#I can't stop looking at Force's hands on Book

[whoops-all-jennas]

Past Lives pt. 8

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: During parents day you take the opportunity to do some investigating

a/n: Y/m/n means your mother's name

The light of day finds it way through my eyelids. I find myself waking up on Wednesday's reading chair with my arms wrapped around my knees. Deep eye bags found their way under my eyes.

It's been a week since Eugene has been hospitalized. He's in stable condition, but still unconscious.

I've been having difficulty sleeping. Whenever I try to all I see is Eugene's body laying in the leaves, blood pouring out of him, and staining the ground beneath him. I remember his wounds vividly. The three slashes will likely be permanent scars on his body.

Most of my nights I'd give up on sleeping in my bed after a couple hours. I would find my way towards Wednesday's reading chair instead, finding comfort in her scent latched onto it.

I get up to try to face the day. This weekend is the parent weekend or whatever it's called. It doesn't change that I'm not looking forward to it either way.

I head to my section of the room, about to find some clothes until Wednesday bursts into the room.

She walks with purpose towards me, a hardcover book in hand with a finger in-between the closed pages to keep the page.

"Y/n, I need you to learn a spell." She stops when she gets a few feet away from me. I turn to her and immediately there's a spec of worry in her eyes.

"You need to sleep Y/n. You look more dead than me, and not the good kind." Wednesday looks at my tired eyes with her stoic yet soft ones.

"I would sleep if I could." I state honestly, looking to the side.

Wednesday pauses for a moment, unsure what her next set of words should be. "So the spell I'd like you to learn."

Wednesday gets closer, I notice the cover is an aged book on curses. She opens the book to the page that she was using her finger as a bookmark to. There is bold text on the top of the page.

Death Curse

"Wednesday, I-" I start to speak with my eyes widening, unsure how to react to her proposition.

"The next time we see that monster, it's dead." Wednesday leans in speaking quietly, malice in her voice. "It will pay for what it did to Eugene."

It is clear that this attack has made it personal. I've never seen Wednesday this fueled with hate before.

"How'd you even get this? This curse has been outlawed in the magic community for decades." I state as Wednesday forces the book into my hands. I guess it wasn't ever a request, more so a demand.

"My grandmother is a witch. I requested for this book to be delivered here, and she obliged." Wednesday glances to the book before meeting my eyes again. "I'm aware you may not have much time this weekend due to the obscenity of this forced gathering, but try to learn it when you can."

I shake my head. "I'll have time, my parents can't exactly make it." Wednesday is silent for a moment, waiting for me to elaborate. "They're in prison."

"Why?"

"You know how my hair's actual color is white?" Wednesday nods, looking at my currently white hair as I haven't changed the color yet.

"It's the effects of some sort of ritual that is done on babies before they're born, but it was outlawed in the 1940s. My parents hid my actual hair color for years until one day I hit my head in PE last year of middle school. I went unconscious and the spell faded, revealing the my hairs true color. My parents denied all allegations of course, but there's not much you can do when the evidence is standing here." I gesture over myself with my hands.

Wednesday looks to the side before meeting my gaze again.

"What are the other effects of this ritual?" Wednesday asks, she has this look as if she's memorizing every detail of the story.

I shrug. "No one will tell me. I even looked online and couldn't find anything about it."

Wednesday is silent for another moment before heading to her side of the room.

I find myself leaning against the railing of the second floor balcony over the quad, studying the book Wednesday gave me.

I look over the book for a moment to see Wednesday with her family. It's been a week since we've investigated, and I'm craving any sort of new lead.

I look up from the ground beneath me to meet Xavier's glance at the other side of the balcony.

An idea clicks in my head for at least something to investigate. Didn't he say my parents use to be Nightshade members? Our relationship is a bit strained after the dance, so I guess I'll have to do my own digging.

I head down the stairs, walking by the quad till I turn down the empty hallway containing the Edgar Allen Poe statue. I put my hand up preparing to snap.

"What are you doing?" I hear Bianca's voice behind me, causing me to turn around.

Our eyes meet. I take a second to decide my next words. "I'm trying to find more information about my parents. I remember Xavier saying something about how they're Nightshade legacy."

"You're not a Nightshade, As the president I can't let you down there." Bianca states flatly, as if she's reading the rules in front of me.

I stare at the ground for a moment, deciding my next move. "Make me a Nightshade then."

Bianca raises her eyebrows. "You're joking right?"

I raise my eyes from the floor to meet Bianca's as she sighs, a deafening silence between us. "If you can make Xavier seeth with jealousy longer, then I'll make you an honorary member."

"Deal." I state without hesitation.

"And that means you can only go into the Nightshade Library if you're with another Nightshade understand? I'm not afraid to revoke your status." Bianca states, emphasizing the word if.

I turn around and snap twice, causing the statue to move backwards.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bianca takes a few steps closer to close the distance between us.

"Waiting for you to follow me." I state before descending the staircase.

Bianca sighs. "I can't believe I'm letting her do this." She utters to herself quietly.

After we finish the descent, I try to find either my mom or dad's Nightshade Journal amongst the many on the shelves. "How did Xavier know my parents were in the Nightshades?" I ask, my finger hovering over the spines of the books.

"They were kinda well known in the Nightshades." Bianca approaches, also inspecting the shelves. "They stole an important book of something."

I glance at the Bianca before focusing my eyes back on the shelf. "What book?"

"I'm not sure. We got bored and tried to find it one day, but na-da. All we know is it's hidden in the library somewhere."

I find a book with my last name on it. I pull it off the shelf, taking it to a nearby desk. Bianca is leaning over my shoulder as I skim the pages. I stop on a page of an illustration of book with a black cover with white text reading 'Codex Umbrarüm'.

"This is the book Wednesday and I were trying to find at Pilgrim World." I state mostly to myself.

I start to skim through the passages of the page.

10/04/90

Y/m/n and I have decided that, against the will of the other Nightshades, to sneak into the Gates Mansion and take back the book that rightfully belongs to the outcasts. Especially back to the Addams family.

We were caught by Garrett as we were leaving, but we managed to escape back to the Nightshades Library to hide the book before any legal actions could be taken place.

Y/m/n and I were put into custody for the breaking and entering of The Gates residence. But without any evidence of a break in, the trial didn't last long.

On the bottom of the page there is a thumbprint in ink with text next to it.

Whoops! guess the ink takes awhile to dry. I swear it must've been four hours since we got our prints taken. The police didn't like us much. They locked us up in the third cell and kept pushing our buttons.

The finger print was more of a dark red rather than the black of usual fingerprint ink used.

"That doesn't make any sense." Bianca's confused voice finds my ears. "It definitely would've been dry by then."

My eyes go wide as it clicks in my head. It's a clue to the book's location.

I instinctively grab the journal, turning to quickly ascend back up the stairs.

"Where are you going?!" Bianca turns, her arms out to her sides.

"I'll be back in a minute, I won't be long I just need to grab something from my dorm." I say loudly before leaving the hidden library.

I'm walking the fastest I've ever had until I accidentally bump into Ms. Thornhill while turning around the corner, dropping my book at impact.

"I'm so sorry Ms. Thornhill, I should watch where I'm going." I go to pick up the book, but Ms. Thornhill beats me to it.

The page is open to the illustration of 'Codex Umbrarüm'. Ms. Thornhill glances at the page before closing the book, reading the cover before handing it to me.

"Was this your father's?" She asks with her usual smile.

I nod. "I'm sorry Ms. Thornhill I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"I'm sorry!" She motions her hand to the direction I was going.

I shortly find myself in my dorm room, I pull out a book from my bookshelf. It was a gift from my parents in middle school. The book cover has the picture of a giant fingerprint with the text. 'The Magic of Forensic Science.'

I quickly found my way back to the Nightshade's hidden library, Bianca was sitting in a chair at the bottom of the stairs. "What took so long?"

"Sorry! I accidentally bumped into Ms. Thornhill." The sound of my hurried steps fill the room.

"Blood isn't ever really gone. Outside of magic, cleaned up blood can be revealed through a spray that can have a reaction with the iron left by the blood, illuminating the stain. In magic it lasts even longer, blood leaves traces of that person's life essence on that object, basically permanently staining it. Just not able to be seen by the naked eye." I say, thinking out loud to Bianca before finally finding the page I was looking for.

"What does that have to do with this?" Bianca asks.

"The note in the journal, the finger print left was likely left in blood judging by the color."

I take a moment to read over the page of the book I brought from my dorm. I wave my wand horizontal across the air. "Luminol."

Fingerprints on multiple of the books on the shelves reveal themselves, illuminating a pale blue.

Bianca and I glance at each for a moment before quickly pulling the books off the shelves. Stacking them on the floor.

Shortly after we pull the books out, Bianca and I take a step back to look at it all.

Nothing happened.

"What now?" Bianca asks.

"There's probably something we're missing." I find my way back to the desk and open my father's journal.

I read the note over and over, searching for anything else.

I swear it must've been four hours since we got our prints taken. The police didn't like us much. They locked us up in the third cell and kept pushing our buttons.

I move away from the book, glancing around the room.

"Does that clock work?" I point to a clock fixed to the wall.

"No, it's been off forever. It also won't come off the wall so we can't even put new batteries in it. Trust me, we tried" Bianca states before I approach it. "Why?"

I start to move the hands on the clock so that it reads 4 o'clock. I look around the room expecting something to happen, a little disappointed by the lack of reaction.

"Bravo, you solved the case of the broken clock." Bianca claps sarcastically while I head back to the journal.

"Oh, haha." I start to read the note again with Bianca looming over me.

The room is mostly silent, just the lingering echos of Bianca's claps remain.

"I have an idea." Bianca states before walking towards the third bookshelf, my eyes following her movements. She pushes a circular design that's in the top middle of the third shelf, it pushes inwards followed by a clicking sound at the other side of the room.

"What was that?" I ask, curious to what she deduced.

"Third cell, pushing buttons." Bianca walks past me towards the clicking noise.

We both walk towards a painting of a former member named Ignatius Itt, it is now acting as a door as it's slightly off the wall. I open the small door to find a safe on the other side of the wall.

"You gotta be kidding me." Bianca states. "All that work for a locked safe that we probably won't ever find the code to?"

I pull out my wand, pointing it at the safe before making a circular motion with my wrist. "Alohamora."

The sound of gears shifting fill the room before the safe pops open.

"That works too I guess." Bianca states, glancing at me before I open the safe.

On the other side is the dark covered book we were looking for, but what I didn't expect to also find is an aged brown journal.

I grab both books. "Can I take these out of the library?" I need to show these to Wednesday."

"Only if I'm with you every step outside of the library you have it." Bianca states firmly.

I hold the books close to my chest before heading towards the exit.

While we were ascending the stairs, we heard the scratching of concrete as the statue moved, revealing Wednesday's mother at the top. She is staring at the dark covered book in my arms.

"My my, I wasn't aware the Nightshades have been reformed."

I look to Bianca, expecting her to answer.

"Yes ma'am." She states as if Morticia is her superior.

She glances to me, analyzing my face. "You look familiar." I feel intimidated under her gaze.

"You saw me whenever Wednesday first transferred. I'm her roommate Y/n Y/l/n." I state, trying to conceal the slight intimidation I feel.

"You wouldn't happen to be the daughter of y/m/n and y/f/n would you?" She asks, starting to descend the stairs. The distance between us closing.

I nod, causing her to smile. "I haven't seen you since you were conceived, I use to be close friends with your parents you see. We lost contact shortly after your birth."

I find myself feeling more comfortable as she continues to speak. "Are you parents going to be here for the weekend?" She asks

I shake my head. "They couldn't make it." I wasn't exactly lying, but I wasn't telling the whole truth either.

"That's a shame, it would've been lovely to speak to them again." There's a hint of disappointment in her voice.

It's silent for a moment. "We should probably get going." Bianca interrupts the silence before continuing to leave.

Morticia continues her descend while we pass her.

"Mrs. Addams." I turn around, now looking down on her from an upper step. "Do you know where Wednesday is?"

She stops for a moment. "I haven't the foggiest idea, Sorry." She continues her descend, never looking back.

We both quickly leave, the volume of the voices of people increase as we walk out into the quad. I scan the quad in search for Wednesday. I see Enid and decide to approach her instead, holding the books with both my arms close to my chest protectively.

"Hey Enid, have you seen Wednesday?" I ask with Bianca following behind me.

"You don't know?" She looks between Bianca and I confused. I don't know if she's confused because of the question or the pairing.

"Her father was arrested earlier today by Sheriff Galpin."

My eyes go wide. "Wait what? Just suddenly?"

How was Morticia acting as if nothing was wrong?

Enid shrugs, before looking back at her family sitting at a table close by. "I don't know much about it, sorry. I have to get back to my family, I'll see ya around k?" Enid waves before turning around to head back to her family's table.

"What now? Maybe we should wait till-" Bianca is cut off.

"My darling daughter, I made it."

I can see fear in Bianca's eyes before she turns around to see her mother.

I find myself frozen in place merely by Bianca's fear.

"I'm gonna try to find Wednesday." I take the opportunity to leave. Clearly her relationship with her mother isn't good, and I don't want to be caught in the crossfire.

I find my steps have quickened as I make my way back to Y/n, Enid, and I's dorm. I open the door, making my way to your section of the room. You stand quickly at your desk. "Wends, I looked everywhere for you where have you been?"

"I took a family outing to the local prison." I state flatly. You have a confused expression on your face, expecting to hear more. "It's not important."

I open the yearbook my mother gave to me to the page of Principal Weems as Judy Garland, turning the book so you can see it. "I believe your theory was right. It was a shape shifter pretending to be Rowan, and that shape shifter was Weems."

"Holy shit." You say under your breath.

"We're going to confront her. We need something more conclusive." I go to grab your wrist before you pull back.

"Wait, I found something too." You go into your closet, your footsteps filling the room. I wait patiently for you to return carrying a weathered leather journal and Goody's book 'Codex Umbrarüm'.

"You found it?" I state, grabbing the book from your hands. I found myself mesmerized by the cover.

"I found something interesting in the book." You state while I flip through the pages. "One of the sections has instructions to a ritual to reanimate the dead."

I look up from the book to meet your eyes as you continue to speak. "I compared the ingredients for the ritual to the murders, and it's all linking up. The surgically removed body parts, the amount of murders, all of it." You count everything you list off on your fingers

You pause for a moment, looking around as if worried someone else is in the room. "I think someone is trying to reanimate Joseph Crackstone." You whisper, your face close to mine.

I imagine the drawing of Rowan's mother made of Crackstone and I in the quad surrounded by fire.

"What else is left?" I ask, meeting your concerned gaze.

"Just one more murder, and the night of a blood moon. We're running out of time."

We hear distant voices outside drawing our attention. We both walk onto my balcony to see a phrase being burned into Nevermore's lawn, the flames illuminating the dark night.

THE MOON WILL BLEED

Part 9.

Past Lives Masterlist

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed this shorter chapter! I don't know where the idea came from, but I thought I'd experiment a bit with Bianca's and y/n's relationship this chapter :)

[forcebookcorner]

Force Jiratchapong and Book Kasidet on Force's Twitter Update (16.02.2023) [X]

[mv1simp]

Cuffing Szn ♥️

Max Verstappen x MidSize!Reader

it's cuffing season and all the girls are leaving to get a big boy (I need a big boy, give me a big boy)

As Max Verstappen's new girlfriend, you're one of the few WAGs on the grid who isn't a model and the only one, you think self consciously, who doesn't look like a model either. Good thing your big, strong boyfriend is here to set the record straight about how much he disagrees with you.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, trigger warning: explicit discussion about eating disorder and body dysmorphia, dom!max, sub!reader, size kink, this is just a shameless excuse for me to write smut about max's thighs, 3.3k WC

When you'd delivered one of your favourite patient's 3rd baby, handing over the healthy, crying pale blob (after thoroughly wiping it down because, you know) with a congratulations, Victoria, its a boy! you hadn't expected to catch the eye of the patient's very attractive, tall older brother at her side.

But as you walked off down the hallway once the baby checks were done, you were surprised to find Max stopping you with a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. You'd seen him a couple of times in Victoria's pregnancy, accompanying her and her husband at the ultrasound checks leading upto the delivery. You'd secretly thought he was so adorable with the way he handled his nieces and nephews patiently while his sister got scanned.

You'd also thought he looked positively delectable in his white linen shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders, and skinny jeans that clung to some of the thickest thighs you'd seen a man be blessed with. But making bedroom eyes at patient's hot family members was generally frowned upon (although not explicitly prohibited in the Hippocratic Oath, one could argue) so you promptly forgot about the handsome blonde 5 minutes later when the emergency bell went off.

But he stood before you that day, looking every bit as attractive as you remembered, even more so with a pink dusting on his cheeks as he asked if this was the last time you'd be looking after Victoria?

You tilted your head quizzically at him, your neck a little strained from looking up at his 6 foot frame from your 5"1 one. Yes it is, you informed him, and because new families often got anxious, you sweetly added that it was a good thing, to not see you again, because it meant darling Victoria and her baby are both healthy.

He confuses you again by saying that he was hoping to see you again. Oh! You smile excitedly, are you and your wife expecting? You pull out your clinic card and tell him that you're actually all booked out for the year but you'll make an exception for Victoria's brother.

His blush deepens. (Somewhere in a hospital broom cupboard, Lando Norris was filming this scene unfold and cackling.) Max rapidly explained that he's not expecting. Oh, and he's not married. And also he doesn't have a girlfriend. Basically, I'm single - he finally stammers out. (Rizzless and bitchless, Lando texts him). Thankfully, at this point you had caught on that Max was trying to ask you out, and after a quick phone call to the legal team to confirm you were clear, you turn back around to inform him cheekily that he could pick you up at 8pm Friday night for dinner. (Wait, this actually worked? a flabbergasted Lando now texts.) The emergency pager then goes off so you gently tug on Max's shirt to hint that you want him to bring his face down, give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and sprint off to Ward 6.

The dinner goes perfectly, with Max's charm returning in full force after a G&T - Sorry about earlier, schat, you're such a gorgeous woman and a very smart doctor, it makes me nervous - leading to a 2nd date and then a 3rd and then to a weekend trip in a romantic Nice winery, where you can't resist jumping into his muscly arms after a glass of wine and demanding he have his way with you. (He does. Very thoroughly. Multiple times that night, and the morning after. Thinking about it still has you blushing.)

6 months later, you two are officially going out and you're making your first appearance as his girlfriend at the races. You had carefully dressed in a classy Mirror Palais dress, complete with matching heels to save your poor boyfriend having to bend down too much. You'd also become rather turned on at seeing your normally soft, gentle cat dad of a boyfriend turn into an absolute menace once the Redbull suit is zipped up, terrorising his way all the way to P1 and living up to his nickname of the Dutch lion. As his assistant guides you to the podium ceremony, you're stopped by various fans who compliment your outfit and ask for pictures. The media attention is very new to you, as Max had been very insistent on protecting your privacy as you two established yourselves as a couple. But everyone had been so nice today - until you started noticing the dirty looks thrown your way, glaring up and down your form. And then, a couple of snide comments from passing fans about how you were very confident to wear such a body hugging dress, especially with your curvy figure.

You roll your eyes at their clearly jealous tones, and walk over to the podium ceremony to greet your boyfriend. He breaks into an adorable grin when he sees you, his whole face lighting up as he easily scoops you up for a deep kiss. The cameras around you two go crazy, but don't pick up his whispers when he sets you down and leans in, telling you that you looked so pretty today, schat, he'd been staring at you so much GP had to tell him to focus, and how was your first race? nobody gave you a hard time, did they? You don't miss the way his eyes are attentively focused on your face, clearly still worried about the damage he had warned you about before you agreed to go public.

You aren't going to spoil his win over a couple of snide comments. Not at all, baby you reassure, before whispering back that he looked really hot in his tight fireproofs, could he pretty please bring them home later when you give him his reward for such a good performance on the track? The tip of Max's ears go pink as he struggles to maintain a straight face for the cameras. Giggling, you press a kiss to his cheek and murmur you'll see him after his interviews.

Later though, when Max is in his interview across the paddock and you're being introduced to the other WAGs, you can't help but notice how different they all look in their body hugging dresses compared to you. Although you wouldn't be called fat, you aren't slim either, and you're nowhere near the tiny, trim figures the other girls maintain. Once the seed of insecurity is planted, it's very hard to stop it growing out of control - and at each race or public event or launch party you attend at Max's side, you start to pick apart more and more insecurities about yourself. How you're so much shorter than the numerous models on the grid, making you feel childish and round compared to their lithe gracefulness. How their delicate collarbones and ribs can clearly be seen at all times, but yours only if you twisted your neck a certain way. And they're all so lovely, chatting eagerly with you and interested to hear about your work, asking if you'd take so-and-so on as a patient, you had a great reputation already even though you were a new doctor in Monaco! The conversations distract you from your worries for a bit.

But afterwards, when you'd be laughing at cat memes online and sending them to your boyfriend, you'd come across the paparazzi pics of you speaking to the WAGs and felt sick to your stomach at how huge you thought you looked compared to everyone else, clearly standing out as the plainest one amongst their flawless faces. Some of the comments agreed, saying that it was just sad that the best driver on the grid had the ugliest girlfriend, and couldn't Max buy his gf some ozempic with all his tax evasion money? Comments that would have made you laugh at the originality now suddenly had you sobbing, and you're glad you hadn't stayed at Max's tonight and had to explain the state you were in.

When you'd been younger, in college, you'd started struggling with managing your stress levels given you were a perfectionist working towards a very difficult medical degree. Having always been a stress eater, you frequently binged on junk food, and obviously ended up gaining quite a bit of weight. Your family and ex boyfriend had ridiculed you endlessly, and so the year after you had to work hard and lose it all, which you had managed to do. You'd mentioned this to Max in passing, a couple months into dating when he'd spotted an old college picture of you and muttered so fucking cute, pocketing it.

You didn't tell Max about how you'd lost the weight though - with a vicious binging and purging cycle for the better chunk of a year. You'd grown out of that "phase" once you'd left college, or so you thought - because it was almost too easy to slip back into it now, to enjoy the sick pleasure at barely eating all day and seeing the weight drop on the scale, then bingeing on whatever you wanted because it didn't count, you'd throw it up anyways. You had to be very careful with it this time round, because your boyfriend's attentive gaze had been fixed on you even more so than usual - noting how you've been wearing higher heels, how your dresses are still as gorgeous as ever but never body hugging anymore, how you spend hours before a race now perfecting your makeup instead of joining him in the garage and don't spend the nights at his anymore. You weasel your way out of his questions when he asks you repeatedly if everything was okay, schat?

But you weren't able to fool him any longer after attending a charity gala for one of his sponsors. You'd actually been happy with your appearance for once, pleased with your slimmer waist this month, but as the night went on you started to feel the fatigue of starving yourself catching up, leaning more and more into Max's side as he glanced at you with concern. Rubbing your back soothingly, he asked if you wanted to leave early, but you shook your head, murmuring you were okay, your feet just hurt a little is all. He frowned then, hating to see you in pain just to be dressed up for some stupid event he couldn't care less about. Bringing you to the empty lobby, he told you he was going to grab your coats and have the car brought round, end of discussion, you need to rest, okay liefje? You didn't have it in you to protest any longer so just nodded. You hadn't realised just how much you'd been leaning on him until he left, and as stars started entering your vision, Max returned just in time to catch you before you stumbled.

You felt him firmly grab your waist, fully supporting your weight as he led you out to the car, lowering you gently into the seat and even buckling you in. You started feeling a bit better inside his Aston Martin with the aircon on, nibbling on a high protein low calorie bar you'd stashed in your clutch. Regaining your alertness, you notice the tense atmosphere, with a stormy expression on Max's face as he drove rather furiously through the Monaco streets, his hand not even resting on your thigh like it usually did but gripping the wheel tightly. Maxie - you begin uncertainly, hoping to diffuse the tension and ask why he was upset, but he cuts you off with a terse Don't. Let's wait till we're home.

So you wait, until you're both walking in through the front door. Max rips off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves, but he still doesn't talk and instead heads to the kitchen. You follow him, sitting on a barstool to admire how he still looked so handsome in the fitted sky blue shirt and tight navy pants, even when he was clearly mad. As Max starts cooking, his back to you, he tells you about how growing up his sister Victoria had to go to therapy for a long time because she wouldn't stop throwing up every time she ate because their father told her she was too fat (despite looking like a buffalo himself, Max snorts as he sets down a simple but delicious plate of chicken pesto pasta with salad in front of you), about how Max has seen countless girlfriends on the paddock purposely avoid eating all day, including his already stick thin model exes, and how Max himself would be called fat every month or the other by some trashy gossip magazine, because the media is just fucking toxic, he hisses. This is why I wanted to keep us hidden away from the cameras. He glances pointedly at your plate, where you've eaten the salad and chicken and not touched your pasta. You sigh and pick up your fork, slowly working your way through the food as you tell him that you suppose your diet had somewhat...spiralled out of control, but honestly, Max, I'm completely fine, and you two can't avoid the cameras forever given how he's the frickin F1 winner at all-

Don't tell me that you're fine. Do you really think I don't know what's going on? Max demands tersely with crossed arms. Finally finished with your meal, you hop off the stool to neatly place your plate in the sink, ignoring his question. Standing behind you, he watches you wash the dishes, still not even reaching his chin, even in those damn 6 inch heels you're still wearing. You do respond when he asks you just why you're putting your body through such torture.

C'mon, Max you say with an eyeroll, You know why, I need to lose some weight, I'm so much heavier compared to all the other girls and all your exes, and you deserve to have a girlfriend who looks-

Don't tell me what I do or don't deserve, schat. I always want the best and that's why I picked you. You're really gonna question the choice of a world champion, hmm? Max's deep voice is now right by your ears as he leans down behind you. You feel a shiver run up the back on your spine as he curls his huge arms possessively around your waist and thighs. He continues his whispers, his hands roaming up to your plush tits and another squeezing your ass, telling you You're so goddamn pretty. Every single part of you, just for me, making you bite your lip and breathily moan from his affections - it'd been a while since he'd had his way with you with all your avoidance, after all.

You feel him slowly unzip your dress, and the silk easily falls to the ground, leaving you only in your stiletto heels and a deep red lingerie set he’d gifted you for your 3 month anniversary. You tense, already feeling self conscious, but before you can say anything Max has wrapped a large hand around your waist and easily flipped you around to sit on the kitchen counter. You gasp from the action, hands automatically going to rest on his broad shoulders as your face comes level with his.

I haven’t made it clear just how lucky I am to have such a beautiful girl all to myself, schat, Max says huskily, before pulling away to unbutton his shirt, his blue eyes darkening as they roam over your pretty tits spilling over in the lacey bra, over your cute plush tummy, and over those deliciously soft thighs he adores. His hungry stare is really starting to drive you wild now, and you beg at him to hurry up and finish undressing. Chuckling, he throws his pants to the side as well, now only wearing his tight boxers. He pulls you forward on the counter so you're flush against him. See what you do to me, sweet girl? Hmm? he grinds the very prominent bulge in his boxers against your own damp core, making you gasp. You get me so hard and you haven't even touched me yet, that's the kind of power you have over me.

At his words, you don’t hold back from running your hand all along Max’s well defined chest. Your boyfriend is so much bigger than you and it's incredibly sexy. He towers over you easily with his 6 foot frame, all wide shoulders and swollen biceps and muscled thighs, and you don't hide the hypnotised look in your eyes as you trace from his thick neck down to his slutty waist, desire and desperation coursing through you, replacing any inhibitions you'd had earlier.

He grasps one of your wandering hands in his own, his larger palm easily dwarfing your tiny one and making you bite your lip at the difference in size. His attentive gaze doesn't miss this either, and with a low hmm he brazenly asks if you found it as hot as he did, the fact that you were the perfect size for him to snap into half if he wanted? He knows he's got you right where he wants as your pupils go wide with desire, breath hitching at the thought of your big boyfriend using his strength against you for once.

Then he's pulling apart your pretty little set, lace ripping and a large hand easily wraps around your entire throat, pulling you into a breathless kiss that has you moaning at his skilled tongue. You barely have time to collect yourself when he suddenly lifts you up by the waist, biceps flexing, and your eyes widen as you're lifted impossibly high in the air and find yourself straddling his thick shoulders, his face now at the perfect height to bury his tongue into your dripping pussy right in front of him. Max! you squeal, utterly ruined by his impressive display of strength. You're desperately scrambling for purchase at the cabinets behind you, head banging back against the wall as he relentlessly thrusts his wicked tongue into your puffy folds.

And he only sets you down after you cum obediently all over greedy lips like he demands you to do, then gently carries your shaky form to the bedroom to show you multiple more examples of how you were just made to take him, truly the perfect girl for him, weren't you? You'd been too blissfully fucked out by that point to form a coherent response.

Needless to say, you find yourself caring very little next time strangers had anything to say about the way you looked, thanks to Max's hands on affections (he'd also taken you to therapy like the supportive boyfriend he was, bless him.) He'd quickly formed a personal favourite method to prove to you just how desperate he was for you and how you had the world champion in the palm of your hand, whenever he saw that look flicker into your eyes from time to time. He'd take you back home, make you undress yourself for his hungry gaze, then lift you up into his arms, folding your thighs up against your waist from where he held them. You’d moan as he slid into you, bouncing your whole body onto his hard cock like you were a ragdoll, making you scream his name endlessly as he fucked you mid-air.

And sometimes, when he was feeling particularly possessive, he'd flip you around, pressing your back to his toned chest, as he made you watch with him in the mirror how he obscenely slid in and out of your dripping pussy. Whispering in your ear that see, like he had told you, he had such good taste, don't I, schat? And as you met his heated gaze through the reflective surface, clenching around him when you saw the pure love and raw desire in his eyes, you couldn't help but agree.

---------------------------------------------------------

A/N: guys can you guess I have a thing for boys who are big. Big boys, if you will. Someone just let me sit on Max’s lap goddamn 💸💸 as always lmk what you think and if u have any requests!!

[pseudowho]

You and Kento bustled through the kitchen, and with your arms full of plates, you couldn't resist giving the top of Yuuji's head a nuzzle and a kiss as you passed.

Yuuji smiled at you both, full and warm for the first time in years. You and Kento felt his eyes on you as you weaved past each other, in a practiced after-dinner-clean-up Tango.

"Ah...hey, Nanamin, I-- I've got, uh...I've got a, uhm..."

Kento's interest was piqued. He stopped washing up and, with one raised fine eyebrow, turned to regard Yuuji while he dried the suds off his forearms.

"What is it, Yuuji?"

Yuuji looked awkward. Eventually, he stuttered out through a sheepish grin.

"I've uh...I've got a date tomorrow, so I won't be home for dinner."

A gasp. A smash!clinkclinkclink as you dropped a mug to the floor, and Kento closed his eyes in wounded resignation for the death of his favourite mug. You stepped across him, pressing your palms to the counter, wild-eyed at Yuuji.

"A date?"

"Uh...y-yea--"

"A date date?"

"...I...Nanamin, I'm scared--"

"--she can't hurt you, Yuuji--"

"A date!"

You could barely contain your excitement; Kento huffed, plucking pieces of porcelain from the floor, while you squished Yuuji's cheeks and cooed.

Yuuji barely escaped in one piece that evening before bed, grilled for any piece of information you could get your hands on. Eventually, he escaped, the lock clicking behind him as he shut his bedroom door.

Flopping onto your back into bed beside Kento, with enough force to make his reading glasses bounce on his nose, you sighed with one dramatic arm across your forehead.

"I'm just so happy for him, Kento."

A warm little smile; a folding of the book. "Yeah. Yeah, me too. Did he say who it was?"

"You know, of all the things I asked him, I didn't ask him that."

A chuckle, a hum...a silence. A rustle of pages. A gentle removal of reading glasses, and Kento looked over you with quiet scrutiny, as if your state of undress in a t-shirt and nothing more stirred memories for him.

You blinked up at him, "...what's wrong?"

Kento's nose flared, and he laid down beside you, switching the light off. You could hear him blushing in the dark.

"Do you think Yuuji's a virgin?"

You felt a thud of realisation, and answered, "I...should think he probably is. I...what should we..."

"Don't worry," Kento answered, clipped and looping an arm over your waist, "I can handle that."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Yuuji. If you have a moment, could you come and speak to me, please?"

You felt an alarm bell in your soul. The sun was setting, on the evening of Yuuji's date, but Kento was still fully dressed. He'd even buttoned his suit jacket up and redone his tie. His pocket rustled. You could have sworn you saw a droplet of sweat drip down his temple.

You paused your murder documentary...and watched, for this would surely be more horrifying. Yuuji leaned round the bathroom door, innocently curious, and padded over with his hands in his pockets. He pulled out his phone.

"Ah...y-yeah, I think they'll be here in a minu--"

"Sit down. Please. Yuuji."

You could have sworn Kento left dents in the top of the chair that he grasped. Yuuji sat slowly, wary, looking between you and Kento. From your place on the sofa, you shrugged. Kento spoke.

"You're...a young man now, Yuuji."

"Ah...yeah. I-I guess I am. Thank--"

"--and sometimes young men have...urges."

You wished for death, but would take the entertainment before you expired. Yuuji's blush started at his chin, and climbed slowly upwards, a sun-ripening peach.

"...Nanamin. Please, you-- you don't have to do--"

"--and it's important to understand the difference between lust, and love."

"Oh god, Nanamin, I'm begging you--"

"--and while it's only natural to follow your urges, it's important to do so responsibly--"

"--Mrs.Nanamin, I'm scared--"

"--he can't hurt you, Yuuji--"

Kento pulled the rustling packet from his pocket, and placed it before Yuuji on the table. The room was thick with silence. Yuuji spoke, his voice breaking and his soul sweating.

"...Nanamin, please say that's candy--"

"I've bought you these condoms--"

"--please just let me die, Nanamin--"

"--ribbed, dots, big, small, strawberry I think--"

"--please-- I have to go--"

"--and I only ask that you're sensible and treat your partner with the respect and dignity they deserve--"

"--please treat me with the respect and dignity I deserve and just kill me Nanamin--"

"...and be home by midnight."

Silence. You had held your breath through the whole thing, and held one hand over your mouth. You studiously avoided Yuuji's gaze. Yuuji's mouth puckered, staring up at Nanami, who looked as serious as a car crash.

Yuuji's phone rang. He snatched it up, and made for the door. Kento called after him, mild, "Your condoms, Yuuji--"

"--oh well shit yeah can't forget those, fuck--"

"--language, Yuuji--"

Yuuji stood at the door, considering answering back. He took a single deep breath. He swallowed hard, and stopped himself from scarpering immediately, and turned back to Kento.

"Hey, uh...was that, erm...was that difficult for you, Nanamin?"

"It was the worst thing I've ever done in my life."

"Yeah, it--it felt it, uhm..." Yuuji waggled the bag of condoms with a smirk, pocketing them, "Thanks, dad. Nobara and Megumi are waiting. We'll go for a date, and the other idiot's our chaperone apparently."

As the door clicked closed, Kento released one great heaving breath, and arched back with his hands over his face, releasing an enormous, animalistic groan of agony.

You bubbled over, snickering, and traced one toe up Kento's thigh from behind.

"...oh hey, Mr.Nanami, sir, can you teach me about the birds and the bees--"

"Quiet."

[boowritess]

part 2 lol

so apparently it's really fucking hard to get into the SAS. and ontop of that I've been getting tiktoks of people going around an army base asking why they joined. most responses were to pay off student loans, bills, school, (someone said there's was 6 years of prison or school and *mental note for idea*), the recruiter lied or spoilt them, barracks bunny.

141 (poly?) x notsobaddasssoldier!reader

and now i can't stop thinking of soldier!reader. who really half-assed their way through everything - only doing the job for the money and to pay off student loans + they had nothing better to do.

who somehow ends up being adopted by Price (kinda like Gaz i guess ???) all because reader happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved Price's ass while managing to complete a mission the Task Force were doing.

and it's not that you saved his ass or completed the mission that makes Price go *this is mine* - it's the fact that afterwards all you can say is-

"this shit is so not worth paying off my student loans."

"oh fuck i forgot to cancel my subscription. fuckk- waste of fucking money"

- all the while a building is burning in front of you but yeah just not at all concerned about what had just happened. so price just *grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you up, claiming you as part of his task force now.*

(lol you probably can't do that irl but this is fiction sooo suck my ass.)

and laswell's just like no... they are very much still green john. way too green. no.

but it's too late. he's already introducing you to the task force. singing your praises and you're just like

"man he promised to pay off my student loans and give me food." basically how ur recruiter got ya ass.

enough said. you get the whole off the books speech, saving the world by doing things others wouldn't like. but u couldn't give a rats ass - you should but nah...

and like... you know you're the rookie... you're still green... but some of the shit 141 do you just...

"so you just gonna kidnap the wife AND the child...? right... kid, you wanna watch bluey? here..."

"and you do this often...? crazy."

but you don't exactly protest. how could you with how much you get paid. you kinda just side-eye and look away when it's geta a lil crazy. *bombastic side-eye*

and the other 141 guys - oh my days. become just as enormed as price and want to start really trying to amplify your skills. but every time, they start explaining how to do things - the best way to go about a situation or how to fight a certain way.

you pull this face. like your top lip pulls back, your eyebrows scrunch together, and there's a slight frown on your lips as they speak. like you look confused/disgusted. but you don't even realise cause-

"why're you pulling that face?" 141

"that's... that's just my focusing face..."

"oh..." 141 feels bad

then when they do take you in feild you're shaking your head no. like you haven't been around that long. what the fuck? now you're bout to infiltrate an enemy base!?!?!

"can i just wait in the car?"

"no." price

"i'm gonna vomit."

"aim at the enemy." ghost

people think that because you're suddenly in this badass task force that surely they're just using you for your assets.

they all think you're the 141 barracks bunny. and maybe you should be pissed or annoyed or grossed out. but all you can do is sigh and pause from the burger price got you, and let out a long exhale.

"fuck... maybe i can just do onlyfans or be a pornstar... shit maybe it's not too late..."

"military is bascially sex work - selling my body..."

"not that different from what i'm doing now. body being used, check. body sore in the strangest places, check."

your tone so empty, blank and nonchalant, but there's a serious look in your eyes that when you grab your phone out to maybe do a little research on how you could do that, your phone is snatched from your hand by one of the guys and they walk out the room without a second look back.

with an annoyed huff, you go back to eating your burger. but suddenly, you turn to the person who genuinely thought you were a barracks bunny.

"hey you think if i be a barracks bunny i get out of missions and shit?"

"...that's not how it works..." rando.

"fuck."

and maybe you try...

like you go to price's office and the guys are already in there, chatting about something that you should really pay attention too but you can't be assed. instead you unashamedly start to speak...

"if i suck ya'll dicks can i get out the mission?"

"no. you still have to join." gaz says amused

"even if you-" *que long sigh from price* "even if you suck our dicks."

"that's fucked up. i should've done porn."

and with the most hurt and broken-hearted look on your face, you leave the office, closing the door with a dramatic sigh. the guys just stare at the door in... confusion, amusement, and maybe arousal if ya'll dig that

idk man just gimmie more soldier!reader who just really ain't the fucked, there for money, lowkey hungry and doesn't know what the fuck is happening. kinda a pet or little sibling energy that the 141 love.

bonus*

"wait so they aren't sucking our dicks?" *soap says getting slapped in the back of the head by ghost

a/n: brain is rottinnggg. i should be doing so much other shit but... cod just consumes my brain 24/7

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 with a partner who likes to bite

Okay, anon. I'll be honest. When I read this prompt, I immediately thought of "cute aggression." Not sure if that is what you meant or if you meant something else, but that's what I went with. Kinda. There are some more suggestive undertones in a few of these. I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you so much for sending it in!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, biting, cute aggression, established relationship, teasing, flirting, suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

"Are you teething?” asks John. “Do I need to get you a pacifier?"

John sounds annoyed, but you know that he isn’t. Not really. He happily puts up with your shenanigans.

"Can't help it,” you reply, showing your teeth. “You're too tempting."

The two of you are curled up in bed. He’s trying to read. And you’re trying to annoy him. When John is shirtless and reclined in bed, you have a clear view of his muscles. The temptation is always there, and it’s a pull you can’t resist. The aggression isn’t violent. It’s just overwhelming.

Clearly not liking your answer, John grunts. He tosses his book aside, uncaring of losing his place. One moment you’re next to him, and the next you’re fully on your back, trapped beneath his weight.

Giggling, you playfully shove at him, but there is no intention to escape from him. It’s not like you could break out of his grasp if you tried. He is warm and taut. A weighted blanket. This is what you wanted all along. To be beneath him.

"Stop."

He nips at your throat.

"Fucking."

Then he nips at your shoulder.

"Biting."

Finally, John nips at your upper arm.

"Me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"Someone's going to think you're abusing me."

You grimace, even though Kyle’s tone is teasing and not at all upset. His arm and neck are peppered with small teeth marks. Most of them look like random little indents in the skin while others appear to be in the beginnings of bruising.

“I might have used excessive force,” you murmur, thumbing one of the marks.

Sometimes you can’t help yourself. The need to do it is overwhelming. Most times, you shake it off.

Kyle grins. “I like them. They’re little reminders.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? Reminders of what?”

Kyle leans in, hand sliding up your back to grasp the nape of your neck. Pulling you close, Kyle lowers his voice. It’s all sultry smoothness.

"Of how many times I can make you come,” he coos.

“Kyle!�� You lightly smack his chest, face heating as his gaze softens.

He shrugs. “You also just like to bite me.”

“Can’t help it,” you mutter.

“You’re like one of those small dogs,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t you dare,” you scold.

“Adorable. Sweet at first glance.”

“Kyle.”

“Mean bite.”

“I swear to God, Kyle.”

“A—”

You place your hand over his mouth.

John "Soap" MacTavish

With Johnny as your bed, you spread yourself over him, head resting against his right pectoral. A rugby game is on. Johnny’s completely focused on the television as the two teams move about the field like small insects.

Johnny’s large, muscled arms are draped over your back, but his left bicep is dangerously close to your face. Every vein is pronounced. Tempting. You want to trace them with your tongue.

A naughty little urge creeps in. Makes itself known. Slithers around your brain to whisper that you should.

What’s one little bite?

It won’t hurt.

Like an itch that needs to be scratched, you lean forward, lightly chomping down on Johnny’s arm. The urge settles, the neurons in your brain content and happy.

Startled, Johnny jerks. Then, he laughs, arms tightening around you.

One second, you’re in full cuteness aggression. The next, Johnny is rolling you over, trapping you beneath him against the couch. Instead of you biting him, it’s Johnny biting you.

You shriek playfully, but he continues to nibble.

“Let me go,” you laugh. Smacking at him does nothing.

“You little goblin,” he mutters, dragging you off the couch and hauling you toward the bedroom, rugby match forgotten.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon wears only a thin, black shirt, leaving his arms bare. Your mouth waters at the sight of the protruding veins and taut muscles. The urge to touch and taste is overwhelming. It burns bright and hot beneath your skin.

"What are you looking at?" asks Simon without looking away from the menu board on the far wall.

“Nothing,” you reply instantly, glancing away like you weren’t thinking about his muscles.

A few seconds pass, and then you slip an arm between his, clinging to Simon. He doesn’t react. The menu board has his full attention. Simon is more worried about filling his stomach.

Turning your face into his arm, the urge to bite down—to unleash the aggression—wells inside you like a tsunami. At first, you resist, reminding yourself that you are in public and this behavior is inappropriate.

But you lose.

Your mouth starts to open, teeth poised to lightly bite.

“My arm isn’t a chew toy,” says Simon out of the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't bite," you mutter.

Simon slips his arm out of your grasp and then drapes it over your shoulders.

He leans in close. "You can bite me all over later."

taglist:

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@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@umno-yeah @daemondoll @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez

@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere soldier with Stockholm syndrome

Part Two of Yandere Soldier

Yandere Soldier - Stockholm Syndrome

Yandere! Solider who can't get you to talk to him. You'll sit curled in the corner of the bed, resolutely looking anywhere but at him.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you books, flowers, even old picture albums he finds stashed at the bottom of your cupboard. And still nothing but silence.

Yandere! Soldier who's beginning to think nothing will ever break it. That he's stilled that vicious tongue of yours forever. Who hates himself for what he's done, but what choice did he have? Yes, he's taken you from your home and family and all that was familiar. But was an interrogation room really the better option?

Yandere! Soldier who comes home with a nasty cut all across his arm. Some dumb kid got smart and slashed him when his back was turned and now he's forced into recovery leave for a week.

At first, you just watch him struggle to change his bandages. But something about his injury, this reminder of mortality, sticks with you. You pluck the roll of bandages straight out of his hand and wrap his injury for him.

Yandere! Soldier who stays frozen while you work, terrified of frightening you away. Who basks in the intimacy of it - your bowed head, the delicate smell of your perfume, the pulse fluttering at your throat.

Yandere! Soldier who has to swallow and breathe before he can find his voice again.

Спасибо

Thank you.

You shrug and let go of his arm. Yandere! Soldier who hates to loose your touch. Who wants to pull you back and force you to cradle his face in your palms. But he doesn't want to ruin this tiny bit of progress.

Yandere! Soldier who fills the silence with his stories. Who tells you about his training, his childhood, the places he's been deployed to and how happy he was to leave them. Who teaches you words in his native language, even if you don't bother repeating them.

Yandere! Soldier who comes home exhausted and aching, who sprawls on the bed with a groan and instinctively reaches for you.

Yandere! Soldier who has to bite back a yelp of surprise when he feels your climb onto his back and straddle his waist. You slowly knead at his muscles, massaging away all the knots and tension and lingering aches.

Yandere! Soldier who has to stifle a moan because it feels so damn good.

Yandere! Soldier who finds you waiting at the door the next morning, still as quiet as a monk. He's immediately suspicious. Are you going to make a run for it? Instead you stand on your tip toes and press a quick, uncertain kiss to his cheek.

Yandere! Soldier who keeps touching the place you kissed him, even when it's hidden under his mask.

Yandere! Soldier who cooks you dinner most nights, even if he's dog tired, even if all you do is push it around your plate.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you news of the city and the war effort. The resistance is faltering, it's leaders hunted and put down like dogs. Part of him hopes the news will make you more pliant. Why fight the inevitable?

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't like the way your eyes get hard when he talks about the resistance, the way you clench your jaw and look away from him.

You mutter something and it takes him a moment to decipher it.

"I should be out there with them."

Yandere! Soldier who tries and fails to contain his anger. Who grabs your jaw and pulls you up to face him.

"If you were out there, you'd be dead. Can't you be thankful?"

You're quiet again after that and he stops bringing it up.

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't leave anything sharp around the apartment, but is still surprised when you ask him to trim your hair. He sits on the bed with you between his knees, carefully filtering the hair through his fingers. You're so close to him - willingly - that it makes him feel almost lightheaded.

Yandere! Soldier who carefully dusts the cuttings off you and is secretly pleased when you don't flinch away.

Yandere! Soldier who isn't sure how to react when you start greeting him at the door. At first he watches you warily, expecting you to bolt the second you can. But for some reason you don't and a part of him insists that you're starting to like it here.

Yandere! Soldier who exercises every evening, his shirt off and his black fatigues slung low on his hips. He likes it when you watch him and he'll usually throw in a few extra push-ups just to impress you. He complains that he doesn't have enough weight around for his workouts and you take to draping yourself across his back when he needs it.

Yandere! Soldier who finds himself craving you, even with your cold silence. Who is constantly aware of you around the apartment and has to force himself to look away.

Yandere! Soldier who turns off all the electricity in the dead of winter and claims it was damaged in the fighting. It's icy cold in old buildings like this and it doesn't take long for it to wear you down. Soon you're curled up against him, glaring at him to keep his hands to himself.

And he does, for the most part.

Yandere! Soldier who wakes up to you sobbing, your face pressed into his chest. He tries to soothe you, but you flinch away. You whisper between the sobs, sounding afraid and hateful and needy all at once.

"I love you..."

Yandere! Soldier who instantly understands what's happened. He's spent the better part of his life in war zones afterall, and it's more common than you'd think. Yandere! Soldier who secretly hoped for this outcome all along.

Yandere! Soldier who soothes you as best he can, stroking your hair until your sobs turn to whimpers. He presses his lips to your forehead and tells you to relax, that this was bound to happen, that's it's not your fault.

Yandere! Soldier who holds you in his scarred arms and knows that he's finally caught you, body and soul. Who says the words you long for but dread hearing.

я тоже тебя люблю

"I love you too."

[lomlhwa]

bite me (l.hs)

pairing: vampire bf!heeseung x human gf!reader

preview: heeseung loves to scare you. so tonight, you've agreed to a sick game of hide and seek. better pray he can't smell you.

tags/warnings: fem reader, lots of biting, blood drinking, marking, kinda cnc, edging, chasing through the woods, "if i catch you, i fuck you" type shit, pet names (whore, slut, cockslut, baby), impact play, monster cock heeseung, heeseung is MEAN, degrading, color system, masochism, fingering, kinda public sex but it's late at night in a forest, fear play, kinda predator/prey, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, sweet aftercare

trigger warnings: kinda cnc

wc: 2.2k

song recs for this fic: bite me by enhypen

a/n: little late from halloween to be posting a vamp fic but here we are

you open your front door, finding that your house is pitch black and empty. you feel around for the light next to the door and flip the switch. you’re met with a sticky note stuck to the banister of the stairs. you walk over and pick it up. ‘hide. if i find you, you’re fucking mine.’ cold sweat drips down your forehead. you love when heeseung plays this game. you crumple up the note and book it. you head for the bathroom just as you hear the front door open, indicating that your hunter is here. 

you scramble to try and find a hiding spot, opting to jump in the bathtub and shut the curtain. you plop yourself down in one end of the tub and put your hand over your mouth to stifle how hard you’re breathing. you hear heeseung climb his way up the stairs, humming to himself. “where are you, my pretty whore?” he says in a sing-songy voice. “i know your pussy is dripping for me right now.” you clench your thighs together, hating how well he knows your body. you can hear him wander into your shared bedroom, clicking his tongue when he doesn’t find you in there. 

you hear him walk towards the bathroom and stop in the doorway. “i know your pretty cunt can’t wait to be filled, isn’t that right…” he trails off as he walks over to the bathtub and throws the curtain open. “gotcha.” his eyes flash bright red and you can’t help but scream. you’re frozen for a moment before you clamber out of the tub. you manage to sprint past heeseung, down the stairs and out the front door. you head for the forest behind your house, despite it being late at night. you look over your shoulder and spot heeseung walking very confidently after you. you swerve and try to get yourself out of his line of sight. 

you take a corner too fast and catch your foot on a branch. you come crashing down to the ground, catching yourself on your elbows. the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through you pushes you to get up and walk it off. you run for a while more until your legs and lungs are positively aching. you come across a fairly large tree and decide to hide behind it to catch your breath. you peek around the tree and can’t spot heeseung, so you start to relax. 

that is until a hand wraps around your neck and slams your back against the tree, knocking the wind out of you. “you fucking thought you could outrun me?” you wrap your hands around his wrist and do your best to shake your head. your eyes fill with pure fear as he bares his fangs at you. you dig your nails into the skin of his wrist, desperate to get him to release you. “color?” he asks, loosening his grip on your throat. “g-green,” you respond, gasping for air while you can. with this confirmation, he tightens his grip once again, lifting you up and dropping you to the forest floor. 

he gets on his knees at your feet, grabbing your ankles and forcing your legs open. he’s quick to slot himself between your legs, right at your core. he traps your head between his arms, slamming his palms down onto the ground by your head. “i didn’t expect you to run out of the house, baby. i guess you just really wanted everyone to listen to me fuck you, huh?” he taunts you, grinding his hips against you, earning him a whimper from you. “get off me,” you demand, trying to roll away. he catches you, shaking his head. “the little brat doesn’t know when to give up, does she?” he grabs your wrists with his hands and pins you down. his irises flash bright red again as he leans down to connect his fangs with your throat. you cry out, kicking your legs to try and escape his hold on you.

he lets your hands go and trails them down your body. he finds your skirt and flips it up, grabbing at the waistband of your underwear and tugging them off you. he discards them somewhere in the woods before connecting his fingers to your cunt. he circles your clit as he begins sucking on your neck, relishing in the iron taste of your blood. the mix of pain and pleasure has your mind spinning, your whole body trembling. “h-heeseung,” you croak, pushing at his head to try and get him to stop draining you. “y-yellow,” you add and he immediately pulls his teeth away. 

you cough and wipe the extra blood away from your neck as heeseung inserts a finger into your hole. your back arches at his attempt to distract you from the pulsing pain in your neck. you look up at him, his face illuminated in the moonlight. his mouth is covered in your blood and he can’t help but smile at you. “you’re always so fucking delicious, slut.” he emphasizes his words by adding another finger and prodding at the spot where you need him most. your back arches off the ground, a strangled moan leaving your throat. heeseung forces your shirt up and over your breasts, his free hand coming up to pinch at your sensitive nipples. “i think you need a punishment for being so fucking disobedient,” he feigns pity, raising his hand and landing a hard slap to your face. “answer me,” he demands. “yes, i d-deserve a punishment,” you answer. 

he lands hard smacks across your torso, leaving bright red and pink handprints all over you. he thrusts and wiggles his fingers around inside you, the pleasure between your legs growing. you reach up and dig your nails into his shoulders, your mouth falling open in a silent cry. “c-close, heeseung,” you mutter, the chord in your stomach tightening. a sinister look spreads over his face as he gets you closer and closer, before pulling his fingers out of you completely. “you really think dirty, disobedient whores deserve to cum? let alone without asking?” he removes himself from between your legs, flipping your skirt back down. “run some more, i like hunting my prey. and if you wanna cum, beg me to fuck you while you run,” he stands up, gesturing to the expanse of the forest. 

you’re quick to get to your feet and run, your speed significantly diminished. overcome by heightened emotions, you begin to cry. “seung, please,” you cry out, ducking and dodging branches. “please fuck me, i’ll behave!” you scream, wiping your eyes of their tears. you pause and look around, finding that heeseung is nowhere near you. “heeseung! please!” you take off running again, having no idea where you are or where you’re going. you’re overwhelmed and scared in the thickly wooded forest. you’re crying so hard your chest hurts and you can barely see. you collapse to the ground, holding your head in your hands.

“heeseung stop hiding, i know you’re out there,” you mumble, wiping your eyes for what feels like the millionth time. you know that if you say the word, he’ll put an end to the game. but under all your very real terror, you still want him to fuck you. you feel a presence behind you and you turn your head to find your boyfriend towering over you. “is my prey sacrificing herself to her predator?” he asks, crouching down and examining your face. you nod, pouting at him. you no longer had the energy to run from him. 

he grabs you by the hair on the back of your head and forces your neck to bend at a weird angle. “tell me you want me to fuck you. beg for my cock like a good whore,” he demands of you, despite having you run and beg just moments prior. with the angle your head is bent at, you have the perfect view of how hard his cock is straining against his pants. you've never made him this hard before. “heeseung please, i need you to fuck me. i’ve done everything you’ve asked of me,” you sob, your whole body aching. he almost takes pity on you for a moment before returning to his mean headspace. “good girl, lay down on your back,” he gestures to the ground with his eyes. you’re quick to follow orders, wanting to be on your absolute best behavior from here on out. 

you dig out a couple of sticks from under your spine before fully settling onto the forest floor. heeseung is quick to get between your legs, the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against your exposed clit. you gasp, throwing your head back. heeseung reaches down between you to undo his pants. he doesn’t bother removing them all the way, opting to slide his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh, just enough to let his pink and swollen cock free. he drags the tip of his cock up and down your slit, gathering your arousal to make getting inside you easier. he leans down to kiss you, his tongue swirling with yours. he nips at your bottom lip as he sheathes himself into you. your body shudders, the relief of finally being filled sends a new wave of desire through you.

heeseung wastes no time in drawing his hips back and slamming into you. his tip slams into the gummy spot deep inside you, making you see stars. you can tell that despite his demeanor, he wants you just as bad as you want him. he groans against your mouth, your pussy clenching around him in the most delicious way. you suck him in perfectly, your cunt begging for more. “what a slut. d-desperate for cock even deep in the forest. fucking pathetic,” heeseung can’t help but let out a sinister chuckle at the way you clench with the way he talks to you. “just so cock drunk and i’ve barely done anything.” heeseung fucks into you with so much force that your whole body is jerking on the floor. your back arches and you dig your head into the forest floor. you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the pleasure. this displeases heeseung and his grips your face with one of his hands. “open your eyes and fucking look at me. i wanna see how fucking good i make you feel,” he demands and your eyelids flutter open.

you hold eye contact with heeseung as he loses himself in the sensation of your soaked heat. you breathe heavily as you feel your orgasm approaching, your body becoming desperate for release. “seungie…” you whine, gripping his forearm and digging your nails into his soft skin. you wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him as close to you as possible. “f-fuck baby, if you do that i won’t be able to pull out,” he whines, his own orgasm approaching him swiftly. “d-don’t pull out, give me cum,” you blabber, your thoughts getting fuzzier by the second. “please let me cum,” you beg, your eyes welling with tears. you move your hands from his forearms to wrap around his neck and pull his lips to yours. “cum for me, baby,” he says between kisses. he thrusts into you at the perfect rhythm, drawing you closer and closer to your orgasm until you’re twitching uncontrollably. “oh fuck-” he stutters as he releases into you soon after. his hips stutter as he rides out his orgasm, relishing in the way your walls milk him dry.

he stops moving and for a moment just remains inside you, catching his breath. he admires your tear stained face in the moonlight, finding you the most beautiful in moments like these. he pulls out of your slowly, a small whimper erupting from you at the emptiness. heeseung pulls his pants back up and scoops you into his arms. he carries you all the way back to your house, all the way up to your bathroom where he had found you just a while ago. he places you on the counter before turning around to run a hot shower for the two of you. as the water heats up, he helps you out of your clothes before removing his own. he lifts you again and holds you up under the warm water. you hum at the comforting warmth of his body heat mixed with the water. “hi baby,” he finally speaks, tucking your hair behind your ear. “hi seungie,” you respond, looking up at him with a giddy look. “i love you,” he adds, a stupid smile spreading across his face. “i love you too,” you rise to your tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. 

“you’re so pretty. you’re perfect and i wouldn’t trade you for the world. you know that, right?” he stares at you as you nod. “i know.” heeseung spins you around and lathers shampoo in your hair, aiming to remove the leaves and sticks that remained in your hair. “did you have fun?” he asks after rinsing your hair carefully. you nod, smiling. “i was genuinely scared at some points but honestly i think it made it more fun,” you giggle. heeseung sighs in relief. “well, i’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” he embraces you tightly, wanting as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. he takes you out of the shower, drying you off and running to your room to get some comfy pajamas. 

he holds you tightly as you settle into bed together, whispering sweet nothings about how much he loves you and how he would never want to actually hurt you. his soft, honey voice slowly lulls you to sleep, your muscles finally relaxing for the first time since before you got home. 

© lomlhwa 2024

[shotmrmiller]

since Simon isn't one to celebrate much, whether it's a holiday or his own birth, it comes as a complete surprise that one day, he's lugging in a stuffed teddy bear the same height as him through the front door.

did you forget your anniversary? no, that was last month. you dog-ear the page of your book, paper folding neatly beneath your fingers before setting it down on the foot table. oh no. what did he do?

"nothin'," he scoffs, "can't bring my girl nothin' nice every once in a while?"

no, actually, he can't. this looks like a 6-foot apology. you ought to keep an eye on the news tonight, in case that young man from the cafe down the street coincidentally ends up missing after asking for your number in the presence of simon last weekend.

"well it isn't. i can take it back if ya like." the rich, chocolate brown fur feels incredibly soft as you thread your fingers through it.

"no, no. thank you for the oversized bear, i'll be sure to throw out the mattress so we can make it fit in the bedroom." you're no big fan of plushies, but you're no ingrate and if he thought of you when he saw this beast well, then you'll just have to accept it.

it sits in a corner of the room after that, beady eyes pointed your way even when you're on all fours with your sweat-slick face pushed into the bedsheets as Simon pistons into you from behind, or when he stuffs his fingers into your sleepy cunt before he goes to work in the morning.

(maybe it's his exhibitionist kink raging full force. who knows.)

until he decides to bring it into play when your mind is fuzzy from the glasses of wine you had for dinner that night. Simon, with your express permission, ties you up with a sturdy, coarse rope, the kind that feels like you've got tiny little claws digging into your calves and wrists when you try to move. he ties face down, legs and arms to the bear's, cheek flat on its chest, the bow on its neck sitting prettily at the crown of your head.

a doll, he says, roughened palms smoothing over the expanse of your bare skin, raising gooseflesh when he glides a hand along your folds, tip of his finger catching on your clit. lookin' pretty as a peach.

he takes you as if he's trying to fuck you right through the bear, the bed, the fucking floor and you're left to muffle your own cries on the stuffed animal itself, occasionally coming up for air when Simon claims a fistful of hair, breath warming the side of your throat.

you come the first time when he pushes a thumb against the furl of your arse, tight ring of muscle burning with the threat of him sinking into it.

(you stopped counting after the third climax, quietly cursing yourself for bagging a military man who's been so deprived of pussy he keeps fucking you even after his own orgasm.)

when you move it to clean up one day and leave it facing whichever way, by night it's facing the bed again.

definitely an exhibitionist kink.

you'll just ask him nicely to face him another way, the eerie red glow you sometimes catch in its eyes are starting to creep you out.

[iceunhie]

— phaethetically in love !

premise. belle thinks her brother is the most oblivious person in sixth street. the reason? one: because his (super obvious) crush on you is practically the worst kept secret in new eridu, and two: because he can't even see that said crush is reciprocated! good thing he has one (1) amazing, wonderful, nosy sister to help him out, yeah?

or, belle thinks the two of you are a prime example of an s tier romance movie; and she really wants to skip to the final arc already.

pairing. wise x gn!reader.

warnings: kinda ooc wise (i just started the game), wise is a loser (lovingly), belle is an instigator (proudly), comedy, facepalm moments.

a/n: for @vxnuslogy and @milksnake-tea bc yes wise kissers yes

MY (rlly cool btw 🥺) MASTERLIST || INBOX !

“you're in love with [name], aren't you?”

like all siblings in the world—or what's left of it, belle schemes.

(against wise, of course. obviously.)

her brother bursts into a mess immediately, nearly spilling his cup ramen all over his new shirt, chopsticks sticking out. laughing nervously. general chop would not be proud. “who told you that? i mean— haha, who said that, belle?”

his sister rolls her eyes. “me, myself. i.” she emphasizes, leaning her elbows against the table and putting her palms together; the grin she wears right now is so serene, but not in the angelic, nice way. belle smiles and wise finally thinks, oh. my sister may need to book herself to the closest self-help guru in new eridu.

“i have reason to believe that you, my dearest brother, are in love with [name].”

her voice goes up an octave at the last bit, leading wise to stuff her mouth with potato chips. already, heads have turned. “mff.”

“keep your voice down! and stop broadcasting it to everyone here-”

“what, i am right, aren't i? they clearly like you back, so why haven't you confessed yet?”

“keep. your. voice. down.” wise says, and belle's shit eating grin only widens as she sees her brother's ears tinged with pink. “and... how did you even know that?” he asks, mortified.

“well, one: because it's obvious—like, have you seen how obvious you are?” belle huffs, taking a bite of the potato chip with force (personal grudges are involved). “and two, because they like you back, dummy!”

because when belle sees the two of you together, it's like wise focuses on no one else. you are the center of his world—and he is just being pulled to bask in your light. his eyes soften like they melt only for you, and wise looks like all he is is, all he wants to be, is to belong with you.

(and, wise likes to stare at you for ungodly amounts of time. belle even caught him staring when you were petting a cat by the street and decided to name the stray ‘wise’; courtesy of him, apparently. the cat literally just had grey fur.

“wise.”

“hm?”

“you're practically spawning heart eyes now.”)

it's sickening. (in a oh my god my brother is in love kind of way, mind you.)

“so!” belle says, a devilish sparkle in her eyes. “allow your dearest sister to help you out, 'kay?”

wise nearly coughs up blood.

“what?!”

so at present, belle compiles her (hastily written) list of romantic moments you and wise have shared. she's not surprised—the number can be counted on one hand. diabolical, disappointing, world-ending! she resists the urge to cough up blood.

first, a coff cafe date with tin man's help: a fail. tin man's wingman capabilities were very superb, but she never heard the end of it when wise was lecturing her about how tin man kept sending over heart shaped desserts and little fortune cookies. the fortune cookies in question which said ‘you can do it!’ and a latte with art of caricature tin man making a heart. (you were very confused). belle thought it was motivating. wise thought it was mortifying.

next, even instilling help from fairy to calculate statistics about what event would you two be likely to be together. fairy said, and belle quotes: “probably never. that kind of pining's for the long run, with the other master's current experience. give it a year or six, master.”

so, she's currently face-palming.

did her brother really have zero game? why were the two of you just dancing around each other?! she's tried everything—from letting you two spend more time with each other in commissions, her inviting you over more to leave you to chat with her brother, and even the entirety of sixth street has lent their aid! how were you two not dating yet?!

“didn't they go on an arcade date at random play yesterday?” belle mutters. “that should've increased your progress by a long mile, bro! even general chop said you two were really, really close in the noodle shop....”

just what was she going to do now? at this rate, her brother would be relationshipless in no time! in fairy's words again, it would be phaethetic. and that would be a phaethal blow on her pride.

“...master, i said no such thing.”

“well, now you did.”

“The Ethereal Reckoning,” there's a pep in your step, the boxes full of movie DVDs in your arms as you walk back to the movie store. it was heavy, but at least you got to walk with the grey-haired proxy beside you. “That movie was great! Thanks for recommending it to me.”

Sporting a dopey, lovesick grin in response, wise nods at that, content to listen to your voice. it was actually belle's idea to let you lend movies you like over so the two of you could talk about it back and forth. wise would need to (begrudgingly) treat her to a bowl of ramen later on.... she saved him—he probably wouldn't even be talking to you for this long at this point, let alone hang out with you without her. for someone so nosy, he guesses his sister was a pretty good wingwoman.

“the main character was pretty similar to billy, you know?” you ramble on as wise listens. “i mean, because they were an android too, and...”

he finds that he's content to listen to anything you say, really. (right now he doesn't really know what you're saying, something about a horror ethereal movie, but you could just tell him anything and he would listen).

“i feel like the heroine's death was unnecessary, though.” you sigh, “too much tension just for it to end like that? how anticlimactic.”

your voice was so nice, so warm and easy to listen to, and wise can't even say anything to retort, simply staring with a growing (lovesick) smile on his face. talking to people was hard work, and talking to you? it might just make him combust.

“...ise? wise?”

“ah, huh?” he snaps out of his trance, only to find you mere inches away from his face, the only thing keeping you apart the boxes full of movies he's carrying. “...!”

“are you listening?” you furrow, and someone really might be out to get him right now because in that moment, wise flinches from the proximity, bumping into you.

then, because the universe thinks his life couldn't get more dramatic than it already was—you stagger, about to fall forward.

he moves before he thinks. “watch out!”

and wise.... practically astral-projects to another plane when he feels you fall into his arms, his hands on your waist. he can feel the warmth of your skin on his, the flustered look on your face. (he feels like he's going to die).

the two of you lock eyes for a moment, and wise feels like he's about to so something very stupid and his hands are still on your waist—

“....”

“.....”

someone save him.

“ah...”

“sorry!” you recover first, hurriedly letting yourself pull away from him (much to his disappointment). “i wasn't looking, and i- are you okay, wise?”

“no, no, it's fine.... i-i'm fine....” he hopes his voice isn't as small as it is, he couldn't be smooth to save his life; and wise helps you gather your bearings, his hands brushing against yours, blood rushing to his ears. sheepishly rubbing at his nape. “sorry, i was distracted.”

perhaps in the mood to lift the atmosphere, you sputter out, “no worries! it's fine! besides, you listened to me all this time.... i really enjoyed the movie, really.”

“of course i'll listen.” and before wise can think to stop his traitor of a mouth, the words spill out of his lips like it always wanted to be.

“you're worth paying attention to.”

it's automatic—your face heats up, warming like the sun on a hot day in new eridu, and god, he is such an idiot-

“you think so?” wise gulps. you looked bashful, and were way too adorable right now, and his face felt like it was on fire.... wait, that's not the point! he has to answer you, at least. this is a chance to make progress!

“y-yeah. definitely. i enjoyed... watching the movie with you.” he says. did his voice just crack just now? “we can hang out more often too, even without belle.”

he feels bad for throwing his sister under the bus like that, but—wait, did he just ask you out on a date? (accidentally)

well, it didn't matter because wise feels like he won the lottery right now, because you brighten up immediately. “really?”

then you cough and compose yourself. “i mean, sure! i'm sure it'll be fun, haha...”

awkward silence ensues. uh oh, did he say something wrong? was he too forward? he wants to say something, but something is lodged in his throat, and wise can't bring up a response. (his heart was beating like crazy right now, though).

“uh...”

“....”

then, something soft brushes against the side of his cheek. as fast as it was felt, wise felt the sensation leave just as easily. did you just-?

you just kissed him. on the cheek.

“thanks for hanging out with me, wise.”

“you're welcome- wha- huh?!” he nearly drops the stack of dvd's he was holding. you pull away, an enigmatic smile on your face. face flushed.

before he can even respond, the two of you finally arrive at the movie store. damn it, gods of the world. why did his luck run out now?

“i guess this is your stop.” he blinks, your voice coming back to him. “and, wise?”

“ah, uh, yeah?”

“it's a date, then?” your eyes sparkle and shine a light through his heart. super effective!

is this really happening? is he really going on a date with you—oh, he's so thrilled he could actually burst into song and kick his feet, but belle would tease him ruthlessly after. nosy sisters were so much work....

“yes!” he almost yells it out, but because he didn't want to look uncool in front of you, wise composes himself. play it cool, play it cool. don't mess up this chance! “yes, definitely. it's... it's a date.”

you put down the other stack of dvd's down the table, flashing him a dizzying, lovely smile smile. wise swears he falls even harder for you.

“then it's a date.”

BONUS.

“seriously?! you're going on a date with them?!” belle shouts, so unceremoniously that wise slaps a hand on her mouth.

“not so loud! but, yeah.” he says, face heating up. “your plan worked, sis.”

“yes! yes! finally!” his sister practically cheers, “i can finally be free of your sickening heart eyes... and finally, our street's most anticipated couple is here!”

wise can't help but sigh in fond exasperation. he guesses he'll let her have this one today.

“also, belle?”

“what?”

“you didn't tell anyone about this, did you?”

...

“uhh....”

(on the day of the date, wise receives an abnormal amount of good luck posters. he also gets a disturbing amount of thumbs up from the neighbors.

the last straw? tin man, giving him a baked cake with the words ‘rooting for you!’ covered in pink heart sprinkles.

he facepalms. belle...!)

a/n: d d do you guys get it..... phaethetically...... phaethon..... wise is phaethon and he's awkward in love lol hahahahaha (💀)

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[incognit0slut]

The Last Laugh

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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

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

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

"I'M NOT SLEEPING WITH REID."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Should I help you jog your memory back?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We could share the bed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Beg me."

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

"Beg me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"W-What are you doing?"

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

"Taking matters into my own hands."

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

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

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

"But I can satisfy myself just fine."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Spencer," she moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Inside."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well that was—"

She quickly nodded beside him. "Yeah."

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

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

"Where are you going?"

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

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

"I feel sticky too."

"Spencer."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that she was complaining.

.

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

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[evieelyzabethh]

I'd DIE for more arcane collage au.

thinking thoughts of collegeau!Jayce who is too big for his own good. His huge thighs are barely contained by the lecture hall chair, a problem made even worse by his instinctual habit to manspread. He already sits impossibly close in class, damn near on top of you in the back of the classroom where he sits so his height can't be a problem for those behind him. His size is a problem everywhere. He hates sitting in big, old lecture halls, so old that the desks are barely big enough to accommodate a single notebook and writing utensil and the seats are closed in, forcing him to sit with his legs crossed at the ankles and arms pressed into his sides.

collegeau!Jayce who takes advantage of classes who don't have a strict attendance policy. He tells himself that it's not skipping if he's using the time to get coursework done for other classes, which is how it usually starts, him sitting at his desk with his laptop open and you sat on his bed reading some book for your class. And then he gets antsy. His leg starts bouncing, he gets stuck on the same paragraph for five minutes, his eyes drifting from line to line, from you back to his laptop, until he sits with his head resting on his palm staring at you.

"Babe", he calls out, to which you hum in response, still focused on the studying you both agreed to be doing. "I can't focus." You roll your eyes. You should've known better. Not only is Jayce is physically big, he's also a big liar, which is exactly how you end up riding his cock as he babbles into your neck. What was supposed to be a little make-out session, which even that had to be argued for, evolved the second his hands tugged at your his shirt and his dexterous fingers unbutton your jeans, and you couldn't find it in yourself to tell him no.

"Just the tip", he bargains, snapping you out of your slight trance. "N-No, Jayce. You said you were going to study." He groans, rutting into your clothed pussy, a wet spot already forming in his boxers the longer he put off the inevitable. "I'll study later. Need you - fuck - now. Please" And you underestimate your resolve, feeling it steadily slip the more his hips buck into you and his groans get louder as his tip gets stickier and his cock gets harder. "F-Fine", you whisper out breathlessly, but he was so eager to hear those words from your pretty lips it was deafening.

He makes quick work freeing his dick, the head red and angry at having to wait so long, but at least it is just the tip...at first. His eyes glaze over, and his jaw goes slack, looking up at the smooth ceiling because he knows if he looks down at you, seeing the way your face scrunches up, how your pussy swallows him up, he'd ending up pounding into you until he bruises you from the inside out. But the way you feel around him, wet, and warm, and goey, and gods he doesn't even realize he's pushing in further until your hands scratch at his stuttering hips and your breath hitches. He's gone as soon as your open your mouth, saying nothing but pretty whimpers of his name. collegeau! Jayce who's just so big he splits you open before he even bottoms out but he's just so sweet about it.

Hips stopping as soon as his cock hits your cervix, he at least tries to slow down, cooing out saccharine apologies. He just can't help it. And he leans down to place wet apology kisses in between the valley of your breasts, along your collarbones, his thumbs wiping the hot tears that bubbled from your eyes before kissing your eyelids and your lips until your breath even outs and the intrusion of him in your guts feels less heavy. The pervert in him likes to rest his hand on your tummy for the still moment, it sets off something in his brain being able to see the imprint of his dick in you. And when he presses down you clench against him, causing him to hiss, but he's determined not to move. If it can't be just the tip, at least you can cockwarm him for the time being. He certainly doesn't deserve a reward, but who's to say it can't be your reward for being such a pretty studious girlfriend.

it's not even five minutes before he's ramming into you and painting your guts white

[hairmetal666]

It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.

He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.

Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.

"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.

it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.

And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.

"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.

"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"

"Eddie?" Dustin asks.

"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.

"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"

They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.

"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."

"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't answering your walkie!"

"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.

Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.

"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"

"Mom and I were looking for you!"

"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.

"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.

"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."

"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."

He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.

---

A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."

"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."

"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"

Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."

Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.

"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"

"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.

He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.

---

Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"

"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"

"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.

"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"

Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"

"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.

Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."

The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"

He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"

"He started it!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"

"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"

She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."

He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."

"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."

---

It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.

It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.

With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.

"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.

"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.

Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.

"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."

"But--why?"

"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.

"What?" He laughs.

"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."

"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"

"You wanted me to come?"

"Dustin didn't..."

"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."

"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."

"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.

"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.

"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."

"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.

"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"

"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.

"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.

"So Dustin said."

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Too bad. He's a nice kid."

"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."

"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"

"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."

The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.

[pseudowho]

"Good girl-- good girl, that's it! Listen to your body."

A bag full of snacks, and books, and massage oils, all woefully surplus to requirements, flung to the side of the room. The dappled reflection of under-lit water on the dark ceiling. A stack of warm towels. A tiny woollen hat. A little trolley of equipment; a calm attendant wearing smiles and blue.

Kento, knelt at the edge of the pool, his shirtsleeves soaked to the shoulder. One thick arm looped around your neck and chest as if he meant to throttle you, when really, he just needed to be held. Or, did you need to be held? The paired clinging comfort to be found in the gloom of fear, was not mutually exclusive, it seemed.

"Amazing work...you're doing so well, sweetheart...just going to listen to the baby's heart..."

Your heart and Kento's pounded in tandem, almost as fast as the little pwssh-pwssh-pwssh-pwssh of your baby's heart, tinny on the Doppler, as the midwife's hand swished through the water. Kento whispered to you, his cheek clasped to your temple, sweatslick hair sticking you together.

"Our baby-- that's our baby-- god I love you, I love you so much, I'm so sorry, I wish I could do this for you--"

You gasped, splashing legs clamouring for resistance against the edge of the pool, writhing back against Kento. Kento's face crumpled, his teeth gritting so hard against your agony, they crunched.

You bellowed, another contraction roaring through you like wildfire, and you gripped Kento's arm. Your scream became a roar as you pushed, absurdly, overwhelmingly dragged from your body by a brutal force of nature. You barely heard Kento's hushed rumble, through the haze of blinding pain.

"...can do it, you can do it, you're so strong-- not long now-- nearly here, they're nearly here, our baby--"

You gasped again, seeing stars for a moment, surely being cleaved in half and you panicked, crying out and digging your nails in. Kento didn't care, surely deserving this, certain your nails didn't sting as much as the stretch you felt stung. You babbled at Kento and the midwife, pleading, bargaining.

"I can't do it anymore-- please don't make me, please please--"

"You're doing it, sweetheart. The biggest part of the head is coming with the next push-- with the next one, just listen to me, and breathe. No pushing. Just little breaths."

You looked up at Kento, your eyes feverish with the love that ripped you asunder. Kento nodded, trusting you, trying to hide the fear and miserable male helplessness and uselessness that threatened to fill him with violence, if he did not cling so desperately to being gentle instead.

Kento felt you tense; another pain peaking as you shook your head, sobbing so briefly, only to be replaced by gritted resolution. Kento saw the fire in your eyes as you began to roar, and thought his heart may break with the weight of his adoration.

Kento grasped you close, your fingers plaited together. He whispered to you as you trembled, fighting against nature as your body pushed for you.

"...that's it-- that's it-- just breathe, little breaths, little breaths-- I know it stings, good girl, good girl-- and the head's out!"

Kento's heart stopped, to see the crest of a little head, its soft waves of hair swishing in the birthing pool. Invigorated by thrill, almost weeping with excitement, he whispered to you, heated and trembling.

"--oh god-- right there, they're right there-- nearly got them, we'll know what we've got--"

"Just one more big push, sweetheart-- one big push with the next contraction, and your baby's here--"

Almost ten months of blooming and worry and scans and building and laughing and crying and aching and fearing, all ended in one enormous push, and a whoosh, and a cry...

...and a cry, wet and sweet and crumpled and on your chest, mother and child still bound together by the string of life.

Kento buckled against the side of the pool. Still he held you, looking down at you, looking down at your baby, blue and angry and baleful at having been shoved into the world from their warm dark kingdom.

Arms replaced the womb, and Kento huffed a couple of great sobs to hear you babble love at your scrumply flailing babe.

"--oh my god-- oh you're so beautiful-- oh, mummy loves you-- daddy loves you--"

Daddy. Kento almost buckled again, nuzzling his tears away into your hair, smothering your sweaty cheeks with kisses and relief. His voice was thick with joy, the fever of pain in your eyes replaced with elation, clasping the boon of a champion within your arms.

"Thank you. I can't...I can't thank you-- I-- love you, love you both so much--"

You gazed up at Kento, basking, your eyes glazed. "Kento...Ken...what have we got? Tell me-- tell me what we've got."

Kento sniffled, looking at the midwife as if for permission. She looked on, an enamoured, privileged bystander, and nodded encouragingly to Kento. Kento leaned over you, gently lifting his baby's legs apart, peering under the cord.

He huffed a single wet laugh, and looked at you, honey-brown eyes rimmed red. Kento's voice was gravelly as he stroked your hair back, to your wondrous grin.

"You were right, lover...as always."

[piggycyberwarrior]

Task Force 141 with a Reader that grew up in a ‚be an independent woman and never rely on a man‘-household >>>>>>

They immediately love you- such a pretty thing, always working hard, beautiful smile on your lips and so so kind.

They have enough money (a reward for putting their life on line) so why not spend it on you? Of course their wallet gets lighter when your gaze lingers on an absurdly priced jewelry. How can't they shower you with gifts, when you deserve this and so much more?

Buying you this, that- things you threaten to kill them over if they buy you a $2000 purse- because thats just so absurd- yeah you liked the design, but thats too much money for a piece of leather.

Their cash is yours now- even though you do not accept that fact. Green paper traded for clothes, accessoires, food, shoes, lingerie- oh how they love to buy you lingerie…

Always paying for your meals- snacks, getting pouty when you give them the glare while pressing your card onto the terminal, a tad faster than them- paying the food.

You were raised like this- to pay for your own things- standing up for yourself, never rely on men and that you don't need any gifts from them. They know that but oh boy- they do not care. In the end- they shower you with money because they love you, not because they want you too love them.

Soap and Gaz are the ones who do it the sly way.

Let me explain.

They shop with you- making you try on all different kids of clothes- because you just look so pretty in them :( ... how can you not say yes to their begs and pleads.

pretty pretty please with sugar on top..?

Seeing how your eyes light up in the mirrow- Soap and Gaz share a glance- an unspoken promise. (One slowly getting up- making his way through the endless option of clothes- softly talking to an employee, pointing at your happy form- and everything you seemed to like is bought in a matter of seconds.)

"Are you serious??" "Aw- do nae be like tha', bonnie" Soap laughed quietly- carrying the shopping bags with such a proud smile. "Yeah, we had to buy you them, you looked so good, sugar" Gaz said- pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before his warm hand on your lower back pushed you foward gently. "But-" you tried to reason, being shut up with a tut from the two men. "Just accept it, baby, yeah?"

You don't even argue when it comes to Simon. He just buys it- and when you try to obliege- one of his intimidating looks is enough and you fold. You tried outsmarting him by not going shopping with him but the gifts just stack to the ceiling in your home so you stopped that aswell..

So when you did go outside with him you had to literally threathen him "Simon, I am going to staple your large intestine to your nose if you even think about buying me that" you growled while looking at some mannequins while strolling through the city.

"but do you like it?"

yes "No, its ugly"

He doesn't buy it then and there but again- he has enough money so why not spend it on you? yada yada yada- in the end you have some strange bag that you do not recognize on your bed- with that ugly pretty dress you saw while walking with Ghost.

Stubborn man

The worst one in the group must be price tho- he never and I mean neverrr lets you pay for anything. The others gift you many things, but this man? When he is around you don't even have to bring your wallet with you of course you do because fuck them (...please)

You‘re struggling to pay rent? Paid. Wanting to relax? Spa Appointment booked. Feeling hungry? Meal's already on the way. Flat not that cozy? Lets go shopping decor, love.

This man can read you so good- its creepy. And he won't accept a 'no'"

He randomly transfers money onto your bank account- "Luv, I have enough" "John.. I cannot accept that! Thats too much"

-

Oh yes you can. They will make you accept it all...

Everything.

!please do reblog!

My mutuallsssss ✨🌷: @stargirlstabber @cricricorner @captain-of-caption @enfppuff @missroro @peachy-aisha @thelrina @gaiagurl05

[anantaru]

synopsis. you got alhaitham to tutor you, although he uses a method you weren't quite expecting, ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ cw, fingering, soft dom alhaitham, petnames used: good girl, fem! reader ᰔ

"repeat that paragraph, that one, read it to me," shuddered and twisted, you weakly nod back at alhaitham's words, the veil of lust drawing across his face.

you admire his honed jaw and poised tone, the perfect shade of red on his cheeks, no trace of imperfections except a lustre ignite of fire shaped inside the yearning in his eyes.

for now, you were only capable to re-read half of the paragraph as he digs the finger deeper inside before curling it, curling it hard, nudging your puffy cunt as you close your eyes at the impact, alternating between squeezing his hand with your thighs and parting your legs in obvious invitation.

alhaitham continues to lightly stroke over your searing walls, tracing his way further until you squirm at the mind-altering press on your cunt, your hole clenching around the digit, holding the finger in for him to never leave you, "yeah, good girl— ugh, but what else? that's not all," he grins as you sneakily ride his hand, his cock hardening inside his pants.

you rest your head on his shoulder, your focus forced on holding onto the book as good as you could.

you attempt to continue, founding it to be futile when he fucks you with a precision that quickened your blood.

"what else do you got for me?" he repeats.

"c-can we just forget about studying already?" you attempt to reason, stuttering over your words, "you know i can't— i want more," as you cough out and squirm, your hips shifting forward so your clit could grind against the heel of his hand ever so often, "i can't focus like this,"

you were correct, in fact, you were certain no one in all of sumeru could ever focus on a single task when a man such as alhaitham himself, no matter how aggravating at times, would look at someone with such hunger in his eyes, a gaze filled to perpetual sharpness.

you do not want him to stop, you want him to do more.

"you seem to enjoy it," the confidence in his tone could not be any clearer, "very much."

he tilts his head to look at you, the brush of his lips against your cheek making you whimper, the following scrape of his teeth hovering against your jawline tempting out a shiver after such tenderness.

a sensual thrust of his hand repeatedly curls and digs into you, knocking the air from your lungs as you clench as strongly as you could around a single digit, his finger rubbing just so against the furthest, most delicious spots of your walls that it increased the force and pressure on your tight belly from the inside.

how long until you break?

his finger wiggles inside, the touch exquisitely precise, awfully confident, and you found yourself in an inescapable position, impossible to hold yourself back from sinking into the sensation of feeling him. just having him touch you.

"you want me to put another finger?" he kisses your cheek tenderly.

your skin holds against sweat and desperation, tickling the hairs on your skin as a satisfactory pleasure could be felt ebbing and flowing through the entirety of your body.

"yes, please another," you breathe, greeting the scribe with a little more than soft excitement in your voice— but you sounded so angelic to him, your voice silk alike, drowning in a river of solace.

shameless in his doings, alhaitham smirks against you, his lips a hairbreadth away from your ear, "really? you think you got that?"

you nod in certain ecstasy, keeping one hand wrapped around his wrist as he pleasures you, stretching and burning into your hole.

the scribe remains confident in wanting to embed his touch, all of it, on you— not only that but his scent too, he needs your body to pick it up until his aura webs all over your most delicate spots naturally, nothing comparing to the feeling of fullness he gives you.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify