. He's noticeably clumsier, despite his efforts to hide it with overly confident movements.

Pyro: It's hard to notice when Pyro is drunk at first. The only real clues are if you listen closely to their mumbles, they sound slightly distorted, and when they walk, they stagger. Pyro doesn't drink nearly as much as the others, so seeing them drunk is a rare occasion.

Demoman: Drunk is his default state, the real question is how he acts when sober. (The answer is like a dying man.)

Heavy: Surprisingly, despite being the biggest guy on the team, Heavy is a lightweight with alcohol, and gets drunk quick. He's also a 'giggly' drunk, but with Heavy, giggly means ear-shattering guffaws that shake the building. He seems to find everything funny when he's drunk, no matter how mundane. He also gets clumsy, which can be dangerous when you're the size of a mountain.

Engineer: He hides it well when he's drunk, no one realizes he's had too much until he's falling out of his seat and throwing up. Engineer rarely gets drunk, as he's a bit of a heavyweight compared to the others, and usually doesn't drink to the point of drunkenness anyways. It always comes as a surprise when he's suddenly passed out on the floor.

Medic: He acts like his normal self, but dialed up to 120%. He's super chatty and giggly, telling gory medical malpractice stories with perhaps too much volume for a public bar. He loses pretty much all of what few inhibitions he has normally, and speaks his mind with zero filter whatsoever.

Sniper: He's a sleepy drunk, and usually passes out pretty early on. He loses his ability to speak coherently, only mumbling in a low annoyed voice. He also gets the worst hangovers known to man, so he avoids getting totally drunk when possible.

Spy: Spy would sooner die than get drunk around his team, because he loses control of his emotions completely when drunk. A large amount of the only times he has cried have been while drunk. He also goes from suave to the worst flirt you have ever seen, and he would rather save himself the embarrassment.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Twenty-One

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Twenty-One: Adventures in London

Summary: Kusuke uses Saiki's one weakness against him: (Y/N).

            “Kusuo, come to my research lab,” said Kusuke, smiling at Saiki. “I want to show you something.”

            After being dragged around London and losing the pieces of his receiver (because of his father, unsurprisingly), Saiki finally had his dampener fixed and could control himself and his abilities once more. Unfortunately, Kusuke’s mind still couldn’t be read due to the new device he’d created (which was frustrating for Saiki since his brother was always cooking up some new scheme).

            “Why can’t we go with you?” asked Mr. Saiki.

            “I want to see where you spend your days,” said Mrs. Saiki.

            “You can enjoy London by yourselves now,” said Kusuke. “I got you a reservation at a restaurant with great roast beef.”

            Mr. Saiki looked away nervously and addressed his wife. “Do you want to go on a date? I wouldn’t mind.”

            “Me? I wouldn’t mind, either,” said Mrs. Saiki shyly.

            “This isn’t your first date.”

            Still, Kusuke’s suggestion won, and Mr. and Mrs. Saiki disappeared for a nice date in London. That left Saiki and Kusuke together.

            “Those two never change,” said Kusuke as he started leading Saiki into the city.

            “What is your intention?” questioned Saiki instantly. “I have no interest in your lab.”

            “Let’s play rock-paper-scissors,” said Kusuke instead.

            “Don’t ignore me,” said Saiki.

            “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” said Kusuke. He played scissors, which lost against Saiki’s rock. “I lost,” said Kusuke, an awkward smile on his face.

            “Are you happy now? I’m going,” said Kusuo, turning to head away.

            “My record against you is zero wins and 725 losses now,” said Kusuke. “Your winning percentage is the lowest when you play rock. Well, I guess that’s because I chose to play scissors only 104 times. I have lost the word games thirty-1 times. I have also lost shogi fifty-nine times, chess ten times, and video games 189 times. I have also lost mah-jongg four times and the memory game seven times.”

            If (Y/N) was here, they’d comment on his obsession. That thought lightened Saiki’s mood.

            “There are others, too. Altogether, how many times have I lose against you?” continued Kusuke. “My total record against you is zero wins and 4,254 losses.”

            (Y/N) would call this creepy, decided Saiki fondly. Still, what is he scheming this time?

            “Hey, Kusuo, will you teleport us to this address and room?” asked Kusuke, holding out a paper.

            Saiki narrowed his eyes. “No.”

            “I’ll tell Mom and Dad if you don’t,” said Kusuke, smiling. “Don’t you want them to have a good time and know we’re having a good time?’

            Weaponizing Mom being upset at us. What a dirty trick, thought Saiki. “Whatever.” He took the paper, Kusuke put his hand on Saiki’s shoulder, and the pair disappeared and reappeared.

            “Wow, teleportation really is amazing,” said Kusuke.

            “Where are we? A hotel room? Are we in London—” His eyes widened in alarm as his heightened senses heard voices in the next room over—all very familiar. “That can’t be. I must have misheard.” A sweat drop appeared behind his head.

            “Did you figure it out already? Correct!” said Kusuke. He grinned creepily. “They are in the next room.”

            In the next room over, Nendou leaned out the window. “Wow, runt, pinky, look at this! The buildings look like drawings!”

            “Why did we have to come here for a surprise?” wondered Kaidou.

            “It’s for Kusuo,” said (Y/N). “But I’m just hoping he feels well. He wasn’t in school because he was sick…” They knew the real reason, but their concern was immense either way.

            In the other room, Saiki glared at Kusuke. “Why are they here!?”

            He was torn between annoyance and suspicion. Not only were Nendou and Kaidou troublesome at the best of times (though he was friends with them even if he would never admit it), but Saiki hadn’t expected Kusuke to involve (Y/N), and yet there they were, still worried about him. Saiki didn’t want Kusuke to pull (Y/N) into any of his schemes, and that irritated him immensely. (Still, the inkling of relief to have a person he cared about so deeply there with him still made an appearance).

            “I summoned them,” said Kusuke, smiling innocently. “I called them a day before your arrival. I asked them to come to London to surprise you. I sent them plane tickets.”

            “You’re kidding, they wouldn’t have—” Saiki interrupted himself. “Well, they—” Nendou and Kaidou, dumb as they were at times “—would. But (Y/N) should’ve known better.”

            “Really? They were the most worried about you.” Kusuke grinned. “ ‘Is Kusuo alright?’ They really seem to care.”

            Saiki glared at Kusuke. The last thing he needed was his brother figuring out anything about his feelings and interfering in his (nonexistent) love life.

            “Why did you bring them here?” demanded Saiki.

            “Let’s play a game, Kusuo,” said Kusuke.

            “A game?” Saiki curled one hand into a fist and punched it into the other.

            Not intimidated, Kusuke continued, “Let’s play tag in London.”

            “…What?” Saiki deadpanned even more than normal.

            “I lost rock-paper-scissors. I will be it,” said Kusuke. “The time limit is three hours. As long as you don’t leave London, you can take buses, taxis, or subways. Well, sounds like fun, right?”

            “What is the point? London is larger than the twenty-three wards of Tokyo,” said Saiki.

            “You will play with Kaidou and Nendou as well as (L/N) so that you can’t use your powers,” said Kusuke.

            “I don’t want to play,” said Saiki.

            “You don’t care what happens to those three? With one signal, I can make those two explore London and return to Japan,” said Kusuke.

            “(Y/N) would want to see me,” said Saiki. “They wouldn’t go along with it.”

            “If you win, I’ll treat you to afternoon tea in this hotel,” said Kusuke, knowing Saiki’s sweet tooth was his biggest weakness. Or, almost.

            “…What happens if you win?” said Saiki. He really wanted afternoon tea and the confections that came with it, but first he needed to understand Kusuke’s angle on top of just getting a win on the board.

            Kusuke smiled brightly. “If I win, I’ll tell (L/N) you have a crush on them.”

            Saiki’s jaw dropped open. What a brutal blow from Kusuke.

            “Did you think it was hidden? It’s obvious,” said Kusuke, waving a hand. “As soon as they said your first name and mentioned your receiver, I knew you were open with them. The pieces were simple to put together.” He grinned. “So, what do you say?”

            “We’re playing tag.” Saiki could not let Kusuke win—not if he wanted sweets and for his feelings to remain hidden. He wasn’t ready to admit anything, and he wouldn’t let Kusuke of all people do it for him.

l

            Saiki and Kusuke opened the door to the room (Y/N), Kaidou, and Nendou had been stuck in.

            “Hey, pal!” cried Nendou excitedly.

            “Did we surprise you?” said Kaidou, grinning. “We’re in London.”

            “How are you feeling, Saiki?” asked (Y/N), frowning.

            “I’m fine,” said Saiki, nodding and pointing to the repaired receiver.

            (Y/N) visibly relaxed and smiled. “I’m glad.”

            “Now come on, we have to get going,” said Saiki.

            “Huh?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

            “We’re playing tag,” said Kusuke with a wide grin.

            “Tag?” asked (Y/N), Kaidou, and Nendou.

            “I will be it, and Kusuo will hide. You three need to help him,” said Kusuke.

            “What about the surprise?” asked Kaidou in confusion.

            “He was surprised! We did it!” said Kusuke.

            “That was it?” said Kaidou.

            Knowing Saiki wouldn’t get involved with this of his own volition, (Y/N) looked at him. “You got bribed with sweets, didn’t you, Kusuo?”

            “Afternoon tea,” admitted Saiki.

            (Y/N) chuckled but smiled. “Alright, I’ll help. What are the rules?”

            “The time limit is three hours,” said Kusuke. “You can go anywhere within the borders of London. You can take buses, taxis, and subways. Get ready, start!” He pressed the start of a timer. “I will begin searching in thirty minutes. Run!”

            “Let’s go,” said Saiki, immediately grabbing (Y/N)’s wrist and hurrying to the street below.

            “What is this, Saiki? I don’t understand,” said Kaidou.

            Saiki took a map from a stand and glanced over it. “I’m sorry to involve you, but just shut up and follow me. This is a serious game.” Too much was on the line to mess around (sweets and his feelings).

            “Don’t worry, Kusuo, we have your back,” said (Y/N) brightly.

            “Isn’t this too easy? London is larger than Tokyo’s twenty-third ward,” said Kaidou.

            “There are cameras in the subway like on the street,” mused Saiki, focused on the game. “Well, we could put some distance between us.” He led them down towards the underground.

            “Your brother probably has a trick up his sleeve, doesn’t he?” said (Y/N).

            Saiki nodded (he actually responded to them).

            Sure enough, as they reached the bottom of the stairs, the shutter was down. The sign read “Tube Strike” in English.

            “Yare yare. There it is,” said Saiki.

            “He knew that the subways would be closed, which would make the lines for buses long,” said (Y/N). “Wow. He’s a genius.”

            “Don’t praise him, he’s as weird as everyone else in my family,” said Saiki.

            “We need to move fast!” said Kaidou, panicking. “He’ll be coming soon.”

            If he’s watching us, I’ll watch him. Saiki crossed his eyes. Clairvoyance. He saw his brother on a hang glider. He’s coming this way. He’s close. He can reach this place in five minutes.

            “What should we do?” said Nendou.

            “There!” said (Y/N), pointing. “Bikes for rent.”

            “Good idea.” Another reason Saiki liked (Y/N): they were actually helpful in these situations.

            “But there are only three, and there are four of us,” said Kaidou worriedly.

            “I can stand on the spokes on the back of one. I’ve done it a ton with Mera,” said (Y/N).

            Saiki pulled out a bike. “Get on.”

            “Are you su—”

            “We don’t have time.”

            Saiki didn’t want to admit this was nerve-wracking since he wasn’t a fan of touch usually, but he was choosing this. And it was (Y/N). He was comfortable with them. Of course, he also just didn’t want them to be so close to someone else, and with the other idiots with them, Saiki only trusted himself to keep them safe from Kusuke (not that there was really any danger, but Saiki had to justify this to himself without just getting to the point that he had a crush on (Y/N) and wanted to be close).

            “Alright,” said (Y/N), getting onto the back and holding onto Saiki’s shoulders as he began pedaling.

            Their cheeks warmed as they held onto him, and they fought to remain composed and focused. Their feelings were strong, but that didn’t mean they could lose focus and mess this up for Saiki. That would ruin any of (Y/N)’s chances to be close with Saiki.

            On his part, Saiki kept a straight face as usual, but he kept his eyes carefully ahead instead of glancing at (Y/N)’s hands on him. They were warm even through his clothes, and his heartbeat quickened as their proximity.

            Still, they all managed to remain focused on the task at hand and turned through a few streets and alleys to escape Kusuke. The bicycles were working. Unfortunately, not everyone riding them was working. Kaidou’s terrible stamina caught up, and he collapsed to the side.

            “Let’s take a break,” he gasped.

            “We’ve been biking for fifteen minutes,” said Saiki. “But we did try to avoid cameras. We should be alright. If we move around too much, he’ll detect our location. Perhaps we should’ve move location.”

            “That’s what you think!”

            From above, Kusuke dropped in with a motorcycle. Saiki and (Y/N) threw themselves out of the way.

            “Seriously?! Why is he here?!” cried Kaidou.

            “Are you alright?” asked Saiki, helping (Y/N) stand, and they nodded.

            “So cool!” said Nendou.

            “This isn’t the time for that!” cried Kaidou.

            (Y/N) and Saiki jumped back onto their bicycle, and all four sped out of the alley with Kusuke on their heels.

            “How did he find us?!” said (Y/N) over the rush of wind. “We avoided cameras!”

            “Maybe he has psychic powers,” joked Nendou.

            “It would run in the family,” said (Y/N) quietly, chuckling.

            “If he did, that would be terrible,” said Saiki. Luckily, his brother was just a genius, not a psychic.

            “Does he have a tracking device?” said Kaidou, giving a much more plausible idea.

            Saiki’s eyes widened. “My control device.”

            “He put a tracking device in it,” groaned (Y/N).

            “That jerk.” Saiki looked back, his eyes glowed, and a piece of Kusuke’s motorcycle broke to stop him in his tracks. He biked on, leaving his brother behind.

            They only stopped once they reached a giant department store, and Saiki led them in to try to lose Kusuke in the crowds.

            “As long as he knows our location, this is better than walking around,” said Saiki. “We need to avoid standing out.”

            (Y/N) coughed to avoid laughing. “Good luck with that.”

            Nendou was already driving a tiny kid toy car around the store, and Kaidou was examining all of the gaming equipment.

            “We have an announcement,” said the PA system, except it spoke with Kusuke’s voice. He was up to something again.

            “That voice?”

            “Uh-oh, he’s trying another tactic,” said (Y/N).

            “Please look for three young Japanese teenagers,” said Kusuke. “One has pink hair and has climbed Big Ben. Another has (H/C) hair and dressed up as a Grenadier Guard. A third is a bad child with shifty eyes who calls football ‘soccer.’ Another is a serial killer gorilla.”

            “Is the gorilla Nendou?” said (Y/N), not really fazed by the strangeness of Kusuke’s strategy. They had heard stranger things.

            “Definitely,” said Saiki.

            “It’s them!” cried an English man, pointing at the group. “Get them!”

            Instantly, a crowd converged on them, and they took off running. Saiki led them into a bathroom and a stall. People began to bang on the door, and (Y/N)’s eyes widened. They were pinned, and with the tracking device and the crowd, Kusuke would find them in an instant.

            “Okay, everyone, don’t worry,” said Kusuke’s voice in the bathroom.

            “He’s almost here!” whispered (Y/N) urgently.

            “That was a false announcement,” said Kusuke.

            “Oh, really?” murmured the crowd, slowly dispersing.

            “Up,” whispered (Y/N) to Saiki.

            He looked at them, and (Y/N) pointed up.

            “Up,” they repeated.

            Saiki’s eyes widened as he got the message, and he mentally thanked the world for giving him a friend like (Y/N). For all the trouble they got into and their air-headedness, they came through at all the rights moments.

            Saiki teleported them all a floor up. There was no change in the layout of the bathroom, so Kaidou and Nendou didn’t notice. Best of all, though? Kusuke’s tracker wouldn’t see the change in elevation. He would open the door of the stall below and find nothing.

            “Time’s up,” said Saiki.

            Kusuke had lost once more.

            “We won!” cheered Nendou.

            “Now do we get to really explore London?” said Kaidou excitedly.

            “Do whatever you want,” said Saiki. He opened the stall door and walked out. He had a prize to collect. “(Y/N), do you want to come to tea with me?” Kaidou and Nendou might tail after him, but what mattered was if (Y/N) came or not. They made any additional company so much more bearable.

            (Y/N) grinned. “Of course!”

            Saiki’s hearts warmed at their brightness.

l

            “So are Kusuo and Saiki always like that?” asked (Y/N), taking a sip of their tea and looking at Mr. and Mrs. Saiki.

            Saiki himself was glad that (Y/N) used his first name now since if they called him and Kusuke the same thing, he’d just get frustrated to be lumped in with him.

            Mrs. Saiki laughed. “Oh, yes, since they were small. They’re always competing. It’s so cute.”

            “Troublesome is more like it,” said Saiki. “He never stops challenging me.”

            “They’re brothers. Brothers are like that,” said Mr. Saiki.

            “No, he’s just a nuisance.”

            (Y/N) chuckled. “Well, it was kind of fun. I mean, I don’t have siblings of my own to compete with, so running around with Kaidou and Nendou and Kusuo was a real adventure.”

            Saiki looked at them and their shy smile. Okay, fine. So maybe the entire situation hadn’t been that bad since he got to spend time with them and it made them happy. Saiki would never admit it out loud, but he was thankful that Kusuke’s endless competitiveness led to more bonding with (Y/N) and their joy.

l

            “Morning, Kusuo! Where are your parents?” asked (Y/N).

            “On another date,” said Saiki. It was the following day, and there was still time until they were scheduled to return to Japan, so his parents were taking advantage of the time.

            “That’s cute,” said (Y/N), smiling. They liked how in-love Saiki’s parents were. It was how married couples should be.

            “Where are Nendou and Kaidou?” asked Saiki.

            “They went back to the department store to buy souvenirs,” said (Y/N).

            “Of course they did,” said Saiki.

            “Do you have anything you want to do?” asked (Y/N).

            “Not particularly,” said Saiki.

            “Well, I was thinking of going for a walk to find a bookstore and then head to a café to read,” said (Y/N). They shifted nervously. “Do you want to go together?”

            “Yes.” The answer was instant, unusual for Saiki.

            (Y/N) brightened. “Really?”

            Saiki nodded.

            “Awesome,” said (Y/N), grinning ear-to-ear.

l

            Soon enough, Saiki and (Y/N) ended up in a bookstore off the trodden main roads of London. It was quaint and lovely, quiet and private.

            “They have so many books,” said (Y/N), looking at each excitedly.

            “Can you read English?” asked Saiki.

            “Not perfectly, but I’m trying to improve,” said (Y/N), laughing sheepishly. “That’s why I’m trying to find a book that interests me. Then I can improve my vocabulary outside of just what school assigns.”

            Saiki nodded, understanding. “How about this one?” He handed over a book.

            “Pride…and…Prej-Prejudiice,” said (Y/N), trying to sound out the words. They brightened. “Oh, I’ve seen the movie for this. I love it!”

            “What type of story is it?” asked Saiki.

            “A romance between a headstrong woman and a man who doesn’t know how to show his feelings,” said (Y/N). “It’s so cute.”

            “Would you watch the movie again with me? Maybe over break?” said Saiki, daring to ask (Y/N) for a private moment with them that wasn’t their usual homework or cooking. This was something more akin to what many considered a date. It was a risk to ask, but Saiki wanted to be closer to (Y/N). He wanted to show that he cared.

            (Y/N)’s cheeks warmed, and their smile softened. “I’d love to, Kusuo, but are you sure you want to interrupt your time alone?”

            “I don’t mind spending time with someone when it’s you,” said Saiki. “You’re my…you’re my best friend.” He avoided eye-contact, unused to his own honesty.

            (Y/N)’s heart nearly burst, and, overwhelmed with their own emotions, they dared to reach out and touch Saiki’s hand. “I’m glad you like spending time with me, Kuso. I really like i. You’re my…well, you’re my best friend, too.”

            Saiki looked down at the hand touching his own, and he let himself take their hand and give it a gentle squeeze. Neither had spoken the complete truth of their feelings, but it was enough. They both cared about the other. That was all their hearts needed to know for now.

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[bits-and-babs]

Im so sorry I didn’t see this till after request were closed but so idk if you gon see this but, f!reader had her nipples pierced? I’m sorry but I feel like price would be obsessed with readers piercings like if she had a tongue piercing too? Manz would go crazy. Smut? Dw if not <33

✦ 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 6: NIPPLE PIERCINGS

cds!john price x recruit!reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words

summary: three months into your sas training course, chief directional instructor captain john price drills you on cold-water-shock survival.

cw: f!reader, cold water shock, power imbalance (recruit x directing staff), secret relationship, breast/nipple play, p in v sex, cream pie.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 7: INCUBUS ⇾

It wasn’t as though there hadn’t been sufficient warning, but three years of service in the British army was nowhere near enough to prepare your body for the brutal battering that SAS selection subjected it to. Your blisters had blisters, and your body pulsed with a bone-deep ache every time you managed to crawl into bed upon dismissal. 

You had been sufficiently warned… About everything except this. 

Freezing cold water drips from your nose as you hoist yourself out of the pool at the base of the waterfall. Cold-Water-Shock training was a standard part of SAS selection– the ability to control your own discomfort and maintain a level head whilst also teaching the fundamentals of surviving sub-zero. January weather meant temperature levels were unsurvivable past a handful of seconds, and you could feel why. 

The process was simple. Fully submerge yourself into the icy depths before raising to the surface and keeping your chin above water. Next step; breathe. Regain composure and steady your breathing to fight the effects of cold-shock. Recruitment Staff would then ask you a handful of simple questions to assess competency before heaving you out of the water. 

You’d passed, you felt, with flying colours. The savagery of the otherworldly Brecon Beacons had failed to shake your resolve, answering the questions with ease. Even now, drenched to the bone and involuntarily trembling, you maintained a strong eye contact with Chief Directional Instructor Price as he eyed you with a stern expression. 

It’s momentary— barely there. You’d have missed it had you blinked. Price’s thick eyelashes, made damp by the sleet that had been battering the group all morning, dipped below your face. Sapphire blue irises glint in the low light when they zero in on their target. You hadn’t worn a bra this morning given you’d been forced out of bed at the arse-crack of dawn and expected to be in the van within five minutes… They’d left you little to no choice. 

Regardless of this reasonable explanation, you suddenly begin to regret your decision to forgo the cover, Staff Price gazing at the way your grey t-shirt clings to your pebbled nipples and the exposed shape of the piercing balls either side of each mound. 

“That’ll be all, 16,” he says, that raspy grit to his voice warming you from the inside-out. That fever encroaches on the apples of your cheeks when you realise he’s yet to pull his eyes away. 

“… Yes Staff.”

✦✦✦

“You did that on purpose.”

John’s voice, husky and full, was surprisingly even considering how tight your pussy walls clenched around his thick, veiny cock. You wail quietly at the soft breath that dances across your assaulted skin, nipples so incredibly sensitive. Sucked and nibbled and licked, the tender skin screams when Price drags the flat of his tongue over your pierced nipple with a delighted hum. 

“N-No—“ you choke out, the overstimulation of your nipples sending another shockwave of bliss down your spine. You know you’re squeezing him, because John ruts up into your fluttering pussy with a far less composed groan. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to!”

“You’re not foolin’ anyone, Love,” John murmurs, gently taking your pebbled nipple between his teeth and rolling it. 

You see stars— swirls of technicolour dancing behind your eyelids with how tightly you squeeze them shut against the cataclysmic pleasure that seeps between your thighs. When John jerks his hips up again, you can hear how wet you are. It’s sloppy, disgustingly soaked, and Price loves it. 

“Fuckin’— Hah-“ John moans against the supple flesh of your breast, wrapping his lips around it and sucking on the hypersensitised skin. This time, when you arch your back from the bed with a wail of his name, he begins a slow and leisurely pace with his hips. 

Burying your fingers into the short-crop of his hair, you brace against the ticking bomb of your orgasm as it approaches. Each long stroke of John’s hips makes another disgustingly wet sound, your cunt greedily sucking him in and creaming around his throbbing dick as he flicks his tongue back and forth across your abused nipple. His other palm, battle calloused and rough, squeezed the other breast, thumb equally torturing your second nipple. 

It comes in waves; cresting, crashing tsunamis rather than soft laps of the ocean on a beach. A prickling heat that singes away the Beacon’s icy cold from your toes and creeps up the inside of your thighs. Your heart slams against John’s lips, your hands pushing into the back of his head to keep him there while you chase what could only be described as liquidation. 

“Ohmygod—“ you slur, and it’s as though the edges of your vision blacken. In truth, you’re not sure what you call him as you come apart on his cock, sobbing out a hapless string of garbled noises that don’t sound anything like his name. Toes curling either side of his hips, you fail to brace against the overstimulation that rips violently through you. 

“Fucken’ ‘ell—“ he groans deeply, a guttural growl that seems to vibrate the atoms in the air around you. The deliberate, methodical thrusts of his hips suddenly pitch to a sloppy, desperate gallop. John’s hands grasp the bed sheets so tight you almost hear the threads strain against the pull. 

He cums, coating the inside of your cunt with a rumble of your name that sounds so foreign to your ears with the afterglow buzzing in your eardrums. John continues to fuck you through it, taking pleasure in the way you squirm and squeal and cry until his cum seeps between your legs, coating the inside of your thighs with his seed. 

Sharp, heaving breaths echo in his small quarters, and you’re almost certain that his fellow DS had definitely heard you this time. But when John places his damp forehead to yours, eyes closed as he relishes in the bliss of being so close to you for just a moment longer, you struggle to find it in yourself to worry. 

“You should wear a bra,” John mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips— but missing in the haze of post-orgasm-bliss and settling for a peck on the corner of your mouth. 

“Why?” You muse, still a little breathless as he works his lips down your chin and over your jaw. The gruff, burly Chief of Directing Staff was so affectionate when the door was closed. You knew that this thing you had going on was more serious than a thing when you stopped being anxious about getting caught and being kicked off the course— instead stressing about John offering his tenderness to another recruit. “If this is how you react to seeing me with a wet shirt and no bra, I’ll dunk myself in that water every damn day.”

In a moment of sobriety, John pulls back to look you in the eye. His aquamarine irises hold a heavy seriousness that makes your breath stall for a moment, afraid you’d said something out of line. 

“Love, I completed that whole trainin’ session with a rock hard cock.” 

A beat. 

Just before peals of laughter burst from you. John rolls his eyes, turning onto his back on the mattress. Still, he’s unable to bite back the smile that pulls on his lips.

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