#and that there wasn't an opportunity for escape

[tobi-smp]

I don't want to hold anything against this specific person, because I Remember the discourse that lead to this and I know exactly how it could get passed around and warped (either through telephone or someone's own memory shifting with time).

that said, I never liked that discourse specifically Because it was a clear misreading of the text, and what better opportunity do I have to talk about it now.

the context was the bench trio therapy stream. tommy had been beaten to death by dream, sat in limbo for months, and then revived and told Explicitly that dream was planning on escaping prison and tormenting the rest of the server.

the mindset that tommy is in is that he Has to do something, but he's deeply traumatized by what's happened to him. he's Scared to go back to the prison, but he has no choice but to do it for the safety of everyone else in the server.

the "therapy stream" was bench trio Trying to do exposure therapy on tommy to help him work through his trauma in the lead up to attempting to infiltrate the prison. and the entire point is that they Absolutely Were Not actually helping.

what they were Actually doing was triggering tommy by exposing him to things that he was traumatized by, because they didn't actually know how to do exposure therapy and what they were trying to do wasn't healthy in the first place.

so the Context of this conversation is tommy desperately trying to just, Get Rid Of his trauma (something that is absolutely not possible) while entering a worse and worse mindset because he was intentionally triggering himself.

Likewise, the context for Tubbo's half of the conversation is that he Very Intentionally represses his own trauma, both from Himself and from other people. he puts himself in a little box that he buries under the floorboards and asks people to ignore the way the boards creak when they walk on him.

there's a million ways you could cut Why he does this. part it is his people pleasing, willingly pushing himself down for the sake of everyone else no matter how painful. seeing Himself as an accessory to the people he cares about, rather than a whole complete and important person. and in part because it feels Safer, it's Safer to pretend that nothing hurt him.

and Why that is is complicated. part of it is External. he doesn't Get to be angry about what he's been through, because the people he's angry At will just hurt him again. and if he thinks about how he's hurt then he Will get angry, so he just Won't Think About It.

and part of it is that I don't think he wants to process his trauma any more than tommy does. because it's painful, because he doesn't have the tools to actually work through it, because they aren't Safe so he can't afford to break down now (trouble is, there never Seems to be a "safe" time to think about himself).

they're the Repression Brothers. the difference being that tommy's at a different stage of it. not a Healthy One, but different.

tommy spent months not being able to put into words what exile was, what pogtopia was, was the final control room was. and he still won't be able to put it in plain words for some time from here.

but he's reached the point where he Can't ignore it anymore, but he still doesn't know what to Do about it. he's still frustrated with an (to an extent) Ashamed Of his trauma. he feels Lesser Than he was before and wants it to all just go away and go back to Normal.

he's doing this because he Has To, because he Has to be strong enough to fight dream. because if he's too scared to do it then he'd be sacrificing everyone else's safety.

he and tubbo are doing the Same Thing in different fonts, sacrificing their well being for the people Around Them, including Each Other.

so, lets go back to that moment that started all of this.

the exposure therapy was on the final control room section, with tommy working through having been killed by dream.

tubbo mentions that he died that night too, and tommy says something to the effect of "you did, but you have thicker skin."

this has been taken out of context to mean "you did, but I have it worse than you," when IN CONTEXT it means "you did, but you're stronger than me," or more accurately "you did, But I'm Worse Than You."

tommy does not see his trauma in the context of stupid apologist discourse. he sees his trauma as something that makes him Worse, as something he Shouldn't Feel. as something that makes him Weaker than everyone else, who Obviously are so much more put together than he is.

when he says this he's not saying that he's more important than tubbo, he's putting himself down in comparison TO tubbo.

and this is absolutely still harmful ! This is legitimately one of tommy's character flaws ! but it is Not the selfishness that people make it out to be.

it's tommy accidentally hurting other people by seeing Himself negatively. it's an unhealthy relationship with mental health, and a Realistic one considering the circumstances and setting.

likewise, it's Just As Much born from tubbo's own unhealthy coping mechanisms. tommy assumes that what happened didn't bother tubbo the way it did him because Tubbo wants him to think that.

Tubbo doesn't let tommy see how much he's hurting, which in turn feeds into this cycle.

tubbo assumes he Has to shove his trauma down for tommy's sake (for the sake of Everyone he cares about), and so tommy assumes tubbo was just Stronger than him and wants desperately to just shove his own trauma away the way tubbo seems to be able to.

this moment IS tragic, it IS an example of the two of them hurting each other. but it's BECAUSE OF HOW MUCH THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER !!!

Both Of Them are trying to be strong enough to protect the other, and it's Hurting Them. it's unhealthy, but it 's not Malicious. it's self-sacrificial not Selfish. it's not something they've done to each other but what's been done To Them by the world they live in. what they've done to Themselves trying to live in it.

this shouldn't have been a discourse moment, it should've been clingyduoers tearing each other apart in the street at the tragedy of it

[akutsuir]

⎯⎯ ୨ 𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 ୧ ⎯⎯

ᯓ Synopsis: he preferred to take drastic measures before you even had the opportunity to think about leaving him

ᯓ Character: Childe/Ajax

ᯓ Warnings: mentions of non-con, broken bones, kidnapping, forced relationship

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣'𝙩? 𝙎𝙤 𝙄 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

He knew from the beginning that you wouldn't accept the relationship willingly, and although the adrenaline of the hunt and the chase pleased him greatly, with you it was completely different.

He could easily take all the insults and meltdowns you would have, the hate you would direct at him, the objects thrown at him, everything, except seeing you try to leave him.

When you woke up in a bed that was clearly bigger than the one you usually slept in every night, a horrible feeling settled in your chest. It wasn't long before you felt a sharp pain in your lower body, your eyes instinctively going to your legs, only to find them completely bandaged.

It was like your mind went blank, you couldn't even scream despite the unbearable pain you felt. You didn't realize you were crying until you felt Childe's warm hand gently wipe away a tear that fell from your eyes. He tried to comfort you by saying that as long as you were with him, you wouldn't have to worry about your now completely unusable legs.

He gave you some teas with medicinal herbs that alleviated the pain minimally. Until you got used to that situation, he was the one who did everything for you, the hatred you felt for the man who put you in that place was also clear. That's why he tried to please you by bringing things that could entertain you while you were stuck in bed, with no way to get out to try and distract yourself at least a little.

You didn't disobey Childe, you were afraid that he would decide to break another part of your body, or worse, you were afraid to think that he might not even let your two legs recover completely before crushing them again. So, even with the hatred that took over you, when he used your body at night like you were a rag doll, you never tried to push him away using your hands. You felt like vomiting as he placed unwanted kisses on the same legs he had destroyed, you held back your tears as he forced you to look him in the eyes as he went deeper and deeper inside you, the unbearable pain increasing with each animalistic thrust from him. When he was done, he would clean you up with all the tenderness in the world, give you a hot bath and take you back to bed, there, he would wrap his arms around you as you both fell asleep.

You knew from the beginning that his intention in immobilizing you was to prevent you from making any attempt to escape, and now you knew that this idea had done exactly what he wanted from you. After all, you were absolutely sure that even after you regained the ability to move, you would never try to run away from him even once.

tags;

[nuria-schnee]

Hi everyone! ❤️ In this week's sneak peek, the boys are having an emotional conversation in the cupboard.

Melancholy had been ever-present since he died. In all honesty, admitting it was even more complicated than bearing it. Only by thinking about it something actually seemed to crack and shatter inside his mind, in his chest. He couldn't allow himself to look into it, knowing he would find something ugly and contorted behind it. That night, the evening before their travel, Charles had found himself alone, which hadn't been usual in the last months. Edwin was at Crystal's, finishing up the preparations for the following day and assuring everything would go smoothly. Charles had stayed at the agency, in charge of checking they had the correct supplies stored in his bag. He had checked twice already, but Edwin hadn't returned yet. This had left Charles with too much time to think, which was precisely what he didn't need then. In the end, he couldn't help to get sucked into his own thoughts. The agency seemed too empty when he was by himself. Restless, he tried to distract himself and failed in every attempt. Admitting his defeat against his mind, Charles dared to look this melancholy in the eye. He walked around the agency, taking in every bit of it, every corner, every memory snatched into it— Of course, he knew everything by memory. However, he did it all over again, slowly, just in case. Just in case was becoming a motto for him lately, and he hated it. Every time he did or said something just in case he couldn't have the opportunity later, the reminder that such a thing was a tangible possibility haunted him for hours after the thought popped into his mind. It was a curious terror to have, being already dead and all.

In Port Townsend, Charles had actually feared to lose Edwin. They had been facing every kind of danger for decades, so being in risky situations wasn't a novelty. Besides, they had been running from Death all that time, and sometimes, it had been a close call before they had escaped. So, he had felt traces of that anxiety, that fear of losing Edwin forever, other times. Nothing like losing him to Hell, though. Not like the fear of being too late, chained in a kitchen for hours, hearing him scream while Esther Finch tortured him. Not to that extent. That night, when the Summoner had appeared and attacked them, Charles had sensed Edwin's energy flickering out. It lasted less than a millisecond, but Charles noticed anyway. After so many years protecting him, he had a sixth sense in that regard, and he knew the Summoner had tried to drag Edwin away, pull him into wherever he was stuffing ghosts into. The look of panicked confusion in Edwin's eyes had been enough confirmation. Even so, Edwin still had to talk to Charles about it, and, considering how things were, he wouldn't until e they were back from the mission. He couldn't shake the worry away, no matter how hard he tried. After a while, Charles dragged himself to the cupboard and lingered there. That was how Edwin found him, tracing one of their Cluedos as if he could sense every memory attached to it through the gesture. "Charles?" Edwin's voice sounded behind his back. Charles turned around right away, fining his soft eyes on him, a slight frown marring his forehead. "What are you doing?" Charles dropped his arm, shrugging and put his hands in his jeans' pockets. "Nothing. Just remembering." Edwin arched a brow. "Remembering?" Charles shrugged again, and Edwin softened, his face falling into a gentle understanding. He stepped into the cupboard and stood in front of Charles. "Everything is settled for tomorrow," Edwin informed him, catching him off guard. "Have you checked we have everything we need in your bag?" "Yep. Super checked." Charles gave him a little smile. "Perfect." Silence hovered between them after that. Charles watched Edwin as he dropped his eyes to the space between them for a few seconds. Just in case, Charles kept his mouth shut and stared at his friend for as long as Edwin allowed that moment to last, tracing his features with his eyes for the umpteenth time in almost forty years. However, his gaze caught on the way he blinked slowly, his lashes casting a soft shadow over his cheeks. When Edwin finally fixed his eyes on him, which he received openly, a gentle tingling burst in his chest. Charles smiled at him, but it was too late to rectify when he noticed his sadness filtering through it. "Is something on your mind?" Edwin asked, voice hushed. Charles had the impulse to close the cupboard and turn off the light. There, he could keep Edwin safe and keep them together. No one but Charles would get close to him that way. "I am aware I have not been as present as usual lately," Edwin said, regret dripping through his words. "With the disappearances and now this— I wish you to know I am sorry if I have neglected you in any way." For a few seconds, Charles was speechless, not knowing how to answer. He couldn't imagine why Edwin was apologising. And, alright—Of course, Charles had missed spending time with him and had tried to drag Edwin into relaxing for a bit sometimes (unsuccessfully). But they had both worked on it. Both of them had been too preoccupied to actually worry about finding some time to spend outside the case. "Mate, you haven't. We've been busy with what's been going on. I don't feel left out or something. Why do you even think that?"

Edwin seemed sheepish, which baffled Charles even more. He didn't avert his eyes but clearly fought the need to. "It was only a hunch," Edwin answered. "Since I have found you in the cupboard, stroking our oldest Cluedo." The statement made Charles squirm a little. He bowed his head with a guilty, nervous smile and breathed in, gathering strength before looking up again. "I guess I'm a bit worried," Charles admitted, guessing it would be better to share his thoughts with his best friend, after all. "The Summoner— I know he tried to do something. And after Port Townsend—" After Hell and after Ester went unsaid, but Edwin, considering how his face turned stone serious, Charles knew he had heard the silent part in his speech anyway. Charles gulped, wanting to put his hands on Edwin's shoulders and pull him closer, as close as he could get him, but he had to fight once more the impulse. "I don't know what I'll do if— If something happened to you," Charles added, voice so tiny it almost drowned in the silence of the cupboard. "If I couldn't— If I'm not fast enough to—" Charles struggled, but Edwin understood him regardless. Edwin understood him as if he were a unique language written in a book born from both their souls. Every word and structure was familiar and expected, even when incomplete, and easier to comprehend and use than any other. Edwin stared at him, a reassuring smile curving his lips and his eyes shining with absolute tenderness. "I do not think, Charles, that any entity in the universe will beat the unmovable force that is your resolution capacity once you have put your wit into it," Edwin assured him, joy tainting his tone, making Charles feel a bit like crying. "Just as I am certain you will reach me if I ever find myself in trouble." Charles gulped, trying to answer, to tell Edwin he would, even if he was doubting himself, he would. Always. Instead, he reached for his hand, taking it softly into his, and nodded shakily.

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[elysiaheaven]

𝗡𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱-𝟮𝟱-(The Fox's Wedding)

Words:3132

Mentions of k!lling

Hoolay, his demeanor cold and calculating, faced Jiaoqiu with a mocking smile. "Perfect chance? To return to my weak and shattered pack, at the mercy of a ridiculous false prophet, and become a mere puppet in her clutches? Heh, her plan is full of flaws. The only paths she has prepared for you are escape and death."

He then turned his piercing gaze toward Jiaoqiu. "Listen up, a wolf never allows itself to become prey. From now on, you'll follow my orders."

Jiaoqiu, stunned by the sudden shift, could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Wait, what did you just say?"

Mok Tok, clearly unsettled, interjected, "But my Lord...!"

Hoolay's eyes narrowed, a hint of menace in his voice. "Would an alpha wolf ever listen to a cub, Mok Tok?"

Mok Tok quickly lowered his gaze, his voice trembling. "No, I've never heard anything like that... I... I wasn't trying to defy your will. I will always unquestioningly follow your orders."

Hoolay, ignoring Mok Tok's plea, continued with an unsettling calm. "I'm offering you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Don't you want to run away, Jiaoqiu?"

Jiaoqiu's face was etched with confusion and concern. "What game are you playing?"

Hoolay's smile widened, his voice laced with dark amusement. "Just a little pre-hunt entertainment. Don't you want to run away? I'm giving you a chance to see the ports and report back to me."

Your eyes widened in shock and disbelief as Hoolay's words sank in. You struggled against the cage, your fear and confusion giving way to a desperate resolve. "What... what are you planning to do?"

Hoolay's gaze flicked towards you, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "You Jiaoqiu, too, will aid me in this little game. After all, foxian like you always obediently return to their masters... no matter how far they run away."

Jiaoqiu, realizing the gravity of the situation, looked at you with a mixture of concern and determination. "Y/n, we need to get out of this. I'll figure something out. But you must be ready to act quickly."

You, despite the overwhelming fear and uncertainty, nodded. "I... I will do whatever it takes. But we need to find a way to stop Hoolay and Mok Tok."

Hoolay, pleased with your response, turned to Mok Tok. "Make sure they understand their roles. I expect results, or the consequences will be dire."

Mok Tok nodded, though his face was filled with apprehension. "Yes, my Lord."

Jiaoqiu, couldn't believe his luck. "I can't believe he actually let me go... What game is he playing?" His thoughts raced as he considered his options. "Perhaps I can try to warn the Cloud Knights... No, maybe escaping might be the best course of action..But Y/n...."

He scanned his surroundings, noting the sharp pressure of a foxian's cold gaze. The look carried an unspoken warning: "Every clever little thought you bear might lead to severe consequences you will come to regret."

Jiaoqiu's expression hardened. "Just as I expected... He's testing me."

As he continued toward the port, his mind churned with concerns. "The Cloud Knights must have been aware of the situation inside The Shackling Prison for some time. Will General Feixiao personally lead a squad to capture Hoolay?"

Suddenly, a sharp, familiar pain made him flinch. 

"Y/n?" Jiaoqiu's eyes widened in shock. "What are you—"

You clutched his hand tightly, your expression full of pain and worry. "Jiaoqiu, be careful. Hoolay's games are dangerous... I will come with you tho,every step I take is like walking on a bed of needles."

Jiaoqiu could see the glass shards embedded in your hands and the pain etched across your face. Despite the agony, you tried to control your expressions, maintaining a semblance of calm. "I... I need to warn you. Don't go too far."

Jiaoqiu, torn between his mission and your condition, took a deep breath. "Alright, I understand. But we need to find a way to stop this madness."

He continued to move towards the port, his pace slower now as he kept a watchful eye on you. "I can't risk being seen trying to escape, and someone is definitely keeping an eye on me," he thought, glancing over his shoulder.

Jiaoqiu's mind was a whirlwind of strategies and concerns. "I'll do as Hoolay asked for now, but I need to find a way to alert the Cloud Knights without drawing attention."

Jiaoqiu stood silently before Hoolay, his eyes cold and resolute. "You're back, Jiaoqiu," Hoolay's voice slithered into the stillness. The wolfish leader's eyes gleamed, waiting for any sign of defiance or betrayal.

Jiaoqiu met his gaze without flinching. "You were watching me closely, weren't you? If I had sought help, your people would have killed them on the spot. Was that your plan all along, Hoolay?"

Hoolay grinned darkly, leaning back with a subtle nod. "Smart as always. You're quick to understand. I told you to go check the situation at the port, but I never said you could speak to anyone."

Jiaoqiu clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He had walked through the streets, ignoring his instincts to seek help from the Cloud Knights, avoiding anyone who might be caught in the crossfire. He had seen the watchful eyes following him, the threat hanging in the air like a knife waiting to drop. But you... you had been with him all along, limping silently by his side, enduring the pain of the glass shards still embedded in your skin.

"Why?" Jiaoqiu growled, his voice thick with frustration. "Why this game? What do you gain from holding everyone's life in your hands like this?"

You glanced between them, keeping your emotions in check. Your steps had been agonizing, the glass shards cutting deeper into your feet with every movement. But you didn't let it show. Not now. Not when it was clear that Hoolay was savoring his control over both of you.

"You did the right thing, Jiaoqiu," you said softly, your voice steady despite the pain. "You didn't involve the Cloud Knights. But that doesn't mean he's done testing you."

Hoolay let out a low chuckle, watching the two of you with interest. "Ah, Y/n. Always the clever one, aren't you? But cleverness won't save either of you here."

He leaned forward, his expression darkening. "You're here because you want to play the game. If you had sought help, I would have had my men execute them in front of you. The more hope you hold, the greater your pain when I snuff it out. But you didn't—so now you remain in my hands, just like everyone else."

Jiaoqiu's heart pounded in his chest as he stared into Hoolay's cold, unfeeling eyes. There was no way out of this. No matter what choice he made, someone would suffer. He had taken the safer path, but it still led to the same end: submission to Hoolay's twisted game.

"You're doing this to prove that you hold all the cards, aren't you?" Jiaoqiu muttered bitterly.

Hoolay smiled, baring his teeth. "Exactly. You may have made it back here without seeking help, but that just means I get to enjoy this a little longer. Watching you both struggle... it's truly delightful."

Hoolay hurted Jiaoqiu!

What are you just staring at them! Do something!

 The moment Jiaoqiu winced from the pain, you couldn't hold it in anymore. A strangled cry escaped your throat, the sound raw and desperate. You rushed toward him, heart racing in your chest, but before you could reach him, something far worse happened.

"Ahhhh!!!!! Kill hoolay now!" You screamed at a borisin nearby. You could control their minds...Thank god!

A nearby borisin, stirred by your scream, lunged at Hoolay, as if trying to strike in your defense. For a split second, everything froze. The air was thick with anticipation, but Hoolay didn't flinch. Instead, with effortless precision, he stopped the creature mid-attack, his strength overpowering it with ease. His hand found its way to the doll that had been clutched in his grip, the one that symbolized a fragile piece of control he had over the situation. With a wicked grin, Hoolay squeezed it with all his might, and you could almost hear the crackle of fabric and stuffing tearing apart.

You stopped in your tracks, anger flaring in your eyes. You glared at him, your whole body trembling with fury as he crushed the doll in his hand like it was nothing. You wanted to lash out, to strike him down for daring to hurt Jiaoqiu, but your limbs felt frozen, caught between fear and rage.

Hoolay turned his gaze on you, amused by your reaction. His smile deepened, sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light as he observed you carefully. "You're a strange one, aren't you?" he said, his voice a soft purr. "You've lost your fear of pain and torture so quickly... fascinating."

You stared him down, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, but your heart stuttered in your chest when Hoolay shifted his attention. His eyes, predatory and calculating, flicked back to Jiaoqiu.

Jiaoqiu's breath hitched, and his face paled as Hoolay's gaze lingered on him, the amusement in the warlord's eyes morphing into something far darker. You saw it immediately—the spark of fear igniting in Jiaoqiu's eyes. His bravado, his strength, all of it crumbled under the weight of Hoolay's piercing stare.

"No..." you whispered, your voice hoarse, barely able to believe the shift in the room. The dread clawed at your throat, choking you.

Hoolay's laugh was deep and mocking, echoing in the small space. He glanced back at you with a knowing smirk, his cruel eyes glinting. "Ahh, there it is... Your weakness is clear to me now," he said softly, his tone like ice cutting through your defenses. "You don't fear for yourself... you fear for him."

His words hung heavy in the air, and the realization stung deeper than any wound. He had found the one thing that could break you—Jiaoqiu. You could endure pain, torment, humiliation, but seeing Jiaoqiu in danger, seeing that fear in his eyes, was enough to shatter the steely resolve you had so carefully built.

Hoolay's laughter echoed once again, the sound dripping with victory. He knew he had the upper hand now. "Your courage is just an illusion," he sneered, "as long as you have something to lose."

You stared back at him.

The suffocating air in the room felt heavier with every word that Hoolay spoke. His voice, gravelly and thick with the weight of ancient hatred, slithered into every corner of the space. You stood there, muscles tensed, watching as he circled Jiaoqiu like a predator toying with its prey.

Hoolay's reminiscing turned into something darker as he recounted the early years of his captivity. His eyes burned with memories of suffering, torment, and bloodshed—of being prodded, poked, and drained by the foxians in their attempts to unravel the secret of "Moon Rage."

Jiaoqiu, despite his training, stood motionless, the weight of Hoolay's words pressing down on him like an invisible force. His face was unreadable, though you could feel the subtle tension in his shoulders, the quiet agony of realization sinking in. This wasn't just another prisoner speaking to him—this was a warlord of unimaginable cruelty, shaped by centuries of suffering, and now, reborn with the dark promise of his ancestors.

You stepped forward, trying to break the heavy silence, your breath quickening. "Stop it, Hoolay," you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. "What kind of monster are you, to believe in these barbaric rituals? The Lunar Embryo, the moon heart, devouring... you're nothing but a savage, clinging to a nightmare."

Hoolay's laughter rippled through the room, deep and rumbling. He turned his gaze toward you, eyes glinting with amusement. "A monster, you say? Perhaps. But you, little fox, have yet to witness the true power that lies within. Your words are laced with fear, not bravery." His gaze flicked to Jiaoqiu, and his lips curled into a twisted smile. "But not him. No... Jiaoqiu seeks power, but not to destroy his enemies or to become them. He's the most pitiful of all—he seeks it to help others."

You clenched your fists, feeling the sharp sting of glass shards embedded in your skin, remnants of your earlier defiance. The pain was dull now, overshadowed by the anger boiling beneath the surface. Jiaoqiu shifted slightly, glancing your way, but his attention remained locked on Hoolay. His silence was deliberate, cautious.

Hoolay's voice softened, almost mockingly. "I see it in you, healer. You want answers. And I... well, I know everything about the Moon Rage, about the power you so desperately want to understand."

Jiaoqiu's lips twitched, his voice low but steady. "What are you trying to tell me, Hoolay?"

The warlord's eyes gleamed as he began recounting the tale of Duran, the ancestor of the borisin, who sought to defy his limited lifespan and seize control of the stars themselves. His words painted a vivid picture of blood sacrifice, genetic sorcery, and the birth of the Lunar Embryo—a power that, he claimed, resided within every generation of the Borisin Warhead.

Hoolay stepped closer to Jiaoqiu, towering over him like a predator sizing up his prey. His voice dropped into a hushed growl. "Devouring is the essence of life, Jiaoqiu. It's what allows us to endure. To thrive. The divine heart that beats within me has been passed down through generations, through ritual and sacrifice." He paused, then leaned in, his breath warm against Jiaoqiu's ear. "I thought I was lost, that hope had died after centuries of torment. But now... this heart beats once again."

A tremor ran through you at his words. You knew Hoolay's next move would be ruthless, unrelenting. The sheer conviction in his voice was terrifying, and yet, you could see the flicker of hesitation in Jiaoqiu's eyes. He was holding something back, weighing his options—perhaps deciding how much of the truth he should reveal.

Before Jiaoqiu could respond, Hoolay's lips twisted into a sinister grin. "Now, it's your turn to tell me everything about the Merlin's Claw."

The air shifted, and you felt a twinge of unease crawl up your spine. You opened your mouth to protest, to stop whatever was about to unfold, but before you could utter a word, a soft rustle caught your ear.

From the shadowy rooftop above, Moze crouched, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene. His voice, barely a whisper, carried through the night air. "Jiaoqiu... I've found you."

"Little Maggot, Are you sucking off to find peace in this little foxian? You always suck off something from everyone." He said...

Your breath caught in your throat as the rage began to bubble to the surface. Hoolay's laughter echoed through the room like nails on glass, scraping against every nerve. Your heart pounded, hands trembling, blood dripping from the glass shards embedded in your skin. Every fiber of your being wanted to shut him up, to tear down his arrogance. The mocking gleam in his eyes was unbearable.

"Maggot, am I?" you spat, voice shaking with fury. Your words dripped with venom, eyes burning as they locked onto Hoolay's sneering face. "Then, Just like a maggot, I'll *suck* and *slurp* up all your wounds—until there's nothing left. Going on until you're *dry*, until every ounce of blood in your veins is gone. I'll devour every last shred of you, piece by piece!"

Jiaoqiu, eyes wide with both shock and a flicker of dread, watched as your voice twisted into a snarl. Even he hadn't seen this side of you before, the raw hatred bubbling over into every word. But it was Hoolay's reaction you focused on, the slight twitch of amusement still plastered on his face.

Hoolay chuckled lowly, the sound making your blood boil. "Oh? Is that how you plan to finish me off? By sucking me dry like the parasite you've become?"

You took a step forward, unblinking, pain no longer even a distant thought. Your vision narrowed, focusing solely on him. "You'll die so slowly, Hoolay," you hissed, voice shaking with a barely contained storm of rage. "So painfully, that you'll *beg* for the centuries of torment you've already lived through. You'll *wish* you never met me, because when I'm done with you, there won't even be enough left to recognize as human—or whatever you think you are."

Hoolay's smile faltered ever so slightly. For the first time, his eyes narrowed, lips pulling into something less amused and more cautious. He seemed to be weighing your words now, sensing the sheer madness boiling just under your skin.

And that's when you knew you had him.

"You think you're untouchable? That your power makes you invincible?" Your voice rose, anger lacing each word with deadly intent. "I'll drag you into the dirt where you belong. I'll make your heart stop and start again, over and over, so you feel the edge of death—*just* long enough to know what it's like to be helpless. Just long enough to remember what fear *really* feels like."

Jiaoqiu, breathing shallow, took a hesitant step toward you, unsure whether to intervene or let you continue. Moze's presence from the rooftop, unseen to the others, shifted slightly, eyes sharp as he watched your confrontation unfold.

"You... you're strange," Hoolay finally said, his grin returning but with a hint of unease. "To lose your fear of torture so easily... it's almost amusing. But," his gaze flicked toward Jiaoqiu, lingering for a moment before falling back to you, "I see your weakness."

Jiaoqiu's eyes widened as Hoolay's words hit him like a dagger to the chest. You clenched your fists tighter, muscles coiled in preparation, but Hoolay merely laughed.

"Oh yes, you can scream and rage all you want, but your weakness is clear as day." His gaze flicked back to Jiaoqiu, a cruel smirk forming on his lips. "You can pretend to be strong, but when it comes to him..."

"Shut. Up!" you roared, your voice cracking with intensity as you took another step toward Hoolay, teeth gritted.

Hoolay's laughter only grew, the sound grating against your nerves like sandpaper. "Ah, there it is. Your fear, your rage—it's all tied to him, isn't it? Your precious healer. Without him, you're nothing."

Your breathing grew ragged, chest rising and falling with each sharp intake of breath. Every part of you wanted to lash out, to strike Hoolay down in that very moment—but you hesitated. Because as much as you hated to admit it, there was a grain of truth in his words.

He saw the hesitation flicker across your face, and his grin widened. "See? You're just as weak as I thought."

Trembling with barely-contained fury, you forced yourself to remain still, eyes locked on Hoolay's with a hatred that felt like it could burn the world to ash.

"Mark my words," you growled through clenched teeth. "You'll die wishing you never crossed me. You'll regret every second you spent thinking you had the upper hand. When I'm done with you, there won't be a single piece of you left for the wolves to scavenge."

And for the first time in that endless, twisted conversation, Hoolay's laughter died in his throat.

[screaming-universe]

Whump and "Why me?" for @eddiediaz-week Day 2, as well as Standing Cuffs for @badthingshappenbingo

(inspiration)

"Why me?" Eddie asks, between pained gasps. He's asked the question before and gotten no answer; there's probably no point in asking anymore. And indeed, he's once again ignored: he's left alone in the dark.

Which really is for the better, probably. Eddie has more bruises than he's ever gotten during his infamous street fighting days and that is saying something. Several ribs are probably broken or at the very least cracked and his throat doesn't feel too good from when one of the guys stepped behind him and just pulled on his necklace. After the clasp broke in the well and Eddie almost lost his pendant—again—he'd bought a stronger necklace with a stronger clasp. And wasn't that just coming back to bite him now?

There's bruises littering his arms from where they've tried to restrain him. Who's he kidding? From where they grabbed his arms so hard it felt as if his bones would shatter, twisted them behind his back so Eddie couldn't even think about resistance. So yeah, he's got bruises on his arms.

The bruises he's more worried about though are on his torso. The ones along the left side of his chest can probably be counted as one now. He's been hit—or was it kicked? probably both—in the side so often now that the skin's scraped and has split open. His side is not only bruised, it's also bloody. Then there's also the bruising on his abdomen which is probably not too good. And the black eye.

Eddie's in pretty shape and he doesn't even know why. There was a house fire and Buck and Eddie had been sent in to look for anybody still inside, anybody who needed help. And the next he knew...the next he knew was waking in the back of a van with zip-ties biting into the skin of his wrists. His wrists, that are currently caught in iron manacles—what is this; a medieval dungeon? seriously—are now suspended from the ceiling by chains—chains—and rubbed raw. Eddie knows he's broken skin there and it's hard to forget when every little movement keeps agitating the wounds anew. 

In addition to his wounds, there is also the fact that nobody's given him water or food and it's been... he's not actually quite sure how long it's been. His watch was taken along with most of his clothes when they first pushed him into this cellar and there is no natural light to help him keep the time. All he knows is that he is very thirsty and his stomach is painfully empty but he's not hungry anymore.

Eddie, to make it short, feels like shit. 

He's tried escaping, of course he has, but all he's managed is fucking up his wrists even further and when a–a guard? or maybe she just noticed by chance? Anyway, when somebody heard the chains jangling, she stormed in and he got another hit to his already smarting ribs.

He's tried telling himself to not despair, to think and wait until an opportunity arises but that stopped working several hours ago. He has no idea why he was taken, he has no idea what they want from him but the fact that nobody has told him or demanded anything implies that they don't want anything from him, personally. Which means that he doesn't hold any cards—and that probably doesn't bode well.

Time goes on and Eddie knows he needs to hold on, physically and mentally. For Chris. He's promised to be there for Chris and right now he very much can't fulfil that promise. He's got to make sure he still will be there to fulfil it, if Chris reaches out. When Chris reaches out. Eddie will hold on for Chris, will not give up, will not despair. He tries to hold onto that thought as much as he can but the despair keeps rising.

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

The thing is I really fucking want to work. I joke about being self unemployed and all that but I don't know what to do with this free time and I'm terrified of what not being able to work means for me. At some point in a month or two I'm gonna try and get a part time job and I know it's gonna fall apart. But at least then I know. Know I'm fucking useless and will never make enough money because of this fucking body of mine. I'm trying so hard to be positive but this fucking sucks. I'm too disabled to work unless i have a miraculous recovery and at some point I'm gonna have to suck it up and apply for benefits and go through that hell.

I spent over a decade fighting depression, dyslexia, bullying and just a eduction system hostile to me, and I was so close! Despite everything I had suffered up till that point I was on track to get a great graduate scheme and work my way up an engineering company, but then all that was ripped from my hands. My friends got them, and I'm left behind. I was just as smart, as clever, as passionate, and I'm facing the liklihood that I can never work, more than maybe a very flexible short shift position after years of management and recovery. My life was ahead of me, but it's been fucking stolen from me.

[pear1ridge-a]

I just think. I think more violence. More horror.

[gen-is-gone]

*deep breath*

JUST LET SANDMAN BE A TRAGEDY IT'S NOT EDGELORD BULLSHIT TO NEED DARK STORIES WHY ARE YOU ALL SO AFRAID OF FEELING NEGATIVE EMOTIONS THAT YOU DEMAND THE TEETH BE TAKEN OUT OF EVERYTHING YOU CARE ABOUT FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE A CHARACTER YOU LIKE DYING MAYBE DON'T FUCKING WATCH A SHOW YOU KNOW WILL END THAT WAY BUT SOME OF US FUCKING NEED THE FUCKING TRAGEDY YOU HAVE SO MUCH HAPPY ENDING BULLSHIT JUST LET THOSE OF US WHO NEED IT KEEP OUR TRAGEDIES GO WATCH FUCKING CARTOONS IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK

ok I think I'm better

wait

ALSO DREAMLING ISNT CANON AND ISN'T GOING TO BE SO NO ITS NOT ~BURY YOUR GAYS~ THAT DREAM DIES THE FACT THAT YOU KIN HIM DOES NOT MEAN IT'S ~PROBLEMATIC~ THAT HE KILLS HIMSELF I PROMISE YOU THERE ARE STORIES WHERE THE GAYS GET HAPPY ENDINGS BUT DREAM OF THE ENDLESS DOES NOT AND SOME OF US NEED THAT CATHARSIS MORE THAN WE NEED FALSE REASSURANCE OF THE SUPPOSED RIGHTNESS OF A MEANINGLESS WORLD

ok *now* I'm done

[hayanahed]

Emergency: Help Evacuate My Family From GAZA WAR

Dear Humanity,

I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my parents, two sons, and four daughters (two of them suffer from allergies).

I've witnessed the evidence of the tragedy that has struck our lives in Gaza, where my family and I have survived amidst numerous previous wars. But today, we face the most dangerous and fierce battle in the current war. The urgent need intensifies for us, as we have nothing left and are unable to secure our basic needs such as food, water, and safe shelter.

Here is our story - On October 7th, our lives changed forever, my family and I evacuated from northern Gaza to southern Gaza, hoping to return soon, but it wasn't meant to be. Our home was surrounded, burned, and then completely destroyed, Our home, once a fortress of hope, now lay in ruins, a stark reminder of our shattered dreams.

The night before we left from the north to the south was terrifying. Shelling sounds were everywhere, making a loud noise that felt like it went through our souls. Every explosions shook the ground like earthquakes, sending shockwaves of fear through our trembling bodies. filling us with fear. The air smelled of destruction and blood, making it hard to breathe. When dawn came, we saw the devastation around us, realizing our home was now a symbol of loss and despair.

We ran into the streets and with each step we took into the unknown streets, we felt as if we were plunging deeper into the abyss of our shattered existence, leaving behind everything we own in our home: Clothes, important official documents, the car, and literally it's almost everything - the enormity of our loss weighed heavily upon us.

Our home it was where we found hope, safety, and made precious memories. Losing it felt like losing years of our lives, leaving us adrift amidst the wreckage of our shattered existence.

A brief video depicting the devastation that struck our home and our entire neighborhood in Gaza.

Desperate Plea: Escaping Gaza's Allergy Nightmare

I, Haya, suffer from severe allergy to penicillin-derived medications, and my sister, Amal, also suffers from severe allergies to medications from my family such as Paracetamol and Ibuprofen.

These allergies create a deep sense of fear and anxiety for us, as we live in a constant state of tension and fear of anything that may require a visit to the hospital. We fear being given inappropriate medications due to the unavailability of suitable treatments in Gaza because of war or lack of awareness and not informing the doctor of our allergies, which could lead to serious consequences threatening our lives.

MY Father Income

Our dreams are heading towards oblivion in the labyrinth of an uncertain future

My story, along with my siblings, represents a united team of four individuals, three of whom are skilled programmers and one graphic designer. We work as freelancers in the world of freelancing.

As for my younger sister, she is a student studying at the College of Architecture. She has always carried a big dream in her heart, a dream of being part of changing Gaza, of making it more beautiful and better. She looked forward to the day when she would receive her degree and start building this dream. But the beginning of the war changed everything. The destruction of infrastructure and universities cast shadows of despair over her dreams.

When I think of my brother in Belgium, I can't help but feel deep sadness. He has been suffering from unbearable anxiety and insomnia since the outbreak of the war. Sleep eludes him at night, and his physical and mental health collapses under the weight of these heavy burdens, negatively affecting his performance at work. Problems and challenges pile up in front of him without the slightest opportunity for rest.

We all feel psychological pressure and extreme anxiety. The war hasn't been limited to external attacks but has deeply infiltrated our daily lives. We search among the rubble for a little safety and the basic resources for survival. Every day comes with a new challenge that we must overcome.

As we sway amidst the rubble of shattered dreams, our souls wrestle and our hearts beat strongly challenging the ravages of war.

Our parents earnestly seek a way to rescue us from this hell, feeling the heavy responsibility for every moment we spend under the shadows of fear and destruction. They dream of a safe place where they can build for us a better future, filled with security and hope, for we deserve life in all its meanings of comfort and peace.

Perhaps this fundraising campaign represents a light in the midst of darkness, it is indeed the only hope we cling to firmly.

I appeal to the world as a whole to hear my cry and the mournful cry of my family in Gaza. We need the helping hand that reaches out to wipe our tears and build a bridge to safety.

Your donation is not just a donation; it's an opportunity to rebuild life and brighten a better tomorrow. Be part of our hopeful story, for we need your hand to start anew.

The purpose of the fundraising campaign

The goal of this fundraising campaign is to rescue my family - my parents, my siblings, and me - through the Rafah Crossing to Egypt, which currently requires $5000 per person. This campaign is our only chance to stay alive, and I humbly request your assistance at this critical time. I will provide you with a comprehensive breakdown of the expenses, committing to transparency and clarity.

All of our important links are here https://linktr.ee/hayanahed

Verified by :

⭐️ operation olive branch, number 26 on their spreadsheet. (On Master list)

⭐️ Project watermelon,line 249 on their spreadsheet. Or you could see it as number 212 here is the photo for more clear proof

Thank you for your kindness and support.

.جزاكم الله خيراً

yours sincerely;

Haya Alshawish.

[koling2345]

Just Simon with a cute new recruit. NSFW

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Lieutenant! Simon who: Thought you'd be just another recruit, until he saw that you were such a cute little bird. So obedient and pliable, always listening to what he had to say without refuting it.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Never even looked at any recruit in a different way until you arrived on base. The way you looked at him with sweet little eyes and called him 'Sir' was almost a symphony in his ears.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Loved it when you asked him for help with something on the base, sometimes purposely disappearing with things, only to see you coming after him to find out where that item was.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Made a point of training you, he never let any other superior do it. Not even Johnny. Simon wanted to be solely responsible for your success, or rather, he wanted to be solely responsible for giving you orders. And watching you obey them.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Started glaring daggers at any other soldier who looked at you. Not only that, but any soldier who even spoke to you or flirted with you was magically given a month's worth of hard duties. What a shame ;(

Lieutenant! Simon who: Was in charge of you at the gym, giving you several repetitions of exercises, never passing up an opportunity to put you in some positions that were a bit... Lewd, to say at least. Always keeping a close eye on every exercise you did, his eyes roaming over your body as you knelt down to stand up when you finished a set. The sight always made his pants a little tight.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Always gave you heavy workouts, tiring you to the limit. Just to make sure you'd get tired enough, then he'd have the excuse of helping you to get your bearings. Putting a hand on your lower back. Sometimes even being bold enough to put his hand on your waist, pulling your body against his in an attempt to help you. And if you were really, really tired, he could carry you on his shoulders. No, it wasn't an excuse to stare at your ass and thighs, feeling your body pressed against his. He swore it was just his good intention, he just wanted to help!

Lieutenant! Simon who: Would let you sleep in his room, there was a storm and the base was without power, you didn't want to be alone because you were scared. And he wouldn't let you be alone after learning that you were afraid of thunder, poor thing. That night he wrapped you up in his sheets, pulling you into his lap as he comforted you.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Helped you forget the fierce storm outside, pumping his thick fingers into your pussy, slipping in and out of you, scissoring and curving inside you. He made you come once, twice, three times, enough to make you tired and sleep on his lap, in the mess you made on his thighs, and he didn't care. In fact, he was proud to see the mess you'd made, that he'd given you.

Lieutenant! Simon who: After spending one night with you, he refused to sleep in separate rooms, so every night he dragged you to his room, at which point he already considered you his cute little thing. Normally, he would hold you all night with a death grip, so don't even try to escape.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Couldn't sleep peacefully until he'd buried his cock in you. Sleep only came to him after he had slid his thick cock into your wet folds, deep into your tight warmth. Slamming into you without mercy, he swears that his lullaby is your whimpering sounds under him.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Was mean to you, used you until he had his fill. It didn't matter if you'd already come for the thousandth time, he didn't care, because he went after his own pleasure, he would pound into you all night if he wanted to.Even if you were whimpering underneath him and saying you couldn't take it anymore, he'd respond with:

“You can and you will.”

[amaranthinespirit]

roommate!simon riley when your vibrator dies before you can finish, and he offers to relieve that tension

your feverish body splayed across the bed, covers thrown into a heaved pile surrounding you as a thin layer of sweat coats your skin and dampens the sheets under you. pathetic gasps of desperacy slip past your lips despite the thin walls as you pressed the vibrator against your sensitive clit.

you could feel the buildup in the bottom of your tummy, the heat of release that pooled slowly rising and threatening to spill over. your legs bucked, your whole body trembling in desperation as your other hand squeezed your breast. strings of muttered pleases escaping your pouty lips.

it was right there, you were about to wash over—to drown in the sweet snap of that taut knot in your body. you pressed the tiny, bullet vibrator harder against your abused clit, hoping it would give you the release you so desperately chased after.

until it died. it wasn't a gradual slow down to let you know it was on its last moments—it just stopped.

you whined in frustration, feeling the orgasm about to wash over you all too quickly drain—after it had taken you all this time to build it up.

you were panting, body still trembling as another groan escaped your throat. you tossed the vibrator carelessly across the room, hearing it thud against the wall as your hands came up to cover your flushed face.

in the next room over, simon had heard the little whines and gasps you had let slip by, smirking whenever his name would reach his ears. he had heard you for months—the walls were thin—but he had never decided to act on anything.

it wasn't like he wasn't into you—because he was and he was in his room, fucking his heavy cock in his right hand pretending it was yours. it never worked—his hands were far too roughed and calloused compared to your soft, delicate skin.

but he never had the opportunity to approach you about it—until now.

when he heard that noise of frustration fall from your lips, the light thud against the wall, a knowing smirk teased the corners of his lips.

he pushed himself from, adjusting his sweatpants as he did so before he landed in front of your door.

he knocked—he had some decency after all—but he didn't want long for an answer before pushing his way in. he didn't know what he was going to find—well, he had an idea—but boy, you surprised him.

a choked gasp flew from your lips at the knock, not even getting the chance to at least cover up by the time he was standing in your—now open—doorway.

you had sat up so fast, it was dizzying, but you brushed it off as you tried to tug the covers over your bare body, but it didn't help they were half falling off the bed and slightly heavy.

his gaze traveled appreciatively over you, shamelessly staring at your slick covered thighs and glistening pussy, a damp spot on the sheets below you.

you yelped as you noticed his staring, clamping your legs shut as you attempted again to cover yourself—each tug at the blanket was like a fight for an ounce of dignity. you weren't sure you had any now.

your chest still heaved, body flushed and slightly pink with reddened skin over your left breast. you swallowed thickly, stumbling over your words as you avoided his gaze, "what...do you...you need something?" you finally managed out.

his brow quirked up at your question, humming as he examined—analyzed—your movements. movement made of embarrassment and shame to be caught like this.

"dunno, luv," his voice was dangerously low, and gruff. he cleared his throat, slowly stepping towards the side of the bed, "looks like y'might need sumthin', hm?"

he stalked towards you like a predator, his eyes dark and half-lidded in a way that made shivers run down your spine and your pussy wetter.

he chuckled as you shook your head. he could feel the embarrassment radiating off of you as he stood right beside the bed, the side you didn't occupy.

the bed dipped with the weight of his knee, his body heavy against the springs as he bent over, a hand coming to your bare hip. he watched the goosebumps ripple from the touch of his calloused hand.

his other hand landed on your knee, slowly prying them apart as he hummed lowly in appreciation of the sight of your soaking cunt, glistening under the low light of your room.

his hand slid your knee, down your thighs until he rubbed two fingers down the center of your pussy. the slick collected on his fingers as they glided through the folds with ease because of your arousal.

"hm, you sure about that, luv?" he teased as he heard the pathetic moan that you tried to stifle slip past your chapped lips.

he brought his thumb down against your clit, swirling over the oversensitive bud before pinching it between his fingers. he huffed out a chuckle at the mewl you let out.

he teased your slit, barely dipping his fingers against your walls before pulling them away to slide through your folds while he continued to tease and bully your poor clit.

he watched the way you became a mess under his hand, no doubt getting wetter by his hand than with the vibrator he spotted thrown by the side of the wall. he nearly laughed at the sight of the small thing, his finger practically the size of it.

don't worry, you were better off being taken care of in his hands, by his fingers as he brings you to release by just toying with your clit.

and he'll give you more if you let him.

[peachesofteal]

sighs Price/Simon/mama (female reader) 18+ mdni - threesome M/M/F, spit, daddy, praise, size, lactation, breeding kink. The softest dub con. This is an AU to the original story, Through Me. Price has a wife in Through Me and Simon has mama, neither of them would ever share.

It starts with a dinner.

Red wine decanted. Red meat rare, bleeding all over a plate. Price sits across from Simon at the table, with you at the head. Fixed between them like a flower sprouted in rock.

They're here because Simon has seen the way he watches. He's noticed how his captain considers both himself and you, the way he cocks his head to left and trails his eyes up and down your body.

It's reminiscent of days old. Nights passed when he and John bent pretty things to their will, split open and overwhelmed, gasping and clawing as they systematically broke them apart.

A wild ride. A way to blow off some steam. A thing never meant to be more than what it was. Secret nights in the dark.

There was a wild gleam in John's eyes, weeks ago. Simon only caught the fractured glimpse of it, there one second, gone in the next, but when they locked eyes afterwards, he knew.

They both did.

He wouldn't be doing this unless he trusted his captain implicitly. Trusted him to care for you, to give you what's needed, to see it all the way through. There's something digging around in Simon's brain about it, some imagery he can't escape.

The best way out is through.

They end up in the living room, after dinner. There's still half a bottle of wine left, and when he pulls you in for a kiss it's there on his tongue, purpled fruit and acid, alcohol loosening the tension in your neck, your spine.

Simon sits on the couch next to John. Not yet touching, but if both were shift their legs, they'd be there, knee to knee. "C'mere mama." Simon spreads wide, patting the inside of his thigh, indicating where you're to sit, and when you settle on his lap, half turned to face his captain, he rests a hand on his thigh. "Did you enjoy dinner, sweet girl?"

"It was very good." You peek at John through your lashes, demure, shy. "Thank you for cooking."

"Was my pleasure." He smiles, blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and you return it as Simon rubs circles on your waist. He can feel the fabric of your thong beneath the dress you chose tonight, thin, narrow fabric stretched over your cunt, nearly non-existent barrier separating you from the craven.

It's important you're not so worked up, too early. He needs to keep you torpid, wine drenched and saccharine, before working you up to a frenetic pace, so he moves his hand to your back, stroking up and down slowly, using an aimless conversation about work as a distraction. "Think Laswell's gonna be out for this next one?"

"Don't know. Suppose so. We'll need her. Can't get over half the hurdles without her support." His legs spread, marginally. enough that his knee is touching your feet, your toes, and you glance down. Simon observes your thought process in real time; intrigue, confusion clearing before it ever really takes root. You brush it off.

But he sees the opportunity, target hot to strike.

He moves his hand under the hem of your dress, up your thigh. You tense, blinking at him in confusion, and he brushes his lips against your ear. "Relax, honey." He finds heat between your legs, circling over your panties, and you squeak, locking onto his wrist.

"Si-"

"John was so nice to have us over for dinner, wasn't he?" You nod, shakily, as Simon peppers your cheek, your jaw with kisses. "Fed us so well. Don't y'think we should say thank you?" His cock is solid beneath your ass, and he flexes his hips, driving the point home, still stroking over your panties. John is locked in, watching the flutter of your dress, staring beneath your knees.

"Um, I," he presses directly on your clit, stealing your words, whatever you meant to say dying on a whine. Your lips part beneath him, already slick, already wanting.

"Put your heels on John's thighs, mama." You stare at him, eyes wide, and he gives you an encouraging nod. "Don't worry. We'll take care of you." The angle provided when you lift your feet tilts you, and John turns.

"Gonna touch you, love," he carefully palms your knees, "right here," turning so that you're now facing him head on, toes flexing on both of his thighs. Simon peels your dress back, shucking it up around your belly, and then parts your legs. His captain huffs a short groan.

"Jus' want John to be able see, is all." He hooks a finger into the cotton, and pulls to the side, exposing your weeping pussy to both of them, glistening in the evening light. "Look at you, sweet girl. All wet and ready for us?" You whimper, staring at John between your knees, no doubt shocked. Scandalized. "Isn't she pretty?" He nods.

"Very." He reaches, and you flinch when his fingers trace down your slit, but Simon holds your hips still. "Need some attention, eh? Little thing, already swollen." He flits back up to your bud, pressing next to where Simon has a thumb on you, and they work in circles, both swirling, your hips jerking with each cycle.

John pulls away, it's a slow game, this one. One they've played before, and he stays focused between your legs, letting Simon lead you, submerge you in the experience, plunge you into it. He applies more pressure, enjoying your gasps, the way you grip his shoulder.

He's almost there, almost got you, and then-

"Daddy-" John smiles. So does Simon. He pushes a finger in your hole, searching for that spot, the soft one that makes you scream, heel of his palm firm against your clit. "Ah, fuck, p-please-"

"You're so wet, mama. Soakin' my hand. Do you need to cum? Want to show the captain the way your pussy flutters?" You moan, head tipped back, pulse throbbing in your neck. You tighten around his finger, and he draws back to slide in two, carefully stretching, sawing you wide. Your knees try to close, probably on instinct, but John pushes them open again. When you hold them there, he murmurs low.

"Good girl. Keep em open for me. Want to watch your hole, see how it's going to take my cock." A shudder rocks you, muscles in your lower belly tensing, and your spine curls forward, fingers knotted in the collar of Simon's shirt.

"There it is, good, mama, that's so good. c'mon-" You squeeze, and squeeze him, and then explode, crying out, legs shaking, chasing the pressure, carnal lust glittering in your eyes.

Simon doesn't give you a reprieve. Your sopping cunt cries on his hand as he pulls free, and they both move, John's cock coming free from his pants, thick, tip red and leaking, and he slaps it against your clit. You're still dazed from the orgasm, gripping onto Simon, and he pulls you against his chest, hands behind your knees, folding you open. Your pussy flowers for Johnny, blooming for them both. Simon's so hard he aches, and he manages to shuck his pants down, cock hard against your back.

It occurs to him, John might want to have a taste of you. Drink from you, enjoy how sweet you are. "Let's get this off." He curls you forward, and tugs at your dress, deliciously pleased when you help the effort, arms twisting behind your back to try to free your heavy tits. He shifts you so you're more on his thigh, cock straining against your hip. He groans when he brushes your nipples, dots of liquid beading, slick honey spilling over the curve of your breasts. He squeezes them, making eye contact with John, who licks his lips.

John dips his head, you jerk back into Simon. "Easy," he coos, hand firm on your belly, "John's gonna have a taste. Don't want this all to go to waste, d'you? Don't wanna be selfish sweet girl." His captain's mustache brushes against the sensitive skin, mouth closing around your nipple and sucking, a sensation you seem to enjoy, because you tip your head back on Simon's shoulder and groan.

"Oh, oh. God." John's jaw connects with Simon's fingers, where he's still helping squeeze you into his mouth, and he reaches between your legs, feeling for the weight of his captain's cock, giving him a firm squeeze before lining him up with your entrance. He pulls off your breast with a satisfying pop, mustache wet, chin glistening.

He pushes, slowly, and your muscles go solid, legs instinctively shifting. John grips the back of your thigh, burrowing into the fat there, still forcing his way inside you. They're both so much bigger than you, wider than your pussy allows, longer than you should be able to stretch. "Relax, love." He coaches, pulling out to only batter his way back in, and Simon's hand roams between your legs, feeling the curve of your hole struggling to take his captain, stroking up his length to feel how much is left. You're panting, squirming, and John laughs, echo of a chuckle pulling a smile from Simon.

"J-John." You gasp, cunt stretched tight, and when his pelvis meets your ass, the tears spill over your cheeks. "It's t-too much, you're-"

"Fuckin' hell." He snarls, snapping in and out, bending at the waist to close his mouth over your nipple, big hands cradling your thighs. It's nasty, foul, the slick slap of his balls swinging into you, the wet sound filling the air over your wild moans. Simon plays with your clit, sloshing over and over it, holding you steady as you writhe. Your second orgasm approaches like a freight train, so fast, so violent, and Simon urges you on.

"Cum on my captain's cock, honey. Yeah, that's it- let him feel it." Your toes curl and you explode, squeezing so tight John has to seal his hips to you to keep himself inside.

"Christ." He curses, and Simon smoothes a hand over your forehead.

"Such a good girl, huh? Never felt anything better." He coos, kissing your temple, John grunting out an agreement of sorts, grinding in a circle before pulling long and spearing you open again, bucking into your cunt like a wild animal. Your tits bounce with him, eyes closed and pretty mouth parted, Simon licking inside, dribbling spit onto your tongue that you swallow, again and again, until John's pace becomes frantic, and he bites out a demand.

"Ask your daddy if I can give you my cum, love." You're delirious, overwhelmed and greedy now, pliant with two orgasms and promises of more.

"Daddy, daddy, p-please, can he... can he?" You manage the bumpy plea between bounces.

"Y'want him to pump you full of cum, mama? Want him to give it to you?"

"Y-yeah, yeah. Give it to me." John's jaw is gnashed so tight, Simon can see the muscle flexing, and he slams into you, shoving you further into his arms.

"Here it comes, fuck-." He snarls, and then he shoves forward once more, head tipped back, gladiator in his glory, battle won.

He pulls away, cock slipping free, covered in you, curly hair at the root soaked, chest heaving as he catches his breath. Simon tucks his fingers inside, feeling the mess of his captain's load, scooping some out and bringing it to your lips. "Suck, honey. Lick 'em clean f'me." You do, wrapping your tongue around them, swallowing hungrily with half lidded eyes.

"Sit rep?" John grunts.

"Y'okay mama?" He palms your belly.

"Mhmm." You're suspended in a dream, voracious appetite soothed.

"Need you to take more, sweet girl. Can you do that?" He will honor it, if you say no. Clean you up and get you home, tucked into bed-

but you nod, blinking, and John smacks your ass. "Up, then." He pulls you onto all fours, massive hands pulling your cheeks up and apart, exposing your tight little furl to both of them. Simon glances over, and John sucks into the pocket of his cheek. He follows suit, and-

they spit onto your asshole, shiny, iridescent globs coating it, soaking it, slipping down to where you're leaking strings of John's cum. He thumbs your ring, pushing, testing, slowly sinking inside as you twitch and try to push him out. "Gonna take this one day." It's a promise for another time, and you turn over your shoulder, eyes wide. "Gonna stretch your little asshole out with my cock, mama."

"Simon-" Your voice borders on cautionary.

"Not tonight." John stands, sinking to his knees on the opposite of the couch, half hard cock starting to fill as it looms in front of your face, and Simon lines himself up from behind, impaling you on his cock in one swift thrust, jerking your hips back to meet his.

You scream. Mouth open wide, and at the same time, John shoves forward, cock finding purchase in your mouth, hands cradling your jaw. "Easy, pretty girl." He strokes your cheek, natural rhythm of Simon fucking you deep forcing you on and off John's length, soft turning quickly to hard, stretching back towards your throat.

"Fuck, mama. Feel so fuckin' good. So wet, full of cum already." You're still so tight, so warm, soaking him to the bone. Your pussy squelches around him, and you jerk back to meet him, hips rolling as much as you can stand it, sharp moans vibrating from the back of your tongue. "Not gonna last." He warns.

"Me either," John's biceps are strained, corded muscle looping all the way to his wrists. "Mouth's so good on 'er. Gonna fill you up from both ends tonight, love." You're crying now, Simon can hear the change in your tone, the way your voice breaks, and it only makes him fuck you harder, desperate, primal urges roaring to life in the back of his mind.

"Gonna put it deep, mama. Give y'another baby." You clench. "You like that? Want daddy to fuck another baby into you?" You make some sort of sound, unintelligible, but it doesn't matter. "We won't know who's it is. Could end up with John's baby, yeah? Get nice and fat with him inside you. Belong to both of us." he groans it, thrusting and thrusting until he's slamming into you and so is John, both men sweating, grunting, gripping onto you like their lives depend on it.

It doesn't take much more than that before Simon is curling over your back, chest pressed against you, arm snaked between your legs. He pulls you into another orgasm with him, your thighs clamped around his arm, and John holds you up by the shoulders, spilling down your throat as Simon floods your womb.

The silence that follows is old hat, but new with you. John disappears to grab water, warm, wet wash cloths, and Simon rocks you on the couch, holding you tight, kissing every spare inch of your skin. "Did so good for me, mama." You sigh, cozying closer, and when John kneads your thigh, you spread them, allowing him to wipe between your legs, clean you as best he can, before settling on the other side.

They stay like that, for a while. In the quiet, the sound of your breathing, before Simon manages to get your dress over your head and to the door.

There's no goodbye.

There never is.

[incognit0slut]

The Last Laugh

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Spencer is forced to share a room with his rival. This is part two of Lose Control but can be read as a standalone.

warnings: sexual tension, a lot of banter, female oral, edging, rough sex, unplanned creampie (is that a thing?) words: 5,3k a/n: someone requested a part two with a one-bedroom trope and since this is one of my favorite stories, I had to do it

...Thinkin' you're winnin' with all of your grinning but I got the last laugh...

"I'M NOT SLEEPING WITH REID."

The idea was absurd. Ridiculous. Insane. Out of all the people in her team, why was she paired up with him?

According to Garcia, the only choice she had to spend the night in this remote town was with the person she least wanted to engage with. Did Garcia not know how much she had been trying to avoid him? How much she had been attempting to act as if the mere proximity with him wasn't making her lose her mind?

"Why not?" Garcia asked, handing her a key. "He's not that bad of a roommate, well, if you overlook his tendency to share random facts in the middle of the night, then he's really not that bad."

"Do you not hear yourself?" She steadied her gaze to her friend. "You want me to share a room with the person I hate the most?"

Garcia rolled her eyes. "You guys really should stop with this nonsense. You're both grown adults."

"I'll treat him like an adult if he starts to act like one." Her eyes drifted toward the man of the hour, standing at the other end of this old-looking hotel that seemed too close to falling apart, engaged in conversation with Luke. She then glanced back at Garcia. "Why can't he share a room with Luke?"

"Because I'm sharing a room with Luke."

She shot Garcia an incredulous look. "You're rooming with Luke? Since when?"

"Since always. We're buddies, remember?" She cocked an eyebrow and Garcia sighed. "Don't look at me like that, we're just friends. Besides, you and Reid are the only ones left without a roommate. Consider this your opportunity for personal growth or whatever."

"Personal growth? More like a crash course in patience. And what's the deal with Reid anyway? Why does he always have to be the exception?"

Garcia leaned in, her tone conspiratorial. "Well, let's just say Luke and I enjoy our peace. Reid, on the other hand, is like a walking encyclopedia. I figured it's your turn to experience that charm up close."

She scowled, a mix of annoyance and resignation on her face. "Charm? That's a generous way to put it."

Garcia stared back with an air of nonchalance that only seemed to amplify her exasperation. "Look, it's only one night. What's the worst that could happen?"

She shot her friend a withering glance as if the absurdity of the situation needed no further clarification. "The worst is that I might end up committing another crime in this town before the night ends."

Garcia raised an eyebrow, her amusement evident. "You're exaggerating, Reid is harmless. Plus, all the other rooms are fully booked. Consider yourself lucky we even found a place to stay."

"Lucky is not the word I would use right now."

"Just try to survive the night without killing each other," Garcia chuckled, ignoring the glare shot towards her way. "Give him a chance."

Her incredulous stare intensified. "A chance? Garcia, the man tried to argue with me about the most efficient way to organize my desk. And you know what's ironic? His own desk is a complete mess."

Garcia sighed, her playful demeanor softening. "One night, Y/n, that's all I'm asking."

She pursed her lips together. She could go on about how bad it would be to share a room with him, but the thing was, it would raise questions she did not want to answer. There was a limit to how much her disdain could stop her from entertaining the idea, and her avoidance, she realized, was more than just mere hatred.

Annoyed that she couldn't do anything to escape the situation, she shot a disapproving glance at him, who was still engrossed in conversation with Luke. With a resigned shake of her head, she turned back to Garcia.

"Whatever." She sighed, begrudgingly accepting the key Garcia handed her. "But if he starts reciting facts about, I don't know, the history of dental floss or something, I'm blaming you."

Garcia laughed. "Fair enough." She shoved her shoulder playfully. "But who knows, maybe you'll discover he's not as bad as you think."

That was the problem. Spencer Reid, in her eyes, was starting to... change. And she hated that. Why was the man she had never bothered to befriend occupying her mind more than she wanted him to? Was it because she now knew what it felt like to have his body pressed against hers? What it felt like to have him grunt in pleasure right in her ear? Just because they had sex?

Nope. Nuh-huh. She wasn't going to think of him differently tonight—or ever, for that matter.

She gave Garcia one last glare before making her way across the creaky floorboards toward him. Noticing her presence coming close, Spencer looked up and a slight tension filled the air as his gaze locked with hers. She quickly shook her head.

"You're sleeping on the floor," she declared with a point of her finger when she reached him.

A small amused smile played on his lips. "We're sharing a room?"

"Unfortunately," she grumbled. She then focused her attention on Luke. "Do you want to switch roommates?"

Luke chuckled. "I'm afraid I'm stuck with Garcia. Besides," he patted Spencer on the shoulder, "Don't act like you're not eager to spend the night with him."

Her eyes went wide. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Luke simply shrugged with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and walked away, leavingher staring at Spencer with a mix of confusion and suspicion. "What did you tell him?"

Spencer frowned. "Nothing." He sighed when her stare didn't back down. "Nothing, I swear. Luke tends to have his own way of interpreting things."

She narrowed her eyes, not entirely convinced, but decided to let it go for the moment. She turned on her heels, not waiting for him as she walked to their destinated room. She felt his presence close behind her but kept her mouth closed.

Spencer, on the other hand, found the situation amusing. He really shouldn't find any entertainment in her visible annoyance towards him, but he did. He couldn't help but notice that despite being angry, she still looked unbelievably attractive. The scowl on her face, her pursed lips, her chest heaving in anger. He took a step closer.

"This must be hard for you," he commented.

"What is?" she shot back, maintaining her brisk pace.

"Staying the night with me when you've been avoiding me."

Her jaw tightened. "I haven't been avoiding you."

"Really? So you haven't gone out of your way to avoid looking in my direction ever since what happened?"

Her steps faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure, refusing to show any vulnerability. "That doesn't mean I've been actively avoiding you. It just means I have better things to do than engage in pointless conversations."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Pointless conversations, or conversations you're trying to avoid?"

She shot him a sharp look but didn't respond. "You know," he began again. "You do seem to be acting differently ever since that day."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Spencer couldn't resist a faint smile at her denial. "You really don't know what I'm referring to?"

She huffed, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. The narrow hallway seemed to amplify the unresolved tension between them as they stopped right in front of their room. She could feel his gaze on her, and it only fueled her annoyance.

She tried to ignore him by unlocking the door, but as she pushed it open, she felt his presence looming behind her. His proximity was so close that she held her breath as he gripped the edge of the door in front of her. His breath brushed her neck and her eyes involuntarily fluttered close when his other hand slowly rested on her waist.

"Should I help you jog your memory back?"

Her eyes shot open. She shoved him aside and stepped into the room. "No funny business, Reid. Keep your dick in your pants tonight."

His laughter lingered in the air as he followed her inside, closing the door behind him. "The question is," he taunted. "Can you keep it in my pants?"

She scoffed. Who was he and what did he do to the Spencer she once knew? The guy she remembered lacked any humor and always kept his distance from her. It was hard to believe a simple encounter—could you call sex as simple?—had turned him so crude, or maybe, she considered, this was his true self all along.

She decided to ignore his words as her eyes scanned the cramped room, containing only an old dresser, a nightstand, and a queen-sized bed, which she pointed at assertively. "That bed is mine."

His brow furrowed. "Why do I have to sleep on the floor?"

"You want me to sleep on the floor?" Her hand gracefully moved to her chest in a dramatic gasp. "Where is your chivalry, Dr. Reid?"

"We could share the bed."

She simply stared back at him, her eyes narrowing with a mix of disbelief and incredulity. Spencer, unable to resist stirring the pot, shot back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, it won't be so bad. Did you know that the concept of sharing a bed has been a cultural practice for centuries? It symbolizes unity and—"

"Reid," she interrupted, shooting him a pointed look. "If you're trying to annoy me, you're doing an excellent job."

He grinned, clearly enjoying her irritation. "I'm just stating a fact. Sharing a room, sharing a bed—it's all deeply rooted in human history."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I highly doubt our situation is deeply rooted in anything other than poor hotel arrangements."

Spencer chuckled, undeterred, his laughter resonating in the dimly lit room as he took a step closer to her. The worn-out floor creaked beneath his feet, echoing the subtle tension that lingered in the confined space of the room. "You never know. We might be making history right now."

She shot him a skeptical look, her gaze unwavering. "I doubt historians will be interested in this disaster."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you always this skeptical, or is it just reserved for me?"

"It's just reserved for annoying people," she retorted, not missing a beat. She took a deliberate step closer to him, the air thick with a blend of tension and... something else. Her heart quickened as his gaze swiftly swept over her lips before dragging back to her eyes.

"Really?" He closed the distance between them, and she held her ground, tilting her head back to meet his gaze due to his towering height. A subtle trace of his scent hung in the air, his presence enveloping her. She felt a sudden shift in the air, her senses heightened, and her eyes traced the contours of his face—the sharp angles of his jaw, the warmth reflected in his hazel eyes. She also could sense the initial surge of longing coursing through her body.

Shit.

"Believe it or not," he added, his voice a low murmur that resonated in the confined space. "I find your company quite fascinating."

"Fascinating?" She responded, but it came out more breathless than she had intended. She took a deep breath, trying to act as if his close proximity wasn't affecting her. Her pulse, however, betrayed her composure. And it was evident in her voice. "T- That's a stretch."

"Really?" His lips curved into a subtle smile, catching the shift in her demeanor. "I think there's a small part of you that's enjoying this."

"Enjoy what? Your random facts and annoying habits?"

Spencer leaned forward. A tension crackled between them, and it swam in his eyes and played on his lips. It pulled at her chest, making her heartbeat flutter in her throat, and to her surprise, he extended his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch left a searing sensation on her skin.

"Admit it, you're starting to see a different side of me."

She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge his point. "One night doesn't change anything."

"You're right." His hand made its way to the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him. "It can change everything."

Before she could register what he was doing, he closed the distance between them, holding her still as his lips crashed on hers. A thousand things flooded her mind all at once—each of them revolving around him. The way she melted into him felt oddly natural. The way his hands began to roam her body, the way her mouth opened for his tongue, the way her kisses became hungrier, also felt natural.

Which was bad. Really, really bad. This wasn't supposed to happen. One time, she could call it a mistake. But allowing him to have his way with her for the second time... there was no one to blame but herself. She should push him away and set the boundaries she was supposed to set the moment he invaded her personal space. But it was hard to think rationally when he tasted so good.

It was hard to stand her ground when his teeth softly nibbled her bottom lip. It was hard to think straight when she was already pulling hard at the locks at the base of his neck as his tongue explored her mouth, blindly walking her back until her back was pressing onto the wall.

"Look at you," he laughed against her lips. "You're not pushing me away."

"Shut up," she hissed, trying her best to keep her tone icy. But then again, it was hard to stay angry when he was touching her like this. His greedy hand traveled up her thighs, massaging the plush flesh. His fingers finally found the hem of her pants, and he swallowed her moan when they dipped underneath the material, slipping right underneath her panties.

Her breath hitched when two of his long fingers slide between her folds, spreading her slick before finding its rightful place on her clit. Spencer didn't hesitate when he started rubbing at her nub, smooth and deliberate, it made her toes curl and her body jumped in a moment of surprised bliss.

Her sound of pleasure was music to his ears, urging him to satisfy her even more. He was quick when those same fingers dipped inside her core, her inner walls tensing at the sudden yet pleasurable stretch. There was a distinct sound along her needy whines, wet and slapping as his palm makes contact with her clit every time he was knuckle-deep inside her. Her head fell back to the wall, mouth agape, face flushed—a sight Spencer secretly wanted to commit into his memory.

Without even noticing it, her hips started grinding to chase his fingers, desperate to reach that familiar pleasure twisting in her core. Her movement didn't go unnoticed by him, an amused, deep chuckle reverberating from his chest while he pulled his fingers out of her, rubbing her clit aggressively, knowing it would make her reach her high faster.

"You're going to cum, aren't you? This quick?" She glared at him through half-lidded eyes, not giving him an answer. His smile widened at her resistance. "Do you think I should let you?"

Her heart quickened its pace, knowing well enough what he was about to do. He was going to tease her, or as she liked to think, he was going to torture her by not giving her what she wanted. Her theory was proved right when he leaned down, his face inches away from hers, a sly smile on his lips.

"Beg me."

She quickly shook her head. A hand snaked up her back until it found the base of her skull. His fingers brushed through her strands before gripping hard, sending a jolt of pain down her spine as he yanked her head back.

"Beg me."

"Fuck you—ah!" A sudden pressure of his fingers sent pleasure shooting through her, pushing a moan from her that filled the room like a ringing bell—a bell that signaled the fact that despite how much she knew she shouldn't, she was already surrendering to his touch.

"No?" He taunted, his breath brushing against her ear. "Then I'm not letting you cum."

And just like that, the pleasure rippling through her body was ripped away.

He swiftly pulled his hand from under her pants with a smirk she wanted to wipe off before turning his back to her, leaving her all flustered. She took a moment to collect herself, her mind racing to grasp the situation. She loathed him. She really did. She despised the way he was so full of himself.

With a determined exhale, she shook off the flustered feeling that lingered. He may have momentarily unsettled her, but she was not one to let her guard down easily. She was not going to let him get under her skin. If he could make her sexually frustrated, then so could she.

If he was going to play dirty, she was going to get filthy.

Her shirt was the first thing that came off. Then she unbuttoned her pants, pulling them down over her legs. Dear god, she was going to regret this, wasn't she? But she couldn't stop. Not when the rustle of her clothes echoed in the quiet space and Spencer turned around, jaw slacked, a startled expression crossed his face as he watched her.

"W-What are you doing?"

There. That was what she wanted. That priceless, wide-eyed, disbelief face. She had to keep going.

"Taking matters into my own hands."

Her hand reached around to unclasp her bra before she intentionally took her time sliding the straps down her arms, enjoying the way his jaw clenched as you did. Eyes still focused on him, she tossed it to the side. Her hands lowered afterward, and an audible gasp escaped his lips as she slipped her fingers into the waistband of her underwear, sliding them down her legs.

"You're always so smug," she murmured, taking a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Thinking you have control of me."

Right hand reaching up, her fingertips just lightly swept the length of his stubbled chin, just below his lips. The corner of his mouth only drew up further at her touch. She smiled at his reaction, and her fingers dropped down to grip his chin firmly.

"But I can satisfy myself just fine."

And then she pulled away, the smirk now missing from his lips as she backed out of his reach. She then settled on the bed, and with her eyes never leaving him, she spread her legs wide open. She watched as a breathless sigh escaped his lips and smiled triumphantly, especially when the bulge growing in his dark pants was impossible to ignore.

With her gaze lingering on his steadily growing erection, she trailed her hand down her stomach, the tips of her fingers paused just over her clit. "What's wrong, Reid?" She hummed out, watching his chest heave. "You seem to be speechless."

Because he was, how could he not be when the pad of her middle finger slowly started to lightly circle over her clit. He watched as she teased herself, fingers gliding between her folds, gathering her arousal before slipping a finger inside. She gasped, the wet sound was audible even to her own ears as she gradually pumped her finger in and out.

He took a step closer, and her fingers moved faster as his eyes raked over her body—her luscious breasts fully exposed, legs spread apart, fingers between her thighs. A faint moan fell out of her, her eyes partially closing all the while her fingers never ceased their movement, vigorously thrusting into her cunt.

She then proceeded to put on a show for him, throwing her head back and rolling her hips. He was standing close to her now, eyes focused on her body, his tongue sliding along his lower lip. Her cunt immediately clenched at the sight of him, a bulge straining at the fabric of his pants. The sight sent a surge of warmth through her body, spreading from between her thighs to her cheeks as her fingers quickened in pace and her legs spread farther for him to see.

He was trying to hold himself, it was obvious in the way he held his composure. But then she watched with satisfaction as he stalked towards her, and just because she wanted to fluster him, she couldn't help herself from letting out a needy whine as she slipped her fingers out before rubbing her clit desperately, her eyes boring into his.

"Spencer," she moaned.

That was precisely when he lost it. He didn't even hesitate. He marched straight to her, and her finger stopped in its movement as she watched him settle between her legs, sinking to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and roughly yanked her over the edge of the mattress, and she fell on her back with a squeal.

"You're a goddamn tease, you know that?" He sneered, his warm breath brushing over her heat. "Fine, I'll let you win this time."

A gasp escaped her lips when he wasted no time leaning in, burying his head between her thighs. He wasted no time as she grabbed onto the sheets, feeling his tongue draw circles around her clit before flicking up and down at a rapid pace. Her thighs tighten around his head. and her whole body trembled beneath him, encouraging him to move his tongue faster.

His fingers dug into her thighs, holding them apart as he took his time. Ever so slowly he licked up her slit, gathering her juices on his tongue until he reached her clit, groaning every second of the way until she was shivering beneath his touch. She was breathless, mind buzzing and the room spinning as he thrust his tongue into her warmth, face becoming so deep between her thighs that heat rushed through her body.

When her thighs trembled and threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag deeper inside her. With a roll of his tongue, he was lapping at her walls, swallowing every drop until the second he heard her begin to whine.

It was embarrassing, letting him hear how worked up she was. But she couldn't help it, not when she was losing control of her mind and body. Her hips were starting to buck to meet his tongue. Her jaw slacked. Low moans spilled from her lips as he continued to ravish her, and her fingers dug into the sheets beneath her to hold onto her sanity as waves of pure overwhelming pleasure took hold of her.

"Oh my god," she whimpered, voice two octaves higher before growing silent. She was so, so close to the edge, his tongue relentlessly sucking her clit, licking, swirling over her entrance until her mind fell blank from the bliss. The heat began swelling from between her thighs, tension tightening and all she did was screw her eyes shut.

But seconds before the pleasure was nearly too much to bear, he suddenly pulled away.

"Reid!" She hissed, looking down between her legs. "You're fucking annoying."

He looked up at her with a teasing glint in his eyes, then his mouth parted a second before his tongue swiped over his lip to taste the remnants of her arousal. "What?"

Unbelievable. After pulling that stunt, he had the audacity to feign innocence. She huffed and opened her mouth to retort something but when he started to undress himself, she couldn't think of anything. Her mind was too busy taking in his slightly toned arms, his broad chest, his slim waist, and that patch of soft hair trailing down his stomach, disappearing underneath his pants.

And that was gone too, and now he was standing without any shred of clothing, and it then dawned on her that they were both very much naked. Their first time in that dusty storage room happened too fast that they didn't bother taking off their clothes, but now she had the time to sink in the way he looked wearing nothing but a smirk.

"I didn't bring a condom," he said as he climbed onto the bed. Like that was going to stop them, it didn't stop them before and it most definitely won't stop them now.

"It's fine," she mumbled just as he settled between her legs again, but when his eyes lit up at her words, she smacked his shoulder. "But you're still not finishing inside me."

He merely hummed a reply. Then seconds later he was lining up the tip of his cock with her entrance. His eyes meet hers as he teased her, and she noticed the smirk appear once again on his lips. She pushed her hips toward him, gripping his arm irritatedly, and released a breathy 'hurry up' before she could change her mind.

He wasted no more time pushing himself into her without warning, earning a gasp while he stretched her completely. He pressed his body into her, allowing her lips to collide with his and moan into the kiss when she felt him pull away just enough to slam back into her with one harsh thrust. His hands suddenly reached for her wrists, and he gripped them above her head, pushing them onto the mattress.

His eyes darkened as he looked down at her, and she quickly shut her own as he pumped himself into her cunt over and over again. His motions were aggressive, sloppy, and wild. The moment a particularly deep and brutal thrust hit her at the right spot was the moment she finally gave in to weakness as she let out a loud moan, her mind going blank to everything but the pleasure he was giving her.

Then he pulled back again, and his thick cock slid out of her partway, glistening with her juices, splitting her pussy apart around it before snapping forward, his hips going at a brutal pace, making her whole body bounce from the contact.

"God, you feel incredible," he groaned out just as she gasped from the intense pressure of him inside her, head falling above her, jaw slacked, sweat dripping down his temple. Her eyes fluttered open before exhaling a heavy breath, feeling him tightening his grip on her wrists. "We need to do this more often."

Though she didn't say it, she agreed with him. And it pained her to even consider making this a habit. But it was tempting. It was so tempting that the thought of having him inside her anytime and anywhere had her clenching around his cock, earning a low grunt deep within his chest.

Then something snapped inside her. She had started off holding back, keeping herself in check against the rising wave of sensations. But then, in a moment that felt like a long-awaited release, she decided finally to let go when he continued to hit that perfect spot inside her, and she almost felt ashamed at the noises she was making. She wasn't as vocal when she was alone, nor with other men, yet the man she claimed to hate earned every whimper, every desperate moan.

Hearing her cries urged Spencer even more. He leaned over to her and pushed himself deeper, earning a gasp from her as her legs fell apart even further, letting him sink himself as deep as he could. He pushed her hands above her head and hovered above her, letting his temple fall against hers as his hips rutted violently.

The pressure rose and the tension coiled in the pit of her stomach. Sweats beaded over her skin just the same as him, crying out for him, moans mixing with filthy noises of him thrusting into her wet cunt. His powerful thrusts then quickened, causing her to grow weak her body began to quiver in his grasp.

She cried out, wanting to warn him she was growing close to the edge, her mind growing numb, everything around her fading into black. But didn't give her the chance to speak before he pressed his mouth on hers in a heated kiss, all sloppy and wet and desperate, latching on her lips with so much fervor.

She felt him everywhere. On her lips, biting on her soft flesh. On her breasts, his chest rubbing against her hard nipples. And between her legs, his cock stretching her deliciously, a pleasant feeling that had her whining against his mouth.

But before she could whimper anything else, the pleasure erupted inside of her, red hot heat unraveling to every limb. Her release was a fiery blast—white-hot and overwhelming, turning her into the image of destruction. Her hair stuck to her skin, her back arching off the bed, feeling overwhelmed as his cock hit her deeper. She succumbed to the bliss, eyes shut tight, and her furrowed brow as she surrendered through her orgasm. 

He held her tighter, pumping himself into her as she finally let go, calling out his name in a breathless whimper. She came so hard her legs were shaking uncontrollably, but he didn't stop. He pounded into her harder, reveling in the way she fell apart for him.

"I-I'm close," he grunted. "Where... where do you want me to—"

"Inside."

He looked down at her, trying to hold himself to not combust right there and then. "Are you—" he groaned when she clenched around him. "Are you sure?"

She was already too deep in her climax that any worries faded away. It was like time slowed down, and all that mattered was the intense sensations taking over her body. It was wrong, but it was what she wanted. She wanted to be full of him.

"Yes. Please, just—please," she whispered. "Cum inside me."

It was enough for him to let go, chasing his own pleasure inside of her, hitting deep within her walls as her own arousal dripped out around him. The slick and messy noises mixed with his groans filled the room, heat continuing to rush to her face as her entire body became overly sensitive.

With one final, sharp inhale, the bliss took hold of him. His hips slowed as he began to release inside of her, filling her up with a few huffs and grunts, creating a bigger mess between her thighs. He thrust one last time as the last few drops spilled from him, continuing to press his body against hers as closely as possible.

Then everything went silent except the sound of their ragged breathing. He pulled out of her with a heavy sigh, just as spent as her, breathless beyond belief. He collapsed on the bed, his chest rising up and down as he tried to gain some sense of control, his mind trying to grasp on the euphoria that happened moments ago.

"Well that was—"

She quickly nodded beside him. "Yeah."

Spencer turned his head towards her, and she could already feel him gloating that before he had the chance to say anything, she covered his mouth with her hand. "Do not say anything."

His reply was muffled underneath her palm, and she didn't understand what he was trying to say. She didn't even bother wanting to listen to him anymore. So she got off the bed, wincing when she felt the mess dripping down her thighs as she walked over to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking a shower," she called out. "I feel... sticky."

She then heard some rustling and she turned to see him hopping off the bed, following behind her. She narrowed her eyes. "Where are you going?"

"I feel sticky too."

"Spencer."

His lips twitched into an amused smile. "You called me Spencer."

She groaned and turned around. "We're not showering together, Reid."

"Why not?" He pressed, following her behind. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

She looked at him, assessing the way he was practically begging with his eyes. She was pondering whether it was a good idea to spend more time with him in an enclosed space. Probably not, but considering all the filthy, nasty things they had done, sharing a shower seemed harmless. 

"Alright, fine," she caved in, letting out a sigh. "Just keep your hands to yourself."

He nodded eagerly, but she should've thought better when the spray of water finally hit their bodies and he closed in around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he held her waist. Then he pressed her against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, and it was safe to say that he could not, as a matter of fact, keep his hands to himself.

Not that she was complaining.

.

a/n: I know this was supposed to be enemies to fuckable enemies but they're really starting to grow on me, they kinda cute

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[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Bruce knew immediately that it wasn't his son. Even if the glowing neon green eyes weren't a dead giveaway, Tim would never move like that. He was clumsy and uncoordinated in a way a normal teen would be, not at all like the trained fighter that he actually was.

Next was the voice. It was nothing like Tim's, and Bruce was surprised that whoever this kid was - because that definitely sounded like a kid - actually thought anyone would be fooled by this. Oh well, he wanted info and wanted to make this kid squirm a bit as punishment, so why not bring out Brucie baby and tease him a little?

"Tim dear, why are you still in the office? I thought I told you to go to bed early tonight! You're going to pass out again!"

The kid wearing Tim's face looked alarmed for a bit. Once Bruce had mentioned passing out and he took the opportunity to shuffle the kid towards the door while his guard was down.

"Wait! I need to get-"

"Whatever it is," Bruce interrupted, "It can wait till tomorrow."

The kid slumped a bit and pouted, but otherwise made no attempts of escaping as Bruce led the fake Drake to the elevator, however the moment they got into the car "Tim" blacked out in the passenger seat and didn't wake up for three hours. All tests showed that this was the real Tim, so what was happening?

Tim awoke with a gasp on a couch in the manor.

"Tim," Bruce began, already getting up from his place in the nearby armchair, but before he could speak, Tim croaked out, "Possessed"

"What?"

"Possession. He was after the device that was powered by the unidentified green substance we found."

Aka Danny tries to steal back his parents' dangerous stuff only to be stopped at the last minute.

Repeatedly.

Danny doesn't even know what half this stuff does, but he's not too keep on finding out, thus trying to get them away from the humans

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: older!reiner x reader

warnings: smut 18+, age gap (old enough to be readers dad)

Congratulations

Reiner didn't typically consider himself the most neighborly. Sure he'd wave when in passing, or occasionally comment on his neighbors’ yard, but that was it.

It wasn't like him to walk across his lawn to offer help or introduce himself.

That was until he saw you, pout resting on your pretty lips as you struggled to open your door with the large box in your hands.

Maybe it was that he hit multiple aces while golfing or maybe it was your ass peeking from your shorts. Whatever it was it prompted him to approach you, offering to help you inside.

Any other time you'd have declined, aware of the horror stories of seemingly kind men but something told you to trust him. Maybe it was the prominent muscles along his six foot frame, or that he was old enough to be your dad. Whatever it was you accepted.

He helped you bring all of your boxes and furniture in. Happily rearranging your room for the third time and even helping you fix the wobbly leg of your coffee table before wishing you a good night and returning to his house.

That night he jerked off to the memories of you bent over and the small sounds you made when lifting a heavy box.

You talked with him once after that. When you finally settled into the house that was too large for one girl, you went knocking on his door to bring him thank you brownies, praying he didn't notice your eyes lingering on the prominent v-line of his bare torso before you finally handed him the dish.

Of course, there were the occasional waves whenever you two happened to pass by each other but your schedules rarely mixed. That was until he decided to take a day off.

While in the middle of mowing his lawn, he saw you leave your house, gown in hand, and dripped in colorful cords and stoles, your decorated graduation cap sparkling in the sun as you rushed to your car.

He thought about you the entire time you were gone, busying himself with housework, and keeping a close ear by the door. When he caught the sound of your car pulling in your driveway he immediately jogged his way over to you, stopping in the same place he first introduced himself.

“Hi, I just wanted to come over and congratulate you. I saw you this morning but you seemed to be in a rush” He smirked, hazel eyes skimming your bare legs that appeared elongated in the heels you wore.

“Aww thank you, I was, but I'd have loved to talk to you anyway” A nervous giggle escaped you. Despite the low interaction, you couldn't help but grow a small crush on your older neighbor. The sight of him in his suit or tight golf shorts being the star in all of your late night fantasies.

“Would you like to come over to have dinner? Today, or sometime this week? I'm sure you have some plans later but if not, I'd love to have you over.” He rubbed his beard nervously as he awaited your reply.

You did. But you were convinced your friends and family would understand that you just had to take up the opportunity to get to know your hot neighbor.

At least that's what you told yourself when you accepted his invitation.

And let him teach you how to cook a steak.

And maybe when you allowed him to pull you down onto his lap as you watched the sunset.

And definitely when he carried you up his stairs before fucking you senseless.

You lost count of how many orgasms you've had. The moment he laid you on his bed, his lips were wrapped around your clit, sucking the life out of you numerous times, and fingering your pink walls till tears stained your cheeks and you shook from overstimulation.

You thought you'd be safe once he bullied his fat cock into your aching walls. Surely a man of his age didn't have the best stamina, right? Wrong.

He quite literally laughed in your face at your disbelief when he fucked his first load back into your sopping pussy.

You'd never been so full, his tip ramming against your cervix whenever he fully pounded into you and the outline of his dick as he pressed down on your tummy having you drool.

“Rei, too much” You cried. Ass in the air and face buried into the mattress as he pounded into you from behind, hands tied back with your lacey panties. Whines barely audible over the slapping skin.

“Why are you complaining, bunny? Isn't this what you wanted? For daddy to ruin this pretty pussy” He whispered in your ear. The new angle reaching spots you never knew existed.

“Ouuu, yes, please, daddy” You whined, turning to give your signature pout. Oh, how you looked so pretty to him. Face stained with tears and your pouty, plumped, glossy lips looking so soft. He found it cute how you tried to convince him to let you cum.

“No” He pecked your lips before pulling out fully, only to ram his cock back in. A harsh slap landed on your ass cheek at the same time, red bruise forming on the brown skin from his previous spanks.

“Oh my gaaawd please, I can't hold it in anymore” You resisted against the restraints, desperate to slow his movements

“Yes, you can, princess.” He taunts, as he continued his relentless pounding.

You wanted to believe him. You really did as you tried to focus on anything other than the pleasure he was providing you. You tried and tried but nothing stopped the knot from snapping. A string of curses flowing from your pretty lips as your body found the strength to push out the clear stream of squirt, your walls clamping around his cock.

He hissed, unable to resist the pressure applied as his sticky cum decorated the insides of your walls, pounding into you before pulling out to watch it drip onto his sheets.

Confusion settled into your brain as he untied your hands and flipped you over, whispering praises into your ear as he blessed your skin with soft sweet kisses.

“Reiner, I'm sorry I really tried” You started

“I know, baby. I forgive you, it's okay. You did perfect” He engulfed you in a passionate kiss, tongues exploring the path down each others throats.

You were almost convinced he did, until he reached into his nightstand, pulling out a blindfold and a vibrator from the drawer.

“I thought you said you forgive me” Pout once again resting on your lips as he opened your legs, cool air stimulating your already throbbing clit

“I do. But even the prettiest of girls don't get out of punishment”

wheres my dilf neighbor??? also congratulations to anyone who graduated. nothing but love to my fellow class of 24 graduates. even if you didn't get to graduate or you're currently still in school I'm still proud of you nd wish you nothing but success in life. mwah <3

[ribarukirikaindenial]

just random thoughts that i’m writing but sometimes i wonder if the daipa writers hit a wall or reached a point of non return by making nozomi win the grand festival thus making her a top coordinator and perhaps putting a halt in the rivalry between her and hikari

these are just musings about the nozohika rivalry and me wondering what nozomi has been up to ever since dp ended 

i understand why nzhk rivalry was written the way it was, nozomi being a kind of stand in for hikari’s mom (she is a prodigy, takes on a mentor approach with hikari, she even has the cat pokemon whose name i forgot like hikari’s mom), hikari’s development being about growing out of her goal and the pressure she put on herself because of her legacy since her perfectionism held her down so she had to learn to be relaxed, learn that losing is okay, etc etc. so hikari never winning against nozomi was part of that and they probably wanted to make the finals be about two characters we’re invested in, rather than having nozomi win against some random or another side character. 

the thing is, i’m wondering if the nozohika rivalry still had grounds to grow further post canon, since hikari never caught up to nozomi once and nozomi already being a top coordinator kind of feels like she is in a unreachable place, plus again hikari’s development isn’t about becoming a top coordinator per se (again, i understand why things are written the way they are but when i compare to snst or even shhr rivalries, the latters seem much more equal, haruka eventually caught up to shuu and we got to see how the ag rivals were doing during the mikuri cup in dp, plus we knew they intended to keep challenging each other in johto)

i guess it’s because we don’t know much about the kind of roles there could be in contests, i guess a top coordinator can eventually become a judge during contests?? but even there, it feels onesided in terms of making a rivalry out of that if the nzhk rivalry had to go further. 

also, i’m realizing that if nozomi takes a route of mentoring new coordinators by being a contest judge, it would parallel shinji becoming a gym leader lol (the snst and nzhk rivalries have interesting contrasts, after all).

i guess i’m just really curious about nozomi post dp. we never got news on her after all. i wonder if she is a prodigy that hit the jackpot too fast by becoming a top coordinator so young, and after her very first grand festival (i think she never competed in a grand festival before the one in sinnoh). she kind of reminds me of dande, in that way (he felt like he had no room to grow further and was scared because of it).  

what else could she do now? of course she can keep competing contests, but i wonder if she can find a rival that keeps challenging her. plus her already being a top coordinator means she has the upper hand in a way if her opponent is still beginning (her rivalry with hikari started with her already having a ribbon for example, so she was already a step ahead and kept being a step ahead until the very end, on the other hand shinji and satoshi started on an equal footing). 

anyway, i had to check nozomi and hikari’s last interaction in dp and i think they just say goodbye to each other and there wasn’t a promise to see each other in a contest again (i think). nozomi said she was going to kissaki city because suzuna wanted to throw a party to congratulate her for becoming a top coordinator and she asked hikari if she wanted to come. hikari refused because she wants to support satoshi for his last gym battle and for the league. and that’s how it ends, and in retrospect, it’s kind of sad :( i don’t really get “hints for the future” from their last interaction. in comparison with shinji and satoshi (and again, i know they are different dynamics and i’m not pitting one against the other etc etc), dp ended with a big hint for their future which was unlike anything else we’ve gotten at the time tbh. shirona talking about how they’ll climb up the ranks of the champion league, which is eventually what happened with shinji helping satoshi for the m8 etc, and satoshi promised to battle each other again. even in their reunion, i still got “hints for the future” vibes from the whole setting since the writers always keep their possibilities very open (satoshi could always challenge shinji’s gym in the future and get his badge, they promised to battle each other again, we know shinji is always welcome in masara town since ookido hakase told him so, so even outside battles, there is potential for many things). so the possibilities are endless there (good for me, and good for them!).

just a bit sad for nozomi. i don’t doubt that her and hikari are keeping in touch with each other, but i just wonder how their rivalry could grow further. my imagination is kind of limited, so i don’t have many ideas for how it could turn out after dp.