#Burn through it Every single time. I think it would at least piss them off.

[maldupay]

i like human loop designs the same any au designs, timeskip designs etc like go wild have fun. but my One haterism. .. i don't think loop as they are would Ever willingly have long, darkless hair. like come on. loop KingHater3000 nolastname.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

older brother touya au, quirk training is mentioned but no quirk mentioned for reader, abusive todoroki household, endeavous is a piece of shit, angst, kinda rough hyper fem reader (you push shouto at one point), lmk if i missed sum else !!

shouto, lately, has been showing up to school with bandages on his arms. and touya knows others find that weird.

for a while now, their father’s training had been more grueling than ever. touya recognizes it in the sounds of screaming and pillars breaking and the coughing of his younger brother as he holds back a sob. not like you could hear it over the sound of enji todoroki’s booming voice yelling at him to get up anyways.

touya recognizes himself from before he was deemed a failure. he recognizes the coughs and wheezes but he thinks his were slightly different from shouto. his tiredness left him sore and unresponsive, complaining about muscular pains that touya never complained about himself. maybe because he ignored them until they were too painful to bear, all to please his father. to be his perfect creation.

but he isn’t, shouto is. and the boy doesn’t like it one bit.

his little brother comes to him most nights sniffling, clinging to him and pleading for touya to let him stay the night in his room. and he always says yes, of course he will, cus he’s his little brother. who’s just a little weird, but who he cares about deeply.

shouto sniffles about how he doesn’t like training with father, how he wishes he could spend time with his older siblings again instead. touya’s eyebrows furrow and he squeezes his brother harder. because he doesn’t like it either.

“if dad ever pisses you off, you can come to me, yeah ? i’ll be there.” shouto chastises him for swearing as he calls it, but touya doesn’t care, cus it made his little brother giggle a little even though he barely does. and it makes him chuckle too.

he remembers what training with his dad felt like when he still had potential. he remembers it was kind of like a father son experience. his dad would look at him proudly when he managed to pull off a new move, praising him in the only way he knew how to and encouraging him to keep aiming higher, to make his fire burn stronger. that he’d even surpass him.

but then the burning started to hurt. then the training started happening less often, and when it did it more desperate than anything. nothing was ever good, he had to keep pushing, keep burning. harder, stronger and faster. because he needed to surpass him.

it didn’t feel like a father son anything after that, it wasn’t fun and his body hurt. but the sudden change in demeanor was jarring, he remembers. it hurts to remember how his father had gone from this to simply just..giving up on him. but he thinks it must be horrible for shouto to immediately go through the tyrant that is endeavor at such a young age, rather than at least liking it at first like touya had.

of course he wouldn’t like it, touya doesn’t like it either.

“sho, i think we should get married.”

shouto’s laying on the grass with you when you suddenly speak to him. his eyes widen just a bit and when he turns his head to question you, you’re smiling like the sun. he likes that about you.

“why ?”

you jump up, leaning over him a bit, everything else is blocked out but you, shouto thinks he prefers it that way.

“cuuuuuz,” you sing “it’d be fun, right ?”

“to get married ?” you nod. shouto blinks at you. and when he keeps looking you shyly look away.

he figures you’re somewhat right, though. in the movies he watches with fuyumi, people seem to have a lot of fun during weddings, they seem happy. shouto wants to be happy with you, as simple as that, so he responds with the first thing that comes to mind.

“okay.”

and if he thought you were the sun before, he’s proven wrong immediately because the smile you send him blinds him. he hopes you’ll smile like that again every single day, it’d make him happy. you squeal and pull him up to you to squeeze him tight, the sudden move hurts a bit, but he doesn’t mind. it doesn’t hurt like his father does and it’s you, so he doesn’t mind and let’s you squeeze him to your hearts content.

“we’re engaged now, then !” you tell him, “so that means your my fiancé. when we’re grown ups, i’ll ask you again, okay ?” you ask giddily, you stand up because you can’t stand still anymore and you pull him along with you. shouto readjusts your fingers so he’s holding onto your pinky (he likes it that way) and he nods. “okay,” he answers again.

natsu-nii told him that he should speak more once, because people think that one word answers are rude sometimes. but he doesn’t like talking to people, and he doesn’t care if they think he’s rude and you get so happy when he speaks to you. you’re the only person he wants to talk to and you’re happy, so why should that bother him ?

shouto can’t wait until he’s a grown up. he’s sure when he’s a grown up, he won’t have to listen to his dad all the time, he’ll be stronger and will be able to fight back. but now, he can’t wait to be a grown up so you can get married for real.

apparently, shouto’s getting pulled out of school.

he hears touya angrily talking with his nanny about him. they can’t see him from where he's hiding behind the door. shouto can't remember a time where his older brother had sounded so mad, not even when he gets mad at him for being a brat. touya always seemed the angriest when their father was involved.

he keeps swearing, calling something bullshit. but shouto realises that if he gets pulled out of school, he won't be seeing you anymore.

so, just to be sure. when training is over and his father has ordered him to patch himself up, he asks.

"are you going to pull me out of school ?"

shouto holds back a flinch when his father stops in his tracks and turns to look at him slightly. all he responds with is "who told you ?" shouto only shrugs. enji stays quiet before finally responding.

"it's what's best for you. you are meant to surpass me."

shouto doesn't like talking to his father, it makes him nervous. he misses when his mom was here to comfort him, to tell him it was okay to be scared sometimes. shouto picks at his bandages, his mom had told him to stop one time, because it makes them come loose. but he's nervous.

"but..i have to got to school.." he utters quietly, he clenches his fist to keep it from shaking. "i'll get you a teacher." his father responds easily, he doesn't understand. shouto bites his lip.

"but..my friend at school.." shouto keeps his eyes to the floor, he knows his father is looking down at him and he doesn't want to look back. "yn..will wanna know where i am..'cus she wants to get married.."

enji todoroki huffs loudly, grumbling to himself. "what do you know about marriage.." he scoffs, and he keeps it at that. walking off and before he slides the door shut, he reminds shouto to patch himself up.

shouto doesn't jump when the door slams. and now that he thinks about it he doesn't know much about marriage.

"i don't think we should get married anymore."

you're usually always talking, shouto likes that about you. but now you just blink at him.

"..what ?"

you're always smiling at him, shouto likes that about you. but now you're frowning at him.

shouto swallows, it feels hard to "i don't want to get married anymore."

you're frowning at him, it's hard to swallow. you like sitting on the swings with him, and shouto likes that you taught him to go on it by himself, but he thinks he's ruined it for you now.

"why not ?"

you sound sad, shouto doesn't like it. he wants you to be happy all the time. but he won't be able to go to school soon, he won't see you anymore. and that'd make you even more sad. he doesn't know what else to do.

shouto can't bring himself to respond because he doesn't have a reason. he wants to be with you, he wants to hold your pinky and he wants to marry you. he wants you to smile at him so hard it blinds him. but he doesn't know anything about marriage. besides what he's seen on tv and from his own mom and dad. and his mom doesn't live at home anymore, because his dad had sent her away. when you get married you have fun and you're happy but his mom never was. you're always happy and he doesn't want you to be sad like his mom was, because you're the nicest person in the world.

so he just shrugs. natsu-nii had told him that people would find that rude once, and he thinks maybe he should've listened. you abruptly get up and stand in front of him. he looks up at you and wishes he'd never had because you look so sad. you want him to think you're angry, but he can tell with you.

"so you lied to me ?"

he wants to say no, because he doesn't mean it. but in your mind he probably did, he looks away. he can't look at you anymore because your lip is wobbling like you want to cry. angrily, you push at his shoulder, shouto trains with his father almost every day, he has the bandages under his sweater to prove it. but this hurts so much more.

"i hate liars !" you yell at him, shouto's never heard you yell besides that one time you'd punched tanaka in the face and ended up at the nurses office. you push him again and your voice is wobbly when you tell him you hate him before you run away. you're leaving without him. shouto can't move from where he's still slightly swinging on the swing. he doesn't like it anymore, but he can't go anywhere, because you're not holding onto his pinky and he can't readjust it to hold yours better.

shouto feels colder suddenly now that you're away, but he can't move as he grips the bars of the swing tighter and his lip wobbles.

touya, for the first time in a while, sees his brother come back home completely clean. and extremely sad.

i didn't want to end this part so sadly but i couldn't help myself yall im sorry, i hope yall still love me !!!

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 93

Geralt yelled at him, that's fine. Jaskier was just trying to cheer him up, but it's still fine. They're on top of a fucking mountain, but it's fine. Jaskier never even wanted to come to this mountain, but it's fine. Geralt never liked him, but it's fine. It's fine. It's fine. Geralt said that to never see him again would be a blessing. It's fine.

Jaskier goes to get his stuff from Roach, only for her to start freaking out as he approaches. Jaskier futilely tries to calm her down for far too long, before she neighs, looking behind him. He spins around and sees a stomping, still-pissed Geralt.

"Oh, Geralt! Thank gods, something is wrong with Roach, I'm worried about h-"

But Geralt walks straight through him, and pats Roach's muzzle.

"What is it, Girl?"

Jaskier blinks in shock, turning to look at them. He watches as Geralt goes through their bags and seems to relax at the sight of them, stuffed full of all of Jaskier's bullshit. Perhaps he wants to sell all remainders of Jaskier, thinking Jaskier too dumb to bring his things with him, wherever he went. Maybe it wasn't relief at all, maybe it was defeat, as he stares at new duties, as he has to go chase after the stupid bard he despises to bring him back his things because no matter what, Geralt has a heart of gold.

Geralt makes camp, right there and then, and sits down to meditate.

Jaskier decides that if Geralt can't see him, he might as well get his fill of Geralt. He sits right in front of him, and stares at his face, semi-relaxed in a semi-peaceful meditation. He's still tense, as if waiting for something, or expecting the worse. Maybe he's worried Jaskier will come back.

"It's alright, Darling. I won't be there to bother you any more, it seems."

Jaskier makes sure to tell him, even though Geralt doesn't react. Roach has calmed since Geralt arrived, but still eyes him wearily. At least Roach can see him, he supposes.

Jaskier observes as Geralt stays at that same camp for another three days. Geralt either meditates, cares for roach, or wanders off into the wilderness at seemingly random times. He either stays away for two minutes, or nine hours at a time. Jaskier stays with Roach, worried about her without either of them. He knows she can handle herself, but he still worried. Same with Geralt. But it was nice being seen, sometimes. So he stays with Roach.

Geralt comes back, hurriedly packs up camp, leaps onto Roach, and rides like a bat out of hell. Jaskier unfortunately cannot fly or float or even hover. So he has to run after them. And even though Geralt can't see or touch him, Jaskier can still feel his lungs burn when he runs for too long.

Jaskier eventually catches up with them at a town at the bottom of the mountain. Geralt is searching for something, it's obvious. Perhaps a job? Yennefer, somehow? A beast?

"Brown hair, blue eyes, dressed in bright colors?"

Geralt is looking for him.

Jaskier gets excited for a moment, before remembering Geralt still has his things. He probably just wanted to drop his things off and leave him again.

"I haven't seen a man like that." "He- He��� He looks sad. He was crying."

Geralt brings up this detail as if it pains him to even speak of it. Jaskier is confused about this, as it was technically Geralt's fault Jaskier ended up crying at all.

"I haven't seen him." "If you do, tell me. Please."

And Geralt moves to ask the same exact questions to the very next person in view.

Jaskier watches as he asks every single person in town, getting more and more desperate. By the end of the night, Geralt sits in an inn room with a large single bed, hugging a lute, as his eyes tear up.

Jaskier sits beside him, assures him he's fine, pleads with Geralt to not mess with the delicate lute, and demands he get happy and stop this frankly heart-wrenching display.

Jaskier tries moving items, tries clapping his hands, tries punching people, tries screaming his head off, but nobody notices him. Except Roach. And a barncat that ran away once it caught sight of Geralt in the distance. Great.

Jaskier can only silently observe as Geralt grieves Jaskier, hopes for him to return, prays that he's safe even though he left his lute , hums his songs under his breath before shaking his head and sighing, whispers "Please forgive me" to empty air. Jaskier has. Jaskier forgave him long ago at this point.

Jaskier's had enough. Jaskier's been annoying and loud his entire life. Surely he can make enough of a fuss to get the animals around Geralt to act up enough for Geralt to know something's up. He starts cooing at Roach and luring her in odd directions with the same promises he made before it all went to shit. Geralt knows something is wrong, but suspects it's with Roach, and not the environment around her. That is, until Geralt is in the middle of a hunt, and suddenly the creature he's there to kill can NOT focus on him, and instead keeps following some invisible being as they race back and forth across the clearing.

[jazeswhbhaven]

💜Only 4 Me, Levi: Mass Birthday Post💜

💜Mini Playlist💜

Obsession- Innerpartysystem Change- Deftones People Error- the GazettE Filth in the Beauty- the GazettE I'm That Girl- Beyonce All Mine- Kali Uchis

💜Cake Flavor Headcanon💜

White Chocolate Raspberry bundt cake, drizzled with sweet cream and Raspberry compote

💜How the Nobles Celebrate Their King's Birthday💜

Foras: He mostly tries to convince Glas and Barbatos to leave Leviathan alone so he can serve him by himself all day. After being turned down for the third time with the span of five minutes, he's opted to hang himself for him instead.

Barbatos: He wanted to present a perfect rosebush he worked on growing in the shape of Leviathan. But it was too distracting so Levi destroyed it and Barb was to hang for thinking he could replicate Levi's beauty with plants.

Glasyalabolas: He intentionally seeks out MC, in attempts to spend alot of time with them in order to agitate his Majesty. He's even taken off the top half of his uniform to show off his form and let MC put their hand through his chest...which didn't last long because Leviathan immediately dragged him back to the palace by his rope to hang.

Orias: Oh the usual, he tried to get his soul...steal his life force, pulled all the pranks he could because he assumed he'd be distracted by his birthday and MC. He even put poison in a cupcake and tricked MC into delivering it. Ofc Levi suspected it and every plan failed. Up he goes!

Overall: None of these nobles work together, too jealous of one another and wanting to one up on who's praising Levi the most. Sadly, it's even certain that Levi would hate it more if his nobles planned something together for him anyway. How dare they all work together to waste time? Well it is for him. But still, can't have idle hands when there's things in Hades to take care of.

💜How Levi Celebrates with MC💜

MC does what their told and stays exactly where they were standing with their phone in hand. Suddenly, there's a presence behind their back...

MC: Oh! Levi, you showed up...

Leviathan: Why wouldn't I? I told you I was coming...

MC: Right. Um, So?

Leviathan: First, look at my face. What do you see?

MC: Nothing in particular...just your face?

Leviathan: No. Tell me what you see.

MC: Just a pretty face looking at me? Is that what you wanted to hear?

Leviathan: *scoffs* Next, focus on my horns.

MC: Levi...

Leviathan: Is there a problem? Or are you just too stupid to pay attention?

MC: No! Hey. I get it you're better than the others...you don't have to show....

Leviathan grabs their arm and starts dragging them back to his room

Leviathan: It seems you need to focus in a more private setting. Being in the middle of this hallway has you thinking about other men again.

MC: ????? But I-

Leviathan: I swear if I could tie you up and throw you in my coffin for the rest of your life I would. At least there you would have nothing to think about.

MC: *thinks to themselves* Guess this is best I'll get for celebrating his birthday.

Leviathan: See? You're doing it right now aren't you? Unbelievable. Right in front of me...*grumbles and drags them faster*

💜Levi and Beel: The Worst Besties Ever💜

Beelzebub once tried to throw Leviathan a surprise birthday party in Aybssos by luring him there with false pretenses that it was important. The amount of devils yelling "surprise" pissed of Leviathan so much he chased around Beel for three days trying to kill him for doing this. After the three days, he went back home to find a pile of gifts waiting for him that magically appeared from Beel. He told Foras to burn every single one, but changed his mind and took them anyway. He still has the gifts in his room in a glass case that he covers with a blanket so others can't see it. He uncovers it once in a while to dust it and look over everything.

nsfw incoming....

💜He doesn't normally celebration his birthday so he skips the formalities

💜A present? Why did you waste so much time picking something when he hasn't told you what he liked? Oh wait...he does like it...

💜The gift is easily forgotten because he suspected you asked someone else about what he likes, which means you're speaking to other devils again

💜As your clothes strip, he asks who was it that told you what he liked? Was it that annoying fly? That beast from Tartaros? The walking disaster that defends Gehenna?

💜It doesn't matter who you were asking, you're here now sprawled on his bed with your legs folded close to your chest so he can thrust so deep you won't remember anything but his cock in your hole

💜He leans in for you so you have a good reach for his neck, make sure you choke him with vigor or he'll stop thrusting in that good spot that's making your eyes roll

💜Repeat his name over and over during, say it perfectly, same tempo, don't waver...he wants to know all you're thinking about is him.

💜How many hours have passed? Does it matter to you that much? Of course not. His mission has succeeded and you're thinking about nothing except of how your brain is mush, every orifice on your body has been filled with cum, and marks have been left in obvious places for others to see.

💜Your his. his. h i s. You belong to Leviathan. No matter if it's his birthday or any other day.

💜Happy Birthday to the Most Envious and Petty King, Leviathan 11/01💜

[wxnheart]

Hello wonderful author. May I mayhaps request a ghoap + reader NSFW peice please. Maybe one that focuses on how Simon loves to make the reader watch him and Johnny 👉🏽👈🏽, or maybe it's reader taking control and making Ghost watch 👀. Johnny deserves a reward mayhaps.

Lol that one request that was like "mm ghoap" had me thinking things

Also keep up the good work! I like being able to sit back and relax and read your stuff!

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐚, 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐚𝐩𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

...Because who watches the Ghoapwatchers? (the title may or may not have been an excuse to use this. please don't judge me. a lot. lmao)

Simon smoking can mean one of three things: he's anxious and/or pissed, he's just had some good fucking sex, or... he's anxious and/or pissed. And Simon is pissed.

At whom, might you ask? Well, rejoice, baby, because it ain't you this time even though he still wants to chuck that Live, Laugh, Love sign out of the fucking house. No. Simon's ire is reserved for Johnny, your resident killer Golden Retriever, and only Johnny.

And why, might you ask? Well, your cutie patootie lover boy happened to go and get himself hurt on the latest assignment. A routine one, goddamnit. It was unnecessary. Completely and absolutely unnecessary. And un-fucking-acceptable. At least in Simon's eyes.

Johnny argues that it was only a scratch (he's slightly downplaying it) but Simon doesn't give a fuck because only a scratch doesn't cut it. You got hurt, Johnny. End of story. And Simon's anxiety is through the fucking roof right now so a smoke has to suffice. But it doesn't. Nah, not this time.

Simon who puts out the last of his cigarette while staring Johnny down. You don't know what to do so you keep quiet until he tells you to take a seat next to Johnny. You started to protest until a single look made you shut the fuck up.

Simon who straddles Soap. Because what the fuck? Johnny would put up a fight if not for the fact that the bigger man has him pinned down and... oh. Oh shit. Their dicks are aligned. Wait, wait, Lt.—

Simon who starts to slowly grind against Soap's lap, eyes burning holes into the smaller man's. Soap feels the telltale signs of arousal, that fiery pit in his groin, and your eyes widen at what's taking place. Oh, yes. Johnny's about to get fucked silly in a second. You knew from experience.

Soap whose brow furrows the harder he gets and Simon doesn't stop. Knowing the fucker is just as hard as he is and FUCK—"Lt., wait, I—" "What did you tell me, Johnny?" Ghost doesn't stop grinding against him, doesn't do shit but grind and stare meanwhile Soap's falling apart at the seams. If his mind wasn't turning to mush, he'd be pissed but goddamn.

Simon who forbids you from touching yourself because the last thing you're gonna do is get your rocks off alone. You actually do protest this time ("Simon, what the fuck?") and Simon cuts a look at you, the same look he gave Johnny. The same look that tells you he's gonna fuck you just as silly when he's done with lover boy here. Aw, shit.

Soap whose words are lost to his moans and he's well on his way to soaking the crotch of his pants. And Simon doesn't stop. Not at all. Simon continues and it's like he's expecting an answer. "What did you tell me, Johnny?" Ghost emphasizes it with a particularly rough grind this time, enough for Johnny's already sensitive and leaking dick to throb and oh, god, Lt...

"I—shit, I—said I'd be—I said I'd be careful, Lt." Attaboy, soldier. "...Were you careful, Johnny?" The friction is too much. Simon rubs against him faster, puts a little more pressure on him, and it's a miracle he can even talk let alone think at this point. You're biting your lips, wringing your hands because you wanna touch. Yourself, them, it doesn't matter. You wanna touch and suck and fuck and... suck, fuck, and touch some more.

"Were. You. Careful. Johnny?" Punctuated with his hips. Every. Single. Word. And poor, poor Johnny, lost to the lust. Almost close, what the fuck are you doing to him, Lt.? "—NO," he manages to choke out in between gasps and moans and shit, he feels it coming—

—Well, he felt it coming because just as soon as he answered Simon, the mean bastard got up. Got up and left Johnny hard, crotch soaked with precum, and "What the fuck, Lt.?!"

Simon whose stare is both placid and intense; you'd be forgiven for thinking he's nonplussed. Except there's an obvious tent in his pants. Simon who stares you both down before simply saying "Bedroom." And he walks off. He doesn't look back. Doesn't have to. You'll be there. He's got you right where he wants you.

Soap who doesn't miss a beat, grabs your hand, and pulls you alongside him. Right behind Simon. Right to the bedroom. Yeah, it's about to be a long fucking day. And night.

[eastwindmlk]

So, remember I was going to do a short continuation of that jilypad smut prompt? Based on this post.

4k NSFW under the cut

Sirius spent about ten seconds longer snogging his conquest at the thrash hold and for something that lasted about nine seconds, that wasn’t a great ending to a disappointing night.

Honestly, it wasn’t Mark’s fault - Was it Michel? Michael maybe. - it was difficult to impress anyone who’d lived with James Potter and his girlfriend for any amount of time. It really bred the expectation of sex involving several invocations of deities and at least one series of worrying clatters followed by giggling.

But this had been none of that.

At no point had he even considered calling out for God, Merlin or anyone for that matter. He’d finished, because he supposed he it was polite to, but his mind had wandered away from Matthew at some point. Not far. Just the next room over, through the thin walls, that they swore they were going to soundproof but never did.

The point was that Sirius felt like a proper arse, was still very much unsatisfied and it was far too late to find someone new.

Sirius sighed in frustration, a hand raking over his face as he decided to have a large measure of gin and juice and then…

“So, Micah didn’t deliver?” The voice pulled Sirius from his thoughts, his eyes peering into the hallway to find James, shirtless and wearing sinfully tight grey joggers, leaning in the doorway.

Sirius pressed his lips together before releasing them with a pop and a lacklustre “Eh, it was fine.” Which sounded not dissimilar to how he had explained away every single terrible date he’d been on harkening back all the way to Cassandra Fitzroy in third year.

He did not even have to look to know the exact expression on his face and he did not want to see it. He did not want James’ sympathy. Not after the night he’d had. The thoughts he did not need flooded back. “I need a shower,” he announced, pushing past James with his eyes down determined to ignore his friend.

“Have a nice wank,” James told him, sounding far too smug for his liking.

Sirius paused, rubbing the tense spot between his brows. “Piss off, mate,” he snapped, his heart beating painfully fast. Hammering against his ribs, wondering if James knew every tie he touched himself in the same way he could always tell when they were about to shag.

He was about to reach for the the bathroom door when the door handle rattled making him startle. Watching Lily appear, wrapped in nothing but a towel that barely covered the tops of her thighs.

That was a sight that was now burned into his brain and he was very glad he was heading to the shower.

“Oh, Massimo didn’t work out?” Lily asked and instead of disappearing into the bedroom, she just leaned against James. Her head rested against his shoulder as the pair of them stood there. The poster children for bisexual awakenings. “It was awfully quiet,” she remarked and it made his face burn in embarrassment.

Sirius sniffed indignantly, his jaw setting as he marched to towards the bathroom door. “Well, that is just my shit luck, isn’t it!” His voice rose a little more than he had intended. “Now if you two and your incredibly creative sex life leave me to wank in peace?” His ears were ringing as he gripped the door frame in frustration.

“So, you know what we get up to then?” Lily asked, her eyes sparkling dangerously amused as she shared a look with James.

He knew that she was baiting him, that he should not let himself be teased and he should not be biting. But he was starving and no matter how torturous the send-off would be, the masochist in him was hungry for their attention. “It’s hard not,” he answered, dragging his eyes away from her thighs, away from the outline in James’ joggers and up.

His eyes lingered on James’ toned chest, glinting over at Lily’s flushed breasts ready to spill out of that ridiculously small towel of hers when James’ words snapped his gaze upward like an elastic band being released. “But you think of us when they’re fucking you, don’t you?” His full lips had curved into a knowing smile.

“I… That’s not true!” Sirius answered, too fast to be believable. He couldn’t even lie convincingly. Not when his wandering imagination was still so fresh. The twist of guilt in his stomach still slowly untwisting. Because a quarter of an hour before, that is precisely what he’d done. And it had not even been the first time.

The couple shared another look, James’ arm tightening around Lily’s shoulder and her towel shifted, a welcome distraction from the wild plans spinning in his mind. He considered several outs before settling on: “Now if you don’t mind. I am going to drown myself in the shower.”

Like magnets the pair shifted, moving forward half a step before stopping. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” Lily told him, real concern lacing her voice. Her delicate hand stretched out towards him, resting her fingers on his forearm.

Sirius rolled his eyes and scoffed at that, not dignifying her coddling with an answer. What else was he going to do? He just practically admitted to fantasizing about his roommates, who also happened to be good mates and in a very loving and committed relationship.

He should have fled already, half-hard cock and all, taken himself out for a walk or a ride. Anything but linger after those words. Hoping that his world would flip itself right way up and they could all pretend nothing happened when he returned.

“You could join us,” James suggested and just like that his world took another wild spin. “You’d fit right in.”

All Sirius could do for a moment was blink, his eyes dropping to Lily’s dark red tips. Her touch suddenly took on an entirely different context. The warmth of her hand spread through him like wildfire. Burning away the nerves.

Even if this was a fugue, one night of insanity, Sirius would never forgive himself if he’d turn this down. “I suppose that is an option,” he posed doubtfully, trying to reign himself in.

Her hand grabbed on tighter now, the towel shifting and coming undone but she did not seem to care. Lily allowed it to happen and her naked form pulled him into their bedroom.

“Now, care to tell us what you were thinking about?” James asked, the bed creaking under the weight of the three of them toppling onto it. Like him, Lily lay on her stomach, hands folded under her head, auburn locks spilling over her shoulder and Sirius’ arm draped over her bare waist. A constant reminder that her alabaster skin was just there. All he would have to do was look over and she wanted him to? At the very least, she seemed unbothered by it.

His fingers absently traced the curve of her body, like discovering its true shape. Memorizing its peaks and valleys in case this was the only time he would be close enough to. His fingers only paused when he got uncertain, fingers lingering, poised on her hip. Before he allowed his hand to shape to the curve of her voluptuous arse and he fought the urge to squeeze. To feel the pliable flesh. He had to focus and answer their question. James’ question.

James’ warm body beside him, equally unbothered by his motions. He was so close he could feel the heat of his body through his clothes. Those damned clothes. They were too hot and too tight, but he did not want to move and risk this dream to end.

Then James reached out, his hand pushing the hair away from his neck and he could feel her hot breath, smell the faint hint of peppermint toothpaste while he leaned in close. All of this made it difficult for him to remember to breathe, never mind recall what fantasy he had conjured up during one of the most underwhelming shags he’d ever had. “I think it was… Just like this,” he mused, his lips curving into a smile. “Very little clothing, a little wandering hands, I suppose.”

Sirius twisted his head, to look at James. Their noses brushed, their lips almost meeting and neither of them was willing to pull away. The look he exchanged with James told him that his friend did not buy it, not entirely. He wasn’t wrong. “Is that all?” James asked, his tone curious but with an edge to it. An eagerness, almost. Which was usually reserved for areas of particular interest. Something this most certainly was not, right?

“That is how it started,” Sirius posed, his voice barely a whisper. With every word, their lips brushed together. All he would have to do was reach and their lips would meet. A kiss he had long anticipated, a kiss he would savour.

Much to Sirius’ dismay, James pulled away from him to slide off the bed. A hand reached out to him. “Then I think there might be too much clothing still, don’t you think?” he remarked, and Sirius had to agree and took his hand. He let himself be pulled off the bed, driven by his curiosity.

Warm hands slid under his shirt, lifting the hem and just like that the rough, cheap cotton slipped over his head. He did not care where it was discarded too, because his hands were in the waistband of James’ joggers, reluctantly tugging at the elastic. The fabric catching.

Sirius did not need to look down to know what it caught on. He just swallowed away the dryness of his tongue and the tightness of his throat. He pushed the fabric down regardless, past the bulge growing in his trousers, past the broom thighs and paused when his fingers could no longer reach.

Now he was left with a choice. To let his body swallow the light between them, skin connecting to skin. Ignore the problem of trousers a little longer. Quench the hunger for his lips. Or indulge the less tender fantasy he’d had. The quick and dirty thing of getting on his knees and tasting something else entirely.

But before he could make the choice, James captured his lips. The elastic slipped away from his thumbs when he kicked the joggers off. James’ hands reached up to cradle his face in a surprising show of tenderness.

Sirius rested his arms loosely around James’ waist and he could feel the dimples at the base of his back under his fingertips. Making him want to explore more.

But their kiss was interrupted by another warm hand, fingers lingered on the soft flesh of his stomach, the vulnerable pace right above his pelvis. Heart leaping when to his left Lily’s voice appeared, soft and sweet. “Can I?” Her fingers brushed against the buttons of his jeans.

His breath hitched when he felt even the slightest of brushes along his erection, which painfully strained against the confines of his tight trousers. “Please,” Sirius choked out, his eyes seeking James as if asking for permission. He wasn’t sure to whom he should direct his attention.

However, he found that he did not need to think too much. Lily made quick work of the buttons, and his jeans were now open. Her lips caught his relieved groan, her tongue immaculately sliding against his.

Unlike James, she did not take it slow. She was eager for him, hungry and unabashed. He liked it. No, Sirius loved it. He gladly let her take control, even chasing her lips when they left his to be guided back to the bed.

“Tell us more,” Lily encouraged, pressed into his side as he lay there, prone. Both of them looked at him with smouldering eyes. Recognizing both their attempts at tempering their curiosity.

James’ fingers ghosted over his inner thigh, making Sirius swallow a whine when they circled back down too soon. “What happens now?” He asked, the low rumble of his voice almost making him ache more than the teasing fingers. Lily’s having joined the duet trailing along his hip, neither of them getting close enough to touch him where he needed them.

Sirius gulped and closed his eyes to recall how to speak when his mind was slowly starting to feel more like jelly than something functional. “There was something with hands and mouths?” He did not intend to make it sound like a question, but his pitch curved upward at the end regardless.

“Hands?” James mused and Sirius could see that damned smirk before his head dipped to kiss his clavicle and slowly trail down. “Who’s hands? And where were they?” he asked, the tip of his tongue swirling around his nipple before he took the dusty pink nub between his teeth.

Lily’s hand sprawled out of his stomach, her thumb brushing dangerously close to Sirius’s cock. “Who’s mouth is doing what?” Her voice had dropped to a purr too and he swore that if they went on like this he might just finish with as much as a touch. The anticipation was enough to make something coil in his stomach.

“Fuck, uhm. Both, everywhere.” Sirius normally never had trouble with words. He had a sharp tongue and he knew how to wield it, the bedroom was no different. He liked to talk dirty and was good at it.

Normally.

Nothing about this was normal, this had to be a dream, a trip or something. But this was not supposed to happen anywhere but his fantasies.

He caught a silent exchange, two glances that were heavy with conversation that he could almost understand.

James’ had dipped lower, down his abdomen, teeth scraping along his hip bone, making his twist and ache for a touch.

Another set of lips kissed down his side, Lily’s nose skimming across his skin as she, too, made her way downward. Why? What were they doing? Sirius didn’t know, but he wanted to see. Muscles flexed while he dug his elbows into the mattress, pushing himself up in time to watch them kiss.

A wet, sloppy kiss, desperate and with a lot of tongue. Only pulling apart enough to… Fuck Sirius wasn’t sure if the word left his mouth or his mind just screamed it as white-hot pleasure blinded him.

Sirius’s eyes rolled back into his head when two tongues twisted around his cock. Hot and wet and mind-blowing. “Oh god,” the invocation pulled from his lips breathlessly.

He was not a religious man, but he knew in his very being that this was what it felt like to be blessed. To worship and be worshipped.

It did not take long for him to collapse onto the bed under the force of their relentless dedication. Only moved when hands insisted, his hips canting, his leg being lifted. It wasn’t until hands grabbed onto his arse, spreading him open that he even realized what was happening.

A wet, cool tongue deliberately traced along the sensitive muscle. The sensation rendered him speechless, a whimpering moan breaking from his chest as his back arched, pulling him heavenwards.

If this was what it always felt like for them, he could hardly blame all the noise and the sleepless nights.

“Please,” Sirius pleaded, breathless and desperate when the tongue pressed inside of him and his hips stuttered stubbornly, rutting involuntarily into the back of a throat.

He could hear James groan around him. God, fuck. Just the idea alone and then his hand came down on his hip to hold him still. “Please, please, god, fuck. I… I don’t want to yet,” he prayed panting, gripping and pulling at the sheets beneath him.

Sirius wanted this to last, he needed this to last. He was not about to literally blow it. Even if the thought of James swallowing him alone would be enough to send him over the edge. He was determined to hold on.

They, ever benevolent, were granting him not just absolution of his guilt. But a deliverance altogether.

James’s mouth slid off him with a pop and the filthy sound sent a shiver down his spine. He was uncertain if he was bereaved or relieved for the loss of their mouths on him. Though, even now, he could feel occasional soft kisses when they found their way up.

Lily’s hand pressed gently against his collarbone, her thumb gently rubbing circles into him. James’ hand caressing his hair, pulled him back to earth, just enough to form coherent thoughts, to blink at the pair of them his anticipation reflected in their eyes.

“When does the mysterious clattering come in?” Sirius asked playfully, eyes flicking back and forth between their thoughtful, but amused expressions.

There it was, just a glance and a nearly imperceptible nod from Lily. ‘You tell him’ James quirked a brow, lips tugging into a lazy smirk. ‘If you’re sure’ and he didn’t even need to look to know that she narrowed her eyes in response.

The realisation that this wasn’t new. That he and James had always done this. Understood each other without words. Lily was no different, he knew the way her mind worked and how she would weave her words.

“Yes, Prongs please do the honours,” Sirius told him, shifting to his side to look at James, more than a little pleased to feel Lily shift with him, her arm draping over him, their legs tangling together comfortably.

Or as comfortably as he could be after having been this close to the edge before stopping.

“It’s… erm the toy trunk, I guess,” James chuckled and pulled in closer, kissing him again. He could feel their hard cocks brushing together and somehow only then realized that this was as hot for them as it was for him.

“I’d like to try that out too then,” Sirius muttered against his lips, his hand reaching down to wrap around James. A wave of satisfaction washed over him when he earned a low grown. A soft growling sound in the back of James’ throat made the heat inside of him blossom all over again.

Lily’s chest pressed into his back more firmly, her lips sucking at the sensitive spot at the nape of his neck. A mark he would proudly wear come morning. “I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet,” she told him, taunting him.

“I’m sure I can-” His sentence cut off when her middle and ring finger pressed into him from behind. Subtle motions, trailing the slick her mouth had left along.

“Is that so? You can handle it?” Her sultry purr suddenly had a firm edge to it. A gentle, terrifying, dominance she rarely displayed. “Do you want me to fuck you then?”

Sirius gulped at that, his hand stilling long enough for James to impatiently thrust into his fist, encouraging him to continue. “Maybe?” His voice slid up the octave with his doubtful answer.

“It’s all up to you, love. You were telling us about your fantasy.” Her teeth sunk into his shoulder, a playful nip to add to the reminder that this was all for him.

He was grateful for James, who stole his lips before he could answer. Before he could think about what he really wanted. Only retreating when he had his answer. “No, not now. I want… fuck, I need to be inside of you. I want to come inside of you while James fucks me,” he confessed, and a litany of curses and praise tumbled from his lips when she curled her fingers inside of him.

“Mmh, I knew you had good taste,” James praised him, the fingers in his hair pulling taut and tugging his head back enough for him to leave another mark on his throat before releasing him.

With a chaste kiss on his lips and an excited smile, Sirius watched James walk across to the dresser. The view of his toned arse made him wonder if he’d made a mistake not taking Lily up on her offer.

A thought that was challenged only by her appearance, sitting kneeling near the pillows. Her skin flushed with excitement. The soft curls of her public hair already glistening with her arousal. Her fingers combed through her hair as she twisted the strands into a plait. “How do you want me?”

The question renders him speechless for a moment like this question somehow weighed more than the one before. More intimate. All took was one look up from the elastic that she was twisting around the end of her braid to make his choice.

“I want to look at you,” he breathed, not nearly as embarrassed as he thought he would be about this. Not when they were so open themselves. It made it easier to admit that he wanted to see her and her to see him when finally, fucking finally, these secret desires would become reality.

The bed dipped, accounding James' return and Lily settled herself into the pillows. Everything tonight seemed to have led to this moment.

Sirius leaned forward, taking his turn at dealing out chaste kisses as he retrieved a pillow for under Lily's hips. Bending forward to line himself up he paused. A moment to let it all settle over him before locking eyes with Lily, returning her soft smile as he slowly sunk into her.

Her face contorted beautifully when he finally bottomed out, filling her completely. "Oh," she sighed, a musical sound that made him smile.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, rocking his hips against hers carefully, his hand cradling her cheek, enraptured by her hooded eyes and parted lips.

Lily captured his hand against her face, holding it close while she pressed her cheek into his touch. "Yes, you?"

Sirius didn't need to think about that and nodded, rocking against her once more before his hips were captured. His stomach fluttered in anticipation when he felt James press against him. He drew in a deep breath, which he held while James thrust upward. Less gentle than he had expected, but so, so good.

The three of them cursed at the same time and then burst into a fit of giggles that did things to Sirius with the way they were all connected.

"Is it okay if I?" James asked, only finishing his question by wrapping Sirius' hair around his hand and Sirius hummed, agreeing. Only answered with a full yes when he felt the tension slack.

James' lips pressed against his shoulder when they started to move, slow and curious. Carefully finding a rhythm that worked for everyone.

The world around him became a blur, leaving nothing more than the three of them. Their sweat-slicked skin, their needy sounds, their grabbing hands. Tender words whispered into flesh while they fulfilled their carnal, mercurial need for each other until he wasn't sure where he began or ended. All he knew was that this was right.

When Lily's hand slid between her legs, he almost possesively pushed them away. Letting his fingers take their place, strumming her clit and enticing these beautiful mewls and whimpers from her lips.

"Yes, just like that," James breathed into his neck, hand tugging at his hair to free more skin from him to ravage. The point of his tongue pressed against his pulse and sent him hurtling closer to his finish.

In turn, adding urgency to his strokes, feeling Lily clench around him. "Yes, that's it, love. Come for me," Sirius, when their rhythm fell apart. All of them yearning for their release.

"You look so pretty, Lils. I need to see you come around his cock for me," James grunted, having stilled inside of Sirius, moving with him as he thrust they thrust in her.

It took less than a handful of strokes for her to finally give in. crying out wordlessly. Convulsing around Sirius who could not hold it any longer. The orgasm washed over him in waves, one after another pulling him under in a pool of pleasure. Just when the feeling seemed to subside a little, James at last joined them.

They were left a tangle of limbs and a chorus of pants that slowly morphed into tired laughers once the fog had cleared. Leaving all three of them content, sated and spent. Only moving enough to lay side by side, legs still intertwined.

A confusing, but very welcome end to what he had thought would be a disappointing night.

[baziutawrites]

Consolation

sub!Xavier Thorpe x Female OC smut

WARNING! If you are under 18 yrs old, do not read this piece. I do not take responsibility for anything if you proceed.

Masterlist

Since winning the Poe Cup, Xavier's mind kept circling back to that one thing Val had said to him right before the competition had started.

'I have something planned for you. A consolation prize.'

He was curious, what she would offer him to make him feel better if he lost. However, it was over a month ago and she still refused to tell him what it was supposed to be. Despite his ongoing, increasingly obsessive pestering her about it, she simply would not budge. And it drove him mad.

He had tried every tactic he could think of by now. He tried to delicately steer the conversations to the topic, mentioning it off-handedly on various occasions, at different times, alone and with people around. He tried asking her bluntly, tried surprising her with the question when she least suspected it, blurting it out at random, hoping it would startle her enough to give up the information. He tried being sneaky, straightforward, moody and bitchy, he even tried begging her to give him the answer. Nothing seemed to work.

Until one gloomy Friday.

Fencing practice, the last thing Xavier had that day, was going exceptionally dogshit. He messed up every single move there was to mess up, kept tripping over the mat, letting his guard down at the most trivial moments, leaving room for Kent to repeatedly jab him all over his torso. After a particularly stupid slip-up, he yanked the helmet off of his head and walked towards the bench, cursing under his breath. He had enough of this.

"Thorpe!"

He groaned, rolling his head and turning to face the coach.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Sorry, sir. It's just–"

"Are you asleep? You are tripping over your own goddamn feet. You're not keeping your stance, your guard's down and I can't count how many times you've let Kent through. You're acting as if you've never done fencing before."

Xavier's jaw clenched at those stinging words. One bad day and he earns a fucking earful? His face burned with embarrassment and annoyance under the heavy stares of everyone in the room.

"You're dismissed."

"But sir, I–"

"I don't want to hear some lame ass excuses, Thorpe. Out."

The coach waved him off. Xavier snorted, his arms falling at his sides as he turned his face to the side, his mouth twisting in a sour expression. He whipped around, his helmet clattering against his thigh as he strode off towards the changing rooms.

"I expect you on Monday with a better attitude." The coach's warning jabbed him at his back, heating him up even more.

To say he was pissed was an understatement. One, just one bad practice and he gets thrown out, while Kent kept messing something up at least once every week and he doesn't even get a fucking slap on the wrist. He liked Kent of course but he would not kid anyone and pretend today was any sort of fair.

He got into his dorm room half an hour later, threw his fencing equipment onto the floor and beelined for the shower. He wanted to wash off all of the day off of him, longing for it to finally be over, to get in his bed and slip into his dreams. He wished he would get to jab his coach's eyes out in one of them tonight.

He grumbled, cursing under his breath, as he furiously scrubbed at his skin and hair, when he heard his phone ding inside his room. His skin still damp, hair wrapped in a towel, he got out, huffing, to check who was nagging him at this hour, preparing to blow anyone who wanted something from him off right now. Well, almost anyone.

Val's message popped up on his screen and his face lit up a bit. She was supposed to be at the swimming practice for the next hour or so, so this was quite unexpected. He opened the message and could feel his dick twitch slightly at her picture he set as her contact. The one he took of her during one of the first Nightshades' parties she attended under the pretence of documenting the 'meeting' - the one that solidified his growing feelings for her, the one that made his ongoing wet dreams about her even more vibrant.

.

V

Hey babe, I'm back at the dorm, coach got sick. Heard about your practice tho. Think you could use some pick-me-up.

Yoko's out tonight so if you wanna come over, you could get your… prize you've been pestering me about so much. 😇 Wdyt, pretty boy?

He felt the heat rising to his cheeks as well as his groin and he immediately replied with a single 'coming'. He didn't even bother to put on any underwear, dressing quickly in sweats, stuffing his growing erection under the waistband of his pants and almost bolted out of his dorm. He felt dazed and excited, the cold evening air against his damp skin not really helping him focus.

It took him minutes to arrive at her door, despite it being on the other side of the building. He was slightly out of breath, from the jog or anticipation, he couldn't quite figure out. He ran his trembling fingers through his still wet hair, trying to fix it and hovered his knuckles over the wood. He knocked, four times, in the rhythm they've agreed upon to let each other know it's them at the other side of the door.

The way Val looked up at him, so short in comparison, with her playful small smile she reserved only for him, caused shivers to erupt low in his body. His dick strained against the waistband, its outline getting more prominent underneath his loose shirt as he took in her appearance. She was dressed only in a pair of panties and his t-shirt she slept in after the first time they've hooked up. He saw it in his dream visions long before that happened and he always peeled it off of her skin in them, worshipping every inch of her body it covered.

And this time, in real life, right before his eyes, it wasn't any different.

"Wow, that was quick." She said, wiggling her eyebrows. He shot his signature smirk at her.

"Hey to you too."

Xavier saw her eyes glide over his towering posture, stopping at his crotch as he went past her into her dorm. She bit her lip at the sight of his length and looked back into his face with lust. His smirk grew wider, feeling his cheeks heat up. It was still quite shocking to him, how she was reacting to his presence. Although subtle, he now could recognise the way she shifted her hips slightly, perking her butt just a tiny bit, or the way she licked her lips ever so lightly that if he blinked, he would miss it.

But he didn't. And it made him want to taste them right there and then, to feel her tongue dance against his. But on the other hand, she teased him with this idea of a gift, withholding it from him for a month and a half. He could wait for a little longer.

He advanced on her, slow steps making the floorboards underneath his feet creak only to stop in front of her, putting both palms flat on the now closed door, trapping her in front of his body as he leaned in.

"So... wanted to see me?" His lopsided grin made Val weak in the knees, his voice low and teasing. It made her skin erupt with goosebumps under his heavy, lustful gaze.

She pushed her back against the door, trying to steady herself. His damp hair was falling into his heavy lidded eyes, veins on his forearms protruding under his flushed skin. His shirt lifted up as his arms rested on the both sides of her head, showing a slither of his abdomen, his sweats low on his hips, making the outline of his erect length even more clear. He was so hard it lifted the waistband of his pants, making the tip of his cock nearly visible from where she stood. The smell of his clean skin so overwhelming her senses, making her long for his body against hers. It made her dizzy and he most definitely noticed her flustered state, considering how he bit his lip and chuckled quietly, his cheeks pink, dimples now showing.

"Y-yes, I did. Still do."

She had a plan to carry out - an entire session of teasing for him - but he didn't make it easy for her to follow it. He already made her question whether she wanted to make him beg or if she was about to do that instead.

"What would you like to do then? You told me you have something planned for tonight, no?"

Xavier's lips brushed hers, his breath hot on her face, mixing with her quickened ones. His body was so close now she could feel the heat radiating from him. This fucker knew exactly what he was doing to her and she could not have this right now. Not when she had everything ready and waiting for him.

But maybe she could put it off for a minute or two. It wouldn't hurt, right?

She kissed him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him down towards her. She could feel his lips stretch into a self-satisfied smirk as he reciprocated, small grunts forming in his throat. He longed for this moment, to feel her needy whimpers. His tongue snaked into her mouth and she eagerly accepted, swiping him into a heated, messy makeout that sent his mind into a frenzy. Soon, his large palms took on exploring her body as if he was starved for touch, feeling and kneading her flesh, just as her fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at it and making him moan into the messy, sloppy, spit filled kisses. His hips twitched and an idea popped into her mind - and it would be perfect way to get him ready for what was to come.

V's hands let go of his hair, trailing down his chest in slow, lazy circles as she moved her mouth towards his jaw and neck, caressing his skin in gentle, sloppy pecks. He threw his head back, closing his eyes, sighing contentedly before a surprised yelp fell from his swollen lips as he suddenly felt her palm press against his strained dick through the material of his sweats and rub his length in long strokes.

Xavier could feel sharp jolts of pleasure shooting through his body, a stark contrast to the almost featherlight touches on his neck making his mind swim.

"You're so hard," Val breathed in his ear, making his dick twitch, as he relished in the wonderful friction her hand provided. But it didn't last long and he let out a pitiful whine at her absence on his skin. It only lasted for a second and his cocky attitude was faltering already - and when he felt her fingers tugging on his waistband, pulling his sweatpants down his thighs, her hot breath on his abdomen as she did so, his eyes flew open and he looked down at his girlfriend kneeling, her hands over his hip bones, steadying her form. He could swear his brain stuttered at the sight in front of him.

His cock sprung free as the material slid down, hard, flushed and throbbing, precum gradually forming at the tip, in front of Val's face. She let out a small gasp as she roamed her eyes over him and she could feel her mouth watering despite seeing him for the hundredth time at this point. He was quite thick compared to his overall lanky frame, the length just so right for her. She licked her lips and looked up into Xavier's face from underneath her eyelashes as she grabbed him at the base, positioning his cock at her parted mouth.

His eyes were wide open, pupils so blown out almost no green was visible. Pure disbelief and lust etched onto his features, almost as if he never saw her like this. Small whines escaped his parted lips and when she moved her head to finally take him into her mouth, his jaw went slack as his body tensed.

"Baby, you don't ha— aaah," the words failed him as he watched his tip slide past her wet lips, her tongue darting out to lick the underside of it, only to turn into throaty, needy moans as she closed her mouth around him and her head bobbed rythmically, covering him in her saliva. The heat pooled in his core, making his knees shake with her every movement, trying hard not to rut himself against her as her tongue kept rubbing onto his sensitive spot.

Xavier thought he was slowly slipping into insanity. The pleasure shooting through him in repeated jolts caused him to search for support because he felt as if his legs were about to give out. He felt numb in his head, despite his body feeling as if he had a fever. A thin sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead, making his hair stick to his eyes. He had more and more trouble to keep them open - yet he couldn't take his gaze off of Val working her spit covered mouth on his swollen cock, his own mouth at the verge of salivating.

This image haunted his dreams long before they ended up together and he still couldn't believe it was happening right in front of him right now - despite it being another one of many times she gave him head. Her hand clasped around his base, the other one digging her fingers into his hip as the lewd, wet sounds of her slurping on him like he was her last meal filled his ears.

And when she pulled him out to catch her breath, saliva dripping down her chin, only to stuff him back in hungrily with a needy groan and focused her tongue solely on his tip and sucked, his vision almost went white as he keeled over, grabbing her arms for support and she didn't even flinch. It only made her go harder. He felt her giggle sending vibrations through his sensitive dick as he whined like a puppy and he felt as if he was about to cum right then and there.

"S-stop, baby," with difficulty, his strained voice came out in between his pitiful moans and she obliged, pulling him out of her mouth with a popping sound, although looking at him with a slight concern on her reddened face. He groaned, bucking his hips against her hand still around his cock. "I don't wanna... you're too good-ah, not yet. Want longer. Need a minute."

His whole body was buzzing with what felt like electricity, ready to zap out of his fingertips. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the door with his palms for support, trying to regain his balance. He couldn't stand looking at her right now, not when he was so close to cumming. Yet her flushed face, so beautiful with this fucked-out look in her needy eyes, so eager to offer him this unholy levels of pleasure, was too much to handle for him. He was sure he would push his now dripping cock back inside her deliciously hot mouth, forcing her reddened, swollen, saliva smeared lips open once again and watch her, as his length would disappear in between them the second his eyes would meet hers.

But he couldn't, not now. He was brought so close to the edge, he had trouble breathing, his mind so dazed he couldn't think straight. And when he felt her face nuzzle against his erect dick, leaving what she thought were soothing kisses along his shaft, he had to stifle a pained moan as the new waves of pleasure trickled down his spine, adding fuel to the fire he felt in his very core.

"You're leaking," Val let out a breathy chuckle, swiping at his tip with her finger. Xavier opened his eyes and immediately shut them back, whining as more of the biting, unbearable fire clawed at his body as he saw his girlfriend slowly standing up, putting the precum covered finger inside her mouth, licking it clean.

He stumbled backwards, desperate to regain control over his hazy mind. His dick was now twitching as he squeezed his muscles, trying to push down the release that was threatening to bubble to the surface.

"Val, you're gonna be the end of me." He whispered weakly.

"Well, you better lay down then, sweetie."

With his eyes closed, he didn't notice the sneaky grin she had on her face as he let himself be steered towards her bed. It was a perfect moment to finally follow up with her plan - his long awaited prize.

His bare ass hit the mattress, his sweats slipping from his legs to the floor as he clumsily positioned himself on his back, his swollen, painfully erect and pulsating cock hitting him against his abdomen as he did so, making him hiss quietly. He was still lost in the painfully sweet reminiscence of pleasure, slowly subsiding from his body, leaving the aching need to feel the torture again in its wake.

Xavier looked almost angelic with his hair spilling around his head as he sunk into the pillow, with his cheeks flushed pink, eyes closed, his sharp features slightly softened by the sinful expression of aching need still present in his body. And when his hands got pulled above his head and tied to the headboard in a few swift motions, his surprised and shocked expression made him even more innocent looking. The realisation slowly crept in as he cautiously tested the restraints, moving his hands a bit, pulling at the material - it didn't budge.

His eyes slowly slid to Val, taking in her body still covered in his shirt, as she straddled his thighs. Her eyes glinted, her face adorned with a cheeky smile she was failing to hide. She was toying with something. Something he recognised immediately. And it made him choke on his spit.

The wand.

It clicked. This was the prize he was supposed to get if he lost the Cup and Valerye's growing grin only confirmed it. He felt a sudden rush of burning embarrassement and excitement, his face turning a deep shade of pink as he felt his dick twitch repeatedly from the shivers that erupted on his skin.

"I think you know what it is?" She asked, slyly. He gulped and nodded, watching her moves intently. "And I think you know, what it can do."

She switched the wand on and a low, rumbly buzzing filled the air as her other hand reached for a bottle. He hissed at the sensation of a cold, thick liquid covering his pulsating tip. He closed his eyes, his breath hitched in his throat as he waited for the vibrations to bite into his cock.

But instead, he felt her hand wrap around his tip, squeezing him deliciously and slowly moving up and down his shaft, coating him in lube on his entire length. He let out a pleasured moan, the feeling of the slick friction she provided making his mind clouded with lust. And just as he relaxed under her touch, she picked up the pace.

Her hand worked on his cock in fast, sharp motions, jerking him off so well, the intensity of it making him groan as he threw his head back, lifting his hips up in hopes of getting more of the thrilling, burning waves of pleasure that seemed to swallow his entire body, inch by inch by the second. The wet squelching of her hand working on him forced him to look back down at his cock and his mouth fell open. The view was unforgettable. She looked so incredibly hot, looking at his red, heated face, taking in his progressively unfocused gaze, her mouth parted as she rocked her hips slightly on his thigh, rewarding herself for all the hard work she was doing.

Seeing her like this, combined with the almost overbearing sensations tightening the knot in his core, as he was still sensitive from her sucking him before, made his breath quicken. His body strained against the material binding his arms above his head, as he felt his wonderful release coming. And she sensed it, only to stop moving her hand so suddenly he felt as if he ran face first into a wall and he whimpered.

"No, please baby, don't stop. Don't stop. Don't..."

He was hovering over the point of no return, the pleasure from just a second ago turned into a pure torture. He writhed, trying desperately to rut his cock into her hand that was sill gripping him. One stroke. One simple stroke was all he needed to feed the fire in his loins enough for it to erupt and flood his body with its flames. And yet, he could feel the pleasure subsiding, as he tugged at the material around his wrists - he wanted nothing more but to grab his dick and finish himself off, to fend off the vile taste of frustration bubbling up in his throat.

She only giggled again, still toying with the vibrating toy in her hand.

"Oh no, my poor pretty boy wants more?"

Xavier's face contorted into a pained frown as a stream of 'yeses' fell from his mouth, his eyes almost angry in the way they bore into hers.

"So needy, Xavi." She teased, watching him fixate on the vibrator now millimeters away from his twitching cock. However, she took her time, pushing his shirt up to expose his torso and leaned in to pepper his sweaty skin with lazy kisses, gliding her lips towards his nipples, flicking them with the tip of her tongue. His breath quickened, she could feel his heart racing in his chest, whimpers filling his throat.

And then a strained growl tore from his throat as the vibrations bit into his shaft, as she pressed the toy onto his length. The sudden pleasure hit him like a speeding truck, the sensations verging on overbearing, making his head go blank as the sweet waves of intense burning lust filled his body and he strained, hips thrusting up, desperate for more. But after a few seconds, he felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

His pathetic whimpery moans filled the dorm. He was stuck again in that fucking point of almost being about to cum, yet far enough for it not to happen. His skin was flushed, burning to the touch as she leaned over his face once again, swallowing his moans as she kissed him. His face contorted into an expression Val loved to see on him, loved the way it made him so desperate, so eager and on the verge of begging.

"You're so pretty, Xavier." She purred. "So desperate. Wonder if that's why you're called 'the tortured artist', you love this, huh?"

He was about to say something but instead, he stopped breathing as she moved the vibrator higher, settling it right underneath his tip, the sensations almost right where he needed them most. Tears spilled from his eyes. Val's name repeatedly present on his lips now, begging her to bring him relief from this now overbearing, pained pleasure.

"Val, baby, please," he sounded like a wounded puppy. "I can't take it, please Val, I can't."

"Safeword?"

His face contorted so bad he looked as if he was in pain, but shook his head almost immediately, whining and bucking his hips.

"So you do like it." She grinned as his desperate, wet eyes met hers, the green in them barely visible. His face was red, so was his neck and chest. "Good."

She took off her hair tie, moved the wand up and put it in place with it right at the spot he wanted it to be so desperately. And he absolutely lost his mind.

The release ripped through his dick almost immediately as his body contorted violently, the vibrations absolutely overpowering his senses. The veins on his arms and neck protruded, his entire body tense, he felt as if every single nerve in his body was lit on fire. He screamed, his voice gravelly, as he pumped his cock up, into her hand, spilling what seemed like buckets onto his abdomen and into Val's face. He didn't notice it, his vision turning white as he barely had a single thought in his fucked-out mind.

And when Xavier felt his wonderful orgasm subsiding, he realized the vibrations weren't about to stop. They turned up in intensity and he cried out, feeling so overstimulated it hurt now. His tired body contorted once again, wildly jerking his tied hands against the restraints, heat in his core surging into his dick once again, almost as if melting his skin.

His eyes bulging out at his girlfriend as she let go of his cock, vibrator still attached to the underside of his tip. He couldn't stand this torture anymore, he wanted to beg her to stop, to release him but his pained wails didn't leave any space for words. And to his surprise, he felt another orgasm coming.

"Cum again for me, baby. Cum, Xavi." He barely heard Val's voice through his own, guttural sounds forming in his chest as another release clawed at his body, his overstimulated cock twitching, spilling more seed in small, sporadic leaks, coating his abdomen in even more white than it already was - the weakness of his spill in stark contrast to the sensations that kept stabbing through his tired body. The painful bliss overtook him.

His consciousness slowly slipped away from him as he registered his cock being let free of the wonderful torture device Val has just subjected him to. His wrists were burning from all the desperate attempts to get free, only then noticing it when his arms fell onto the mattress over his head. He didn't have any strength left in his overstimulated body.

He registered the mattress dipping down and a wet material on his body as Val delicately swiped him clean. He hissed when she dabbed his now limp cock, trying not to move him too much. With his eyes closed, his mind slipping in and out of the blissful, dazed state, he didn't notice her slightly worried expression. Her palm caressed his burning cheek, wiping away the remenants of his tears and kissed his sweaty forehead, brushing his wet strands out of his face.

"Are you okay, baby?" Her eyes roamed his face and body for any sight of discomfort. "Wasn't too hard on you?"

He swallowed with difficulty and mumbled, almost incoherently, nuzzling himself into her touch.

"Was. But good." He sighed, a content, fucked-out expression relaxing his features. "Very... Good."

His breath evened out, as he just simply fell asleep on her right then and there. She let out an exasperated chuckle when he snored quietly and smiled down at her boyfriend's exhausted, stupidly long form, sprawled in her sheets with his hands still over his head just as they were when she released them. She nestled against his side, feeling the heat radiating from him. He twitched and of his hands moved feebly to flop onto her waist, trying to bring her closer into him. He murmured something under his breath, so quiet she didn't catch any of it but she couldn't help but smile, as she rested her head on his chest.

Valerye wondered, how embarrassed he would be in the morning after he would open the picture she sent of herself in the bathroom, when she went for a towel. His cum was all over her face and he didn't even notice he did that, too lost in pleasure. And she knew how much of an ego boost he always got at that sight.

Drifting to sleep herself, she decided to ask him in the morning, if he would like to remember doing that this time.

[lovejosephquinn]

Pls we need a happy ending to the Joe angst, we NEEEEEEEEED it😭😭😭😭 It was so good but I can't deal with it ending like that!

Relax angel, I got you 👀

Okay, who's ready for a happy ending? Here's part 2 of Joe Begs You To Stay.

Read Part 1 Here. ◀◀◀

Joe had blown up your phone all night, pretty much from the moment you'd left his flat actually. It's safe to say neither of you got a wink of sleep. You tossed and turned in bed, feeling quite sick to your stomach, your mind wandering on what tomorrow would bring and if he'd actually give up or do something about or just whether he actually didn't feel the same as he used too in general. You had ignored his messages and his calls, every single one of them, he needed to realise just what he'd done, giving him a taste of his own medicine and if he wanted to fix it; he'd make sure he did.

You think you eventually fell to sleep, the morning light seeping through the crack of your curtain where it was left open slightly, the racing pace of your heart returning as you realised it was tomorrow all too soon. You checked your phone, no further contact from Joe so you gather he got the message, you decided to go and shower trying to delay the thoughts a little longer but keeping to yourself only seemed to make it worse.

Just as you got out and went into your bedroom to get dressed feeling at least a little cleaner from your shower, your phone began to buzz, as if by magic, Joe had read your thoughts and he was calling. You'd gave him a night to stew it over and decided to answer.

"Hello?" You muttered, the pissed off tone clearly making itself known in your voice as soon as you were to hear his.

"Hi, how are you?"

"That a trick question?" You sat on the edge of the bed, holding your towel up and taking a deep breath in to stop the tears that were fighting to fall.

"Me too, I've not slept. Can I please come over?" You shut your eyes, straight to the point, yet another sigh fell from your lips.

"Yes."

"An hour sound ok?" His voice was so monotone, so downbeat, it was like he was almost mourning the loss of someone.

"That's fine, see you soon." You hung up before he could say anything more, you needed to get yourself fighting fit within the next hour so you were ready for whatever was going to be the outcome.

When Joe arrived, knocking on the front door it was all too soon. Your confidence shattered as you took your time to answer it. When you did, a tired man stood before you, not the usual chirpy, happy soul you were used to seeing.

"Come in." You gestured for him to come through, the usual spark in his eyes had almost disappeared, that on it's own was depressing enough. Joe sat straight onto your sofa, perching himself up, his hands flat on his thighs like a told off child, his head hung low again just like a mirror of last night when he was on his knees, his eyes stared down to the ground not wanting to look at you just yet, clearly nervous from the events of yesterday. You moved around the coffee table to sit next to him, leaning against the arm of the sofa and crossing your legs, picking at the side of your thumbs to help ease your anxiety if even a little.

"So..." You decided to break the silence, if you didn't do it this second, not a word would of been spoken for goodness knows how long.

Joe swerved round quickly to meet your eyes burning into the side of his head. "I've thought about everything, I know I'm completely in the wrong in most respects. I know that in the 3 years we've been together that I've never ghosted you the way I have these last couple of weeks. I have my reasons, I told you half of them last night. It got a lot and I couldn't finish because I thought that was it, I thought you were leaving me. I'm so sorry that I worried you sick and made you feel like you had to push me away, I never intended on that Y/N, I just kept getting busy and then unfortunately my last thought was you but then that changed just before I came home and at the end of the day which to then I would panic and the time difference got in the way. I know that may hurt but-"

Your eyes shot wide at the last sentence, the only words you'd seem to catch in that whole breath was that his last thought was you.

"How charming of you to say that."

"Let me finish, please." You folded your arms, huffing an irritated sigh, you weren't about to go in all guns blazing unless you oh so had too, giving him a slow nod to continue.

"I didn't mean for it to go that way, that's the longest we've ever been away from each other since I managed to get you out whilst I was filming in America last time. But it didn't mean my feelings had changed for you, they never will. I still love you more than anything in the entire world, you're my girl, my fucking world and the distance and not being able to speak sometimes won't make my feelings for you any less, you have to know that."

"So what about getting back, the girl I saw you with?"

"That part was true, she was an old friend from college, we caught up. I'd done something for you that day I'd gotten home and I figured with her being a girl and all, she helped me to figure out how I should do it."

"Do what?" You scrunched your face up in confusion, your features ran softer than before and the spark regained in his iris'.

"Can I give you this back?" He pulled your promise ring out of his jacket pocket.

"Doesn't mean I totally forgive you."

"But this isn't the end right?" You looked down, savouring your reply for a second; keeping him on his toes. He was desperate for confirmation and you had to give it to him.

"It couldn't ever be. But if you ever do anything like that again and I find out it's intentional, you can kiss my ass goodbye." You leaned over and took the ring from Joe, placing it back on your finger.

"I understand. I couldn't ever stand the risk of losing you again, we've been through too much, we know too much and above all our love's too strong. But I'll take that ass kissing any day." You both managed a smirk, it was far from over, but the hurt was far from gone. You were right, he had a lot of work to do to resolve his mistakes, but they were just a big clump of mistakes and he'd never done anything to make you question it before, and you loved him so much, you couldn't bare life without your Joseph.

"So what was she helping you to do so bad that was keeping you from letting me know you were home." The smirk disappeared and Joe's lips fell into a thick line, you noticed the strong gulp.

"I was going to wait until we could go out, something I'd arranged for tonight. I'd called your parents to get their permission and they were ecstatic. I think now's a better time than any."

"What are you talking--" Your eyelids rose 3 times the size that they normally could, your mouth shot open and the anxiety that once made you feel glum, shot straight to excitement. Joe took your hand and stood you up before him, getting down onto one knee, taking a box out of his trouser pocket and opening it up to see the most beautiful and quite clearly expensive diamond ring you'd ever seen.

"My baby, my beautiful Y/N, my fucking rock. You are the one I want to spend my life with and nearly losing you would've been the death of me. This is what I needed help with, this isn't what I was going to say or how I planned it go but now it's here I don't actually think I needed any help at all. You're so perfect to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no more mistakes ok?"

Tears streamed down your face, Joe's breathing hitched with every word he spoke, his eyes wet through just as much as yours.

"Will you do me the honour of becoming Mrs Quinn, will you marry me my love?"

You didn't need a second thought, you knew he'd been honest and he was facing up to the faults in miscommunicating regularly with you. Deep down you knew he wasn't a bad person and that he didn't get a word in edge ways with you last night because you were so clearly pissed off, your dramatics clearly shone through.

You wiped your eyes, a smile beaming so wide and nodded straight down at him. "Yes, oh my god, a thousand times yes!" Joe took your hand, putting the ring onto your left hand and shot straight up enveloping you into his arms, picking you up off your feet in a swift motion. "Thank fuck for that." He said as you both cried a giggle at one another. He squeezed you so hard, and you leant back to face him, crashing your lips onto his. The kiss was so long awaited and had this morning gone wrong you'd have never had the chance again, but at least it hadn't and now you had the best reason to desperately attack his mouth.

"I love you, Y/N. My future wife."

"I love you Joe, my future husband."

Joe put you down, his hand still round your waist as you both flopped onto the sofa, closer this time as you held onto one another.

"So, you wanted to go out?"

"That was where I was going to do it and it looks like we're going out to celebrate anyway, come on. I think you deserve to look fucking hot tonight, get ready, we're going shopping."

"Wait a second, I don't always look hot?" You furrowed your brows at your fiancé.

"You know what I mean, you beautifully stubborn woman."

You snuggled your face into his chest, the familiar warmth and scent that felt like home instantly gave you hope. Your hand laying on his stomach, you watched the ring glitter from the natural light.

"Doesn't mean you give up and forget what happened you know."

"I know, but this is a start." Joe pushed your head up, gripping his fingers to your chin and gave you a soft, slow, well needed extra long kiss. This was the man you knew.

[sociallyanxiouscryptid-writings]

Robbery

Villain has been robbed, a task that should have been impossible, but worst of all they have no idea who, how, or even what was taken. 

Based in the OC World of a bigger project

CW: Swearing, fight, blunt weapons, knives, blood, death/killing, control against will, threats

~

Villain sat at their desk and stared at the note in front of them, folded in  half and propped up like a little tent, words drawn neatly on its side. If you were to pick it up and look inside you would see more letters, words Villain already had burned in their brain.

They had to admit their hand writing was pretty, educated, crafted even. Someone had taken the time to write these letters perfectly, or perhaps it was a skill they had simply mastered.

On the outside of the note was the word sorry, and inside read: Had to borrow a couple of things, hope you don’t mind!

Of course Villain would mind and the writer knew that, why else would they leave a note? Why else would they say those words? They knew exactly how pissed off Villain would be and they wanted to just add a cherry on top. Villain had been robbed, and to make it worse they had, had no idea until they found the note, sitting on their desk likes this.

Not only had someone stolen from them, undetected, but the thief made it all the way into Villain’s office and left a fucking note without activating a single alarm, without a single security guard noticing them. Part of Villain was impressed, it was a feat previously thought impossible, that not even Heroes had achieved. The other part burned with a rage hotter and more deadly then any fire in hell.

And the worst part, because this only gets worse, Villain had no idea what was even taken. With no alarms to go off and no camera footage having caught sight of the supposed thief, Villain had to send people to search the vaults, to go through every logged opening and close of the gates, the doors and the vault itself.

Villain has no idea who, what or why, just a note of apology.

The door to Villain’s office opened and Right Hand walked in without hesitation.

“Please tell me you have something,” Villain said.

Right Hand stopped in front of the desk, crossed their arms.

“Well, they somehow managed to avoid every camera in the facility, which at least now we know we have blind spots.”

“We don’t have blind spots,” Villain said, “I designed this place myself. We have blind slivers, tiny moments in between camera movements, there is no possible way someone could have timed those up.”

“Well I think we may need to adjust what we believe is possible,” Right Hand said and pulled a folded piece of paper out of their pocket. Villain took, it unfolded it, read it once, then twice, looked up at Right Hand.

“They used the code?”

“Someone plugged it in, and yet we have no record of someone accessing it. Security was in the booth all night, no one asked them for it.”

“Alright I know what we just said but that is actually impossible. The code changes combinations every minute, the only people who can see it is security. Was there a breach in the firewall? Were we hacked?”

“No, none. And the Telepathic fields were up so no one could have read Security’s mind. As I said, the impossible is old news. Whoever this person is must have some ability for them to just… well I don’t even know what, but they used the code to open the vault, and they avoided every camera and alarm in the building.”

Villain studied Right Hand carefully. “You haven’t said what they’ve taken yet.”

Right Hand sighs.

“I don’t like that sigh,” Villain said.

“Well, they took one of our experimental explosives, which you know, not great.”

“But.”

“But… they took Nathanial’s Grimoire and the Amulet of Gruel.”

Villain felt like laughing, felt like punching a wall, and biting an ear off. They took in a breath, steepled their hands and rested their lips against their fingers. Once again they were impressed, that’s a lot of important shit to take, some very important shit.

“And we have no idea who they are?”

“No, but we have teams working to track the book now as we speak.”

“If our thief knows what they are doing they won’t be able to track it for long, which means we have a very narrow window to find it before they undo everything I have worked for.”

Villain stood from their seat.

“Get Antony to send out teams across the city, give them all trackers and tell them to move as fast as possible.”

“Already on it, they are readying now. I was more here to see what you wanted me to do.”

“We are going to search a different way.”

Right Hand nodded and followed Villain out of the room.

~

Civilian felt like they were trying to dislocate their jaw. No matter how much they had squished down the sandwich every time they bit into it, they had to open their mouth as wide as possible and then some to fit it in. It wasn’t helping that they were trying to eat it with one hand, and when bits started falling out they resorted to taking smaller bites, getting bits and pieces at a time. Still tasted good.

With their other hand, covered in a thick glove, they reached over to the book in front of them and flipped a page.  The book was big, and old, and beautiful, covered in sigils and gold leafing, leather binding its sides. The pages were all delicately painted, pained over to get every picture and letter right. Civilian appreciated the effort and was careful to keep their sandwich away.

They licked mayo from the corner of their mouth, flipping over another page. It was all fascinating stuff, but not what they wanted.

The hotel room they were in was small, ridiculously so for the price, not to mention to state of it. Civilian was sat on the faded carpet, coughing table dragged over to the window the catch the evening light. Civilian had tried using the lights inside the apartment but they were so yellow they could barely see the details on the pages. They scanned over another two pages before turning them again, brows knitted together in concentration. It was hurting their head. Usually, it didn’t take them much effort to get what they want but something about this book was making it difficult.

It wasn’t that they didn’t know the language, that’s never been an obstacle before, nor that their knowledge of magic was limited, they would simple just expand that limit. But there was some sort of interference from the book itself, a static that buzzed in their mind.

They sat back and took another bite of their sandwich, shifting their eyes away to try and alleviate the pressure in their head. It didn’t really work. After a couple more minutes trying Civilian closed the book, the pressure in their head becoming almost unbearable. They turned and opened the window, letting in a wash of fresh air as they stood in the sunlight, taking a deep and calming breath.

A phone to their left rung and they placed the sandwich down onto  some paper wrap, wiping their hand against their shirt. Caller ID unknown.

“Hello,” Civilian answered sweetly.

“Where the fuck is my bomb?”

They flinched and held the phone away from their ear.

“Really Gerard there is no need to yell, your voice is coming across fine.”

“You lied to me, and you stole from me.”

“I didn’t lie to you Gerard, and I didn’t steal from you, you just gave me information you didn’t know you were giving me.” Civilian took a bite of their sandwich. “And let’s be real here, I have a much better use for the bomb then you do.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come now, your plan is as plain as day. You were going to detonate it in the School of Word because that’s where half the council’s kids go.  I mean really man, kids? You think people are going to side with you over the council after you kill a bunch of school kids? You’re just giving the council more fuel for the fire, not to mention the fact that morally, once I know that, I have to stop you.”

“You want to talk morals with me? How about-”

“Kids are a different story man, you don’t hurt kids, they have no part in any of this. Asswipes like you however I have no issue with harming. Which is something you should keep in mind.”

“You have no idea what-”

“You should know by this point, I do in fact know what I am talking about, and I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Now maybe we can rethink this plan of yours into something a little more productive.”

“No I will tell you what I am going to do. I am going to find you and I am going to make you regret betraying me.”

“I didn’t betray you Gerard, I was never loyal to you in the first place. I just had a nice conversation with you and now you’re butt hurt because my plan was better. See, much less dramatic.”

“I am going to tear you limb from limb, you will beg-”

“Ok good luck with that.”

Civilian hung up.

They sighed, leaning forward until their head rested against the cool glass of the window, knuckles whitening against the phone.

“I don’t have time for this.”

They stood their a moment, trying to think their way around the situation but every path they went down met with a wall until there was only one path remaining. The one path they didn’t really want to go down.

Civilian turned and picked up the book, moving it over to a an almost equally as old looking brown leather satchel, tying it in firmly. They stood, piking up their plate and walking it over to the kitchen bench where an even more ancient looking Gold amulet, its centre adorned with a transparent black crystal that held a mummified human eye inside of it, sat. And next to it was a glass box, inside a perfectly spherical metal ball with knobs and buttons across one side.

Civilian placed the plate down, picked up the amulet and hung it around their neck before nestling the glass case under one arm.

~

The polluted night sky was nothing but a black void. Villain had never liked cities, this reason among many. Being separated from the stars felt like being separated from a lover, from a friend, even a parent. The stars had been with them longer then any human had. Watched over them in their childhood, watched them grow into the horrible person they were today. But they didn’t judge, in fact they couldn’t give less of a fuck, and Villain appreciated that.

But here in the light polluted city, Villain couldn’t see a single one, just a black void stretching out above skyscrapers and towers. The roof Villain stood upon was much shorter then those, though still a towering fortress.

“Staring at them isn’t going to make them suddenly appear,” a voice said behind Villain.

Villain did not move, just continued looking up.

“Perhaps, but in my minds eye I can paint them out.”

“What’s your obsession with them anyway? They’re cool and all but like they’re just lights, I don’t get it.” Hero stepped beside Villain, looking up at the void.

“That’s because you grew up in the city. Seeing them for you was a treat, for me its home.”

“You could always go back home, stop being a pain in my ass.”

Villain grinned, looked down and at Hero.

“Oh  no, I have way too much fun here. Besides there is too much work for me to still do before I can think about retiring.”

Hero sighed.

“Yeah, so you keep saying, not that you ever tell me what your work is.”

“You will know when the time is right.”

Hero just rolled their eyes.

“Enough chit chat, why did you summon me here.”

Villain turned away from the edge of the building to face Hero completely.

“Don’t play dumb, you know why I brought you here.”

Hero raised their brows. “Well that’s news to me.”

Villain eyed them, frowned.

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

Villain laughed, it startled even them, but they laughed at the absolute absurdity of it. There is no way it was another Villain, they would know about that, so it had to have been the Heroes, but if Hero doesn’t even know… Who the fuck broke into their facility?

“I was robbed last night,” Villain said.

Hero’s face almost split itself in half their jaw dropped so fast.

“What?! How? That’s impossible.”

“So I thought, but clear as day someone stole from me, even left me a little note.”

Villain took the note out and handed it to Hero. They kept talking as Hero examined it.

“I had assumed it was the heroes’ doing since no Villain had, but apparently not.”

“No, an operation like that would have definitely reached my ears, your place is a fortress.”

“And yet someone got in, completely undetected. If they hadn’t left a note, then I wouldn’t have known until next time I opened the vault.”

“Interesting,” Hero said.

“Exactly.”

“Why would they alert you if they could have gotten away scott free?”

“Well since no ransom or deal has been proposed my current theory is they just wanted to show off. Or tell me they’re about to destroy the world.”

Hero cocked their head as they looked at the note.

“Hmm, no I don’t think so. I am not getting end the world vibes from this.”

“What are you getting from it?”

Hero placed a hand over the note, pressed it between their palms and a flash of green went through their eyes.

“Desperation, anger but very aimed anger. This person was on a mission, a goal, but not to end the world. To… find something? It’s a bit hard to tell, I’m getting a lot of interference.”

“Can you tell if they’re a witch or a mage?”

Hero took a second before slowly shaking their head.

“No, but definitely one of the two and definitely strong, as strong as you perhaps.”

“Mm, I figured they’d have to be at least somewhat powerful to pull this off.”

“Yeah, just what we need, another you or superhero to play gods in this world.”

“Be careful now, I’m sensitive about that subject,” Villain warned, voice low.

“And we have a deal that you won’t play mind games with me, so I can say what I like and you will let me go or I rat out this whole operation to the other Heroes.”

Hero went to put the note in their pocket but Villain snatched their wrist. Hero gasped as their body seized, eyes stuck staring into the darkness of Villain’s.

“Tsk, tsk, come now Hero I have treated you so well up until this point. You’re going to try and blackmail me now?”

Villain pried the paper from Hero’s gasp.

They sighed, “I should have seen this coming, you types always get cocking at some point, never able to stay on your own level.”

Villain moved, still holding Hero’s wrist, Hero’s body walking itself along side them.

“Do you want to know why I always meet people on the roof? And no its not just so I can look at the stars.”

Villain stopped a metre away from the buildings edge but Hero’s body kept going, walking in front of Villain, turning so their back is to the drop and they are facing Villain.

“I know you are hoping that this is just a warning, and once upon a time when I was young and hopeful I would have given you a warning. But experience has told me that once this spark is present there is not putting it out.”

Tears ran down Hero’s face, their body still stiff, mouth unable to move while their mind screamed and begged. Villain smiled softly.

“You were a good pawn, I will miss you.”

Villain let go of Hero’s wrist and Hero gasped a scream about to pass their lips when Villain struck out with their other hand and pushed them off the building. Villain peered over the edge, watching and waiting for the thud, the screams. Their phone vibrated and they pulled it out, just as a woman screamed below.

“Yes?” They said, turning and walking away from the edge.

“We found something, not the thief but where they stayed.”

“Find anything useful?”

“Just that this was a one person job and they like chicken, cheese and mayo sandwiches.”

“Well, that’s not exactly useful, but I’ll take it, can any of the trackers get anything from the sandwich?”

“There is some interference, but they think they might be able to.”

“Mm, that seems to keep happening. All hands on deck when we do find this person.”

“Yes sir.”

~

Civilian sat on a chair in the middle of a warehouse. Night had fallen and everything was dark bar the single LED lantern in their lap and light spilling in from the street outside. For anyone else it made for a difficult place to see in, for Civilian, eh.

They watched the silhouettes arrive, a small army by the looks of it. Of course Gerard might have been a pain in the ass, but he was smart. Civilian hit a button on the remote in their hand the the large roller door began to open, stopping the the army in their stride. Gerard stood in front of them.

“Well you took your time,” Civilian said, standing, holding the lantern in their hand. “I only left you like 20 messages.”

“You think you’re so smart don’t you,” Gerard said, walking in.

“Just a little?” Civilian shrugged. “I mean I tricked you, didn’t I? Though if I am honest that was not very hard at all.”

The small army spread out as they walked in, surrounding Civilian, armed with bats and crowbars and knives and other quite unpleasant ways to die.

“You are messing with things you can’t even begin to imagine. I didn’t get to where I am by letting idiots like you punk me around.”

“Punk you around? Who even says that anymore? Is that even a saying?”

“Shut your fucking mouth or so help me I will cut out your tongue and make you eat it.”

“Ouch,” Civilian said.

“You have two options here, either-”

“No, you have two options here,” Civilian cut in. “Well, your people do. You Gerard are going to die here to night one way or another, but everyone else, if you don’t want to have a short end to your life this is your one and only chance to leave.”

A few chuckles went through the crowd, a couple of uncertain glances but no one moved.

“Who do you think you are?” Gerard laughed. “You think you stand any sort of chance against all this?”

Civilian smiled, “I don’t know Gerard, do you? Why did you bring so many people?”

His jaw tightened.

“I broke into the most secure facility in the world and stole from one of the most feared and you think I am afraid of a gang of non-magical, non-gifted humans? My dear boy I may be a nobody, but that doesn’t mean I’m helpless.” They pulled off their sunglasses, “and you know full well I’m not human.” Silver eyes shined in the dim light.

“Fuck this,” Gerard snarled, “kill them.”

“Good luck,” Civilian said and closed the lamp. Darkness descended and the swing of the bat by their head went wide, easy for them to dodge and grab. The bat came into their grip, and they slammed the end into the owner’s stomach, stepping back to dodge another’s swing and parrying another.

Everything quickly turned into a flurry of movement, a blur of swings and kicks and punches, blood and broken bones. As their eyes adjusted the enemy’s swings became more accurate, someone grabbed Civilian’s hair and pulled them back, opening up a moment for a swing to the ribs. Civilian broke the hold and was free again, at some point they got punched in the face, which they returned.

Civilian moved with incredibly speed, like a cloud of smoke manoeuvring itself around attacks, flitting through the air. But they were much more solid then smoke, and despite their speed and ability the sheer number of people around them was enough to fail them. Hands and weapons were everywhere, like a crowd of children all reaching in to grab the one toy. Someone got a solid hit to Civilian’s knee and as they dropped a blade found their shoulder. Hands grabbed them and pulled them up, wrapping around their arms and several somethings cracked against their ribs.

Civilian kicked back against them, making enough space to dislodge their arm, remove the blade from their shoulder and stab it through someone’s throat.

Gerard watched from the back, moments of victory, of ego and triumph rising, as he watched each hit to Civilian. But the longer he watched the more the triumph began to die. Despite the seemingly winning blows Civilian did not go down, and one by one Gerard watched his people fall, until Civilian snapped the neck of the very last person.

Civilian did not look good. Blood spread across their shirt, dripped down their arm and onto the floor. Their breathing was ragged, bruises were forming and as they reached down to pick up their sunglasses a sharp breath stopped them. They used a bat to ease themself down, pluck the glasses from the ground and then ease themself back up. Gerard should have taken the time to run, to fight, to do something. Instead he just kept staring, and watched them turn to him.

“Well would you look at that,” Civilian said. “I was right. Who would have guessed it.”

Survival instincts kicked in and Gerard span on his heal and bolted for the exit but before he could make it even a step something hard and fast took out his legs. The bat clattered to the ground beside him as he tripped and fell with it. His head smacked against the ground, black dots dancing in his vision. Civilian appeared beside him, picked up the bat.

“You had so much potential Gerard, could have done so many things with your life and instead you chose this.”

“Please…”

Civilian raised the bat.

“I gave you ample opportunities, this is your own doing.”

They brought it down on his head.

Their shoulder wailed in agony.

“Fuck,” Civilian cried as they let go of the bat.

Their whole body screamed, if their ribs weren’t broken it was a fucking miracle, something was definitely wrong with their knee, and if they don’t act soon, they might just bleed out.

They grit their teeth as they walked towards the door.

“Fuck this,” they groaned, reaching the door and collapsing against the door frame.

They didn’t have time to be injured, time to find somewhere to patch themself up. They had to finish the book, do the ritual, they had too..

Civilian lowered themself to the ground, panting.

“Fuck,” they growled. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

They used the wall to pull themself back up, but their legs shook.

And if things couldn’t get worse, they looked up.

“Well this is interesting,” Villain said, standing a bit away on the street, a few other people coming into place around them. “Not the state I expected to find my master thief in.”

Civilian gripped the wall to hold themself up.

“Not really a master, just kind of lucky.” Their hand is slick with blood. “Not that I feel very lucky right now.”

“You don’t look very lucky either,” Villain said, “Piss someone else off I take it?”

“You could say that.” Civilian was struggling to see straight.

“Well, I was preparing to have to fight you but by the looks of it you’re going to fall over in a second. Do you want my medics to grab you before that happens?”

“I mean if that’s an option sure. Saves me the trouble of a concussion or something.”

Villain looked to their left and one of the people broke away, approaching Civilian. In the doorway of the warehouse Civilian was shrouded by shadows and as Medic approached and got a better look at them, a panic found their features.

“We need to take them in now,” Medic said.

“It’s only a little blood loss,” Civilian said, their grip slipping off the door frame. Medic grabbed them, the impact agonising but Civilian didn’t have the energy to react.

The Medic look up, looked in to the warehouse.

“Holy shit,” they breathed. “Sir, come look at this.”

Villain frowned and approached, eyeing Civilian before looking into the room. Their brows rose, absolute carnage.

“Well you missed the perfect opportunity to say, ‘you should see the other guy’,” Villain said.

“Mm, damn,” Civilian muttered.

Villain eyed them again, the blood.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Medic picked Civilian up bridal style and carried them behind Villain.

Even in this state Civilian seethed. What a fucking mess.

 ~

Part 2

Let me know what you think! And if you folks have any recommendations of what I should write I am open to requests and the such. 

[hekateinhell]

20 Questions for Fic Writers! ✨

tagged by @monstersinthecosmos thanks babe! ♥️

1. How many works do you have on A03? 32 public, 2 anon, 1 orphaned (that I regret, don't do it!)

2. What’s your total A03 word count? 125,475!

3. What fandoms do you write for? Vampire Chronicles!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? Shake The Disease, Our House, The Hand That Feeds, Play The King

5. Do you respond to comments? YES. I used to be so good at replying right away and now it's more like 2-3 times a year where I'll sit down and do them in bulk. Part of is I feel really nervous and EXPOSED when I post something and I kind of feel shy, and part of is I want to make sure I'm taking the time to reply thoughtfully because I want to put as much energy into my response as I'm getting from all your lovely, thoughtful comments! 💖 But I appreciate every single one—comments keep me going! I like to say "write for yourself" and I stand by that LOL I do write for myself first and foremost, but I share because I crave the feeling of being part of the community!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Make An Exception lmao. It's a short lil' canon divergent thing but it's basically Armand cashing in a favor with Lestat and asking him to "take care" of Daniel the way Armand once "took care" of Nicki. Either that or A Rusted Essence actually, I can't decide! I think the first one is angstier and the second one is more hopeless.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Any of my PWPs?

8. Do you get hate on fics? In the beginning I would get a couple hate comments here and there because the only fics I wrote at the time were L/A and I guess that bothered people! Lol it was a different vibe back then (only two years ago but it was weird, I'm so glad that's a thing of the past woof!). Oh, and I really pissed off a couple puritians making Lestat fifteen years old in my mermaid fic. 🫣

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 9/10 times my fics will be smut! I've written both guy-on-guy and girl-on-girl smut, and I find there's differences to each outside of... you know LOL the obvious! I always try to focus on the psychology behind the kinks and how things build and escalate throughout the narrative. It's much more important to me why they're doing what they're doing and how they connect through doing that, but if I can push the envelope of depravity just a bit too then I'm very happy!

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Nope, no crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not a full fic.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not yet!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No! I think I would like to one day but it would very much depend on the person and the story.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Lestat/Armand! But I very much love Armand/Louis and Armand/Daniel too, and of course poly combos are always fun and I do write and read a decent mix of all the above!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? One of the anon fics. I think iykyk. Sorry, guys.

16. What are your writing strengths? I get the most compliments on my characterization, dialogue, and smut!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I'm also trying to get better with drawing out my fics and creating a sense of slow burn, but I have no patience and I just have to get into the smut or at least reference it somewhere within the first 2k. So I'll work on that. One day. And I can't wait to write a proper 50k EVENTUALLY. Oh, and pacing! I feel like I really struggle with pacing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Lord help me, I do this when I write from Lestat's POV, which I do often. Usually it's just endearments or a phrase but... yeah. Absolutely this is not how bilingual people talk lmao but when it's vampire fic specifically I think it's just corny enough to be Ricey, if you get my drift!

19. First fandom you wrote for? VC! My two year ficiversary was in March! 

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? I'm so bad at this question because I've noticed it tends to be the latest big thing I've been working on! So right now that's Drop Dead Gorgeous, a genderswapped L/A human AU! It's the first thing I wrote since I've been exploring my sexuality and it was really interesting from a creative perspective to get into the headspace of a woman obsessively attracted to another woman, and honestly it didn't take a lot for me to get there! It was super fun and horny and I really enjoyed writing it and I can't wait to start working on the next chapter!

tagging but no pressure! @rainbowcarousels @0junemeatcleaver0 @butchybats @aunteat @leslutdepointedulac @cinnamonclove @nothing-but-paisley ♥️

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

Thinking about Doe’s crepuscular nature in TLB’s verse. Now! Historic vampire-lore aside (given how fickle a standard it poses given the wide scope of the myth in cultures and folklore) It must be said, nature wise there is massive precedent, most predatory creatures in nature, from lions to foxes, bear, jaguars and even raccoons are crepuscular! It's not something out of the picture and it feels truly fitting!

I also find it fascinating with Doe, she gets extra time but it’s not exactly the clear cut benefit you would hope it would be. In terms of energy and wakefulness, she WILL drop off in the middle of the night, growing sluggish and seeming 'out of it', and will choose to retire to a hunting burrow or hidden alcove for a cat nap until prey passes by and she catches hint or she can muster back energy she needs to feel on the ball.

BUT AT THE SAME TIME, and I recently learned about this, many crepuscular animals will alter their sleep schedule and internal circadian rhythm in response to the activity of prey and predators in the area where they’re active! Sometimes it’s to work with the competition, other times it’s following prey and sometimes it’s just a ‘human beings disrupt everything’ sort of deal but regardless I do feel this phenomenon DOES effect Doe too!

Or at least whenever she’s choosing to live in the dorm room they’ve chosen to occupy as a second base of operations and in direct and frequent contact with humans.

On that note, Doe's body and her routines won't necessarily prioritize logic over instinct when it comes to her sleep routine. I mean, let's be real, waking up extra early into possible daylight is a piss poor plan for survival. But Doe's nature is ground dwelling and burrowing, her body assumes she's underground, burrowing, and hunting from there. Following the feeling of footsteps and scents back to homes to wait until night cover has drawn. Meanwhile Doe, in actuality is often playing RA and dormroom babysitter. And on that note, even when shielded by curtains and by the shade of buildings, Doe is still, well, she's a vampire! Resistant, yes. But immune? Absolutely not, she burns out quickly and her sunburns are severe, even second hand and even running in low light has its risks. But the vulnerability is par for the course, a constant reminder of the dangers of her human-centric lifestyle and deciding to go against the long evolved instincts.

Also RE: The Janette incident, it was 1000% lowkey Doe’s fault but not due to willful negligence, she had a human-centric schedule formed around the beginning of the school year and establishing her character (or so to speak) on the campus, so when the humans were suddenly wanting to pull all nighters and party through the night. Doe couldn’t keep up, she couldn't stay vigil at the watch, and the minute she needed to be on guard and watching for intruders, she was asleep!

Frosh week is hard and by all rights there should’ve been more than just two of the girls on guard, but the others wanted to follow the party to Santa Carla and feed and Doe wasn’t gonna tell them no, she's not their mother, or their leader (god knows she doesn't want THAT responsibility)

Of course every chicken farmer gotta know: you’re gonna lose *one* to the foxes now and again, even with all the livestock guardian dogs, gizmos and gadgets. But that doesn’t make the sting of failure and the anger at the Audacity of the wayward vamp any less!

Groups of vampires are, surprisingly, often less of an issue than a single vampire because a pack gotta think about the repercussions for all members! They don’t have the ability of moving light and inconspicuously. Is a single student worth the possibility of losing one of your own? Absolutely not. But the starving half-vamps and the single survivalist vampires aren’t so easily deterred

And TRUST ME it’s absolutely the deal, Doe will say as much when she’s the person doing the confronting. You’re not welcome here, you can try to snag a few, it’s not like we have eyes EVERYWHERE but trust me, we know your faces and we WILL take one from your pack for each student you make off with.

*it should be noted, when students leave the school grounds and territory the girls consider them free game for anyone. They care little for students once they’ve strayed beyond their territory, a sort of mental transition from kept livestock to wild game, and god knows! That’s Where THEY hunt too! it’s just the school and both their territory within and around that’s barred as a hunting ground for any of the similarly afflicted vamps!

Thinking about Doe’s crepuscular nature in TLB’s verse. Now! Historic vampire-lore aside (given how fickle a standard it poses given the wide scope of the myth in cultures and folklore) It must be said, nature wise there is massive precedent, most predatory creatures in nature, from lions to foxes, bear, jaguars and even raccoons are crepuscular!

I find it fascinating with Doe, she gets extra time but it’s not exactly the clear cut benefit you would hope it would be. In terms of energy and wakefulness, she WILL drop off in the middle of the night, growing sluggish and seeming 'out of it', and will choose to retire to a hunting burrow or hidden alcove for a cat nap until prey passes by and she catches hint or she can muster back energy she needs to feel on the ball.

BUT AT THE SAME TIME, and I recently learned about this, many crepuscular animals will alter their sleep schedule and internal circadian rhythm in response to the activity of prey and predators in the area where they’re active! Sometimes it’s to work with the competition, other times it’s following prey and sometimes it’s just a ‘human beings disrupt everything’ sort of deal but regardless I do feel this phenomenon DOES effect Doe too!

Or at least whenever she’s choosing to live in the dorm room they’ve chosen to occupy as a second base of operations and in direct and frequent contact with humans.

On that note, Doe's body and her routines won't necessarily prioritize logic over instinct when it comes to her sleep routine. I mean, let's be real, waking up extra early into possible daylight is a piss poor plan for survival. But Doe's nature is ground dwelling and burrowing, her body assumes she's underground, burrowing, and hunting from there. Following the feeling of footsteps and scents back to homes to wait until night cover has drawn. Meanwhile Doe, in actuality is often playing RA and dorm babysitter. And on that note, even when shielded by curtains and by the shade of buildings, Doe is still, well, she's a vampire! Resistant, yes. But immune? Absolutely not, she burns out quickly and her sunburns are severe, even second hand and even running in low light has its risks. But the vulnerability is par for the course, a constant reminder of the dangers of her human-centric lifestyle and deciding to go against the long evolved instincts.

The incident with Janette serves as a prime example of this, it WAS Doe’s fault but not due to willful negligence or oversight. Doe had a human-centric sleep schedule formed around the beginning of the school year out of need, given she needed time to establish her character (or so to speak) around the campus, so when the humans were suddenly wanting to pull all nighters and party through the night. Doe couldn’t keep up, her circaidian rhythm couldn't and wouldn't allow it. She couldn't stay vigil at the watch with so many people coming and going between open house style dorm parties, and the minute she needed to be on guard and watching for intruders, she was asleep!

Frosh week is hard and by all rights there should’ve been more than just two of the girls on guard, but the others wanted to follow the party to Santa Carla and feed and Doe wasn’t gonna tell them no, she's not their mother, or their leader (god knows she doesn't want THAT responsibility)

Of course every chicken farmer gotta know: you’re gonna lose *one* to the foxes now and again, even with all the livestock guardian dogs, gizmos and gadgets. But that doesn’t make the sting of failure and the anger at the Audacity of the wayward vampire any less!

SIDENOTE: Groups of vampires are, surprisingly, often less of an issue than a single vampire because a pack gotta think about the repercussions for all members! They don’t have the ability of moving light and inconspicuously. Is a single student worth the possibility of losing one of your own? Absolutely not. But the starving half-vamps and the single survivalist vampires aren’t so easily deterred

And TRUST ME it’s absolutely the deal, Doe will say as much when she’s the person doing the confronting. You’re not welcome here, you can try to snag a few, it’s not like we have eyes EVERYWHERE but trust me, we know your faces and we WILL take one from your pack for each student you make off with.

Doe's philosophy, and by extension the philosophy of the Belles is simple: students are welcome within their territory, come and go as they please, do whatever! but once they venture beyond the school's grounds and the territory, they become fair game for anyone. The girls consider themselves "livestock" keepers within their territory, but beyond that boundary, they transform into hunters. This mental transition is a crucial aspect of their nature and the pack mentality they have going.

[potatoes83]

The red white and blue whirls around faster and faster as we enter... THE SPIN CYCLE 🇺🇸.

Look, I'm not quite a "burn the system down never vote for any incumbent" sort, at least not yet, but I am sick to death of settling for mediocrity. This idea that It HAD to be him, because *insert whatever hysteria is being ginned up by the media today* will happen if we don't. It was what, 15 votes, and even then he barely got it. And for what? We replaced an elitist representative from California... with an elitist representative from California.

I'm disappointed in Jim Jordan, as an aside. Now, this isn't group thinking an echo chamber, you don't have to agree with every single thing someone says all the time, but blaming the Senate because none of the legislation that the speaker brought to the floor has gone anywhere, my brother in Christ, you're better than that. No shit. Of course it didn't go anywhere, and you knew it was a non-starter the day you voted for it, you can't count that as a win. You can't count yourselves as victims.

I didn't necessarily have anything for or against Kevin McCarthy, but I do think there were better choices. I think there are better choices. The GOP does this every time, we can't go supporting the right wing of our party, you know, the people who are being voted in by droves through grassroots action and therefore representing the actual will of the people, oh no, we have to cater to the centrists. The ones who are going to vote blue no matter who because orange man bad, all you are doing is alienating your base. You're not getting votes across the aisle, you're just pissing off the people who elected you to represent them.

But the bastard flat out lied. You cannot call it a clean spending bill when you have a back door deal to fund Ukraine on the very next vote even if the government is shut down. That's not cool first and foremost. But he also said no more continuing resolutions, no more spending bills, we're going to pass a budget. Do you realize the government has not actually passed a budget since 1998? As in we are currently running on a system that was established in the days of dial-up internet, Nokia brick cell phones, floppy disks, hell's bells, they were still building new shopping malls at that point. That's the last time we actually had a budget, we've just been poking and prodding it along with spending bills and continuing resolutions and omnibuses and all that shit since then. For a literal quarter century! When the GOP took over the speaker's gavel, like every time, THINGS WERE GOING TO BE DIFFERENT...

Imagine the frustration from those who dared to dream that it actually would be. Come meet the new boss, same as the old boss, yeah?

So good riddance, and I don't really know who's going to get the speakership at this point. Sadly, after 40 years on this earth, 22 of them voting, I'm just about worn down to where it doesn't matter. It'll be another Kevin McCarthy, of course; someone you'd never really heard of, another establishment rino with a nice tie. Chumming along with the status quo same as it ever was. But at least some good may yet come of this.

The mainstream media is already ginning up the "Civil War in the GOP", the chaos, how can they be focusing on all this infighting when the needs of the American people are being ignored, yadda yadda yadda. The left is doing the same thing, portraying themselves as the adults in the room because they couldn't imagine doing anything out of lockstep with the party. But by God, for the first time in a long time, actions in Washington actually had consequences. Of course the left wasn't going to save McCarthy, and with the media in their pocket, they get to exploit how those crazy Ultra MAGA Trump people have doomed democracy this day, or whatever the hell the headline will be on the New York Times this morning... but for those few who aren't taken in by such charades, a message was sent loud and clear.

It's probably too much to hope that the days of making a bunch of bullshit campaign promises and then going back on every one of them when you get in office are over, I'm far too jaded to be that dewy-eyed about the matter. That's wishful thinking if it's anything. But when you buy votes by making promises, and you go back on that word, today proved, at least once, that you can't get away with that. That a man's word is still supposed to mean something. That you might actually be held accountable for your actions. That you CAN actually be held accountable for your actions.

I don't know if we're going to look back on this day as a catalyst when everything finally turned around and got better, or if it was just a one-off that'll be squished like the tea party, but at least for tonight, I will sleep well knowing that some form of justice actually prevailed, and you really can't ask for too much more than that. 🥔

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Get Lucky (S.R.)

Summary: The fire alarm in your apartment building goes off at 3AM after a pipe bursts in the middle of winter. You are soaked and you left your wallet in the apartment. You only (barely) know the FBI agent who lives in the building, but he offers to share his jacket, and eventually a hotel room, with you. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Strangers to lovers, only one bed trope, kissing, oral sex (female receiving), face-sitting, penetrative sex, protected sex (condom), implied weight for Reader (she wears his shirt/boxers) Word Count: 8.1k

MASTERLIST

There was supposed to be something romantic about winter nights in the city. The poorly maintained lighting was supplemented with colorful bulbs that caught every snowflake. Each frozen lattice refracted the light and littered the air with rainbows. For a few hours, while Washington, D.C. slept, the prismatic powder would cut through the smog.

There was usually a purity, a serenity to the city soaked in snow. But that night, as I stood in three inches of snow in already drenched slippers, I only had one thought regarding the world around me.

“It’s fucking freezing out here!”

My voice didn’t echo back to me, and instead dissipated into distant honking of an insistent fire truck slowly fighting its way through construction gridlock at 3am.

I hadn’t expected anyone to answer my cry, which had been borne out of frustration and apathy for everything around me that moment.

But someone did answer. And oh boy, did he piss me off.

“It’s actually only 35 degrees, so we’re 3 degrees off,” the man corrected what was an obvious hyperbole.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything to explain just how close this man had come to death. But when I finally turned and spotted the sleepy smile of my neighbor, I couldn’t help but soften at the sight. His eyes were barely open behind foggy glasses he’d thrown on in a hurry and he was swaddled in a chunky cardigan that must’ve been three times his size. It might as well have been a blanket.

A warm, cuddly, insanely soft looking…

“But in your defense, I think we’re close enough for it to count,” he interrupted as effortlessly as ever.

I smiled even though it felt like it should be impossible under the circumstances. Even though I couldn’t feel my ears that were suddenly burning as my face flushed with heat when I saw his eyes quickly scan my body.

“You were about 3 degrees away from getting your ass kicked,” I warned playfully.

He smiled. Then he made it worse.

“Yeah, it’s probably not the best ice breaker right now,” he snickered.

“Say one more cold thing, I dare you.”

With both hands in the air (in a very inviting way), he immediately conceded to my fury.

“Sorry!” he laughed through the surrender, “I’ll stop talking.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I grumbled, “It’s a nice distraction from the fact I can’t feel my toes.”

I looked down at the offending digits as if my glaring would make them any warmer. But it did nothing to make that contradictory burn any less painful when I’d tried to move them.

While I was trying to bend the laws of thermodynamics, however, my neighbor had decided to work within their confines to find a solution. One that consisted of him stripping off his comfy cardigan and baring his arms to the cold.

“Here,” he offered, holding out the knit fabric. “I don’t have anything for your feet, but I do have this.”

I suppose a better person would’ve refused at least once before they took it, but I was not a better person. I was a cold motherfucker standing in the snow with wet socks, so I snatched the cardigan without a single second’s hesitation. As I wrestled to put it on, I swore I saw him smile at just how eager I had been to wear his clothes.

Once I was settled, and a few degrees warmer thanks to his body heat, I sighed, “You’re a lifesaver. Aren’t you going to get cold, though?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m freezing,” he admitted bluntly enough that it made us both laugh. Then, to make me feel at least a little better about torturing the poor boy, he continued, “But I’m also not all wet, so…”

The thought was interrupted by the blaring fire engine horn as it barreled down the street to the building that was most definitely not on fire. The flashing lights illuminated similarly colored Christmas decorations, and I tried to find beauty in the free, albeit shitty, light show.

“Do you think they’ll let us back in tonight?” I wondered aloud.

“Probably, but… Not for a while,” he answered with that annoying honesty. “The pipe burst in your apartment, right? I saw the water.”

“Yeah. I’m basically Murphy’s Law personified.”

“Funny. That’s usually my line,” he chuckled.

While I probably should’ve been offended by how much joy he found in my misfortune, I couldn’t help but join him. There was little else to do when you found yourself half-frozen and swaddled in your cute neighbor’s cardigan that smelled like cinnamon and vanilla.

“Yeah? Tough. You’ve been out-bad-lucked,” I said before sticking out my tongue.

His eyes darted down to it with a startling speed. In the vibrant red light, I watched his lips part to make way for his own tongue sweeping over them. But before the fantasies got too far, he cleared his throat and shattered the moment.

“I’m probably going to go drive to the closest hotel. Did you want a ride?”

“I have a car,” I responded on instinct. After all, it wasn’t often that men offered a ride that didn’t come with ulterior motives. I was satisfied that I’d made the right decision in reacting quickly… until I started to run the mental checklist of where my essentials were.

It was only then that I realized just how badly I’d fucked up.

“… But my keys are upstairs,” I sighed before hanging my head in shame, “… and so is my wallet.”

I was convinced that the worst thing he could’ve responded with was pity, or some white-knight offer to save me from my own misfortune. But much to my chagrin — and in an odd, contradictory way, my delight — he responded in a different way.

He laughed.

“Wow… you really are unlucky.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are very punchable?” I squeaked back immediately, only for him to answer just as quickly, “No, usually they just hit me.”

“Well, now I just feel bad for you. Thanks a lot.”

Again, the self-assured grin he flashed might’ve been off-putting if he hadn’t been so damn charming at the same time. Still, it stoked my competitive spirit a little too well. How nice it would be, I thought, to wipe it right off his face. How sweet a sight it would be for him to be so overwhelmed that he could barely even manage to speak.

“What are you going to do, then?” he asked.

“What? About what?” I answered in the guiltiest possible way.

His eyebrows jumped in response to my quick and confusing reply, but he was kind enough to clarify nonetheless, “Is there someone you can call? A… boyfriend? Or something?”

Smooth move, neighbor boy.

“No, not really. My phone is also upstairs, probably under a foot of water.”

I wasn’t sure I could make it any more pathetic, but somehow, I managed.

“And truth be told, even if I had it I… wouldn’t know who to call. I just moved here a couple months ago and I don’t really leave the house much. Unlike you.”

The ever-attentive listener just nodded along in agreement. While I would normally call bullshit on someone else being as much of a hermit as I had been the past few months, I had already accepted that the strange man next door was anything but normal.

There was something comforting about him, which was hard to say about someone who looked so damn anxious all the time. But there I was, swaddled in his comfortable clothes while his shoulders were damp with snow that clung to unruly brown curls.

And that was the same moment that I realized something terrible.

“You’re basically the only person I know in D.C., and I don’t even know your name.”

I turned to find a contemplative look behind somewhat foggy glasses. There would only need to be a few seconds of silence longer before I wouldn’t be able to recover the embarrassment that was my own audacity.

“Isn’t that sad?” I asked, and he gave the most curious answer.

“Spencer,” he said.

“What?”

“My name is Spencer.”

It suited him. I couldn’t say why, but I knew it had. There was something equally soft about the way it sounded. I mouthed the name, imagining how easily it could roll off the tongue. I was too scared to say it out loud for fear of messing it up — that I wouldn’t say it well enough for the surprisingly bold, peculiar man with mismatched fuzzy socks shoved in slippers on a snow-covered sidewalk.

The same one who was looking at me with a barely put together smile as he chuckled, “Most people would say their name at this point. Unless it actually is Murphy. In which case, I think I’m being rude again.”

Through embarrassment and laughter, I finally offered, “My name is (y/n).”

Spencer responded with… a much more interesting offer.

“Okay, well, (y/n), would you like to come with me to the hotel?”

I’d heard of hearts skipping a beat, but I’d never felt it before that moment. I was half convinced it would stop altogether. Clutching my chest and choking on the word, I managed to ask, “W-What?”

“I know it sounds weird, and I really don’t want to freak you out, but I just really don’t like the idea of you being out here all night,” he explained in a rational, matter-of-fact manner. But behind that awkward monotone was a concern that I desperately wanted to be genuine.

One thing I’d learned about Spencer thus far was that, while he was an oddball, he was a perceptive one. He knew that I was weighing the pros and cons of following a near-stranger to a hotel room in the middle of the night.

And deciding to skip the scales… in some direction, he decided to blurt out, “I promise I’m not a serial killer. I’m actually the exact opposite.”

“What? A mother?���

“Come on,” he drawled, wisely choosing to avoid explanation and instead make more comforting promises. “You don’t even have to sleep. You can leave the door open and the lights on.”

“Oh, if I’m getting in a bed, I will be going to sleep. Even if you’re in it.”

“Oh,” he squeaked before falling suddenly, uncharacteristically silent.

My cheeks started to burn in the absence of his voice, as I had started to develop the sinking feeling that I had said something wrong. The only problem was that I had no idea why what I’d said deserved such a scandalous reaction, considering he was the one inviting me into a hotel room.

So, like a normal person, I asked, “What?”

Spencer cleared his throat, but even that didn’t seem to dislodge the lump in his throat. He tried again.

When that failed, he chose to answer with bright red cheeks and a weak, scratchy voice, “I-I mean… I was going to get two beds.”

“Oh. Yeah, duh!” I said much too loud and accompanied with an awkward, guilty laughter, “I mean, yeah, of course you did. I meant… the room.”

If my ineloquent rambling accomplished anything, it was convincing him that I was most certainly lying. But he must not have minded my perverted tendencies, because he was smirking like the cat that got the canary when he whispered back, “Right.”

“But I would kill for body heat right now, not gonna lie,” I responded to justify my previous — inaccurate — assumption. I’d expected him to return with his own flirtatious banter.

He chose… a different route.

“If you kill them they wouldn’t be very warm. At least not for long.”

“Dude, aren’t you supposed to be convincing me you aren’t a serial killer?”

Spencer just sort of shrugged as if to emphasize his point. And call me crazy, but I couldn’t help but find the whole thing insanely adorable.

Even when he whispered with a sudden shyness, “… Is that a no, then?”

“Ugh. I guess it’s a yes,” I said with a roll of my eyes that strongly contradicted the smile stretched across my cheeks.

Spencer let out a deep, satisfied sigh before he mumbled, “What every guy loves to hear from a pretty girl. A reluctant, begrudging ‘I guess.’”

Despite his words to the contrary, though, he looked downright pleased with himself when his hand found my lower back. Staying as gentlemanly as possible, he guided me through the crowd of our neighbors in the direction of the parking lot.

The silence would’ve been uncomfortable if it hadn’t been for the unending contact. Even when we finally made it to the beat up blue Volvo, he insisted on helping me into the car with hand in frozen hand.

The car roared to life, blasting cold air into the cabin and reminding me just how damp I really was. It strongly contrasted the way my body was burning in the two places he’d touched me, but I couldn’t let him know how fast I’d grown fond of his touch. So, naturally, I did what any girl would do.

I threatened him with violence.

“I will throw myself out of your car if you’re creepy.”

“Duly noted,” he agreed in stride.

I figured that he’d deserved at least a little bit of sympathy, considering I was still cozily settled in his cardigan while the poor thing was a chattering, shivering mess.

At the same time, I cursed him for somehow looking good while puffing hot breath into his closed hands. Those silly grandpa glasses fogged up immediately, but he didn’t let it discourage him from continuing whatever method he could of warming up any small part of him.

Deciding to be a little compassionate, I reached forward and grabbed his hands. He seemed surprised, or at least confused, for a couple seconds. That was, until I began vigorously rubbing my also freezing hands over the top of his. Then, he was just smiling. Beaming, really.

I had to do something to combat the overly affectionate way he was looking at me. Unfortunately, the best thing I could come up with was, “I’m sorry I’m going to make your car all wet.”

“Oh! Right,” he squeaked, not moving his hands from mine but throwing his head towards the backseat as he explained, “I uh, I have extra clothes in the back of my car if you… want to change when we get there.”

And then we were back to square one, with the both of us being way too nice to each other for strangers about to (potentially) share a bed.

Pushing his hands back towards the wheel, I moved my own to the heater now blasting lukewarm arm and pointed out casually, “That will not stop your car from getting wet, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Well, I can’t ask you to change now,” he drawled sarcastically. He waited until I turned a quirked brow to him before he explained, “You said you would throw yourself out of my car if I was creepy, and I’m pretty sure telling you to strip before I let you in is firmly in ‘creep’ territory.”

“How considerate of you,” I laughed.

For all the oddities about him, there was no denying that Spencer was clever. Cute, too, if I hadn’t made that obvious enough. His stature, held up with horrendous posture, reminded me of someone who would be easy to push around. But that dark undercurrent in his eyes told me the exact opposite.

Always brief, always fleeting — there was a darkness inside of him somewhere. And despite my curious nature, I had no intention of seeing that side of him that night. I was more interested in the more obvious. The compassion of a man who would give his only source of warmth to his dripping, cursing neighbor.

The warmth in hazel eyes was still obscured by the soft layer of fog borne from his cheeks. Now that we were away from the red lights of the fire engine, I could tell that he had been blushing after all.

He was peculiar, but charming. Maybe that explained why, of all the flirting and witty banter, he remembered one thing above all else.

“So you’ve lived here a few months and haven’t made any friends?”

Then, like it always seemed to happen with the two of us, he clarified the possible insult before I could bite his head off.

“I thought that only happened to me.”

“Ha. Yeah, we’re a match made in heaven, apparently,” I sighed.

Once again dedicated to correcting the most obvious of metaphors, he bounced his head back and forth for a second before he broke down and had to say something.

“Or hell, depending on how you look at it,” he decided.

But if he’d wanted to figure out which divine cosmic eternity we would end up in, I was more than happy to help him figure it out.

“I will crash this car,” I deadpanned. The apathetic show earned me a chuckle, which then broke into a more entertained laughter after another moment of silence.

“You’re very violent,” he muttered under his breath.

There was no worry that he’d been put off by the threats, though. If anything, he looked downright enamored with me when his eyes quickly jumped over to see if he’d made me smile.

He had. Arrogant little shit.

“Yeah, you better watch out,” I warned in an attempt not to let things get too chummy.

That time, he was happy to follow my lead.

“You know, I never stopped to ask. Did I agree to room with a serial killer?”

“Yep. And you’re going to pay for it,” I shot back a little too quickly for comfort.

So, I turned to him to reassure him, but he was already looking at me. Not just a glance this time, either — his stare was so full of wonderment that it actually made me choke on the clarification that made its way out, anyway.

“The room, I mean.”

“Of course,” he said with a curious little smile.

He said nothing else. Neither did I. Not because I hadn’t wanted to, but because I couldn’t quiet the butterflies swirling through my chest.

The drive was both regrettably and thankfully brief. Regrettable because I had the feeling that once we were actually in private, we would both lose our nerve. Nonetheless, I was thankful because I was pretty sure if he said one more clever, infuriating thing to me, I was going to jump him in the hotel lobby.

That fear did not wane in the slightest once we were there. The sterile, cookie-cutter lobby left much to be desired, but it was still a more romantic atmosphere than standing outside in the (not-quite) freezing cold. It was also the first opportunity for me to ogle him with impunity, albeit from a distance.

That night wasn’t the first time that I’d noticed him. It wasn’t the first time I’d wanted him, either. There had been many brief meetings that my mind had chosen to fixate on. Many fantasies to be weaved from small smiles and peripheral glances.

But as I watched him glance over at me between the awkward exchanges of information with the front desk, I realized that the reality was very different from the fantasy.

It wasn’t a bad thing. Just different. In fact, when he finally started to make his way back to me, I realized that I preferred this version of him. The real one.

The Spencer that was stumbling over his own words and fumbling even more awkwardly with the two keycards shoved into one envelope.

“So… I have some awkward news. It’s sort of funny, really, if you think about it. Fitting, too, considering the trend of your night—"

“There’s only one bed, isn’t there?”

A stiff, dejected nod was his only answer.

My response, however, was two-fold. With a cluck of my tongue, I shook my head and sighed, “Such a cliché.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whined, almost like he hadn’t realized just how excited the news had made me. He remained solemn and serious as ever while he continued to explain, “I even asked them if they had an extra cot but they just sort of shrugged, which… isn’t a very helpful reply.”

Oh, Spencer, I thought with a dreamy sigh he wouldn’t understand, What am I going to do with you?

“Hey, like I said, I’m sleeping in that bed whether you’re in it or not.”

That odd man continued to fidget but made no meaningful movement. I could see on his face how terrified he’d been that he’d made a number of mistakes to lead him here.

But even with the horrifying, soul-crushing awkwardness that was this situation, I still got the feeling that he had wanted this all as badly as I did. He was just too scared to make it known.

Different from the fantasies.

Better than the fantasies.

“Come on, I’m literally standing in a puddle.”

As I ushered him forward towards the general direction of the elevator, I didn’t hesitate to lock my arm with his. I greedily stole his body heat and bolstered both of our confidence with a boldness that couldn’t be ignored. And despite being drenched, exhausted, and nervous, I smiled.

Because contrary to what he’d believed, my luck was finally starting to turn around.

Despite the chill still emanating from my bones, I almost welcomed the cold porcelain floor of the hotel bathroom. That oxymoronic burn was the only thing keeping me grounded. Even the normally sterile smell of the building was lessened by the comforting aroma of vanilla and cinnamon that seemed soaked into Spencer’s clothing.

I pressed the impossibly soft shirt against my face and refused to feel guilty for it. I let the thought of his kindness and his innocence stoke the flames that had burst from the sparks of his smile. I swaddled myself in the well-loved clothing and imagined a world where this was a regular occurrence, rather than an odd circumstance of combined misfortune.

But just as my fingers began fiddling with buttons, I had a thought. Just the one. Lifting my head to look in the mirror, I saw the opportunity to make something more out of an otherwise pitiful night. There I stood, with his boxers tightly hugging my hips and his shirt resting gently on my shoulders.

Then, with not a single button done and the bare skin of my chest visible, I opened the door.

I didn’t leave at first. I just peeked my head out from the door until I spotted the man. His legs were bouncing so intensely that I could hear the sheets rustling below him. It felt wrong to bother him, but I knew that — if I played my cards right — he would appreciate the distraction.

“Hey Spencer?”

“Yeah?” he answered faster than should be humanly possible. His head turned just as quickly, his eyes landing on me with perfect precision like he’d manifested the moment through sheer force of will.

“Could you help me?” I asked, and he found nothing odd about the request. He’d had no reason to. Not yet.

Not until I stepped out into the light.

“With wh—?”

The poor thing had only barely stood from his seat before he fell back down. His legs, once shaking, were now paralyzed in place. His eyes were also frozen as I’d been a few minutes earlier.

“My fingers are still numb, and the buttons are hard to get,” I explained.

Spencer didn’t respond. He just continued to stare at me with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. When he was able to compel himself to move, to do anything other than ogle a mostly naked woman, he was unsuccessful. His stare merely became affixed on the space above my fingers that loosely held the shirt shut.

Taking his silence as something akin to acceptance, I took a step forward. Then, when he didn’t object, I took another, and another. I didn’t stop until my thighs were resting gently against his knees.

It was then I realized that his legs actually were still moving, just in a different way than before. In fact, his whole body was filled with energy.

That poor, sweet thing was trembling.

“Spencer?” I called.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, sure. I can…” he started with a stumbling tongue and his pitch growing higher with each syllable. “I can help b-button your shirt… which is… my shirt… on you.”

I almost felt bad about it, too. I almost felt bad for torturing him when he’d been nothing but sweet to me. But the rest of me felt something else; something powerful and encouraged by the deep red shade creeping up his neck.

“Thanks!”

To his credit, though, his hands were surprisingly skillful. It took me a second to remember that it had been his shirt, after all. But for all his ability, he seemed to be taking his time. Starting at my stomach, he slowly made his way up to more dangerous territory. I couldn’t blame him for being afraid to touch me there just yet.

Which was why it was particularly odd to me that he hadn’t shrunk away. If anything, he’d grown closer. Then, with one swift and powerful tug on the sides of the shirt, he almost succeeded in pulling me straight onto his lap.

But just before my knees buckled, I caught myself. My arms wrapped around his neck and my hands grabbed the mousy brown curls that were far softer than I ever could’ve imagined.

Soft like his shirt, soft like his eyes, and his smile. Soft like everything about him.

I thought that I’d figured him out, but I had been wrong. Because the next time he spoke, it was quiet, but it was anything but soft.

“Interesting,” was all he’d said.

When he didn’t expand on the thought, it was my turn to be nervous.

Without releasing my hold on him, I made the only sound I felt capable of making and hummed, “Hm?”

His answer came, swift and playful and sending a chill down my spine.

“You lied.”

At the same time as the words hit me, his pointer finger dipped beneath the fabric of the shirt. He dragged his knuckle down my sternum like a dare, and I realized that I’d dramatically underestimated his ability to be something other than soft.

There was something sharp, something dark in his stare when he slowly leaned back against my hands tangled in his hair. He smiled while my heart beat hard enough that I was sure he could feel it against his finger still roaming the bare skin of my chest.

Then, he chuckled, “Your hands aren’t cold at all.”

I had been caught.

But I had not given up.

His words were issued like a dare, and so, I accepted it. Filled with spite and a little bit of embarrassment, I stole back the power by taking his lips with my own. I kissed him and was met with no resistance.

He was every bit as sweet as I’d hoped he would be. Even though his glasses bumped against my nose, I didn’t hate the feeling of cold metal and foggy glass. I welcomed every part of him, including his hands as they left my chest in favor of my waist.

Spencer hoisted me onto him the best he could, but it was never going to be graceful. It was silly and messy and fun the entire time we struggled to find our way to the top of the massive king-sized bed.

We never really made it, either. We made it as far as we’d needed to and abandoned any unnecessary effort. But our ideas of necessary clearly differed. Because as soon as I pulled away from him, his hands were quick to bring me back in for another kiss.

Hot, heavy breath filled the little space between us with a gentle dew that our tongues would forever chase after. His was more adventurous than mine, but I didn’t mind. It was hard to feel anything but lust when he’d begun his descent down my neck. Still, the goosebumps raised, our bodies on high alert from something entirely different from the cold.

I couldn’t stand it any longer. Each time he kissed me, each whimper and moan against my skin felt like fire in my veins. I had to do something to hurry him along because I wasn’t convinced my frozen bones would be able to handle the blaze. I would choke on the steam before we ever got a chance to feel the unique kiss of ice and fire.

I tore myself away despite his insistence. To my surprise, and disappointment, he was more willing to let me go than I’d hoped. Then again, it was hard to be upset when he didn’t let the new position stop him from worshipping whatever was in front of him.

Trying my hardest to ignore the steady line of kisses he was laying down my stomach, I reached for my purse on the bedside table. I was on a mission that I knew he would thank me for later, the same as I would thank him for the cool trail of spit he left behind on heated skin.

As soon as I’d managed to dig the condom from my purse, however, Spencer decided he was also tired of waiting. Boxers be damned, he didn’t let the fabric stop him from wrapping his arms around my hips. Then, with another quick, impossibly powerful motion, he brought my hips down to bury his face between my thighs.

The gasp that he’d elicited was nothing compared to the deep, rolling moan that followed as he puffed hot breath against the flimsy fabric. His lips continued their motions, his tongue still swirling despite the barrier. He paid it no mind because we could both still feel it. The quickly growing dampness that threatened to bring me crumbling down before I’d ever had a chance to even touch him.

As hard as it was, I had to stop him. Exactly like before, he whined as I left him, but he still let me go. I couldn’t help but laugh when I did look down. Spencer’s glasses were crooked and had completely fogged over from the sudden change in temperature as he stayed begging and whimpering between my legs.

“Oh, aren’t you the sweetest, most pathetic little thing,” I cooed as I reached down to pull his glasses off. I’d done it for no reason other than missing the sight of soft caramel eyes.

But I had not been prepared for what I would find. That dazed, lovesick stare filled with desire for more.

“Please. Please let me,” he begged, all the while pawing at the clothing keeping us apart. He could have pulled the boxers down if he’d tried, but he stubbornly waited for permission. Until then, he continued with his pitiful pleading, “It’s not fair to tease me like that. I want to make you feel good, please.”

The sound was like music to my ears. I had no reservations about my answer.

“By all means,” I sighed happily, “go right on ahead.”

But for the second time that night, I realized that I had underestimated Spencer. His response to permission was as quick and strong as ever. His arms, still wrapped safely around my thighs, exerted even more force to pull me right where he’d wanted me.

I was barely able to follow his instructions fast enough for his liking, but eventually, I fell back onto the bed with a light bounce. Like inertia of the best kind, Spencer jumped up from his spot and tore the boxers — his boxers — down my legs until there was nothing else in his way.

And at first, I just laid there, rubbing my legs together and waiting for him to pry them apart again. But that wasn’t what he’d done. Instead, Spencer grabbed hold of me and used his entire body weight to pull me back on top of him.

It wasn’t until then, when my trembling arms were resting besides his head, that I’d realized what he wanted. His hands, strong and broad across the back of my thighs, he urged me closer.

I obeyed, forgetting for a moment that I was supposed to be the one in charge. But the eager boy below me was more than happy to give up control. The closer he came to his treasure, the more his body squirmed with energy.

There was still a softness about him. Still something gentle, something sweet in the way he peppered my thighs with light kisses when I was finally close enough to touch. Insistent hands remained on me at all times, although they roamed the space more freely.

It almost felt like he was memorizing each inch of me before he’d moved on to the next. But before I knew it, he was ready. Applying pressure to the small of my back, he pulled me down.

At first, I hesitated. I hovered above his face and I tried to will my body to stop shaking. But the sudden shock of the heat after coming in from the cold made every puff of his breath burn.

One of my hands found his fluffy hair once more. The other, however, sought out the headboard. It would turn out to be the smartest decision I’d made all night, because not soon after I’d grabbed it had he begun.

The same tongue that had been lovingly tracing my folds through clothing returned, this time unimpeded by the fabric. This time, it wasn’t a gasp that escaped, but a sob. I could already feel my stomach knotting and my chest filling with butterflies, and he’d barely touched me.

Because it wasn’t just the physical touch, but the obvious enthusiasm behind it. Although he tried so hard to be gentle, he couldn’t help but grip me tightly. He noticed my fear about crushing him and chose to put an end to the insecurity once and for all. Using all his remaining strength, he pulled me down.

I had no clue how he was able to breathe, but it seemed like the least of his concerns. Even with the crushing force of my weight, he moaned as he laid open-mouthed kisses at the small bundle of nerves at my crest. With his whole body, he urged me to continue on to new levels of pleasure.

He wouldn’t stop until my hips were rocking and my hands were gripping tight enough that I swore I’d splinter the wood. I still tried to give the poor thing room to breathe, but each time there was space between us, he’d close it again. I could feel the bridge of his nose digging against my pubic bone, and every time it would make my legs start to shake again.

It was that enthusiasm, that unadulterated love and worship that would cause me to fall apart. When that tension started to build, I finally allowed myself to follow his obvious direction and let go.

I didn’t bother worrying about him because I knew that he would be alright. I could still feel him, burying his tongue inside of me and lapping at the juices smeared between my legs. I felt that desire, that unending need to please me, and I gave in to his begging.

Spencer welcomed my orgasm with a similar fervor, moaning while he lavished my most sensitive point with all his worship. Even when he’d felt my body relax, he continued. He didn’t even hesitate to start all over again, no matter the fact that I was practically suffocating him. He practically welcomed an end between my thighs.

But I wasn’t done with him yet. I was only getting started.

Somehow, I managed to gather enough effort to pry his hands off my hips and throw myself off him. Still, he once again whimpered at the loss. I turned to him as soon as I could, happy to catch a sated smile between each attempt he made to taste me again. He wiped his face clean, but still carefully cleaned each finger between his heavy breaths.

Our eyes met again during his shameless indulgence, and his smile grew wider at the sight. He inched closer, his lips seeking mine for a kiss far more tender than the kind I quickly growing used to.

Again, I gave into his begging. I kissed him back and tasted myself on his tongue. The heady, intoxicating scent of me on his skin made the throbbing ache between my legs even more obvious. And for the first time, I allowed myself a chance to consider the bulge in his pants.

I pressed my thigh hard against him until I heard him squeak. I continued to grind my leg until he moved — a gentle thrust against my leg that demonstrated exactly what I’d needed to know.

“Take off your clothes,” I ordered the second he’d opened his eyes.

He’d already started before the words had even left my mouth. I watched with rapt fascination at how his hands were still quick and his eyes were still burning, still sticking to me like soft caramel and the cinnamon he smelled of.

I was so distracted by the way he looked in the dim, golden light, that I’d almost forgotten the second order I had. Once his pants were off, I floundered until I found the foil wrapper I’d dropped on the bed during his pleading. I held it up with two fingers, and issued another simple order.

“Put this on.”

His answer was not what I was expecting. Not a no, but certainly not an answer as enthusiastic as I’d been hoping for.

It was a fucking tease.

“You really think you can keep going?” he chuckled.

And despite the way exasperated chuckles floated between my words, it was no laughing matter.

“Oh, you did not just say that,” I gasped.

If it had been his intention to encourage me back into power, it had worked. That competitive spirit reared its head again. I drew from every reserve left in me and I climbed atop him again. This time, I also permitted myself the opportunity to ogle him as shamelessly as he’d done to me.

But I still found myself fixated on his eyes, which were in turn following each line of my body. His hands that had been busy searching my skin for some unknown answer were still there, gently running fingertips and knuckles anywhere that he hadn’t felt yet. He sought out the shivers and goosebumps until I caught his hand in mine.

Then, he looked up at me. Again, he smiled something soft.

“Spencer, believe me when I say that I intend on paying you back for that ride,” I assured him, but he was still not taking it seriously.

“Which one?” he snickered, instead.

I stopped trying to hide my laughter. I just leaned into it, leaned forward until I was close enough to feel dewy breath on my lips.

“Shut the fuck up,” I muttered without doing what he’d so obviously wanted. Even when he tried to chase after my lips, I refused.

That frustration eventually came to be too much for the pathetic boy’s heart, and in a moment of weakness, he issued a dare he wasn’t ready for.

“Make me.”

“Oh, Spencer,” I whispered with a low voice laced with a promise, “Nothing would make me happier than to render you totally and completely speechless.”

To prove my point, I knew exactly what I’d needed to do. Reaching a hand down, I wrapped one firmly around his dick. The slippery latex aided me in slow, strong strokes down his length. And immediately, any hint of opposition left him.

“Not so bratty now, huh?” I teased.

His lungs emptied with a broken sob that turned into a drawn out whine. It still sounded as beautiful as ever, and I found myself seeking out those sounds with a newfound vigor. The energy and color returned to him, too. His cheeks began to flush from pink to scarlet. I wanted to paint him with every color I could, but I would need my hands to do just that.

Slowly, and with utmost care, I began to lower onto him. All the while, I made sure that his half-lidded eyes stayed locked on mine. I didn’t want to risk missing the moment when the head of his cock breached my entrance. I wanted to watch those sweet brown eyes roll back and his sneaky, devilish tongue peek from between his lips as he tried to stop himself from finishing so soon.

“Tell me how it feels,” I whispered. I should’ve known better than to dare the man to speak, but I’d missed his voice too much to be upset by the sound of it.

Especially when he was still panting when he blubbered, “Y-You feel even better than you taste.”

Then, continuing the trends from earlier in the night, he dug his fingers into my hips and dragged them down as he begged, “Please. Please, fuck me.”

It was such a sweet, humble request that I’d felt compelled to follow it. I spared him the torture of anticipation and dropped my weight on him once again. This time, it wasn’t his tongue, but something much more appealing that was buried between slick folds. The wet heat still felt like steam and fire, even though my body wasn’t cold anymore. Nonetheless, I threw myself into the fire without hesitation. My hips would rise, and his would follow.

In an effort to get him to relax the same as he’d done for me, I pressed two hands against his chest and sat up straighter. Immediately, his eyes lit up with an adorable adoration that would quickly fade when he’d realized my plans.

I had wanted to paint him with as many colors as possible. That was why I drew crescent marks into his chest with my nails. Spencer didn’t protest, and in fact thrust into me harder in response. He urged me on with eyes and body alike. So, using my nails like brushes, I drew angry welts on an empty canvas until I could make something out of the mess of pink and red.

“Fuck!” he shouted when he couldn’t keep it in any longer. The exclamation was quickly followed by whimpers that strongly contrasted the filthy sounds between us.

He’d sounded so pitiful that I couldn’t help myself from drawing it out. The next time my hips fell, I stayed with him fully inside me. Grinding down with wide circles, I used some of the same fingers that had tried to draw blood to do something else. Something soft.

I traced bulging veins across his temple. I followed the sharp angles of his jaw all the way down to his neck. There, I pressed the pads of my fingers against his pulse and felt how it shifted the longer my palm was pressed against his throat.

But even through that pressure and delirium, he managed to croak, “You’re so amazing.”

And although I’d been satisfied by the praise, which had no hint of brattiness left, I’d still held a grudge for his earlier flippancy. I wanted to torture him the same way he’d tortured me with kindness and quiet longing. Because if I hadn’t made a move, who knows what we would have done that night instead?

I had a feeling we always would have ended up there, though. That was why I giggled when I asked, “Is that why you wanted to get me alone?”

“Please,” he whimpered in response.

“You were hoping that I would let you touch me?” I taunted before immediately beginning to lift my hips. The cool air tickled at the burning heat between us, and I felt every muscle in his body tense as he tried not to chase me.

He stayed put, like a good boy, gripping the sheets like a vice and throwing his head back to bare his throat to me once more.

“Please, let me,” he blubbered. I could barely understand him through the begging that seemed never-ending.

“Please,” he said, “Please.”

I dragged it out just a few minutes longer. I listened to the song-like quality of his desperation and rejoiced in the feeling of him filling the empty space between my thighs.

But eventually I missed the sweetness of his lips. I leaned forward until our lips collided together, sloppy, imprecise and entirely perfect. My exhausted arms shook, but still found the energy to slip under his pillow.

His hands didn’t hesitate for even a second. He welcomed me into the fiery embrace and buried his face in my shoulder. Even his hips had stopped. All his attention was focused on the simple task of holding me until I gave into his pleading one more time.

“Go ahead, pretty boy,” I whispered in his ear.

That elusive, ever-shocking strength brought us together again. Although, it felt different that time. The enthusiasm remained, but so did the softness. Even when I called his name, he quieted me with a kiss that was gentle enough to make goosebumps ripple over my skin.

“Spencer,” I whined when he began fucking into me hard enough that I could hear the headboard knock against the wall. But he was too focused, too enthralled with the power and the possibilities that he barely registered his name on my tongue.

“Spencer,” I said louder.

That time, he’d heard me, but it had done nothing to dissuade him. In fact, he went harder, seeking out that sound again and again and again.

I gave it to him, over and over, each time he forced himself to the hilt and held me down against him. I focused on nothing but the feeling of being full of him. The friction of sweat slicked bodies that never got enough of each other.

“I’m…” he struggled, the words breaking with gasping breath, “I’m gonna…”

We didn’t need the words to know what was coming. We could feel the steady beating of hard working hearts as they echoed in our bones. His hands kept me steady, kept me with him as his hips continued. It was my turn to find shelter in him, to press soft kisses against his neck until we were both ready. We both held on until I gave him the permission he sought.

“Do it,” I begged, “Come for me.”

I’d said it just in time to feel him twitching from deep inside of me. Despite the latex between us, I still felt the heat of him grow until I joined him in the euphoria. My arms pulled myself closer and a moan poured from my chest until it rumbled against his neck.

Although I couldn’t look him in the eyes as he came undone, I had no regrets. I basked in his warmth, treasuring these few moments where I got to feel the comfort of his embrace. In that quiet moment, I realized that it had been so long since I’d felt at home with someone like that.

So, I clung to him the same as the soaked clothes when we first spoke and I hoped that he wouldn’t want to discard me as quickly. But in the end, it was me that climbed off of him. I grabbed his glasses before I’d crushed them under my weight and I wiped the foggy lenses clean before I turned to the man half-asleep beside me.

“Hey Spencer?” I slurred.

He turned to look at me, and his eyes still burned with something pure, something innocent. Something soft as the hands that reached out to take his glasses.

“Thanks,” he mumbled with a laugh.

“You’re welcome,” I sighed. And although I was a coward, and my breath had barely evened out again, I felt compelled to explain to him the real reason I’d abandoned his embrace.

“Hey Spencer?” I called again, only to find that he was still staring at me, albeit now with more clarity.

“What?”

He’d said it so innocently that I couldn’t help but laugh. Because at that moment, I realized two things. One was that I really needed to stop underestimating that strange, soft, pathetic thing. And the other was best shared with an incredulous laughter at our luck of finding each other on such a cold night.

With a dramatic groan, I shouted, “It’s so fucking hot in here!”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

[thesolferino]

Touchdown

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: smut, minors please keep scrolling!

⤷ word count: 3.2k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon

— summary: clay loses a football game, and while he’s already mad, you decide to rile him up even more.

“God fucking damnit.”

Clay muttered, pulling his helmet off and slamming it against one of the benches as he said the last word, making you almost jump as you quietly trailed along behind him, feet following in his footsteps. He ran a sweaty hand through his hair, wiping beads of sweat off the sides of his face as he moved towards his locker, carelessly hanging the helmet in its place as he huffed a frustrated sigh.

The locker room was empty, no traces of anyone’s belongings left, as Clay took his sweet time yelling and arguing with the coach after he instructed the rest of the team to change and get out of his sight; everyone had left before he even reached the lockers. The game hadn’t ended well for his team - the game tied, and he was feeling confident, patting their center, Nick, on the back in encouragement, shooting a pearly smile to those who cheered them on and filled the bleachers. They played overtime, and a coin was tossed, during which his team ultimately lost. Looking back on it in the pessimistic state that he was in now, throwing the towel he used to wipe his face at the wall, that should’ve been the first sign it wouldn’t end well. 

The other team scored one final touchdown in the last three minutes of the game, the crowd’s cheers and protests mixing as the opposing team’s points shot up by six, leaving them victorious by one single point and Clay upset, pent up rage and bitterness stuck inside his body with nowhere to go now that the game was over and balls couldn’t be thrown. He stayed arguing with the coach for longer than he should have, even though he simply refused to budge. You’d managed to come down from the bleachers just in time to see him hold back a curse and speedwalk towards the lockers, following close behind, not even daring to call out his name.

“Damnit!” he shouted again, sitting down on the bench, running both of his hands through his hair fervently, huffing out large exhales every time they moved back and forth. The rest of his gear was still on despite coming here specifically to change - his jersey was still draped over his large shoulder pads and chest, one glove on and the other chucked at the wall as well as the towel, shorts and knee pads in place, too. You carefully reached out to place a warm hand on his shoulder, at least giving him some type of assurance, hoping it would calm the fire that burnt in him, mighty and frantic, at least a little. 

It seems to do nothing, though, and the fire in him just keeps growing taller and stronger, flames licking farther up his throat, seconds away from escaping, burning him to ashes.

They do exactly that - they engulf his entire body, and for the split second that his gaze catches yours, you can see his eyes glint with flames, before he stands up so quickly it makes you dizzy, and presses his lips to yours hungrily. His fire engulfed you, spreading through you like an infectious disease, warmness swarming you from head to toe as he pulled you closer to him by the waist, leaving fiery fingerprints everywhere his hands touched you like hot coal.

He grunted into your kiss as he walked forward, backing you into the wall. The kiss was so unruly, so much more dizzying than any of the delicate ones you’d share in your bedroom - it was forceful, daring, scratchy, and when both of his rough arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he murmured: “Jump.” into your mouth, you knew you weren’t leaving that room without bruises. 

Despite being aware of that, though, you couldn’t help but test his dominance, at least a little bit. Being bratty was second nature; after all, you were the air to his fire. When you blew strong enough, you could calm it down, but when you blew however you pleased, you’d ignite it more intensely than any gasoline ever could. And you couldn’t take the fire out this time, so you might as well fuel it to the best of your abilities. 

“I don’t want to. And take off the uniform, you’re not gonna fuck me with those shoulder pads on.” 

He pulled away, staying close enough to your face so you could feel every riled exhale, enough so you could see his jaw clench and green eyes boring into yours so madly that you almost cowered under his gaze - however, you persisted. There was really no reason to answer like that, and both of you knew it, but you wanted to toy with him, have him earn your submission, no matter if he’s pissed out of his mind or not. In hindsight, that may have not been a good idea, and you realised that the longer he said nothing and stared at you in pure anger, but there’s no going back now, is there?

“I’ll fuck you however I want.” Clay muttered through gritted teeth. “And you’ll like it no matter what.”

With that, his arms were back around your hips, lifting you off the ground as if you weighed nothing, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist when he pushed you to lean against the wall. His lips were glued back onto yours in no time, your hand automatically darting to bury itself in his hair and pull, his fingers on your hips so tight they’d surely leave red marks. His lips left yours and you almost whined but held back when they moved to your neck, barely wasting any time before biting down on it, earning a gasp from you that you foolishly hoped he didn’t hear despite knowing there’s no way he missed it. He sucked on it, hard, to the point that you knew there’s no way it could be any shade other than dark, dark purple in a couple days’ time. 

He set you down briefly, and you did your best to try and hide how impatient and upset you were getting, but he grabbed the hem of his jersey and pulled it up, tossing it to the side before getting rid of the shoulder pads as well, your eyes swerving over his sweaty, naked chest as he silently raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to do the same. You did nothing except lift your gaze back to Clay’s and stare at him with no emotion whatsoever.

“Take it off.” He commanded, gaze switching between your chest and eyes, waiting for you impatiently. You exhaled through your nose, just short of a chuckle.

“Do it yourself.” You shot back, seeing him cock his head to the side in an attempt to compose himself and flush down the anger, despite knowing it won’t work. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He scowled, hands immediately grabbing at your shirt and pulling it off, fingers quick on your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. 

“And yet you still wanna fuck me like a dog in heat.” You retorted when the clasp loosened and he pulled the fabric down your arms, pressing another hungry kiss to your lips while he rolled one of your nipples through his fingers.

“You think you’ll still be talking to me like this when you’re begging me to cum and I say no?” Clay whispers in your ear right before his mouth moves down to circle his tongue around your other nipple, and neither of you fail to notice the goosebumps that cover your whole body. You don’t even get to manage a word out, syllables falling back into your throat when you swallow upon feeling his hands sneak themselves under your skirt, gripping your thighs. 

“With how she’s talking, I’m sure my little brat isn’t wet right now. Right?” you feel your heart speed up when his hand moves a little further to the right and runs his fingers over your damp panties, brushing over your opening, fingers barely ghosting your clit. His pointer finger catches onto the fabric and pushes the underwear aside, leaving space for his middle finger to feel the juices that pour out of you, his touch feeling incredibly cold against your heat, feeling the tips of his fingers coat themselves in you before pulling away. His eyes meet yours paired with a smug smirk that you’ll never get to erase out of your memory.

“Oops.” he grins. “Seems like I was wrong.”

And then, when you least expect it, his fingers shove themselves in you, eliciting a muffled whimper, legs stumbling backwards to lean on the wall again when they start pumping in and out, lewd noises deafening you as you feel drops of wetness slipping down your thighs. He still persistently works his fingers inside your underwear, thumb sneaking inside too to rub at your clit, and that’s when he pushes a moan out of you, a sign of defeat - music to his ears. You can’t help it, can’t help any of it when it feels so good, when every time his wet finger brushes against your clit it sends a jolt through your whole body, your own hands twitching at the movement. 

Your whole body sets aflame, head blazing, sweat escaping through strands of your hair the longer he keeps going, fingers stuffed in you, thrusting in and out like it’s his last, pushing you towards your orgasm more and more. Sure enough, your stomach starts twisting and your abdomen coils, something inside you pushing you off the walls as you arch more and more and grind into his unrelenting fingers. 

“Cl-Clay… fuck, I’m-!” just as the words pass your lips, his fingers pull out, and the pleasure is entirely gone, ripped away from your hands as you stare up at him, feeling betrayed. Your hands instinctively move to your heat, as if of their own free will, but he grabs at your wrist before they make it to their destination.

“Don’t you dare. You come when I say so. I think I’ve made that very fucking clear, haven’t I?” Both of you know he’s stripped you of your brattiness when you say nothing, just swallow to mend your dry throat and quietly nod - you hate it, he loves it.

Clay pulls his shorts and underwear down his legs, and that’s when you realise you’re finally getting what you’ve been waiting for, so you hook your fingers around the waistband and pull your panties down, stepping out of them when you notice his cock, finally free and painfully throbbing as he strokes himself a few times. His eyes catch sight of the way you practically drool watching him, and he does nothing but scoff before your eyes meet.

“Get on the bench. All fours.” He commands and you comply, climbing onto one of them, arms and legs trembling where you place them.

“Watch your balance. I won’t be slow.” Clay says, guiding his cock into you, slowly pushing the tip inside as you hold your breath, waiting for him to just get on with it, already plenty stretched from the way his fingers fucked you open just seconds before.

“Won’t you now?” You murmur in irritation, words escaping you before you can even rationalise the fact that they won’t do you any good right now. “If you can’t play good, at least try to fuck me good.” 

He stopped in his tracks and you froze, only realising that you may have crossed the line after the words were already long out of your mouth, and you opened it to apologise, but didn’t even get to inhale properly when he suddenly buried himself in you to the hilt, almost tearing you apart when his hips collide with yours and you let out a pained yelp, his cock stretching you out ten times more than his fingers had.

You felt his whole hand wrap itself around your throat before he pulled you up by it, pressing his lips close to your ear so you could hear every last breath of his.

“You know I play as good as I fuck - and best believe, I’ll fuck that brat out of you.” Clay growled into your ear before pushing you back down, not even giving you time to grip the bench before pulling out and thrusting back in with a low groan, setting a fast pace from the start.

You bit down on your lip with more and more force with every thrust - he filled you to the hilt every time, and you were sure you were drawing blood by now, a slight metallic taste coating your tongue from how hard you were holding back your moans. You were absolutely not gonna let him fuck the brat out of you.

He kept pumping into you wildly, pace brutal and unforgiving, and it took everything in you to be as quiet as possible, but then you felt a cold finger carefully rub at your sensitive clit, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore, a loud moan getting pushed out of your throat.

“Fuck! Clay…” you whimpered, trying to stabilise yourself on your shaky arms but barely succeeding because the more he pumped inside of you, the more it felt like he was forcing every thought in your brain out, replacing it with only him and his name. The hand gripping your hips left them, grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling it whenever he thrusted back in, making you hiss out in a sick mix of pleasure and pain.

“F-Fuck, I…” your throat ran dry from how fast and ragged your breathing stayed - it felt like he was going faster and faster every second.

“This good enough for you, princess?” he exaggerated, mocking you, a little out of breath himself as he pushed farther and farther, thumb never leaving your clit. You swallowed, not able to give him a proper response besides dumbed down words and broken syllables. He angled himself a little different with the next thrust, which made him dive into a spot he hadn’t touched before, making you see stars as you let out a huge gasp, grabbing at his arm that pulled on your hair in a blind attempt to ground yourself.

“R-Right there… fuck, please don’t-don’t stop!” you cried out, a new wave of heat flooding your entire body as he kept hitting the same spot over and over again, making you blind, white imprinted behind your eyelids. Your brain, along with any rational thoughts turned off completely, leaving you with nothing but moans and gasps of his name and how scarily good his cock felt in you.

You felt your climax creeping up on you, slowly but surely, the heat from every part of your body accumulating in the pit of your stomach, feeling the knot ready to come undone any second now. You clenched around him painfully, unable to help the spasms, seconds away from orgasm to the point you could practically taste it. It seemed like Clay could taste it, too, because he slowed down, thrusting into you lazily, like he hadn’t fucked your brains out a moment ago.

“Say sorry.” he said, voice as stable and confident as ever, unwavering compared to your shaky, barely still there one. 

“Wh-what?” It took the words a second to make their way from your ears to your brain, hazy mind clouded with nothing but him, unable to process what he’s even saying when he’s buried so deep in you.

“I said, say sorry.” he bumped into your sweet spot once again, leaving you mewling and your eyes closing on their own.

“I’m sorry. So sorry.” you stuttered, trying to piece your thoughts together while you could.

“Sorry for what?” he asked. “Sorry for the things you said, or sorry because you know I won’t let you come?” 

“I’m-I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t-… I promise I didn’t mean it… Please, let me come, baby…” you whimpered out, grabbing at his arm again, trying to gain the little bit of sympathy you hoped he still had left.

“You’ll have to beg a little harder for me to even think about it, princess.” he chuckled, like the whole thing was damn hilarious, working his fingers on your clit again as your breathing stammered and you fought your best to get some words out.

“God, baby, please, you-you know I didn’t mean it… I’m sorry, so sorry…” you breathed out with another tired gulp. “You-...I-... please, baby, you can’t do this, I’m sorry, okay?”

“I can do whatever I fucking want to and I have some reason for it. What’s stopping me from using you like my own little fuckdoll right now and leaving you here with nothing except my own cum dripping out of you? What’s stopping me?” Clay snapped, pulling you by the hair again. You gulped again, feeling actually nervous this time.

“I… Please, baby, I won’t do it again, I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said, please, can you just-” 

He interrupted you mid sentence with such a rough thrust that you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, his fingers back on your clit, feeling like you’re getting lifted up to the skies themselves once again. He managed to find the same angle, hitting the spot that made you feel hell and heaven all at once, pleasure prickling at every part of your body as you loudly moaned, putting no effort into concealing it or keeping silent anymore.

You felt the knot in your stomach once again, quicker than ever, slowly unraveling itself and your cries turned into ramblings, begging him to let you come.

“Pl-please, can I please… Fuck! Please, can I- I’m so close, shit, baby, can I please-” you stuttered, tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes as you could almost touch your climax.

“Fuck, baby. Come for me.” 

As soon as the words escaped his lips, you felt the knot finally untie itself and you let out a guttural moan, not caring who would hear or not - the pleasure was sickeningly sweet, almost making you ill, knocking you to your elbows as you couldn’t see, hear, feel nothing except the wave of pleasure washing over you repeatedly, beads of sweat running down your body.

The clenching of your heat against him while you climaxed drove Clay to the brink of insanity, coming himself before he could even realise it, filling you up to the brim with a few final thrusts. He stayed inside you for a few seconds while you were catching your breath, watching you uncontrollably spasm around him as you came down from the high, clenching around him every so often, all your senses overstimulated.

When your breathing evened out, he finally pulled out, grabbing the box of tissues from his locker as he slowly started to clean you up, wiping over your sensitive parts, holding you up lightly by the stomach so you wouldn’t fall whenever he touched one of the tender parts. You huffed out a large exhale.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Clay. Remind me to never provoke you after a game again, what the fuck.” you said, voice still shaky, and you heard him cackle behind you.

“I’ll probably be mad for the rest of the day anyways, but whatever.”

“You played good, by the way. Really good. I just wanted to piss you off.” You admitted, watching him stand up and look at you with a knowing smile, before pressing a light peck against your lips. 

“Yeah, I figured.”

[bluecookies02]

I've been having a hyperfixation on face fucking lately, so If you could do any character with that I'd literally cry my eyes out. I love your work so much and I've been binging it for days!!!❤️‍🔥

!oh absolutely, I'm glad you're enjoying the blog!

>disclaimer:all acts are consensual unless stated othervise<

﹊﹊﹊﹊🄵🄰🄲🄴 🄵🅄🄲🄺🄸🄽🄶﹊﹊﹊﹊

Dᴀʙɪ, Bᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ, Sʜɪɢᴀʀᴀᴋɪ, Aɪᴢᴀᴡᴀ

﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊

Dᴀʙɪ: (cw: squirting, overstim)

He'll fuck you until you're trembling, just begging for him to cum already, throat soar from whining on his cock for hours on end.

Dabi can last long, sometimes too long. He'll have you twitching and crying, squirming when his thumb meets your clit again. It's not like he didn't cum either, he probably filled you up once or twice, dick still terribly hard but equally sore and flaming red from how long he's been slamming it in and out of your pussy. This happens when he's frustrated, generally pent up and it just happens that fucking you makes him feel better.

With one final tap to your clit, you're squirting, back arching and nails digging into your own palm, his chest getting soaked and abs glistening while they flex. He's so close, the pleasure too much that he's not even sure he can cum.

"No more! Fuck, no more" you're panting and clenching your legs shut, his cock slowly sliding out of you. Your limbs feel sore, incapable of moving another inch while you take deep breaths, hands relaxing to reveal small moon-like creases you gave to yourself.

You can feel the bed dipping and then there's a hand on your jaw, gently turning your face to the side.

"Open up" his voice is soft, but not any less demanding, his tip nudging past your lips. You open your jaw slack, closing your eyes. His length fills your mouth, your drool smearing down your lips and across your cheek before staining the sheets. His cock sinks further, filling up your throat. You try to breathe around it, gagging and spluttering but he keeps still, giving u time to fix your breathing, pulling out only a bit to let the air pass to your lungs.

"You good?" and you have to think for a moment before humming, relaxing further when his hands move to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

"I'll try to be quick...take a deep breath come one..." he coos, and you know better than to not listen to his advice. As soon as he sees your chest rising, he's slamming as far as he can go, his balls flush against your face. He's cursing and groaning, humping the depths of your throat, holding your head in place. You're coughing, thinking about reaching to grab his hand, but you decide to hold on.

"That's it, fuck that's it, so close I promise..." he rushes out, the slapping of his skin against yours speeding up. You're almost passing out but there's a deep growl, and then there are hot splashes coating the back of your throat, your mouth suddenly empty while you swallow what you can, coughing out what wouldn't go down. He helps you up, a hand petting your back. You clean the mix rushing down your chin with the back of your wrist, palm opening up to catch the spit falling from your lips.

It takes you a few minutes and Dabi waits, an apologetic look on his face while he watches you struggle. You can speak up but you terribly want to, words coming out scrambled and broken up. Dabi's hand holds your cheek, letting you nuzzle against it.

"Too far?" he asks, worried. His warm hand finds your throat, trying to ease some of the pain with his quirk, suiting your muscles.

You try to shake your head "no". It was almost too much, dangerously close to it too, but your heart is full, body relaxing while Dabi takes care of you, cleaning you up and tucking you against his chest. After a few minutes, you're not sure if you fell asleep or not but you open your eyes, watching the way Dabi's fingers dance across your arm. You move it just a bit until your fingers interlace with his, falling back into the daze and eventually falling asleep

Bᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ: (cw: none)

He's very rough but also very scared to hurt you.

Making him do anything unsafe is close to impossible and you respect that, you do. However you never saw him losing his mind, you never saw him fully letting go and fuck is it tempting. Even when he's angry he's still cautious. You fucked him silly but never fucked him stupid.

Finally, he's laying on his back, moving the hair from your face while you suck him off, saying dirty shit that makes you squeeze your legs together. Your hands are plastered over his meaty thighs, squeezing and gripping as you work him down your throat. He's timing your breathing, pulling you off every once in a while to let you rest.

"Relax" you whisper, circling your tongue over his flushed tip, flattening it against the slit while you look at him through your eyelashes. You're confident, and he caves quickly, letting you do your thing when he rests his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes.

You worship his cock, kissing and mouthing every inch, massaging the drool into his balls and squeezing every so often. He's not particularly loud during those, apart from the occasional praise he gives, humming to let you know you're making him feel good. You're going too slow and he's oh so gently raising his hips to meet your mouth, feet digging into the mattress. You keep him desperate, slipping your lips on and off his cock, watching him fuck the air each time his cock gets exposed to it, chasing the warmth of your throat.

It's not until you mumble a demanding "Go on" that you take him all the way in, waiting for him to move. He's not doing anything for a while, until he gets the memo, carefully rolling his hips, bucking off the bed. You're humming, throat vibrating each time he goes a little harder, urging him on. It takes a few minutes for him to let go and get into the rhythm, sloppily fucking your throat, eyes half-lidded to watch you. He didn't know he would get so terribly horny by watching you struggle, eyes glossy, the choking sound making him want to go harder, slam it down your throat until your eyes roll back into your head. He can't keep his mind from wandering, swallowing up by the image, feeling the coil in his stomach start to unroll.

You briefly put your hands on his hips, stroking his sides and following the motion of his thrusts, bobbing your head to meet him halfway. You can feel him twitch in your mouth, and when he breathes out "cumm-ghh" you pull off a bit, the first wave of cum falling on your tongue, a few smaller ones following soon after.

Aɪᴢᴀᴡᴀ:(cw:facesitting)

Your pussy is spread open, gushing and leaking onto his tongue while you jerk his cock, pumping the length in your hand with great care, movement slowed down so that you can selfishly roll your hips just right, thighs squeezing his head.

He keeps you open with his thumbs, nose buried in your cunt as he laps at your clit, suckling and twirling the nub in his mouth. He's grabbing fistfuls of your ass, trying to get all of your weight on him, pawing and kneading at it, a disapproving huff rushing through his muffled lips. You decide to indulge him dropping all your weight, chest bubbly to hear his satisfied groan, veins of his cock twitching in your palm.

You open your mouth vide, swallowing around his length with practiced ease, your hand moving from his base once it's fully inside. Like on cue, his strong muscular legs hook around your neck, pressing until your nose is mushed against his balls. A small part of you is thankful that he always takes thorough showers after training, but an embarrassingly large one wants to be consumed by the disgusting sweaty musk you can only imagine while you bury your face further between his legs.

Neither of you have much space to move, settling for just trying to reach and be closer to each other. Aizawa closes his lips over your cunt, mouth full as he swallows and gulps like he can't get enough, adrenaline pumping through him when he starts to feel a bit dizzy. You wrap your arms around his thighs, the position straining on both of your muscles, the burning sensation letting you know that you only have so much time until you're both at your limit.

Lazy rolls turn into hurried humps, your pussy chasing his tongue until it's just in the right place, tummy clenching from the surges of pleasure , His head rising off the bed so that he can press his tongue harder. You can feel your throat burning already and you get excited just by thinking about not being able to swallow food or drinks without being reminded of tonight.

He knows your body inside and out, knows that you're about to cum by the smallest movement of your hips and spine, ready to feel it so closely. He's only waiting for it, holding in his release just because he's so stuck on never cumming first, not wanting to miss you reaching your high, your moans and whines while your whole body moves and shakes, wave after wave surging to your fingertips and toes, forcing them to clench and curl.

He releases down your throat when you squeeze your legs around his ears, the first jolt of your body followed by his, cum pooling at the base of his cock. He cums like a bull, and unless your holes are plugged up, it's gonna seep out, you can't even swallow in time, gulps too big to handle, especially in a position like this one.

His legs slowly uncurl, freeing you and letting you slay down next to him. You can hear colors and you can see the sounds, mind on a beautiful vacation, not useful for a single thing. At least for half an hour.

Sʜɪɢᴀʀᴀᴋɪ:(cw:noncon, piss, mindbreak, humiliation, kidnapping)

He'll throw you on the ground, make you kiss his cock , make you beg to ruin your voice for weeks. He'll slap it against your cheek, smearing his tip all over your face and covering it in pre.

Pulling on your hair, forcing your lips open and already starting a quick pace. You can only try to push him away, arms too weak to do anything to help yourself. He doesn't want you to lose consciousness tho, snapping you off of his length for only a brief moment.

"Breathe whore, you're useless to me if you can't even suck a cock" you can barely breathe out of fear tho, four fingers tightening around your already bruised neck. Then he's pumping in and out of your mouth, slapping your cheek whenever you try to bare your teeth to make him flinch away, truth to be told he barely feels it he just wants an excuse to hit those plump cheeks. You hate yourself for not trying harder, but one can only have so much strength before giving up.

Your hair feels like it's gonna rip away from your skull, so you have no choice than to close your eyes and relax, slouching on the floor and letting him use your throat, hoping he'll get there faster.

He's not a fan of that, your chocked-up sounds noticeably disappearing when you find a way to get some air through your nose. It wouldn't be that easy, you should've known, two fingers stopping your airflow, causing spit to gush out of your mouth as your throat flexes and battles against his dick. He feels generous today.

It feels like you're dreaming when he finally lets you go, immediately fisting his cock in front of your face, aiming for your pretty eyes. Your eyelashes look beautiful, wet from tears, making them stand out better, more gorgeous...

He hates pretty things. He wants to defile them, make them as disgusting and monstrous as he is, the urge to ruin everything that dares be better than him.

You manage to close them in time, white painting your eyelids and forehead, some of it getting in your hair. He's finished with a sigh, tapping his tip to your lips before taking a step back. You're about to thank God that it's all over until you can feel the warmth hitting your tits, and then the smell hits you, causing you to curl up in yourself. It's not happening, there's no way in hell this is happening. You feel sick to your stomach, nails scraping against the floor until they break off, the sting not making you react at all, only focused on the sizzling sound and a satisfied moan in the background.

You lost the last ounce of dignity you had, brain shutting down while you just sit there, staring at the piss dripping down your thighs and your pussy, later hitting the floor and pooling on the cheap wood. Your eyes are wide, emotionless, robbed of the last spark they held. They're open now but you can't see a thing, everything seems to come to a stop.

You might hear the laugh before a door is slammed and locked, but you're not so sure anymore, falling unconscious in the cold room.

I pinkie promise to edit this in the morning bc my eyes r literally closing as I write. Who tf knows what I just blabbered on here but it's an adventure right. Is it gonna be a "you're/your" mess up, maybe? A plot hole...very likely. ooc...who cares, I do not believe in canon anyways😌

I feel like I made them all nut so fast but, more cummies the better I guess. ALSO ANON THANK YOU, I WOULDNT HAVE KNOW THAT THE ❤️‍🔥 EMOJI EXISTED IF IT WERENT FOR THIS ASK

Ko-Fi 💙| Patreon✨

[eastwindmlk]

Okay! Last one I promise

98)

“But you think about me when they’re fucking you, don’t you?” “I… That’s not true.”

You choose the pairing!

alsjeblieft en bedankt

It doesn't have to be! Here have another look and maybe a pairing will pop up for one of then ;)

You gave me free choice and I choose Jilypad. Now, this does cut off right before the real fun begins and I am happy to write that too, if people are interested.

As always! NSFW under the cut!

Sirius spent about ten seconds longer snogging his conquest at the threshold. For something that lasted about nine seconds, that wasn’t a great ending to a disappointing night.

Honestly, it wasn’t Mark’s fault—was it Michel? Michael maybe?—it was difficult to impress anyone who’d lived with James Potter and his girlfriend for any amount of time. It really bred the expectation of sex involving several invocations of deities and at least one series of worrying clatters, followed by giggling.

But this had been none of that.

At no point had he even considered calling out for God, Merlin, or anyone for that matter. He’d finished, because he supposed it was polite to, but his mind had wandered away from Matthew at some point. Not far. Just the next room over, through the thin walls, which they swore they were going to soundproof but never did.

The point was that Sirius felt like a proper arse, was still very much unsatisfied, and it was far too late to find someone new.

Sirius sighed in frustration, a hand raking over his face as he decided to have a large measure of gin and juice, and then…

“So, Micah didn’t deliver?” The voice pulled Sirius from his thoughts, his eyes peering into the hallway to find James, shirtless and wearing sinfully tight grey joggers, leaning in the doorway.

Sirius pressed his lips together before releasing them with a pop and a lacklustre “Eh, it was fine.” Which sounded not dissimilar to how he had explained away every single terrible date he’d been on, harkening back all the way to Cassandra Fitzroy in third year.

He did not even have to look to know the exact expression on his face, and he did not want to see it. He did not want James’ sympathy. Not after the night he’d had. The thoughts he did not need flooded back. “I need a shower,” he announced, pushing past James with his eyes down, determined to ignore his friend.

“Have a nice wank,” James told him, sounding far too smug for his liking.

Sirius paused, rubbing the tense spot between his brows. “Piss off, mate,“ he snapped, his heart beating painfully fast. Hammering against his ribs, wondering if James knew every time he touched himself in the same way he could always tell when they were about to shag.

He was about to reach for the bathroom door when the door handle rattled, making him startle. Watching Lily appear, wrapped in nothing but a towel that barely covered the tops of her thighs.

That was a sight that was now burned into his brain, and he was very glad he was heading to the shower.

“Oh, Massimo didn’t work out?” Lily asked, and instead of disappearing into the bedroom, she just leaned against James. Her head rested against his shoulder as the pair of them stood there. The poster children for bisexual awakenings. “It was awfully quiet,” she remarked, and it made his face burn in embarrassment.

Sirius sniffed indignantly, his jaw setting as he marched towards the bathroom door. “Well, that is just my shit luck, isn’t it?” His voice rose a little more than he had intended. “Now if you two and your incredibly creative sex life leave me to wank in peace?” His ears were ringing as he gripped the door frame in frustration.

“So, you know what we get up to, then?” Lily asked, her eyes sparkling dangerously amused as she shared a look with James.

He knew that she was baiting him, that he should not let himself be teased, and he should not be biting. But he was starving, and no matter how torturous the send-off would be, the masochist in him was hungry for their attention. “It’s hard not,” he answered, dragging his eyes away from her thighs, away from the outline in James’ joggers and up.

His eyes lingered on James’ toned chest, glinting over at Lily’s flushed breasts, which looked ready to spill out of that ridiculously small towel of hers when James’ words snapped his gaze upward like an elastic band being released. “But you think of us when they’re fucking you, don’t you?” His full lips had curved into a knowing smile.

“I… That’s not true!” Sirius answered, too fast to be believable. He couldn’t even lie convincingly. Not when his wandering imagination was still so fresh. The twist of guilt in his stomach was still slowly untwisting. Because a quarter of an hour before, that is precisely what he’d done. And it had not even been the first time.

The couple shared another look, James’ arm tightening around Lily’s shoulder and her towel shifting, a welcome distraction from the wild plans spinning in his mind. He considered several outs before settling on: “Now if you don’t mind. I am going to drown myself in the shower.”

Like magnets, the pair shifted, moving forward half a step before stopping. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” Lily told him, real concern lacing her voice. Her delicate hand stretched out towards him, resting her fingers on his forearm.

Sirius rolled his eyes and scoffed at that, not dignifying her coddling with an answer. What else was he going to do? He just practically admitted to fantasizing about his roommates, who also happened to be good mates and in a very loving and committed relationship.

He should have fled already, half-hard cock and all, taken himself out for a walk or a ride. Anything but linger after those words. He hoped that his world would flip itself the right way up and that they could all pretend nothing had happened when he returned.

“You could join us,” James suggested, and just like that, his world took another wild spin. “You’d fit right in.”

All Sirius could do for a moment was blink, his eyes dropping to Lily’s dark red tips. Her touch suddenly took on an entirely different context. The warmth of her hand spread through him like wildfire. Burning away the nerves.

Even if this was a fugue, one night of insanity, Sirius would never forgive himself if he’d turn this down. “I suppose that is an option,” he posed doubtfully, trying to rein himself in.

Her hand grabbed on tighter now, the towel shifting and coming undone, but she did not seem to care. Lily allowed it to happen, and her naked form pulled him into their bedroom.

“Now, care to tell us what you were thinking about?”