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wired-for-trouble · 19 hours ago

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It was same for Barbie. She had loved her life in their family owned circus. She was happy to have her whole family there, all the circus people, Fizz included. It had it's ups and downs of course, which is why Barbie as a teenager got to find her a new friend circles. Seeing her brother developing some weird relationship with Fizz, Barbie did feel like she was third wheeling when they hangout together, eventually just declining their offer of 'doing something fun'. It did hurt Barbie a little but seeing Blitzø actually enjoying Fizzarolli's company, and knowing how much shit their dad was causing for her twin, she didn't have a heart to ever bring this up. Not like she was, too, jealous or anything. She loved to see her twin happy and Fizz as well. Which is why Barbie started declining their offer of 'hanging out' more often as the time went by which led her eventually find herself someone else to hangout with... which was the start of the downfall for Barbie.

Did she miss the old times? In a way yeah. She missed the times she and Blitzø were hanging together, she misses their mom a whole lot. Times were as good as it could have been back then... but now Barbie was sitting in a café, listening Blitzø talk, while trying to keep herself calm. Push all the anger aside. Which was not easy after Blitzø just raised his voice a little while defending at ugly little imp back at the camp.

Barbie held the coffee mug between her fingers, her tail was moving slowly side to side as she was slowly getting more annoyed while Blitzø kept going and going. Too bad his sister didn't know how to comfort anyone these days no matter if she got worried over someone-...

"The fuck are you on? Seriously!?" Barbie finally hit the mark when she had enough of this self-hating pity party. Sure Barbie hated herself as much as Blitzø hated himself but she would never let it show by words, it was more like drowning her sorrows in booze and drugs type of thing for her.

Barbie slammed the mug on the table, hard, that is got some cracks on it "I don't know how fucking bad your memory is or what fucking long term memory loss you are struggling with but fuck off with that bullshit. Dad had ALWAYS been a drunk bastard, I remember him drinking ever since we were little toddlers and weren't even part of the circus act yet! He always had to have his daily dose of alcohol which is one reason we struggled money-wise at times! It was not only because of you so shove that shit back up in your ass" Barbie slammed her hands on the table and stood up.

"How fucking much longer are you gonna compare your talents on Fizz's anyways!? No one, and I mean NO ONE can compete with him on clown act! Dad knew it yet he still had to throw you two on stage together! He didn't care of the circus life wasn't for you at all and yet kept taking it on you!" yes Barbie was aware of some shit their dad had done to Blitzø, like hitting him. How many times? That she didn't know but she had witnessed Cash laying his hands on his twin few times, but had been too scared of saying anything. "The only fucking shit that drunk asswipe cared for was Fizz, the money he brought in.... literally everything except us. If this doesn't make you hate the bastard then I suggest you go and get professional help!" yes Barbie was mad, yes she did care very loudly and aggressively here.

"And you just made it sound like you set the fucking circus on fire on purpose! Are you not listening yourself talk!? You actually wanted Fizz to get hurt or mom die while dad probs run as fast to save his stack of cash and booze!?" Barbie took a hold on Blitzø's chest, pulling him up over the table. "Get your fucking shit together and stop swimming in that pool of self pity. Hell I have never seen someone's dick shrivel up and turn into pussy as fast as now" Barbie let go of Blitzø after giving few pokes on his forehead. During a rehab Barbie had taken some anger management but there was just some things that made her lose it with a snap. She hated talking about their past, even tho she was the one who brought their dad up first.

".... Sorry" Barbie mumbled under her breath, she didn't mean to go this far but at least she didn't punch Blitzø in the face as she was intend to.

【𐂃】 the circus life might of been demeaning, also barely making ends meet, but it was home. Blitzø loved it, as a kid && his teenage self. it got him through Hell && back when times got rough. Knowing he had a mother he could rely on, a father he wanted to be good enough for, a loving sister, && his first crush. Also having circus horses he could feed for all time. He had everything made! Honestly, if he was given a choice — he would of stuck with the circus gig despite it being a lower class job. They made it worth while. Nevertheless, things didn't play out as he envisioned. His scorched marks leaving bitter reminders of that fateful night. Which he dared not to hide it && made it known as means to stop running away from his responsibilities. He worked harder, setting a name for himself to carry on their underappreciated kin. Not in hopes to start a revolution, but rather give their kind the worth they deserve. a fighting chance. a second chance.

Barbie's scoff did lightly jabbed his heart, but he knew where she was coming from it. Knowing it wasn't going to be easy to further exhibit how family ties mean everything to him. Moxxie also wasn't too keen with the 'family' retort at first, yet the assassin kept being persistent. He hadn't given up all those years of torment && he wasn't going to start quitting now.

❝ Weeell, luckily it worked in my favor. although I wish things would of played out differently in that kangaroo court — I'm glad I still have my job an' my team. It also got a message through t' those fuckers, so . . . here's hoping they give our kind a break or somethin'. Some fuckin' validation would be dandy. ❞ at the mention of the blue bloods; he peered down at his asmodean crystal. Running a hand over it as if he tried to conceal it from her, pressing his hands against his own chest.

❝ Oh, yeah. I knew about the fancy book when I was little but . . . I didn't want t' get you an' Fizz involved. there wasn't a need at the time. but, well, I sorta fell back into it when I was . . . desperate. ❞ he simply sum up, not wanting to note how lonely && depressing it was not to have either of them in his life. He was grasping at straws! trying anything to obtain a sense of belonging; importance. With that in mind, he reverted back to I.M.P && the twink she kept referring to.

❝ Look! I get where you're comin' from but — my employee was just doin' his job. If yer unorthodox wonk didn't end up killin' my client, then he wouldn't of gotten his brain blown t' smithereens. It goes both ways, sister. ❞ at that he crossed his arms, lightly pouting with a flick of his tail. As peeved as he was; no sooner did his arms unfold. not entertaining the dark humor, nor the mention of their father.

❝ I . . . wanna hate him too. but, like yourself, he has every right t' be mad at me. I wasn't contributin' much in our circus gig. I was kinda draggin' Fizz down with me too, the audience thought his jokes were better. an' after the arson I created? I probably did deserved t' be taught a lesson. I ruined a perfectly good thing. Yeah he was an asshole, but . . . he probably drank a lot of booze 'cos of me. S-sorry, I didn't meant t' get sentimental. its just . . . been eatin' me away all this time. It's stupid, but I'm happy you are here, barb. it means more than you will ever know. ❞

#IC;;#Blitzbuckz #There is no place for self hatred when Barbie is around #She is caring very loudly and angrily #anger management was a waste apparently ;;#Barbie doesn't know if Blitz set the circus of fire on purpose or not #She wasn't there at the time... ;;#Which she regrets a whole lot #They could talk about Fizz but... Barbie hasn't spend too much time with him either... but they still can #Barbie has no idea about the engagement for example

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maintitle · 2 years ago

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Watching DS9 Season 3 and they're doing a really good job of setting up the Dominion War as a huge, long-spanning threat to the sector, but they have an episode where Romulans meet with Sisko in order to exchange intelligence and the Romulans say with their whole ass chest that 'this will be the greatest threat to the galaxy in the last hundred years.'

...the BORG, Subcommander! The BORG just invaded a few years ago!

#Like yes obviously the Dominion War was longer and more significant #But that's only because any threat from the Borg has to end immediately #Because if it doesn't you just whole ass lose #They move to quickly and take too much manpower and technology #DS9 is the greatest Star Trek show ever made #This is not a slight #They do a great job all season of setting this up #But the BORG GENTLEMEN #THE BORG

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alwaysshallow · 1 year ago

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boys trying to survive nnn with their partner (141 + los vaqueros + könig x f!reader)

a/n: if it wasn't for @blissful-bunny, there wouldn't be nnn. LMAOOO i hope y'all will enjoy, it's my first time doing something like this... and i think i don't hate it as i did before!

mdni, as always. nsfw below + keegan's version here

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Being around Ghost durning this time is funny, to say the least. You know about this bet from Gaz, when you invited the whole Task Force 141 for dinner. There wasn't much of a reaction from you, just a nod and a hum that's interesting to hear that. Nothing more, until your boyfriend's friends went home, and you stayed with him, washing dishes.

"You think you're gonna last?" you ask, and you pretty much can't stop yourself from laughing when he gives you a side eye.

"'s just a month." he grumbles, and you know, you somehow irritated him. Or, the bet did, you're not really sure. "Been through worse."

Theoretically, it is true. He's military, he has seen things that you won't ever see, something so stupid like this challenge shouldn't be something hard to do.

Practically? Practically, he takes every fucking chance to get closer to you. You're making breakfast, showering, washing the dishes? He's gonna be right behind you. It's not surprising at first, he liked to be near you always, but it has a malicious intent to it, when he drags his clothed cock up and down your ass, grunting right into your ear. He gets you worked up, and you're pretty sure he's gonna lose, but he stops right before he cums.

You can't really decide if it's funny or sad to see him like this. It's his pained expression that he gives when he bites on his lower lip, grumbling something about watching you touching yourself, so it will be better. You can't really say no to a man starved, so you put out a show for him, thinking how so much better his fingers would be in your pussy.

If it would depend on you, you'd kneel and relieve him, but what can you do, when he has this ridiculous challenge of his?

He breaks after two days, when he sees you in your shared gym, exercising. It's unexpected, when he puts down dumbbells you were working with, doing squats; you want to ask what's wrong, but when he lifts you up, your back hitting the wall, you just know. You even forgive him when he doesn't prep you enough, and he just thrusts into you without much thinking of it, his balls heavy.

You know you won't leave this gym for a long time.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"You're participating in what?"

To say it was weird, was one thing. To say that Kyle does it, was even weirder, especially that he was straight from two months of deployment. Needy. You knew it, as you were with him almost three years by now, he had always spent hours in bed with you because he missed you like a madman. These two months were pretty much the longest you've been separated with him, so, you can imagine your surprise, when you learned about the challenge, when you two were cleaning your apartment. He was touching you every now and then, giving you little kisses, and now he was talking about something like this.

"I'm—"

"—No, I heard you" you chuckled, shaking your head. "I'm like… trying to understand who convinced you to do so."

"Bet with Soap. Lad thinks 'm not gonna last with you." he murmurs, and you just know that this motherfucker made this as a personal challenge. So, you just nod your head, to Kyle's surprise on his pretty face. "That's… all you're gonna say?"

"What else I'm supposed to say?" you raise your eyebrow, amused. "That I feel sorry for you, this will do?"

"That ain't funny."

"It is, kind of funny." you grin, as you kiss his forehead, at which he closes his eyes, so you repeat kissing his forehead a few times. "I'm gonna support you in this, yeah? So it's gonna be easier."

It wasn't easier. You could see that he glances at you every now and then, when you are doing domestic things around the house, giving him little, encouraging smiles. Little do you know that Kyle's bulge is growing larger and larger every time he looks at you.

Gaz is pretty calm, at least until he sees you in his t-shirt (that is way too big for you) and just panties underneath, sitting right beside him with a bowl of popcorn. You two planned to watch a movie, but your boyfriend quickly brushes it off, as his hand wanders under the hem of your panties.

"Kyle, you—"

"I know." he almost growls, as he puts you on his lap.

The moment he feels your wetness, he's a gone man; he makes you ride him, and the challenge is just a fading memory, when his lips attack yours.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Soap is absolutely offended when everyone in Task Force 141 tells him he's gonna lose the challenge. He can't shut up about it for an hour straight, as he lays with his head on your lap, telling you something about celibacy and being true lover, not some "horny arse like the others". You listen to it with a small, amused smile on your lips because as much as you love your boyfriend, everyone is right about it.

He's not gonna last, and he knows it personally too, but you say nothing about it. You just listen to Johnny's ramblings, until his eyes are on you, observing your reaction so casually.

"What do ya think? 'm gonna beat it? Be the best?" he tilts his head like a puppy, squinting his eyes. It's an icy ground you're standing on right now.

"I think… it's gonna be hard." you answer; slowly, reluctantly. It's not something that he wants to hear though, as he groans, shaking his head with displeasure. "What? You asked!"

"I ken it's gonna be hard. 'm askin', if 'm gonna beat it" he emphasizes his last words, and you can feel he barely holds himself from rolling his eyes.

"…well, baby, as much as I have faith in you in other things…"

It's not a good answer for him, nor for a challenge, considering that you end up getting fucked by him – it's some kind of punishment, he tells you, when he folds you in half. He tells you that he also didn't lose the challenge, technically, as you had sex November 1st , at 3 a.m. You nod, hesitantly, so you could go to sleep without causing him to ramble about it again; you are exhausted.

It takes him three days of fucking you in various places to finally come into the conclusion that the challenge isn't for him. Three days of promising and hearing him whining that it's gonna be 'st the tip, baby, to feel you good.

"Good that you've figured that out." you say with a small smile, in restaurant's bathroom, his forehead against yours, as his cock is still buried deep inside you.

"Lasted longer than lads. Sure of that."

John Price

You want to think of your husband highly, when you hear of this stupid thingy. The authority, someone that leads the Task Force 141, setting the example for his younger proteges with his willpower. Someone who actually cares about engaging in challenges, even if they're stupid, even if he shouldn't even look at something like this.

Yet, you know John, you're married to him, for God's sake – and you know his sex drive. When this man is home, nothing and no one stops him from getting what he wants, and that's on you. In your mind, there's a core memory of him saying that he absolutely loves your pussy, multiple times.

So it's not a surprise that he doesn't participate in this challenge. It's not a surprise when he babbles about having kids with you while he fucks you wherever he can; kitchen counter, under the shower, your couch. His obsession over kids grew over this month more than ever, and you were happy to meet his expectations in a middle, since you thought of having a little angel in your small family for a longer time now. Having a dog wasn't enough.

A surprise comes when he proudly admits that he won in the end of the month. Boys are pretty much shocked by this, considering that their Captain didn't even look frustrated once, and he was in better mood than usual. Yet, they don't have a place to complain, so they accept the defeat with a frown on their faces, and a quick comment from Soap that he for sure cheated.

"You didn't win, honey." you laugh to him, sitting at his lap, when he's in his office, alone.

Price arches his eyebrow in amusement. "I did."

"That's not really—"

"Listen, we were tryin' for babies, weren't we? It wasn't egoistical fuckin'." he explains, completely serious.

It takes all in you not to either gasp or laugh again. "So, if it would be without the intention of making babies, you'd lose?"

He gives you a quick nod. "Exactly, missus. Exactly."

Alejandro Vargas

It's easy to last a few days for Alejandro. Maybe even a week, or a bit more. With his kind of work, being a Colonel, you often didn't see him for days, or even weeks if it was a bad time. Right now, with working over destroying a Mexican cartel, being home was rare for him. Was it saddening? Of course, but you knew what you were doing when you married him, you've talked with him about it for days, maybe weeks, even.

So, maybe that's why he didn't really think much of a challenge when he agreed to it, one of the nights he was drinking with Los Vaqueros. Just for fun, just to make a fun memory in this mess they were in. Days were passing in the blink of an eye with the same routine; a few hours of sleep if he's lucky, patrol, documents, action and repeat. Nothing too fancy, nothing too new for a man of war like he is, he got used to it all.

Harder was the moment he came home to you, where you were waiting for him with your open arms, all needy for his presence, for his touch, but somehow, somehow he managed, giving you the best orgasm of your life with his mouth only, even if he was in need too.

"Cariño?" he calls you, confused, when he doesn't see you in bed in the next morning. In his sweatpants only, he goes to the kitchen, following the sound of pan that sizzles lazily in the background.

"Makin' breakfast, Ale!" you reply, looking behind your shoulder with the biggest smile that slowly falters the moment you see his eyes darkening in the span of seconds. "What's with the face?"

He approaches you slowly, caging you between his arms. "Just… appreciating" he says, as he starts kissing your neck "my little wife. Who's been really patient with me, gone for so many days. And now, you're making me breakfast—" he groans, shaking his head. You can feel his growing bulge, as you grind your ass against it.

It's obvious that Colonel lost the challenge, after he arrives to his work with his wife, his arm possessively around her. Why? Maybe it's your neck covered in hickeys, your trembling legs, or his arms visibly scratched, but no one says anything about it in the base.

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

You have a kind of forbidden romance with him; you're the one of Los Vaqueros, and the romance is absolutely prohibited here, to prevent the collapse of the squad. Not to mention that he's a right hand man of Alejandro, so he has to follows the rules directly. Maybe even more than anyone here, to be honest; setting an example that he's not a exception to the rule.

It doesn't help that you're so kind. That you nod every time you see him as a silent greeting, and then you rush to do whatever you have to do today. It doesn't help him that you're helping everyone around you with a smile that could light up the whole town, and he smiles every time he sees it, too.

Everyone pictures that Rudy would win the challenge easily, since in their heads, his head wasn't occupied with anyone, and he could easily withold himself with his desires.

And maybe he would. Maybe he would, if you weren't the one guarding the base with him, if you weren't the one who was smiling at him with those plump lips of yours.

"If you'd only know how much I thought about… hah—" his breaths are ragged, as the pace of his hips gets quicker. His lips finds yours, as he kisses you with such hunger, you know without a doubt that he means what he says. It automatically makes you smile.

"It's fate that binds us, then" you say, your fingernails clutching at his arms; you're sure that you're the creator of bloody crescents here, but you can't care less about it. Not when the man of your dreams is fucking you.

He smiles at your words.

Rudy never been a good liar, and you painfully learn it, when Alejandro asks him why he's so happy; as you stand nearby, you hear the whole conversation. It's cute in some way, the way he's a blabbering mess, without any sense of it.

It takes Colonel's one look at you, and he knows.

You never walked faster to your work, neither did Rudy.

Konig

If you think he's gonna even try playing at this, you're in deep denial. Maybe if he'd be alone he could try of a genuine curiosity, but not when he has you. Such a pretty, obedient girlfriend, that he has wrapped around his finger, and a girlfriend that is pretty much at his service every time he wants.

He's a man to laugh about that challenge with his squad, telling them that they're filthy, and he would last the whole month, maybe even longer, if it weren't for you. Because he's such a caring boyfriend, he listens to your needs, even if you're whiny.

At least, that's the story that his squad knows.

He tells you about this while he folds you in half, that he needs to act a little grumpy around his squad, to put a facade that he's hungry because it's the right thing to do. When you suggest that he could even try, he barks a low laugh, while he pumps his cock before thrusting into you.

"Schatz, as if. Not gonna play the kids game." it's all he says, kissing you with affection on your swollen lips. "I do not intend on torturing you like this. You wouldn't survive a day without my dick."

There's some truth to it — but you're truly wondering if that's you who wouldn't survive without his dick, or he, that wouldn't survive without your pussy and sex, considering he is even more of a maniac than you are.

dividers by cafekitsune

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grievingbovine · 3 months ago

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Nona the Ninth is one of my favorite books of all time. Not just because it's Locked Tomb, but it is the purest form of one of the big messages the series is trying to divulge.

The price of love is grief. We will never be free of it as long as we love anything at all. Our family, friends, our pets, even beloved media. Anything that connects that deeply to us that we love it will leave a gaping hole when it's gone.

But no one rejects loving to avoid grief. Every one of the characters holds on desperately to something they love, to levels that seem unhealthy to us. They want the perks without the cost.

John is holding on to a world and people that died 10k years ago.

The lyctors cling desperately to their cavaliers memories, to the point of being willing to end the 9 houses to honor them.

Cam held on to Pal, Pal held on to Dulcie. Harrow held on to Gideon so hard she disappeared her from her memory to avoid the grief she would pay for the privelege of caring for her.

But Nona loves indiscriminately. She loves the polluted sky, she loves the sad people, she loves the stray dogs and her friends and her teachers and Varun. She loves Pyrrhas lying ass, she loves Camilla and Palemedes, she loves crown and even cares about Judith. Nona isn't afraid of grief, because to her all that love balances it out. Nona is the only one in the end willing to pay the price for that 6 months of unconditional love. She knows from the beginning of the book that her own days are numbered, but she doesn't shy from it and avoid loving.

She loves all that much harder.

"If you could see your whole life, start to finish, would you change anything?" The movie Arrival (2016) approaches this same theme. If you knew what you'd lose, would you go back to avoid it? Would you keep away from the people and things you knew you'd lose? Would you shy away from experiencing love just because it hurts?

"Love and Freedom don't coexist, warden."

#tlt spoilers #locked tomb spoilers #tlt #locked tomb #the locked tomb #i honestly dont understand why people dont like NtN #unless all they wanted was a fun scifi adventure with queers #it is that but its also so so much more #nona the ninth

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iniquitousyearning · 2 months ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 31st. tom riddle — breeding kink, raw sex.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: tom has a dream about fucking you raw, and decides it’s time he ditches the self-restraint.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, needy tom riddle, fingering, slight begging, desperate sex, PIV, creampie, incoherent babbling/dirty talk, breeding kink, literally the most feralized and needy and pathetic tom i have ever written .

You wake up to the feeling of Tom at your back, sometime within the early hours of the morning.

Not an unusual occurrence, per say, but you're vaguely aware of the fact that the desperate way he's gripping your waist and pressing against you isn't just par for the course—something's off—and you don't get to wonder or question what exactly it is because within a second he's pressing his lips to your neck, murmuring your name, and stealing your cognitive function before you even get the chance to wake.

"What—" you manage to get out, just as his hand slides up the front of your shirt and his lips continue mouthing against your neck.

"Hm?" He murmurs, as if he's doing nothing unusual, as if you aren't completely aware he's pressed up against you like an animal in heat.

"Are you," you're struggling to get the words out as his lips graze the spot on the nape of your neck that makes your breath catch. "Okay?"

He stills for a moment at that, before he makes an amused sound in the back of his throat, as if the question is almost funny somehow. "Should I not be?"

"I just...mmf—" a whole body shudder goes through you as his hand reaches the underside of your breasts; palming, squeezing. "You seem—different."

"Different," he echos against your neck with a smile. "In what way?"

"Uh, needier—oh," his hand slips from your chest to the front of your pyjama pants, grinding his erection against your ass. "What's—gotten into you—"

"You, of course," he husks, and the fact that he can be cocky while he's practically pinning you to his chest is the perfect bloody summary of him. "Who else?"

"Well—I mean—" the words leave your lips in a hissing moan as his hand, that beautiful, steady hand—slips under your waistband and wastes no time in finding your clit, long fingers swirling tight little circles against it. "What—ohhh—"

"You do know that you're asking way too many questions," he whispers, teeth nipping at your ear lobe as he runs his index and middle fingers down your slit. "I'd rather you be moaning my name as opposed to doing a million cross-examinations on my behaviour."

Well, that certainly shuts you up, at least on the verbal side of things—because the gasp that leaves your lips is not entirely something you can control, considering the fact that you're suddenly very aware of just how badly he seems to need you right now.

"I think that was progress," he croons between open-mouthed kisses, absentmindedly making you shiver and jerk as his fingers resume rubbing and massaging your clit. "Good girl."

You whimper faintly at that, and you wish you could hate the way you react to the praise on principle only—but that's kind of hard to do when it's him, and he's doing the praising in the first place. So instead, you just try to keep any kind of higher brain function intact, regardless of it being a losing battle at this point.

"I just need you," he practically groans, and it's the strangest thing to hear him say when he's usually just fine being all smug and self-composed. "I need to feel you, now."

It's the closest thing to him pleading that you think you've ever heard, and the guttural moan you let out as he slips one of those long slender fingers inside your embarrassingly slick cunt is the closest thing to feral as you're sure you've ever been.

"Need," you whimper as your hips jerk, and it takes an embarrassing amount of time to realize that it's a sound you've made and not some kind of vocal fry of his. "Need me, why?"

He doesn't answer right away, not in words—just sucks your earlobe into his mouth in a way that makes you want to scream. "You're not usually this difficult."

"M'tired." The argument is weak, at best, but you're not exactly in any kind of frame of mind to try and make sense of the situation. "And you're—intense—"

"Yes," he murmurs, that smug tone still needling your eternal irritation. "And if you must know, it really is because of you. I had a dream about you." He punctuates the sentence by slipping a second finger into your slick heat, and you barely manage to keep a whimpering moan inside that you just know he would love to hear. "Fuck. It was a beautiful dream."

He bites at your ear again, and it occurs to you that the desperate edge to his voice might have something to do with just how good the dream of you felt—or how badly he'd clearly wanted it to be real.

You suddenly need to hear every goddamn detail.

"Felt you for once, without protection," he tells you, as if reading your mind, and you whimper at what you're pretty sure is a pretty profound confession. "Even better than I thought you'd feel—fuck—"

"You're not the only one who's thought about that," you manage to get out, and you're not even being coy about it—at this point you're simply trying to deal with the realization that Tom Riddle having a wet dream about you is apparently enough to turn you into a pathetic, drooling mess. "But you are the one who's always been insistent on using condoms."

Oh, the low growl he lets out at that is a dangerous sound—it's low and guttural and it makes you realize that there's a very real chance this is going to go somewhere you might have trouble walking away from.

"Yes, well," he pauses, and you can practically feel the fire in his eyes. "I'm just realizing I might have been a bit of a fool."

"You, admitting you're a fool?" You somehow give a half-assed scoff at the idea as you try to hold onto your sanity. "I think hell just froze over."

He laughs at that—actually laughs, and it does strange things to your insides to have it directed at you.

"Maybe I'm just in a very specific sort of mood."

"Oh?" You manage to raise an eyebrow. "And what kind of mood is that?"

"The kind of mood," he says, in an almost growl that you're trying to interpret through the haze of trying not to moan, "where I throw all reason out the window. The kind of mood where I forget all self-restraint."

"That's a dangerous thing, coming from you," you choke out, because that is true, but you're only half-thinking through your words before you say them, half your brain stolen by the curling of his fingers inside you, massaging your slick walls. "You don't usually—"

"Never," he cuts you off, like he's fully aware of just how different this is and trying not to admit it. "Until you."

Well, you don't know what to say to that—because you know him, and you know he doesn't usually lose himself in things like this, not like he's apparently doing now.

"Oh?" You gasp, as his thumb sweeps over your clit, making your eyes roll. "So I've made you reckless."

His answer comes in the form of a low, grunting sound of agreement, his grip on your body shifting a bit as he pulls you back tighter to his chest, rutting his erection against your ass.

"You've done more than that," he murmurs with a sigh right in your ear as his slick fingers slip out to draw wet little circles against your clit. "Fuck it. I need to feel you—please, let me fuck you right. No protection."

Oh sweet Mother of Merlin.

There were a lot of words in that sentence that you were fucking sure, just a minute ago, were entirely out of the question for him. Not a soul on god’s green earth could have prepared you for the feeling that utterance just invoked—and you can't help but let out a helpless, wanton groan in response—his fingers driving you directly to the very edge of climax—

"I need a word out of you," he grits, and you realize then that you're both at the mercy of something he can only half control as he ruts against you again, his fingers slowing as if he's edging you— "please."

You wish you could give him something teasing, snarky, maybe even witty. Something to needle him for just how beside himself he is, something to call him out for the feralized broken thing he's seemingly been reduced to.

But you can't, because your climax is right there, and he's moving his fingers too slow, denying you of it on purpose—

"Yes," you whimper, the word like an answer to a prayer you hadn't even known you were praying for, and you realize somewhere behind your consciousness that you're desperate and aching inside for so many reasons, all of them because of him. "Please, fuck. Please, do it—I need—to cum—"

And at those words—that plea—the need in them, there's no stopping the sound that tears itself out of his throat, and before you can even think he's jerking your pyjama pants off your thighs—

"Wanna feel it—" he hisses as he frees himself next, tugging you against him and lifting your thigh toward your head. "Need to feel you cum when I'm inside you."

Oh, and at this point you're begging that you'll survive this.

You're at his mercy, as you've been before, but in a completely different way—one that seems to be fueled by whatever animalistic thing is driving him today, and you're left with no defense besides the knowledge that he's doing this because if he didn't, he may just lose his goddamn mind.

And for as much trouble you generally get into by enjoying him being cocky and in control of the narrative, this—this is something you've never once experienced. Tom on the edge of falling completely apart in his need for you, desperation and need taking a front seat to his usual restraint and control.

He's between your thighs before you can blink, and then he's pushing in. "Oh, fuck."

It's a sensation that's completely different when there's no barrier between you, and you're pretty sure that if it wasn't for the fact that the animal in his chest has risen to the surface, taking you by the throat, you would have gasped out in a moan so loud it woke the entire fucking country—but somehow, someway, you manage to tame it.

His face buries in the crook of your shoulder, and it's a sound of guttural relief as his breath goes shaky and unsteady right in your ear.

"Feels so good," he whispers as he sinks in—as his thick, throbbing dick disappears into your greedy cunt. "Too good."

'Too good' feels like the exact wrong thing to say right now, at least in your mind, because you're pretty sure you'll take the fact that this feels so good you're scared it might kill you to your grave.

"Oh my god." You manage to get out the words through the haze, and you're barely even sure what you're saying, your head thrown back against his shoulder, his arm coming up to wrap around your throat. "Oh my god, Tom."

He responds with a shaky curse of your name, and you’re absolutely certain somewhere in you is exploding, something in your gut is coiled so tight it's like holding in the biggest possible secret of the world that you're desperate to scream to someone—

"So wet. So tight. I'm never starving myself of this again." It's a confession that steals your breath, and you struggle to keep breathing, struggling with trying to keep your world from spinning away as he starts to make shallow, languid thrusts into you, free hand slipping down to your clit. "Let me feel it. Let me feel it all."

You keen. "Fuck! Please."

It's the only word you can manage in a half-hysterical moan, your hand grabbing onto the one he's wrapped around your throat as if he's saving you from certain destruction, as if he's the only lifeline you'll ever find—and maybe, you think that's okay, because you're so used by him in so many ways that right now you don't even want another.

"T-tom—" his fingers swirl your clit in perfect time with his thrusts and you're clenching so tight your entire body is almost stiff. "Tommmm—I'm fucking—"

His teeth bite down on your shoulder with such ferocity you'd think he wanted it to bleed, and you're not even sure it's intentional as his body tenses against yours, tugging you back like he's trying to crush you into his chest.

"Yes. Yes," he hisses again, and it's broken. "Please give it to me."

'Please give it to me' are the best five words you've ever heard from his mouth, you think with the quarter of your brain that’s still functioning—and it's like you've been waiting for permission without realizing it, because you feel fireworks going off behind your eyes a moment later.

"Oh fuckk! Yes, yes, oh!"

You cry out, so loud you'd be nervous about someone hearing you if the pleasure wracking your body wasn't so powerful you're pretty sure you're going to feel it all the way into next week—and there's a sound like something coming undone against your skin as his teeth dig deeper into your shoulder, a sound that's like a low, guttural moan of your name before he shutters something in half-broken words you're not even sure he's meant to.

"Oh yes—god, you're tight—fuck—"

You can't answer him, but it doesn't matter, because a moment later it's all painfully forgotten with the way he lets out another moan against your shoulder—

"That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it. Just like that."

It's the pet name that does something to your insides, twisting them up in a way you can't quite parse through the haze, but it's enough in the moment to make tears prick unbidden at the corner of your eyes as he jerks against you, his breaths coming in shaky, heavy pants against your skin as his own climax draw closer, and there's no way this wasn't something you both needed that neither knew how to ask for.

"Tom," you manage to whimper, and it sounds like a prayer of your own creation. "Tom—"

It's like he needed to hear you moan his name like that in a way that's primal—because in that moment his hand moves from your neck to your hair, and he clenches his fist into it, pulling, and it's enough to make a shattered moan force its way out of your chest and up to your throat.

"M'close. Mmm. So fucking close," he hisses against your skin. "M'gonna—fill this tight cunt."

And god, it should be alarming, because you've always been careful, careful, careful—because you've always known the risks, the consequences, but right now you're having a hard time remembering why you ever thought it was a terrible, terrible idea to let him do this.

"You're—Tom—you—"

"I know,” he groans, and it's like a plea, as if you're saying something out loud that he doesn't want to admit he knows— "just take it. Let me—fucking breed you."

There's a moment where your chest seems to constrict violently at that, where you're almost sure you must have a heart condition because it feels like skipping a beat is the under-explanation of the century, but it's gone as quickly as it came, and god if it wasn't as profoundly hot as you know it shouldn't be.

“Jesus—Tom—“ there're a lot of things you know you should be saying, things you'd planned to say—or not do, as the case may be—but the only thing that leaves your lips at this moment is, “please."

And he doesn't know if it's a plea or a prayer, but either way it’s all the same because there’s no stopping the sound that leaves his lips as your answer sinks into his brain, as the meaning sinks into his bones: the low, guttural, primal sound of a man losing pieces of himself in something that he doesn't care to stop.

"Oh—" he chokes out. "Oh god—"

It's like it's taking him like he wants it to, stealing him up in a way that both makes him feel both more whole than he's ever been and like he's lost more of himself than he can possibly cope with at every other moment all at once, and you're pretty damn sure you'll be the only thing that survives it, in the end—

And then, he explodes. "Fuck—"

It's a choked-off sound that tears violently into the room without his permission, one that claws its way out of his chest and up his throat in a way that feels simultaneously like falling into and being pushed off of a cliff straight into oblivion—

"Mmm yes. Yes. Take it—" he's twitching inside you, hips trembling as he pumps his release deep within your walls. "Fuck. Fuck yes."

There's a million and one responses to everything he's done and said in the last few minutes that dance on the tip of your tongue, but you're not entirely sure you have the mental capacity to do more than manage a shaky whimper at this point, and all you're even remotely sure you can do is respond to his own moans and gasps with ones of your own.

"Tom," you whimper as he finally slows. As you both work to catch your breath. "I wish you had dreams like that more often."

He just laughs, a breathless, unsteady thing.

"That's my fucking girl." He mutters. "All mine."

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plumipal · 6 months ago

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The Tattoo (part two)

After scarabias overblot, and seeing what ace and Deuce were willikg to do for you, you were so touched that you decided ro get them tattooed on your body as a small heart and a spade. After that chaos ensues-

If you wanna read the whole prolouge, then it's here

Floyd feels a lot. He feels betrayed and enraged over the tattoo, feeling the urge to fight those two damn guppies you call friends. How dare you betray your mate like this, you were meant to be! Atleast he will show you that he will fight for his mate, if that's good or bad that's for you to decide...

He hates the tattoo, yet as much as he hates it he can't really put the anger onto you. It's that damn mackerel and crabs fault! They must have forced you into it! Don't worry, like the good mate he is he will mark over their dumb marks, showing who's boss. He hates hurting you but he needs to do what has to be done to show that you're his...

Jade is... off. As soon as he hears about the tattoo his composure just, shatters. He cant understand why you would play him like this, you're quite cruel aren't you? Playing him like this, making him lose his composure... you want him to kill to show how much he cares? Because he will- in fact, he will use any dirty tricks in the book to make sure he wins, magic or not..

If magic won't work, he will result to desperately trying to insert himself into your life more than he already has. You'll have a personal butler at this point, one begging for your attention and affection,, to think all this started because of a harmless tattoo...

Azul is about to throw up. The world is spinning, he feels like he is about to throw up. This can't be happening, right?? You, you really hate him don't you? Why else would you get those two troublemakers a tattoo but not him...

The desperation gets worse, the longer he thinks about it. He cant stop crying, having to lock himself in the vip lounge so nobody sees how this issue has reduced him to a sobbing little crybaby. The desperation turns somewhat into determination, the urge to write up the best contract ever to make you happy, maybe throw in a little condition where you need to get a matching tattoo with him..

Jamil is about to have another overblot. He, he is the reason? His overblot? He can't, he cant take it. Being the main reason for the tattoo makes him lose his mind. He avoids you for a week, nor being able to look at you without losing his composure and crying on the spot.

Desperation grows, turing ugly. He cant control himself, searching you out after a week of not seeing you. He begs for forgiveness, for you to not hate him, please, he begs you... He needs you, he needs you in his life, he needs you to love and cherish him, to be your number one.

Kalim feels off. This is one of the few times where he doesn't get what he wants. It's an unknown feeling, a hated feeling. He could be fine with anything else, bur a tattoo of your friends? Isn't he your friend too?? Is it because of the overblot that happened at his dorm? He will get you anything if it means that you'll forgive him! Please, he is begging you..

The jealousy grows, turning into an ugly mess. He cant help but hate on the Adeuce duo, hating them for taking you from him. He tries to endlessly gift you anything you look at for more than a second, trying to get you to spend countless hours at scarabia with several parties a week that always end in a romantic carpet ride. He tries really hard, okay? Just let him show you he is the best choise...

Epel is enraged, how dare you? The emotions get too intense, and he storms off. He cant believe you, picking favourites in your group? They may have been there before you but he loves you way more than they could ever love you!

He is in constant state of dissaray the first day, his anger rising the more he thinks about it. The anger stops being directed towards you and instead those two dumbasses, Ace and Deuce. He cant stand their asses! Going straight to battle living shit out of them.

Only, that isn't how it goes for him. He gets his ass kicked with everyone he tries to fight, getting so beat up he can barely stand up straight. Oh well, he can atleast leech off of you to nurse him back to health. You have to, please, he is begging for some alone time with you...

Also please someone help him with getting a new blazer, his old one is currently torn to shreds. The fights he got into wasn't really that good for him, since he is trying to fight people twice his size. Only for you, he would only go so far for you...

Rook feels... nothing. He can't bring himself to feel emotions currently, too stuck up on the tattoo. Sure, it's such a beautiful thing you care enough for someone that you would permanently etch that into your body. But why? Why couldn't it have been him? He is your friend too (he wish he was more to you, but that can wait, he will wait eons for you, only you)...

You feel bad for the man, wondering why he was so down all of the sudden. You still care about him (you care for everyone, they're you're friends after all), deciding to let him stay the night at ramshackle. He is forever grateful for your endless kindness, swearing to get into your good graces just so he can one day also get a tattoo..

Vil is desperate, he is emotional. The pain of not only comming second, but THIRD in your heart, it feels like you are stabbing him over and over again in the heart. He cant breathe, he cant stop the tears wellinh up in his eyes, he cant stop the emotions overflowimg his poor body. Why would you do something so heinous to this poor actor, he only wanted your love...

He has been acting since he was a little kid, yet this time he cant control his emotions, the stakes are too high. Your love is on the line! He can't stand to look himself in the mirror, feeling way too ugly for his emotions, his outbursts, his feelings. He wants to be enough for you, and he will do anything to achieve that..

THERES PART TWO DONE!!! The literal biggest thank you to @artdolliewishes for helping so much and expanding on the au with me!! It means so much to me that someone cares about a project I've done as much as I do :,)

Also I'm very sorry for being so delayed on posting, I went to the ER and all, I swear the students of nrc was trying to kill me lmao

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nostalgicmiscellaneous · 9 months ago

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This fandom created a myth about Lady Whistledown. Sometimes i wonder if i watched the same show. Let me make myself clear: While Penelope has to tell Colin the truth, because she loves him and he deserves it, LW helped the Bridgertons a lot actually. It saved them to have Daphne married to a creep ( and see how Violet wanted people to talk to reach LW and spread), saved Colin from a loveless marriage with children that he didn't know anything about it and saved Eloise. Yes, it saved Eloise. Eloise created and kept pushing the situation in her reckless pursuit. Eloise also didn't think about the consequences of her action towards the people working for LW, didn't listen to Penelope, didn't think about the risk she was putting people at. And while i understand her anger in not knowing, had she been a better friend, many other things would be different, because she truly never paid attention to what Penelope feels or want, she molded Pen to be whom she wanted and be her audience. And then, she left Pen with the choice of losing all she built and suffer consequences or pick the less harmful option: to make Eloise's scandal about politics, not romantic and save them both, plus Theo. The real ruin for Eloise would've been her being caught with Theo, something that was bound to happen as she was not careful at all. Why should Pen sacrifice all for Eloise? Would any of you sacrifice all ( job, family and possibly your liberty) for a friend who caused the bloody situation? I'm no hypocrite, i know i wouldnt. Not to mention Eloise bravado, to Pen she would say she wants to challenge society and doesn't care about what they think...but folded the moment she received a frown from the Ton. Shall we see who are LW victims, people that suffered real consequences? Lord Beerbrock. That's it. Marina is married, despite her lies and deceit. Colin? Nothing as well, in fact, happier than ever. Eloise? A few weeks of ostracism and she's back without a problem, without a romantic entanglement to ruin her. One that she clearly didn't really thought was deep enough to face society. The Bridgertons have more to thank LW than to hate her. And Violet and Anthony, i bet your asses, do think so, and see it. And The Queen? Are you watching the show? Have you seen Charlotte's personality? That woman loves the whole game with LW. And She loves to take it all, to receive the laurels of that society. As long as she can make it look like the won, and she can, easily, by revealing or be involved in revealing who is LW. See the whole KatexEdwina, how she handled the Ton there.

Anyway, just wanted to say something because some people have dreamed a LW that doesn't exist at all. Created on their own minds a boogeyman that wasn't simply reporting the truth with witty opinions but fabricating stories and lies to ruin lives, and that's simply not true. Never happened. There was never a lie created there. Only the truth, even about herself, as Pen was often damaged by her column.

#bridgerton #polin #lady whistledown #penelope featherington #nicola coughlan #luke newton #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #eloise bridgerton

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paegei · 1 year ago

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MOANER, GROANER, OR WHIMPERER ?

what sounds do the seventeen members make in bed ?

NSFW CONTENT ! MDNI !

a/n: GUYS i am so sorry i haven't written in so long ╯︿╰ i lose motivation for things VERY easily. anywho,,, if anyone has any requests or anything feel free to send them in ! ( just be prepared for me to take my time to respond ϵ( ‘Θ’ )϶ )

MOANER:

jeonghan:

when i tell you this man has the PRETTIEST moans i mean it. borderline angelic. every noise that comes out of his mouth has you on the verge of orgasm LITERALLY. he's upstaging you i'm sorry !

joshua:

the things i would do to hear him moaning.... 28:50 of the youngji interview is EMBEDDED in my brain. def more on the quiet side, his moans are pretty low in volume, but he is for SURE right next to your ear cuz he knows how much his moans affect you.

jun:

pathetic moans. PATHETIC. loud, whiny, GUTTURAL moans. he also has no shame. and i mean that. does not care how loud he's being. he has to let you know how good you make him feel, who cares about who hears ? also def makes those ah- ah- ah- sounds before he cums

minghao:

hao's moans are like josh's, low in volume but close enough for you to hear. gives me the vibes of someone who doesn't make much noise in bed, he prefers to focus on your blabbering, but when his sounds grace your ears, it is HEAVENLY. ( his moans are borderline whimpers too just saying )

seungkwan:

DEEP. DEEP. SO DEEP. yk that one good to me performance where he said "make some noise" in his deep ass voice ? yeah, that's his tone in bed. moans coming straight from the chest LAWDDDDDD. was pretty shy at first when it came to making noise, but after seeing how badly it affected you ( because who wouldn't go insane hearing them ), he just goes AT IT. unless he's in sub mode and is borderline sobbing

GROANER:

seungcheol:

bro. words could not describe how hot this man sounds ( i would know we're actually married ). GUTTERAL groaning. genuinely sounds like he is working out ＞︿＜ lets out a groan every time he pulls out, followed by a whimper when he shoves his cock back in :/

wonwoo:

practically inaudible with how deep his groans are. all you would be able to hear is this deep grumble. rarely likes making sounds in bed as he prefers to be all ears for your moans, but hey, sometimes good sex makes a man whimper okay there's nothing wrong with that :3

vernon:

kinda like jun, in the aspect that his groans have a pathetic tilt to them. every sound he makes, no matter how hard he tries to keep them in, just ends up sounding absolutely RUINED. im talking you'd think he was crying from how desperate he sounds ( maybe he is who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

chan:

he's right on the barrier between groans and gasps. OMLLLL HIS LITTLE GASP WHEN HE FIRST SLIPS IN !!!!!!!!!!! no shame either he wants to let the whole world know he's getting the best pussy of his LIFE. anime girl ~gah~ kinda noises IM SORRY

WHIMPERER:

jihoon:

dooooont care what you think. he WHIMPERS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! his whimpers are very low in volume however, he knows that if the guys ever found out the little noises he makes for you he would be a goner. tries his hardest to hold the whines back, much to your dismay, but at least then you get the gorgeous sight of him biting his lip till it bleeds (/▽＼)

seokmin:

man does not care how embarrassing his sounds are he NEEDS you to know how good you feel. he is the EPITONE of whimpers. men be afraid to moan in their girls ear, but seokmin is sobbing out "f-fuck oh m- oh my god- 's good, 's good-" and other barely audible curses :3

mingyu:

his whimpers are WET sorrynotsorry. im saying he's borderline drooling. dumb puppy can't help it if your cunt feels so good :( sobs, cries, just the most desperate and shaky words tumbling from his mouth ( if he can still form words is a different story ).

ALL OF THE ABOVE:

soonyoung:

does not give a FUCK what noise he is making, he's just going for it. somehow sounds like whimpers, cries and growls all in one ?? also yes 80% of the time he is growling but are we suprised. just says any word that comes to his mind too. bro does nawt understand why people hold in their moans... if it feels good, it feels good you know ?

not proof-read ! lmk if there's any mistakes (づ￣ 3￣)づ

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 21 days ago

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au where pretty much all of gotham knows damn well bruce wayne's small army of children are also the assorted bat and bird themed vigilantes around town (considering they barely cover their faces and their ages, races, heights, and timelines all line up perfectly lmao) BUT. they still think bruce is just their resident sadboy beloved princess like no way he's batman. he's a soaking wet premie kitten of a man. if you raise your voice around him he'd probably startle like a baby deer. one time I bumped into bruce wayne on the street and both of our briefcases spilled open everywhere when we fell and he teared up and gave me his wallet while apologizing for being too lost in his own thoughts. one time I accidentally poured hot soup in his lap at a gala and he just said "thank you😔". he's just a little guy he's depressed and his rowdy-ass kids sap up all the little energy he has so OBVIOUSLY he's not batman. and like this open secret becomes a whole debate about whether or not he knows his kids are doing this, and whether or not someone should tell him about it. like on one hand yeah they're doing great things for the city. but hasn't that poor guy been through ENOUGH? can he handle the stress of knowing his babies are risking their lives? would he make them stop, or does he already know and allows it? he doesn't seem that irresponsible of a parent tho! would he feel pride or horror if he knew they became the type of person he (and his parents) needed when he was younger? for the most part, people leave them to it, seeing as most of the wayne kids are adults anyway, but every now and then little damian saves some older ladies just for them to end up yelling at him about how his daddy has a poor constitution and his heart will give out from all the stress (and he's just gotta stand there like 😡😡😡😡😡 because arguing would essentially be confirming his identity and he Cannot be the one to fuck that up first. there's a betting pool. he Needs tim to be the one who loses.) bruce is completely oblivious to this except for sometimes when he's out as batman people will be like "you're a monster for letting these kids fight crime its so irresponsible" and he's just like "yeah I know but if I don't give them an outlet they'd probably destroy the city themselves🙄" and the citizens are like flashing back to the bruce wayne birthday bash incident of 2019 that ended with a city block in flames, half the kids in jail and bruce checking himself into one of those fake rehabs rich people go to when they need to escape the stress of being rich and an 8 year old acting as ceo for wayne enterprises for two months before the 8 year got accused of war profiteering so bruce had to check out of the rehab early. and they're like "okay yeah that's fair" and figure maybe gotham's sweetest son bruce is at least getting a good night sleep in a quiet mansion while his beloved yet terrible children are burning off energy beating people up all night

#batman #bruce wayne #batfam #dceu #damian wayne #tim drake #batman and robin #molly mumbles

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hoshifighting · 19 days ago

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hi can i request svt’s reaction to y/n saying she hasn’t shaved down there but they go down anyways 👹👹

seventeen reaction when you're not shaved

seungcheol: "babe, the last thing on my mind right now is whether you shaved or not." he says it so casually, like you just told him the sky is blue. but inside he’s actually kinda sad you even felt the need to mention it. like, why would he care? he’s just tryna worship you, and here you are worried about some damn stubble. he’s on a mission now. a convincing one.

jeonghan: "sweetheart, do you really think that’s gonna make me stop?" thinks that the fact that you’re even bringing it up is adorable. unnecessary, but adorable. he’s about to make you forget you even had that thought in the first place.

joshua: "do you really think i give a shit?" and he says it so sweetly too, but with this little smirk like he’s personally offended that you even hesitated. inside, he’s just like, why would i, joshua hong, ever care about that? he’s about to prove to you exactly how little he cares.

junhui: "okay, and? still the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen." like, he genuinely does not understand why this is even being brought up. he’s not even thinking about it. all that’s going through his mind is that he was just trying to devour you and now you’re talking nonsense.

hoshi: "babe, i would still be down if you had a whole ass beard down there." he’s so serious. like, actually, completely unbothered. he’s just happy to be here. inside, he’s already moving on. he’s not even letting you finish that thought.

wonwoo: "that’s what you’re worried about? baby, come on." his voice is so soft but he’s looking at you, like really looking, and in his head, he’s just sighing. like, you’re here, with him, like this, and you think that even matters?

woozi: "literally don’t care. like, at all." deadpan. like you just asked if water is wet. he’s so unbothered it almost makes you feel dumb for even bringing it up. in his mind, he’s already moved on. problem solved. next?

minghao: "baby, im not a boy." he means it too. he’s not even tryna reassure you, he’s just stating facts. in his head, he’s already making a mental note to gas you up more often, ‘cause clearly, you need to be reminded.

mingyu: "okay, but do you think i’m about to stop?" he’s actually confused. like, physically unable to process why you even thought that would be an issue.

seokmin: "that’s cute, but i really don’t care." he laughs, not at you, just at the absurdity of the statement. in his head he’s making a mental note to never let you feel self-conscious around him again.

seungkwan: "do you think i’m about to write a yelp review on it? no. come here." genuinely baffled. he’s looking at you like you just said the dumbest thing ever, but in the softest, most loving way possible. inside, he’s doesn't understand why yall are even discussing this.

vernon: "cool. so anyway—" does not let you finish. immediately moves on. he could not care less.

chan: "do you really think i care about that when i’m this close to losing my mind over you? babe im like—super horny, no cap." his voice is almost desperate, because like, why are ypu stopping for this?

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pineapple-downside-up-cake · 24 days ago

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TF!141 when reader has a migraine:

Soap is loud. He knows he's loud, you know he's loud, and even when he's trying to be quiet, this smoking ball of energy makes waves in the house. Normally it's not a problem, but every now and again, well...

You love him, but if you thought you could punch him without vomiting right now, you probably would. He's affable, doesn't take too much offense when you cut him off mid-rant. He hits you with one of those sympathetic "ach, hen"s after, the ones that usually make you all bubbly, but the best you can give him is a smile that comes out more like a cringe.

You go lay down and eventually you fall asleep - Soap must have disappeared because the house is quiet. Four hours later you wake up and it's dark, Soap poking his head in the room - he's brought you curry from your favorite Indian place down the road.

Gaz isn't going to hold your hand, because he knows you don't like it. He gets wanting to be left to wallow in your pain until it's over, and he doesn't need you to reassure him that you aren't going to die on his watch.

It was, however, your turn to cook and do dishes. But he's not going to hold it against you - he makes soup and leaves some in the fridge for when you're ready, takes out the trash, and folds the laundry (which didn't need doing until tomorrow, but Gaz loves you in practical ways.)

Even the bathroom is spotless when you've at last respawned, and when you're ready to be human again, it's almost like you didn't lose a whole day at all. Gaz is never phased, never brings it up later to tally the scores. Just calmly accepts that it's part and parcel of being with you.

Ghost is watching telly when you come in, feeling half-dead, and he greets you with a wave and a 'hey'. He's probably got a plate full of snacks next to him and a book he was going to read before the game started that he hasn't opened yet.

When you tell him you're having a shit day and it feels like your brains are melting, he lets you kick off your shoes and faceplant into his lap. This man doesn't. make. a dick joke. Not a single one, just lets you close your eyes and bury your face in his stomach, where you fall asleep.

He turns the volume down on the match, and you wake up to him passed out on the couch. He hasn't moved an inch, didn't want to wake you... but he saved you a biscuit.

Price is ON it. He's got a whole ass go bag for you and your unpredictable medical situations. They say the best way to combat uncertainty is by being prepared, and he's ready for anything from anaphylactic shock to childbirth. (You aren't expecting, but it's sweet anyway.)

He was planning to work on a project in the garage, but you're looking so sad even after he's given you migraine meds, he changes his mind. He shuts off the lights and crawls into bed next to you to cuddle because it sounds like a better deal for him, anyway.

When you're feeling up to moving again, this secure ass man draws you a bubble bath. He sits behind you so you don't accidentally drown in the too big tub and shampoos your hair while he's at it, a nice gentle headmassage he definitely didn't pick up in the military.

#i project your honor #call of duty #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #johnny mactavish x reader

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thebestsetter · 8 months ago

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Thinking about Isagi Yoichi, the hero of Japan and biggest egoist on the field, being a complete loser when it comes to the girl he likes.

Like, he may insult the opposing team's players (and even his own teammates sometimes!) in the field, but gets all red and stutters when he needs to talk to you.

Isagi Yoichi who is absolutely delusional. If he holds a conversation with you for more than 5 minutes, you can bet he's gonna think about it during THE WHOLE WEEK. His friends can't escape his feelings either: he's always talking about you or associating things with you. Like: "Oh, she would like this!" Or "You guys won't believe it: we talked for almost 10 minutes today!" Please save Hiori and Bachira. They can't take it anymore. (Well, Bachira doesn't really care, but Hiori is really almost losing his shit.)

This absolute dork would listen to love songs while thinking about you and then get all blushy after, hugging a pillow while stuffing his red face on it and everything. And heaven forbids anyone enters his room after you compliment him! He's kicking his feet, screaming, crying and laughing all at the same time. SPECIALLY if it's a compliment regarding his football abilities. Say something along the lines of "That goal today was amazing, Yoichi! It was such a smart play!" and he's melting and thinking about it through the whole month.

Speaking of football, he'd LOVE to see you in his soccer games/practices cheering loudly for him. I mean, he's already absolutely smitten for you, but seeing you there screaming because of his goal or smiling because of a play he made just makes his obsession love for you grow 10 times bigger!!

He'd even ask his mom for advice on what to say to you! She thinks it's cute her little boy is growing up (even though he's already 17), so she tries to help him the best she can. But there's just so much mama can do. He tries to follow her teachings, but, as I said before, always stutters and trips over his words, which makes him feel really stupid and almost give up on love, since it's a "very hard and painful feeling that just hurts people" (his words).

When he finally musters up the courage to ask you out on a date (after a lot of insistence from Hiori, who is just really tired from all of this), he wants it all to go perfect. He has it all pictured in his head: he'll ask you to meet him in the back of the school after extracurricular activities so he can ask you out. He'll have flowers and everything, and then he'll say that speech he spent the last 14 days memorizing. You'll say yes with a smile in you face (he's already blushing just from imagining your smile, he really is down bad) and then you'll live your happilly ever after together.

Spoiler alert: nothing went as planned. First, the letter he wrote asking you to meet him in the back of the school got wet because he accidentally spilt water on it. So, he had to make a half-assed substitute letter to put in your desk.

Second, he forgot soccer leaves people all stinky. So, at the end of practice, he had to choose between taking a shower and showing up all drenched and late and showing up sweaty and smelly. He choose the former, after all, showing up late but presentable is better than showing up early but looking like you got shit on by a racoon.

Third, when he finally got there (you were almost leaving, thank God he caught you just in time!) and apologized for being late, he gave you the flowers. He thought nothing else could go wrong, but things can always get worse than they already are. But I don't blame him for not knowing that things could, in fact, get worse: how was he supposed to guess there were literally bees in the flowers? To get rid of them, he tried to shook the bouquet, but accidentally ended up throwing it at your face. With bees and all.

You screamed. He screamed. He grabbed the bouquet and shoved it away, looking at the ground and wishing it'd just swallow him whole. He messed up his chance, you'd never ever even look at his way again. You hated him, absolutely hated him. You wish he was dead, you were going to change schools just to never see him again, he's the worse person ever-

Huh? What is that sound? You're laughing...? You're seriously laughing?

You laughed. He got confused.

He looked up. You were throwing your head back while wiping away the tears that got out of your eyes. You were clutching your stomach because you were laughing so hard it was starting to hurt.

You laughed. He laughed.

You both looked like maniacs. Lunatics. Laughing alone in the middle of nowhere. You looked crazy he WAS crazy. Crazy for you. Not that you knew it at that time

He then decided to just shoot his shot and finally asked you out, without flowers or memorized speech. He didn't even think you'd accept, he just thought it wouldn't hurt to try.

Imagine his face when you said yes. Even with the shitty proposal and embarassing moments, you said yes. And he was absolutely delighted. You gave him your number so he could text you the details about the date, and he was seriously shaking. I'm being for real, his pupils were blown wide and he was almost crying from happiness.

He went home jumping and skipping from happiness. Now, he wasn't just a loser. He was a loser with a date, so that makes him less loserly (at least that's what he thinks).

You accepting his proposal didn't make him talk less about you. Actually, he was now talking about you more than before, if it's even possible. Hiori felt like killing himself (he was happy for his friend, of course, he just didn't want to admit it).

This fic has a "sequel", it's this one

Masterlist

#loser Isagi holds a special place in my heart #bllk #bllk manga #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk isagi #isagi yoichi #isagi x you #isagi x reader #blue lock isagi #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #fluff #isagi fluff

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thcdoomed · 10 months ago

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What fragile things some strong people are. An exterior of stone, but the insides crack and crumble, falling to shambles while anyone looking on is none the wiser. A facade, a lie. Be it by omission or not, the put-together leader she presented was a lie all-along. Beneath everything was a scared girl who was left alone in a world that would eat even the strongest men alive. Left to brave the world's coldness with little but a prayer and vengeance eating away at her heart. Maybe a lesser person would have given up by now, maybe she should have. But just beyond the warmth of the bath before her and the kindly purple-clad wizard who kept her company in this dark hour were the friends she had come to make. Friends who, in many ways, were family. Were all she had. Patches in the deep cracks inside her.

But grief will always eat at her, it is something only time will heal, and time is not something that is on their side these days.

She's grateful, though, for all of them. For their support and their belief in her, even if they had no idea that her heart bled and wept and seized in her chest when she laid her head to rest when there was nothing else to distract her from her thoughts. She's grateful for Gale's exceptional kindness right now, when he had every right to spurn her for nearly attacking him.

She laughs, but there is no joy in it, it's too quick, too curt for that. "Demasc took that from me too. I no longer breathe unless I force it. It's proven incredibly beneficial in my archery, and little else." Her eyes squeeze shut, trying not to think about how inhuman she feels. But he's right, she gets in, feeling the warmth of the water lap at soiled skin. It's almost a shock at first, but she quickly adjusts. "When life stops throwing everything on us at once, I'll rest."

Her mind is still reeling though, visions of death and loss still dancing in her head. They were more vivid than usual and she feels herself sinking in the water to push them out. Even now, even with the truth out there, she works to force the grieving back. She can't allow herself to drown in the emotions and she can't drown in this water, but she can submerge herself so thoroughly that she doesn't want nor need to come back up for air right away. Perhaps it is the guilt of surviving clawing at her insides. The thought that she should have died with the rest of them. Why her? Why did she live with this burden? But she's still here, and no matter the hurt, she doesn't want to die. She wants to survive.

She wants to gut the bastard that did this.

Hearing the soft muffle of his voice from above the water, she pulls her head back up, blood rinsing from her flesh as she reemerged. "I was the fortunate one. He pulled me out of my shell. I would have been content to be a forest hermit, only socializing when I guided people through the woods and mountain pass. Love was the furthest thing from my mind. But he hired me to lead his group of adventurers to safety in the Spiderhaunt, and there was something about him, his charm, his smile," she pauses, her voice caught between grief and fondness, "his stupid, stupid jokes. You all would have loved him. A scoundrel with a good heart." It was something he would say of himself. Claiming to be a troublemaker when he always chose to do good deeds.

If she's not careful, she'll break down right here in this bath of delightful scented oils.

"I don't think he knows I survived. That's the worst part, I was a means to get to Caius. He thought he had killed me in front of him. I was nothing to him. But he won't find me, I will find him, and I will raise my own army against him and I will take from him everything he took from me and then some." There is a dark determination in her voice, a tone that sounds so foreign on her kind tongue. "An ally waits for me in the city to help. Once we defeat the Absolute, I will seek my revenge. Demasc Volkar will die by my hand." Or the quest for revenge would destroy her in the process. Regardless, she had to try. If only she knew that Alden, someone she thought was a friend, had sold their location out to the master vampire. "I couldn't ask you to help when that time comes, we've all been through so much as is, but if you wished to help, I wouldn't turn you down." Gale is a powerful ally to have and an even more powerful friend.

"Lavender is one of my favorites, actually. And rose. They are simple scents but they remind me of home. Of my mother, actually. She grew lavender in the yard, it made the whole house smell pleasant." She laughs again, this time genuinely. "You can turn around Gale, I'm in the bath, no worries."

Gale knows it intimately, the appeal in losing yourself in endless work. He's leafed some novels and tomes, has given fierce chase to words and theories, and as the night lumbered on in its lonesome hours, had burnt through both oil and candlewax. In his tower, he'd become the sole, grave portrait of a ravenous obsession. It had balmed him meagerly, anchoring his mental in the comfort of books, but imagine if he hadn't. Imagine if he'd thought. Imagine had he sat there in the shadows and the dark, his folly in his bones and his guilt on his conscience, every memory hollering. And every doubt in him loud. Madness, he'd wager. A treacherous insanity. Their party's now gathered by a half-cobbled hearth, and he'd have shattered apart like that window to a chapel. Temple glass, he humors. Or cathedral panes.

Madness, they were spared.

But grief, they were not.

And as Gale gathers his belongings back into his bag, at least his, he knows, he wasn't made to ignore.

"Then by some stroke of luck, you'll be happy to know you're only expected to breathe. We can work up to laurel resting on another foul evening. For now, it would hardly kill you to do away with the semantics. That said, enough with the stalling," he urges. "And get on in."

Even here, the steam off the water clings along his neck. Gale works, hearing the rustling of clothes and the tell-tale ripple of her scalding dip. He clatters on about, back pointedly turned as all manner perfumes start waltzing in the air. However, even as he bumbles, vials click-clacking and stoppers popped in, it's yet the aching of her voice that lingers in his mind...and darkly, somberly, her still-veiled past.

Truthfully, he'd be one hell of a liar to even try at disinterest. Call it the scholar in him, but he boasts an unstoppable, unstemmable, and restless curiosity. Yet, far more than that by both seas and oceans is his unwithering fondness for this tight-lipped soul. It was not at all foreseen, this boldening camaraderie in a new-found friend. But, well, Gale himself is a lover, a man with both warmth and an unstoppable heart, and to hear her story would let him act as her pillar -- her bastion in the fury and tumultuous rain. He can see them still, the flash-crack-bang of that horrendous night. Gods, he had felt like her. There was viscera in his gums. But worse than that, he discerns, were the feelings that surfaced as the adrenaline waned. Hells, that heart-wrenching ache and that filleting regret...

The face of her sire. He recalls that, too.

Nightmarish, Gale thinks. Too haunting and soulless. He startles, tying up his pouch as Dronia's voice stirs like the canopies high up above. Blinking, he hadn't even realized he had held his breath. Oh. "I see," he begins, timbre so unbearably soft. "For what it's worth, I could hardly name a man more fortunate to have held your affections. Even with a thousand years, there'd have never been enough time to enjoy it by your side. Every second spent would have been another second desired." ...still, Gale well knows, he should have had more of it. More and more by several decades! Decades aplenty and tens of springs. Breathing, Gale gathers his words, lingering by the bramble where the rest of their companions are chattering in view. He knows his loves, had kissed and yearned and lost as she had. They'd hardly the same story, her grief a misfortune where he'd been a fool, but to know so keenly that your lover's escaped you... A wedding, she'd said. They could have been wed. Gale frowns, that spawn's red eyes again stark in his memory. He thinks of rubies, garnets, and disastrous greed "Well, you're not exactly a charity as far as I'm concerned. He won't take from you again, and I won't stand here and allow you to suffer a thief. For as much as you've lost, I'd hope you know you aren't fumbling alone. Should he ever find you again, we'll make painfully clear." It's a daunting prospect, surely, to risk the life of her companions to Alden again--but then, what of it, he'd ask? He's not a man to just bolt. They've all their journeys, every one of them dangerous, and for better or for worse, she's Gale to the most disastrous of ends. Huffing, Gale summons a mage hand and nudges forward.

"It is lavender," he tuts, the spectral thing holding his pouch for her. "Though should you have a hankering for something else, feel free to peruse. Admittedly, I'm finding myself tempted to get in there myself. Waste anymore time, and I'll beat you to it. Otherwise, I'm sure shoving you in with thunderwave would do you wonders."

#🏹|| dronia | bg3 verse #🏹|| gale #r|| reply #recitedemise #ad|| after dhampirism #blood cw #death mention cw #first off: spotify did the thing again and played the perfect song. Black Water by Of Monsters and Men #It really is a horrific version of “life comes at you fast” and definitely out of the frying pan and into the fire #gale is right to point it out but dronia is immensely stubborn and will work herself into an early grave before resting.#she is a giver. she puts others before herself always. caius used to tell her the same thing.#they may have to tie her up and make her rest at this point lol. but she can be coaxed into it with enough pressure from the lot of them.#one day she will learn to be kind to herself. one day.#yeaaaah alden fucked things up for Dronia's entire last adventuring party. Demasc found him first and was like if you tell me where the #others are i'll give you power and spare you. And Alden squealed like a pig. The rogue in it for himself. He never liked Dronia either.#Didn't want another hand in the pot of their spoils. Alden is a selfish coward.#And when she does find Alden after the Netherbrain is destroyed and learns he betrayed them (because she thinks he died too) she loses it.#She willingly drains him dry while he stabs her in the back repeatedly to get her off. Just goes full feral on him. And no one blames her #for it.#Dronia had such a hard time trusting Astarion after that reveal. Almost stakes him but stops. She just doesn't trust vampires #but she's learning with Astarion to make an exception #Gale is absolutely a gentleman and she appreciates that.#oof this whole ass thread has my heart in the best kind of pain.

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simonsslut · 1 year ago

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meeting simon in the army.

18+ MDNI || nsfw || f!reader || oneshot/drabble || masterlist

wc: around 4.8k

cw: eventual smut, unprotected p in v, lil massage trope, spit kink, simon being his own enemy, reader being oblivious, simon loves tits, simon’s kinda mean at first but sweet at the end-ish, not proofread.

Lieutenant Riley is familiar with the process of adding a new addition to their little task force. but just because he's familiar with it, doesn't mean he's a fan of it.

a new member, a new person means that he has to most likely deal with another soap of sorts. don't get it wrong, he's okay with soap, but that doesn't mean he enjoys the constant questions soap seems to ask about him, even when he knows they irritate him, but that won't stop his curiosity.

you're confident when you show up to the meeting room, nothing new. recruits are either confident in themselves or they're completely terrified and it'll be written all over their faces.

soap is quick to befriend you, both of you snipers and demolition experts after all. it gives him a whole new buddy to talk with. simon takes this as a good sign, maybe he won't have to spend much time showing your around and telling you about the team and how things work here if soap is gonna spend all his time with you. right? wrong.

Price assigns soap on a mission with another task force soap had recently worked with before TF141. meaning that Simon is going to have to spend every free waking moment he has with you. and for a guy like Simon, this is hell. but don't take it the wrong way, he's like this with everyone.

you're quick to find the large man rude, dismissive. you'll ask barely personal questions and he'll shrug it off and blatantly ignore you. will roll his eyes or just walk away mid-conversation (which was one-sided anyway).

maybe you talked too much? had you asked him too many questions? maybe he just didn't like you for absolutely zero reason. you decided to stop thinking too much about it. you didn't do anything wrong, maybe he's just a natural-born asshole.

Soap had mentioned something about the lieutenant having a stick somewhere deep up his ass and to not worry too much about how he treats you.

however, after telling yourself you'd stop losing sleep over it, you continued.

maybe he just wasn't used to having a woman on his team. They are all men after all. but that wouldn't be professional, plus the others aren't like that with you. they kinda just treat you like their own. they knew about your background, and what you have done, and they respected you for it, so why couldn't he?

simon knows better than most about your background, he had to study your file after Price mentioned your recruitment.

"weapons of choice - melee; knives, axe."

a shared opinion.

he trains with you to see how advanced you really are. weapon training and all that is fine, but sparring? this has to be a joke. that mountain of a man versus you? you've got muscle to you, yeah, but even soap going against simon is an evident loss. and soap is a big guy.

you start off with Gaz. he's also tall and well built, but he's the more common build of soldiers. you guys spar for an hour, or two, and then you take a break.

you don't think much about who your next spar round will be with, so the anxiousness doesn't begin to settle in until ghost's rough voice calls you over to the mat. he's the only one there. and it settles in.

you look over at Gaz and the look on his face is one of pity, your face drops.

it's not even 30 seconds into the round when you're already dropped to the ground. the mat feels like concrete when you hit your back on it.

"c'mon, get up." ghost says in an almost pissed off way.

you groan and roll over, quickly getting back up on your feet. "no mercy?" you ask in a huff. "you won't get mercy when you're fighting for your life in the field, you should know this, sergeant." he states dryly, but the way he said 'sergeant' sounded like an insult rolling off his tongue.

after 30 minutes of repeatedly losing, you admit defeat. but at least he stays with you after hours when the others have left, leaving you both alone so you don't have to keep losing in front of a crowd.

3 months of dry responses, frequent scoldings, straight-up constant attitude from the man and not many interactions besides from when he was ordering you around or lecturing you about a fuck up in training or on a mission.

and even though he wouldn't interact with you much, it somehow seemed that he was always on your ass, always watching to see what your next fuck up would be, always so observant. because why the hell were his eyes always on you? every time you'd glance over at him, he'd already be looking at you with that dark 1000-yard stare, arms crossed and sitting across any room you were in at the moment.

3 months is what it takes for him to not act like a complete brooding asshole towards you even for just a moment. reason? you saved his life.

sort of.

simon was clearing a wide area in a warehouse on a mission and it seems one of the men there seemed to blend in far better than anyone else could. Simon was almost too late, almost the one standing at the receiving end of a bullet to the head, but you had him. and you saved him.

neither of you thought too much about it though, after all, it is your job to have each other's backs in the field. he only gave you a gruff "thank you" when he brushed passed you towards the exit. but you took that thank you as a sign that he didn't absolutely despise you like you had thought he did for the past 3 months.

or so you thought. not much changed afterwards. but at least whenever you'd start a conversation, he'd just stare at you instead of walking off. but he'd always stay quiet. you wanted to give up, you should've given up. but something deep inside you had you pushing.

what it was wasn't so obvious at the time.

but that's probably because you were so oblivious.

you didn't know him like the boys did, you were new. so no one could've blamed you for not seeing the obvious frustration you caused him. soap on the other hand thought it was bloody comedic.

you always assumed the triple checks on your comms and positions were just because he didn't trust you enough to know what you were doing. because why would you think anything else with the way he behaved towards you?

the way he'd suddenly appear when a private was up and flirting with you. he'd come and scold you for having chitchat when you should've been doing paperwork, his jaw tensed. he'd look behind you to give the private a glare that you would've assumed was a 'get back to work' glare and not the threatening glare it actually was, because why would you think otherwise?

when you all went out to the pub for a drink after a long exhausting mission to relax a bit, but you hadn't had alcohol in so long so you didn't think to slow down, eventually blacking out on Simon's shoulder, and ending up in your quarters at the end of the night, boots off and snuggly tucked in under your sheets.

what you did notice is that you'd never be assigned to missions that ghost wasn't on. you caught on eventually but you never mentioned it, too annoyed with him to start an argument you knew you'd lose.

but when you're all at the pub on another night, soap and gaz over by the pool table, drunkenly betting against each other, and price long gone back to the base and having called it an early night, leaving the two of you at the table alone, it slips out.

he's been ignoring your attempted starts of a conversation all night, the alcohol had given you the motivation you needed to try again, but you've had enough of the silent treatment.

"hey, i've noticed I only go on missions that you're on.." he tenses. "'s that because you don't trust me? or somethin?"

he doesn't respond as per usual, and you know he's already annoyed with you but you keep pushing.

"you can be a real prick, y'know?" you mumble out, earning a side glance from him, his hand on the table, fingers tapping on his empty glass. he stays quiet.

"I just don't understand why you dislike me or whatever. I haven't done anything to you personally, I don't think.." you trail off, furrowing your brows as if in thought. he just stares down at you.

"you're a real pain in my ass" you then state rather confidently. he raises his brow at this before looking down at his empty glass and muttering a "Seems we've got that in common."

you roll your eyes and groan, moving to grab your beer but he moves it further up the table before you can reach it.

"hey-" you start but he interrupts, "you've 'ad enough." he grumbles out and you scoff, standing up from the chair and walking over to where Soap and Gaz are laughing it up with each other.

but maybe he's had a bit too much to drink too.

because the moment a man starts flirting with you at the bar, his hand just a bit too touchy, Simon appears, his hand is gripping the man's shoulder and pulling him back with an angered "back off."

you can't even manage out a "what the hell-?" before he's grabbing your bicep and dragging you out of the pub. you stop protesting rather quickly, too tired to continue. you just let him drag you all the way back to the base where he only lets go of you when he reaches the doorstep of your barracks building.

"sleep. now. don't wanna deal with your lazy tired ass tomorrow when you're moping around because you didn't get enough rest." he grunts out before abruptly turning in his place and leaving.

it's the next week when you're in the break room sitting across from Soap who's on his phone and drinking his coffee when you voice your troubles. "I can't deal with him anymore, Soap, really. he gives me such a hard time and I don't understand why," you practically whine to him.

"bloke doesn't know what to do with you when you practically give him a hard on all the time." he says it so plainly. as if it's a common fact, no big deal.

though you, of course, take it as a joke.

"Oh shut up, I'm serious." you groan through a chuckle and he just looks up at you and smirks before excusing himself to go back to his duties, leaving you there to mope at the wall.

the hell does that even mean?

luckily for you, you forget all about your short conversion in the break room, your mind too occupied from the busy week to care about a little dumb joke that soap told.

maybe you should've sat to think about said joke for longer.

you zone out while you do paperwork, your mind running on autopilot so that you don't pay attention to the time on the clock running past 11:30pm.

you hands hurt. your wrists hurt. and your back is sore from uncomfortably hunching over this old desk in this dinky chair that doesn't even spin properly.

you're too tired and too caught up in mentally complaining about everything to notice the tall figure standing in the doorway of the office you're working.

so when he speaks, voice baritone and accent thick, it scares the absolute living shit out of you. letting out a short yell and flinging your pen across the room, you look over at him.

you roll your eyes, too tired to even deal with him right now, preparing for him to lecture you about how sleeping late is bad for you even though literally everyone on base knows that he has the most fucked schedule of them all.

"I know it's late, I don't wanna hear it. this is the only free time I had to do this." you explain, your voice low and tired.

"didn't say anything." he responds and you glare up at him, and he knows.

he walks across the room and picks up the pen that you flung, his heavy steps making their way over to you and handing you back your pen.

he hasn't done or said anything threatening, so then why does it feel like he did?

you whisper a small 'thank you' before looking back down at your sheet and writing a few things down. he just stands there, staring down at your with crossed arms, observing. always observing. that's all he does. all he ever does.

you try to not let it get to you but he's just so intimidating.

you clench your jaw and breathe for a moment before focusing back on your paper. but just as you do that, he rounds the desk and stands behind your chair.

he grabs the chair, pulling it back a bit before his voice demands out, "stand,". you don't hesitate a moment before standing up quickly.

silence.

why does it feel like ages before he finally speaks??

"you're tense." he states and you furrow your brows because what the hell is happening. "y-yeah, I guess?"

the air is thick.

you're so caught up in empty thoughts that you don't hear what he says. "sorry, what'd you say?" you ask but it comes out a whisper without you intending for it to.

"may I?"

you're not sure what he means but you still slowly nod.

you suddenly freeze and your eyes go wide when you feel his palm wrap around your hair and move it to the side, his other hand resting in the crevice between your shoulder and neck, bare.

he's not wearing the glove.

his hand is warm when he suddenly squeezes you there, checking to see just how tense you are and your mind is blank. your thoughts have evaporated and you can't fucking move, because what the hell is happening!?

"why're you so bloody tense?" he asks, his voice so fucking deep that it makes your skin warm up. you've always hated the effect that his voice alone has on you.

'maybe because you're touching me?' is what you think to yourself.

"I don't know? work?" you sound so unsure of yourself that it feels embarrassing.

he mutters a quiet "yeah." while he continues to massage the area.

you wouldn't say this is a complete 180º from the way he's been treating you for the past couple months, but... this is a complete fucking 180º from the way he's been treating you these past couple months.

but you can't deny how fucking good it feels. his hands are so big and warm. the roughness of them surprisingly adding so much more to the massage and it feels so. good.

you can't help the slight moan that escapes your lips when you dip your head forward, giving him more space to work with.

ghost would halt his movements but that would only make you suspicious of what's happening to him behind you he clenches his jaw hard, his entire body tensing as he feels his pants grow tight and fuck is he fighting back a groan.

he did this to himself. he should've just minded his business and muttered an order to you like he usually would. he should've put up the asshole act instead of strolling in and offering a goddamn massage because he would never in his right mind actually do this.

he's barely slept for the past three days, so he doesn't really have control over his own actions, especially when it comes to you. it's always you that gets him like this, only you.

it's quiet for so long while he just massages your shoulders. usually It would be awkward, but this time it's just comfortable.

when he finishes, his hands remain and you start to actually snap back to reality on where you are, who's behind you, and what's going on. you don't move, hell you barely breathe. how could you when you could feel every breath he takes hit the skin on the back of your neck or how you can feel the heat radiating off of him while he stands behind you as if he's a human furnace or something.

there's always been tension. whether it was negative or positive, you were never completely 100% sure which. but it was always there. and it bothered the fuck out of the both of you.

you feel his thumb caress your nape. just a small movement. you wouldn't've noticed if you weren't hyper focused on every fibre of his being standing right behind you, not caring for your personal space despite him always getting pissed about not having enough of his own.

you don't know how to move on from this moment. there're no words in your mouth, your body frozen still under his gaze, under his touch.

you want to say something, anything. but you don't know what.

"ghost," you start, but he doesn't answer, he just rubs his thumb over again. "ghost." you try again.

silence.

"simon." he stops.

"what are you doing?" you turn your head to the side when you whisper this, looking at him stand behind you out the corner of your eye, and he stares right back.

after his silence, you go to move but he stops you, his hands grabbing your arms and keeping you in place. you go to shake him off but when you lean your body back, you feel something against your ass and your breath hitches.

he shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw, he knows you felt it, and he knows he's fucked when he lets out a quiet groan.

"it seems you’ve been stressed too..." you mumble out and his grip on you only tightens. you don't think before you nudge your ass against him again but with purpose and his breathing stutters.

"Don't." he demands through gritted teeth, but you only do it again and he doesn't stop you.

he then pushes you forward and you gasp, your crotch hitting the desk edge as you bend over the desk.

he doesn't do anything for a few moments as he thinks over what he's doing. he's your superior. this is wrong. so why does it feel so good to drag his hand down your back.

he then suddenly lets go of you and backs up, confusing you in the process. you stand back up and turn to stare at him, your brows furrowed and you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

the way you look at him, it's as if there's hope in your eyes and that only spurs him on to do what he does next. he moves his hand up to raise the bottom of his mask up to rest just over his nose. he then quickly loops his arm around your waist and pulls you in for your lips to meet his in a kiss born off of sexual frustration.

you're quick to wrap one of your arms around his neck, not caring at all for what this means because god it feels so good.

he groans against your lips and pushes you back against the desk, lifting you a bit to sit you down on it before he mumbles against your lips.

"you gon' let me do this?"

the man, your lieutenant, your superior who you thought hated you so damn much for the longest time, is asking for your permission as his hand squeezes your thigh.

this is crazy. all of this is crazy. yet you nod.

he spreads your thighs with his hands and stands between them while his mouth moves from your lips down to your jaw and then to your neck, his lips hot and wet against you.

you let him push you back until your back is flat against the desk, his hand moving to grab your hip to keep you in place just as he likes while his other hand loops under the waist band of your pants and palms you over your panties.

you can't help but whimper when he does this which only turns him on more. and he grunts against your neck when he removes his hand only to grind his covered bulge against you.

you huff out as he continues to grind against you, growing in need when heat begins to pool in your core while his hands grip at you tightly as if you'd disappear if he let go. and he's not about to risk that when he finally has you right where he wants you.

you pull at his clothes, a whine slipping from your lips and he knows what you want. one of his hands moves to slide your shirt up your stomach and you let him. when he does get the shirt off of you, he doesn't even go to unclip your bra, instead his hand moves to grab the front of your bra and drags it down, your tits falling out.

he grabs one of your tits and mouths it, sucking, while his other hand moves to pull your pants down.

he backs up and fully pulls your pants off before he's back on you, mouth on your tit while his left hand plays with the other and his right hand slips under the fabric of your panties, feeling how soaked you are.

his thumb applies pressure on your clit which has you already gasping and arching into his touch.

he teases you a bit, wanting to see how desperate you'd get before he actually fucks you with his cock. he slips a digit in and groans against your nipple when he feels how your wet warmth clenches around just his finger.

he adds another and then another, wanting to stretch you out enough for him to squeeze in.

he curls and thrusts his fingers in you, getting to that spongey spot in you that has you moaning and throwing your head back against the desk, whining fro him to finally put it in.

"y'want me?" he asks but you can't even reply.

"I asked if y'want me, love." his voice is gravel when he repeats himself, wanting an answer out of you before he takes this further.

you nod, frantic and and grinding against his palm for more friction against your clit. "y-yes, yes sir, please-" you answer and he feels his cock twitch in his pants.

he moves his lips back up to your neck and removes his hands from you, undoing his pants and pulling himself out, precum beading at his red tip.

you whimper at the sight of it. it's obvious to see how big of a man simon is in general, he's huge. and it seems that so is everything else about him.

he doesn't bother to remove your panties as he's too impatient. instead he just moves them to the side, his finger running down your slit before he brings it to his mouth to get a taste of you, letting out a satisfied hum.

he then brings his hand up to you and orders, "spit", and you do.

he pumps himself a few times to wet it before he aligns with your slit and you inhale when he starts to push in, stretching you out so perfectly for him. so fucking big.

he takes his time pushing into you, his warm breath against your neck when he groans as he bottoms out, deep inside you. “so fucking tight…” he groans through gritted teeth.

you clench around him, your hands slipping under the fabric of his shirt and your nails clawing at the skin on his back, wanting him to move already as you grow impatient and needy.

he does just that, drawing his hips back before thrusting back into you resulting in a yelp from you. and he doesn't stop.

his pace is already above slow and picking up with each time he hammers back into you, curses and moans falling from his lips like he's in heaven, because he is.

your lips meet his again and you moan into his mouth with each thrust. he makes out with you like a man starved, like he's been wanting this for so long…you under him while he fucks into you like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

the only sounds in the room being the squelching of your pussy as he thrusts into you and both of your moans. if anyone was walking down the hallway at this hour which is unlikely, they'd most definitely hear what you two are doing.

he moves his hand down and presses his thumb to your clit while he continues to fuck into you, rubbing it in circles which has you crying out through moans, tears of pleasure threatening to spill out the corners of your eyes.

your breathing becomes ragged as your back arches deeper into him, your hips bucking against his to meet his pace while he groans and nips at the skin on your neck, “takin’ me so well… s’ fuckin good f’me…” he moans and it sets your skin on fire.

he's close and so are you.

your fingers move under the back of the mask to pull at his short hair and he let's you do it, trusting you to not pull the mask off.

your lips against his ear, letting him hear all your pretty sounds and it only drives him further, his pace keeping steady, knowing just what you need when you moan out "i'm close..so close.." and he knows it too as he feels you clench tightly around him.

he surprises you when he places his thumb in your mouth when you moan, flattening it against your tongue and grunting a “open f’me, yeah?” and you do without hesitation, opening your mouth nice and wide enough for him to spit on your tongue. he doesn’t even have to tell you to swallow before you do it automatically, earning a smirk from him before he kisses you again.

the combination of his thumb rubbing in circles against your clit and him hammering into you has your body stuttering and spasming, feeling like you're getting possessed as you let out a strangled and broken quiet scream as you finally come undone beneath him, your vision going for a few moments while he fucks you through your orgasm.

you continue to moan when he keeps pumping into you after your orgasm, chasing his own high while he grunts out "'m gonna come... gonna come on your tummy, love.." before he quickly pulls out of you, leaning back up and pumping his cock a few times before he releases his load on your stomach followed by his heavy breaths.

he stares at you for a moment, his chest rising and lowering in heavy breaths before he leans over you to grab the tissue box in the corner of the desk and wipes his cum off of you.

he puts your panties back in place and steps back, handing you your pants. he shoves his cock back into his pants and then watches you pull yours back on, his arms crossed.

now that the foggy feeling in your mind is gone, you're shy as you stand under his gaze.

you just fucked your lieutenant.

he licks his lip before pulling the mask back down and sitting back onto the chair. you're confused for a moment before he nods his head in the direction of the door and mutters a "go t'sleep. it's late."

you look at the door and then back at him, furrowing your brows in confusion. "but my paperwork-" he interrupts you before you can finish your sentence. "I'll do your paperwork. now go to bed. tha's an order." he instructs and you stand there absolutely dumbfounded before you actually register his words.

you slowly nod and he clenches his jaw before he looks at the short stack of paperwork on the side of the desk, grabbing one and beginning to work on it, but you're still there.

"thought I told you t-" he pauses when you lean down to place a kiss on the fabric over where his temple is, taking him by surprise as it shuts him up.

you then give him a sweet smile, your hand sliding down his muscular arm before you turn around and walk out the small office, leaving him to do your paperwork after he fucked you so well just a moment ago on that very desk.

simon experiencing blue balls too many times in secret bc he's stubborn.

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aperrywilliams · 3 months ago

Text

Ocean (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Spencer has shut you out for months, and you don’t know how to get to him. A new argument endures, and you think this might be your last chance to make him understand how deep your love for him is.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Angst/hurt/comfort. Spencer doesn't want to see reasons. Reader and Spencer cry. Mention to Spencer’s time in Milburn.

A/N: It’s just another self-indulgent fic to tell our boy how great he is.

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"Are you going to say something?"

Your voice is clipped, and you feel a whole storm bubbling inside of you. Spencer's silence doesn't help to ease your desperation—a last call for some hope in your already damaged relationship.

As he sits on the couch, his eyes are lost in the window of your shared apartment, tranced by the distant bustling of the streets below. It seems everything is better than looking at you right now.

‘How can someone stand so damn close

And feel like they're a world away?

I can see your sad story eyes

So how do you have no words to say?’

“Please, say something. Anything."

Your insistence sharply contrasts with the demanding tone with which you initiated this conversation—or fight, as Spencer accused you earlier.

Still standing in front of him, you only want him to look at you, to see in his eyes what he really wants.

“Do you want me to leave? That's it?”

You don't know what else to do or say. After bickering for a solid forty-five minutes, Spencer decided he didn't want to respond to your questions/accusations anymore. Coincidence? Hell no. He went silent just after you touched a nerve mentioning the tabu, the only thing Spencer decided must remain unspoken: the three months he was locked in Milbum.

You understood his reluctance at first. Of course you did. Putting in words the nightmare of his days there can’t be easy for anyone, and to Spencer, you bet your ass it was tougher. To lose control, to engage in a world he only knew from afar. Exposed. Vulnerable.

You understood why he didn't want you to visit him there. His pride and self were wounded. However, you would never resent him for it. You said it to him but respected his wishes so as not to put more pressure on his shoulders.

It didn't hurt less, but you were willing to take it.

Weeks followed, and the only news you had about your boyfriend were the messages and phone calls from his coworker, Penelope, and his boss, Emily.

The day he was released must have been the most chaotic you had in your life. And for Spencer, sure, it was worse: His mom was kidnapped by another psychopath, threatening her life.

As Spencer hugged Diana at the BAU, you stayed back, looking from afar, not wanting to disturb such an important moment.

Penelope hugged him after, and then JJ and Tara. The whole team welcomed him before you had the chance to.

When your time came, your eyes locked for the first time in months, and you knew. That man wasn’t the same Spencer you saw the night before he went to Mexico. And you were far from expecting he was, but something felt different with you compared to the reaction he had with the rest of the people there.

Not saying a word, Spencer enveloped you in a tight embrace. Hiding his face in the crook of your neck, he couldn't articulate anything to say. You were the one who reassured him, mumbling encouraging words.

‘Everything is going to be okay. You’re safe now.’

And you believed every word, even knowing the road would be hard. Knowing there would be bad days and not-so-bad ones. But you were determined to make it work because you loved Spencer, and he didn't deserve less from you.

All I want is to fall in deeper than I've ever been

Why won't you let me?

I can handle your heart, so help me.

But Spencer didn't open up to you the next day, nor the week that followed, or the month after. You were patient. You didn't take personally the prolonged silences, the avoidance, the eagerness he showed to go back to work.

At some point, you start to wonder what you have been doing wrong because there is definitely something wrong.

Waiting for him to confide you was the only thing you decided to do. He would come to you eventually. Instead of pushing him, you offered your solace and a safe space for him to be peaceful.

But after three months, things didn't get better; they were quite the opposite. Spencer frequently showed signs of irritability at home and started to snap at almost anything.

And that's when the arguments started. You were getting exhausted by his behavior and the null display of trust from him.

Today has been no different. After coming back from a case, Spencer barely acknowledged your presence, opting for lounging on the couch, too invested in a book to tell you he almost got hurt in the field, and you find it out from Penelope calling you to know how he was doing.

“Spencer-”

“You can leave if you want,” he mumbles, not making eye contact.

“That's not what I asked. I asked if you want me to leave.”

There is a lump in your throat, but it doesn't stop you from voicing your thoughts.

“And for once, be honest with me. Do you want to be alone? Do you want to sulk yourself for God knows how much time?”

There is a brief silence where you think Spencer is truly contemplating his response.

“Yes.”

He says it without looking at you, but his voice is firm enough for you to wonder if he’s lying or not. It hurts. But it hurts you more because he’s hurting and not for the pain he’s inflicting you with his words - or lack of.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

You get his attention this time. He wasn’t expecting you to ask him that.

“Why do you want to be alone?”

You can’t understand why he’s so determined to shut you out. Or maybe you do, but you’re not ready to accept it. Not when you love him more than anything in this world. Not when you are sure your love must count to something for him. Yeah, maybe you can’t ‘fix him,’ but you’re sure as hell you can help him to heal.

Spencer huffs in frustration. What can he say? The truth? It's too simple and yet too complicated to voice.

“I realized it’s better that way. There is no reason for you to stay.”

Is he turning his motives into altruistic ones? It's like he doesn't know you at all.

“There isn’t? You are not reason enough for me to stay?”

Spencer stands from his spot, running his hands through his hair.

“You don't get it? Do you?! Do you want me to throw the words on your face? Uh? I thought you were smart enough to realize by now I can’t love you anymore!”

It's the first time he has yelled that way to you in months. Years, maybe? All the last arguments you both had recently were more like ‘snappy-sassy Spencer’ and a ‘sassier you.’

He just said, ‘I can’t love you anymore,’ and not ‘I don’t love you anymore.’ You don’t miss the wording, and you’re praying right now not to be reading this wrong.

Maybe this is the crack you were waiting for to get to him. Carefully, you look at Spencer, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn't.

“Okay,” you mumble, sitting again on the couch, your feet planted on the floor and hands on your knees. Spencer raises an eyebrow, confused by your posture and response.

“Okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Okay. You can’t love me anymore. I accept it. And I’m not happy with that, but okay. I can’t obligate you to feel in a certain way if you don’t.”

“But you should be hating me,” he refutes. “I failed you, and now I’m ending things.”

You take in his words. Spencer assumes he’s the one to hate, and even if you want to, you know you can’t.

With pursed lips and soft eyes, you gesture to the spot beside you on the couch, inviting him to sit. Spencer understands and, after a second of contemplation, slowly moves to sit there, curious about what you are thinking right now.

“Can I tell you something?” you start. “It's humanly impossible for me to hate you. And yeah, maybe I should, but I can’t. Maybe you can’t love me, and thank you for doing it at some point, by the way. But it doesn't mean I’ll stop caring about you. It doesn't mean I don't want to see you happy because, despite all the awful things you think about yourself, oh, flash news, you deserve to be happy.”

“Don’t-” he wants to refute, as always he does, but you have to make a point.

“Spence, please, let me say it.” Spencer stops and concedes at your request, even if he thinks it useless and that you shouldn’t put that effort into him.

“I know you think you disappointed people for what happened. You haven’t told me that much, but I know. And I can understand you are scared and that maybe I’m not the one you want to confide in. I respect it, really. But please, if at least a fraction of what I think matters to you, believe me, I have never doubted whatever you did in there; you did it to survive. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.”

It's a hard pill to swallow for Spencer. He never wanted to tell you what really happened when he was in jail. Granted, you are not a profiler, but you know him enough to see through him.

Here you are, next to me

So much beauty at my feet

All I wanna do is swim, but the waves keep crashin' in

No, I'm not afraid to drown

Take me out, take me down

I'm so tired of the shore

Let me in, baby

You're an ocean, beautiful and blue

I wanna swim in you

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. And I’ll leave if it's what you think I should do, but not before telling you how I see you. God, Spencer. You have no idea how great a human being you are. You always prefer to sell yourself short instead, but I know you. If the time we have known each other taught me something, it's how compassionate, understanding, and loving you are. Believe me when I tell you that to love you has been the best thing I have done in my life. And I would do anything for you, even if that means walking away from you.”

You don't know when the tears started to fall, but now you can feel them running down your cheeks and landing in your hands resting on your lap.

Spencer’s glassy eyes tell you he has heard everything you said, and you hope he believes you. At least you have tried pouring your heart into words. It isn’t easy for you to do. That’s something you have in common with Spencer. Your love language is acts of service more than words of affirmation, but you know this time, you need the words.

A tear makes his journey from Spencer’s eyes down his jaw. But he can’t say anything. He thinks if he says something, everything in him will crumble.

You wait, not so sure what, but wait. As Spencer keeps his silence, you think you have nothing more to do, so you break eye contact.

“Okay. That's what I needed to say. I guess that’s it.”

A shaky breath anticipates you getting up from the couch. You stroll to the bedroom to grab your go-bag.

Approaching the door and grabbing your keys from the bowl, you bit your lower lip because you don’t want to cry in front of him anymore.

Like a lighthouse, I've been shinin' bright

Through the dark for both of us

And I've done it outta love is not enough

But God, how I wish it was

And I don't wanna find out

How much lonely I can take before you lose me

Baby, look at me and swear you won't lose me

Determined to leave, you open the door, and before you cross the threshold, a heartbreaking sob paralyzes you in place. Then, a wail and Spencer's broken voice.

“Please, don’t leave!”

It is heartbreaking and comes to you like a prayer from the depths of his being. You stop in your tracks but refuse to look back at him.

“I know I don't deserve you, but please, I can’t - I can’t lose you.”

Wiping away his tears, Spencer gets up from the couch and quickly reaches the door. You still have the bag in one hand and the keys in the other, with your back to him.

“I love you more than you can imagine, and I was determined to let you go. I thought I had hurt you enough.”

“Did you were setting me free? From you?” you mumble, still not wanting to turn around, tears blurring your sight. Spencer sniffles.

“I thought it was the right thing to do. Why drag you to my shit once more? Fuck, you always have been there for me, and it is so unfair. How did I repay you?”

“Repay me?” You let the bag fall with a thud. This time, turning to face Spencer. “Do you think this is about repaying? Jesus, Spencer. I never had ask you that.”

“I know. I know,” he rushes to say. “But I feel like I’m not good enough. An ex-junk. An ex-convict. And a lot of baggage to carry.”

Your fingers fidget with the keys as you hear Spencer beating himself.

“Nothing of that has changed the way I see you. I’m not saying you have to be the same, nor do you have to keep still about it. I love you with all the scars you have and the ones that will come. And I want to help. You don't have to do this alone.”

“It's a lot. I don't even know where to start,” Spencer’s voice croaks, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“We can figure it out. Together. It won’t be easy, but I promise it will get better.”

Your soft eyes and hopeful words warm Spencer’s heart. He can’t conceive you are even real. He can’t fathom how you are still here in front of him after all. He can only conclude that your love is big enough to hold you two at this moment when his weakness consumes him.

Still sobbing, Spencer rushes to envelope you in a tight embrace. But unlike the hug you shared in the bullpen when he was released months ago, this time, he's the one telling you reassuring words.

“I love you. I couldn’t be more grateful for having you. I promise I’ll heal. I promise not to shut you out again. My love, my everything.”

As you cry with Spencer enveloped in his arms, your heart feels hopeful that you both will find a way to get through this. Together.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

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