#but that's not what was being asked for anyway

[allpiesforourown]

Imagine you're in high-school and you have a huge crush on a teacher and you realize you're gay and you ask "do you think all gay people are terrible..?" And he smiles and says "there's bad straight people and good straight people, so why would I think all gay people are bad?"

Then you're outed against your will and he tells you you're disgusting. You go "but you said you didn't hate them!" And he says but it's different for YOU and kicks you out of school

Then you return to your high-school after graduating from college to show him see I ended up being a good educated person! You hate him for being so cruel but also want him to give you another chance... then you realize the trophy case has your picture and everyone says "you didn't know?? When you left he was so sad he fell into depression and he'd come stand in the hallway and stare at this pathetic shrine he made for you"

You try to talk to him but he runs away from you. Clearly he doesn't want to associate with a gay person like you - is what you'd think, except he's hanging out with your FLAMING father!!!!?

Anyway that's svsss from binghes pov but instead of gay it's his demon heritage

[gloomwitchwrites]

Good evening to you. I thought about writing you many times but never had the courage to do so 😅 I saw a TikTok Trend some time ago and thought about the Reaction from our beloved task Force 141. How would they react when you "accidentally" sent them the message "He just left our house, you can come now. He'll be gone for some time". Basically pranking them by implying something shady. You can ignore this if it's weird of course. Thank you for your time and amazing writing 🙏😊

I'm so glad you finally got the courage to send in a request because I had so much fun with this one! Many many thanks because I pretty much cackled and giggled the whole time I wrote this. I'm not exaggerating. I adored this prompt. It not only gave me room for a little humor, but it also gave me the opportunity to be a little naughty!

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

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, pranks & shenanigans, suggestive themes, mild sexual content, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, swearing, possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.5k

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

John Price

Five minutes.

Five. Minutes.

Five minutes and you're already causing problems.

John isn't surprised. Not in the least. Sometimes, you enjoy being on your worst behavior just because it stirs him into a frenzy.

John is sitting at a stoplight, staring down at his phone screen. A car honks but he ignores it.

He's gone. Come over.

There isn't anyone else. John knows this explicitly. Not because he completely trusts you—which he does—but because he knows your exact location at all times. He knows what you search on your phone and what things you look at on the internet. And because he knows that, he knows you're just trying to take the piss.

Locking his phone screen, John turns on his blinker. A few turns later and he's back home, marching through the door. He's not mad. Far from it. You just need a good lesson—a good spanking. Over his knee with a bare ass. That way he can watch it bounce, watch as you wiggle and squirm, hear you whimper, and watch as your arousal grows with each strike.

Then, and only then, will he keep you under him. Which is what you want anyway.

John walks silently and with purpose, approaching you as you casually lounge on the couch.

"You're home early."

John ignores the jab. "You're on one today, cabbage."

"Whatever do you mean?"

John holds up his phone. "Think I'm going to believe this?"

Your eyes widen but John can see the bluff. "I meant to send that to—"

"To me," interrupts John. “You meant to send it to me.”

"To a friend,” you correct, but John notices the smile you attempt to hide. “I meant to send it to a friend.”

No. You wanted John to come home—to be a bit neurotic, even a little possessive.

"Fine," growls John. "I'll bite."

He places one hand on the top of the back cushion while the other rests above your head. He leans in, lowering his voice.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Show me you mean it."

You tuck your knees in, drawing back your top and removing your lounge pants. When they're gone, you spread wide, revealing your glistening pussy. Your arousal is clear, and John cannot wait to sink inside.

"That's my good girl."

John "Soap" MacTavish

You sent the texts not long after Johnny left for work.

He’s gone. Won’t be home for hours. Come over.

At first, you believed that Johnny would get those texts and immediately turn around, to head home and bust down the door. He did no such thing. He didn’t even respond. Not a peep from him. You spent the rest of the day in limbo, unsure if Johnny received the texts at all.

So, when he does come home, you expect him to say something.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, going in for a kiss.

“How was work?” you ask.

“Good,” he replies, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “Had a briefing. We’ll be heading out for a mission next week.”

“Do you know when exactly?” you ask.

“Tuesday!” he calls back.

Nothing. This man is completely glossing over the fact that you sent those texts to him. When he reappears in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, you nearly swoon at his bare chest and stomach.

“What did you get up to today?” he asks, sauntering over to grasp your hips and pull you close.

“Nothing much,” you reply, and Johnny hums in reply, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You know,” he says after a beat, fishing out his phone from his pocket. “You did send me a few odd texts earlier.” He taps away at the screen at turns it around to show you.

The texts you sent are right there, glowing brightly.

“Oh, those—”

“I checked the cameras.”

“Cameras?” you choke. “What cameras?”

Johnny grins and then he’s tapping away at his phone again. When he shifts the screen around, you see yourself and him in real time. You turn to the corner of the room from where the feed is coming from.

“I never saw anyone come over. But I did see this.”

Tapping again, he changes to an earlier time during the day. It’s a feed of the bedroom, and you’re masturbating. Johnny ups the volume and you hear yourself moan.

“There’s this, too,” he says, switching to the night before when he had you on all fours, ass in the air.

“Johnny!”

He tightens his hand on your hip, keeping you close. Lowering his voice, Johnny grins. “Try again, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You watch from the window as Simon’s car pulls out of the drive. You wait until he turns the corner before unlocking your phone and selecting his name.

He’s just left. Come over.

With a wicked grin, you hit send, knowing that the texts will reach Simon any second. Leaning against the window, you wait, and then smile wider as Simon’s car sharply turns the corner and speeds down the street back to the house.

He’s hardly parked the car before he’s exiting the vehicle, storming toward the house, malicious intent clear with every step. With a triumphant giggle, you rush to the bedroom and flop onto the bed, pretending that you’re up to nothing at all.

You hear the front door slam, then Simon’s thunderous footsteps followed by doors opening and closing. Sprawling out across the bed, you tap away at your phone, acting like you're not bothered at all.

When he appears in the doorway, you deliberately ignore him for five long seconds before you casually turn your head and smile.

"You're home early," you observe.

Simon looms in the doorway. "What the bloody hell was that text about?"

"What text?" you shrug, all innocence.

Simon, deadpan, replies "He's just left. Come over."

"Oh. That was for a friend."

"Which friend?"

"A friend."

Simon slowly walks up to the side of the bed. "You're fucking with me."

"Don't know what you're on about, Simon."

The murderous demeanor you saw earlier melts away, leaving behind a mischievous glint that you know all too well. With a viper-like quickness, Simon grasps your ankle and yanks you to the end of the bed.

"Simon!" you shriek, but he's already flipping you over onto your stomach.

He plants both knees on either side of you, keeping you trapped beneath him, his large hands coming down on your wrists to pin them above your head.

"Was last night not enough?" he asks, voice a gruff whisper. "Or do you need another lesson?"

You lift your head as Simon transfers both wrists beneath one hand. He has his phone, tapping away at the screen.

'What are you doing?"

"Telling Price I'm not coming in."

"But you're scheduled."

Simon locks the phone and then tosses it to the side. "He'll understand." Pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, his voice drops to a breathy whisper. "I have a woman to breed."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It's cruel, perhaps. Even mean. But getting Kyle worked up is so goddamn sweet.

He’s protective, sometimes even a bit possessive, and nothing is hotter to you than watching him stake his claim.

Which is why you sent those texts in the first place—a way to make his heartrate spike.

He just left. He'll be gone for hours.

Kyle bursts through the bedroom door, his chest heaving as if he just ran several miles.

“Where are they?” he asks, voice a growl.

Kyle heads for the bathroom. Throwing open the door, he storms inside, but finding nothing, retreats back into the bedroom.

"Where's who?" you ask in mock innocence as Kyle opens the closet, pushing aside clothes as if he’ll find someone hiding there.

Kyle exits the closet, hands on his hips. “I saw the texts.”

“What texts?” You casually retrieve your phone, already knowing what you’ll find there. Opening up the messaging app, you click on Kyle’s name, and laugh.

“Sorry,” you giggle. “I meant to send that to a friend.”

Kyle’s eyes shut, and the sigh he makes is so loud you laugh harder. Clutching his own phone in his hand, Kyle shakes it in his fist.

“You’re having a laugh,” he says.

"No," you giggle. "Just a mistake."

That thin line becomes a smirk. Kyle tosses his phone onto the bed and you immediately know you’re done for.

“I know you, love. Think you’re clever, yeah?”

He saunters forward, and you push up onto your hands, sliding back along the bed.

“Kyle,” you warn.

“Tricking me just to get me home. For what? Think I’m going to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I think.

You scoot away, sinking into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Kyle matches your movements until he’s nearly horizontal over you.

“You’re right,” he continues. “I will.” His gaze roams over your body and then returns to your face. “But first, I’m going to train you into never making a silly mistake like that ever again.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @glassgulls @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[sheeezu]

The only way to shift

1. Go outside.

2. Watch the birds fly around, you know, they're being natural and all that, so carefree they don't have a thought behind their thick heads they're just flying without a doubt.

3. Leave the phone inside. Delete all social media, stop being dependent on outside interference, its your reality, you don't need to read that exact same reddit/tumblr post a million times.

4. Did you bring a notebook and pen? Good. What is that question you wanted to ask that blogger? Write it down. Inhale exhale, eventually the answer will come to you. You already were going to answer as your assumption, who had taken the form of that shifting scholar blogger.

5. Good. You've done it. It's more freeing isn't it? You don't have to bow down in front of anyone, you don't have to rely on anyone anymore, you're free from societal pressures, the need for acceptance and wanting to blend in. You're a separate entity, you're the runaway, imagine you fleeing this reality in a small boat, pushing yourself far away from here, to your intended reality.

6. Anyway, anyhow you'll shift. Now that you stopped looking at others, pretend no one other than you knows about shifting. It's your own little secret, only you know how it works, logically.

Since shifting is so akin to freeing yourself from traditional outlooks on life, so should be its associated principles, a reality cultivates inside of you when you shift, I don't use harsh words but, isn't it stupid how you can go to lengths to find the solutions in an external environment which you've created?

7. Be that philosopher you've always wanted to be, in your world, having shifted. Only your perspective matters. Only you can have an opinion on yourself, how you define yourself. How you define the world around you, the circumstances around you, everything.

...

I couldn't be bothered to add any pretty dividers or images read if you want or don't.

[hoshifighting]

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

seventeen reaction when you're not shaved

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[moonstruckme]

hi! i just read your drabble with remus fixing the readers attitude and i was wondering if you could do the same with sirius? i really loved your other one and seen you were trying to take requests for sirius.

i hope you have a wonderful day!!

Thanks for requesting, hope you have a lovely day as well <3

cw: d/s dynamics, reader has hair troubles and uses products + tries running fingers through it so it's long enough for that

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 991 words

Sirius can hear you fuming from outside the bathroom. Heavy breaths and drawers being shut too harshly and the occasional, frustrated grunt. If it wouldn’t be such a betrayal of you, he’d take a video so Remus can see what he’s like while he’s transforming during a full moon. 

“What’s going on in there, gorgeous?” he asks from the bed. 

Your reply is nearly a growl. “Nothing.” 

“Mm. Yeah, sounds like nothing.” Sirius gets up, going to the bathroom and nudging the door open. He leans against the doorframe as you scowl at yourself in the mirror, wringing product into your hair like you half hope it just tears off. “What’s got you so wound up?”

“Nothing.”

He tuts. “Not any more convincing the second time. Try again.” 

You’re pointedly not looking at him, but Sirius notices that your scowl intensifies. “My hair is being fucking unbearable.” 

Sirius opens his mouth, but you cut him off. 

“And I don’t want to hear that it always looks good, or that you think I look nice no matter what, or any of that bullshit, okay?” 

“That’s unfortunate. I’m sorry, sweetness, but I’m not going to start lying to you. Your hair is perfect, and you do always look—”

Your eyes bore into your own reflection, sharp and wrathful. “Don’t.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows lift. “I’m sorry, don’t? Don’t compliment my girlfriend, or don’t be honest?” 

“Either. I know you’re full of shit, because it looks insane right now, but even if you have miraculously gone blind since this morning, Lily and Alice will be there, and they know what hair should look like when it’s not being so—so—” 

“Alright.” Sirius is beginning to grow amused with you. You’re so ridiculous when you’re upset, brash and squinty-eyed and cute. “Save yourself the exertion of finishing that sentence gorgeous. Take a breath.” 

“I don’t want to breathe!”

“And yet, we all have to anyway.” 

“God, Sirius, fuck off!” You finally lock eyes with him in the mirror, positively fuming. “I knew you wouldn’t get it. I’m trying to look nice for your friends, and you’re making fun of me! If my hair would just—fucking—” You appear to give up on the product, your attention returning to your hair as you begin dragging your fingers through it mercilessly. “—do what I tell it to, maybe then I’d fucking breathe, but instead it’s basically unsalvageable, and—”

“Oi.” Sirius’ humor at the situation has vanished. By the time you think to look at him he has both your hands in his, restrained from doing further damage to yourself. “No. If you’re going to be like this about going to Frank and Alice’s, we won’t go. So is that it, or can you be good?” 

Sirius uses the sharp tone he knows you’ll respond to, but really he isn’t angry. He only wants to give you pause. And oh, it’s so sweet to watch the brattiness leave your eyes. The terse pucker of your mouth softens to an almost imperceptible pout, your whole demeanor shifting in an instant. 

He takes both your wrists in one hand. With the other, Sirius cups the side of your throat, fingers curled around your nape and thumb rubbing against your erratic pulse. 

“I need an answer,” he says. 

“Yes,” you say, and your voice is soft, like the sharp edge from a minute ago has been bitten off. “I can.” 

“Good.” Sirius allows his tone to gentle some, though he keeps his firm grip on your wrists. “Then you have to relax, baby. Breathe.” 

This time, you do as you’re told. It works as he knew it would, your shoulders drooping after the long exhale like the last of the fight has finally gone out of you.

“Thank you.” He touches his lips briefly to the center of your forehead, pretending not to notice how you sway towards him for more. “Now, do you still want to go to Frank and Alice’s tonight?” 

You open your mouth, but this time it’s Sirius who stops you. 

“Wait. Really think about it. Are you going to enjoy yourself, or are you going to spend the whole time feeling weird about your hair?” 

You hesitate, rubbing your lips together. Sirius strokes his thumb down the line of your throat approvingly. 

“I still think I want to go,” you say after a few moments. 

“Okay.” Sirius nods. “Then you’re going to let me braid your hair for you. You’ll look just as lovely and perfect as you do now, but you won’t be able to mess with it any more. Does that sound alright to you?” 

Your relief is palpable. You let out a breath, eyes growing suspiciously bright. “Yeah. That would be great, thank you.” 

“Okay, come here.” Sirius releases your neck and wrists to wrap his arms around you. He presses his lips to your lovely, perfect hair while you curl your hands in his shirt as if to keep him from slipping away. Like Sirius would ever want to. “Shh. You’re fine, baby. Ease up.” 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” you mumble against his front. 

“Yeah, I’ll bet. You did it more than once, if I recall.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” He laughs a little, hugging you tighter. “It’s okay. You get a hair insanity pass, just this once. Let’s have a good night, okay?” 

You let out another sigh. Sirius rubs your back reflexively. “Yes, please.” 

“M’kay. Let’s go.” He starts ushering you towards the bed, grabbing a couple of hair ties on his way out of the bathroom. “We’re done with the mirror for today. And no yelling at me while I do your hair, got it?” 

You try on a coy smile; it’s small, but Sirius respects the effort. “I could never yell at you.” 

“Uh huh. I may forgive, but I don’t forget that easily, sweetness. Try it again and we’ll be staying home to deal with that attitude of yours.”

[mariasont]

HEAR ME OUT!

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

Bookstore Physics - S.R

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

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

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

wc: 1.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I-I had it under control."

One brow arched, unimpressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What were you even saying?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop. Blink.

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

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

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

Spencer flips the book closed, considering.

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

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

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

His lips twitch. 

"Hypothetically speaking, of course."

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

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

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

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

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

You pause.

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

Then shrug. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I—well, I mean—”

“Relax, it’s just a theory.”

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

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

You freeze. Next time?

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

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

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

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

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

"See you soon, then."

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

[minicy]

[ID. A Reddit post on r/AITAH by u/WokeBeans.

"AITA for pretending to think beans in chili are "woke", to prank my Cousin who is obsessed with being "anti woke" and who loves chili?

My cousin is known for making chili. And he's good at it. He makes his own chili flakes from his "secret combination" of various dried chilies, it has a very nice kick. lt's like the perfect amount of spice, it's hot but not too hot. He also always adds kidney beans. Not canned beans either.

Anyways for the past 2 or 3 years my Cousin has become obsessed with all this bullshit about what is or isn't "woke" and how "woke" things are the end of the world. He's always been a good dude so I don't know what his bag is but he is completely obsessed. It's annoying.

So the other weekend I was at his place and he was making his famous chili. So I got the idea for a little prank. I was like "I'm surprised you still put beans in your chili." He was like "What? Why?" I was like "Beans in chili are so woke. Everyone is saying so. He was like "What do you mean?" And he was like genuinely concerned. As if this was something serious.I said something like "Yeah beans in chili are woke, the original conservative Texans who made chili only used meat and chili. San Francisco liberals started adding beans to chili in the 60's because so many hippies were vegetarian. Now all the woke scientists are saying beans are a better protein source than meat." He didn't say anything to that.

I kind of just assumed he'd know I was fucking with him and get the joke. We have always fucked around with each other and jokes about and all. But he was quiet all dinner.

Just yesterday I was back again at his place and he was making his chili again. There were no beans. It was a totally different chili. This guy has been making his chili with beans for like 15 years. I was like, whats up? "Where's the beans?"

He was like "I don't fuck with that woke shit." I was like "What?" He was like "Beans in chili are woke. Even you know that.'"

Everyone else was like what?  Because.... what? I was like dude I was just fucking with you. He got REALLY angry. He dumped his chili in the sink and told everyone to go home. I thought he was pranking me back or something but he was serious. The dude totally lost it.

He texted me later and said this exact thing: "I researched this online and it turns out u really were lying to me, beans r not woke. How could u do this?"

We went back and forth for a bit. His position is even though we have historically pranked each other I went "too far", that I "betrayed him", that I "made him question his chili", I tried to ask him if this at all made him think he cared too much about "woke", like what if beans in chili WAS woke, so what? He ignored that and demanded I apologize.

Did I take this too far?"

End ID.]

"I would never jeopardize the beans" pales in comparison to it's newest successor, "beans r not woke. How could u do this?"

[wiinterz]

: •̩̩͙ ໋ TAKE A DIP IN MY LAKE ˖ Sevika.

firefighter!sevika x goth fem!reader

genre(s) - one-shot, lesbian erotica, moms!best friend, older x younger

description - you’ve known sevika since forever, of course having feelings for her but you swear it’s gone. that is until you come back from college for the summer and realize this woman has gotten hotter and your feelings are just as worse than last time.

warnings - making out, profanity, groping, nipple/breast play, spitting, dom!sevika, face sitting, pussy eating, praise kink, sevika is forty-one while reader is twenty-one, sevika wearing a dog tag, smoking weed, fingering, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, baby), overstimulation, dacryphilia, dirty talk(?). 18+ only, minors & men dni.

word count - 5.1k

tay's letter 💌 - i realize i could’ve made this into a drabble. i was also planning on dropping a subby!sevika smut i had in the drafts for the longest but…um well that shit ain’t done. p.s. i might make this into a series, lemme know.

rules | arcane masterlist.

Stockings stick to your legs, your body heat grows hotter the longer you sit outside. Even your panasonic headphones started to create sweat around your ears, causing you to wipe it off at times. The sun blazed onto the concrete, drying the rain that once was there from last night, it seemed as if you were stuck in the hottest desert as punishment when in actuality, the real punishment was watching your friend’s younger brother play in the parking lot and making sure he doesn’t run into incoming cars.

Matthew and his three other friends had busied themselves with writing on the concrete, the chalk now in a bucket, hands dusty and mixed with sweat as they ran around on your mother’s lawn playing basketball. Shouting at each other to pass the ball, as some other kids in the neighborhood rode on bicycles.

You, keeping yourself grounded by listening to music on your old ipod you found the other day while cleaning your room. Shocked that it even still works, you figured it would’ve stopped by how many years it’s been.

Yet, the old thing is still kicking, unlike your easy bake oven you also found deep in your closet. Leaning your hands backward, your right leg crossed over your left as your head tilts back, enjoying what was peaceful. You needed this, especially now that you busied yourself with taking care of your friend’s brother while she worked. Your eyes closed, thoughts allowing the music to take you on a journey.

In your mind, you thought back to her and last night’s dinner. The way the metal ring on her right middle finger fiddled as she spoke to your mom about work. Lips glossed with grease from the baked chicken, tongue licking it off with a beat as she continued to speak. Fuck, you needed her.

And you hated that, hated how even though you promised yourself what you’re feeling is months of not being touched by someone when in reality you knew it’s because you’re desperately needy for her. You thought back to her voice, humming to yourself as you heard it.

Blinking a few times, your brows furrow as you look back to Matthew who is now standing in front of you. You pull your right earphone off, “what?” Confused etched on your face, “My sister’s here.” He mutters, and you look toward a black car, windows down, seeing your friend. You sigh and stand, following him to the car and helping him get in the passenger seat. “Look at you, hot stuff, how was this one?” She asks, her eyes locked on yours and you shrug. “He and his friends were good like always,” which places a smile on her face.

“They better been,” she stretches her arms, “anyway, I’ll catch up with you later, love you.” She finishes and you nod, waving at all four of them once she drives off. You sigh, turning around and walking back into the house, turning the ac on, you sit in the recliner chair, turning the volume up to your ipod and thinking back to Sevika.

It was dumb how much you missed a woman you saw not even twenty-four hours ago. It was dumb how you missed discreetly staring at her and hoping she would catch you, maybe she did but you weren’t one to be delusional.

But then again, delusion is what keeps the heart happy.

You continue to think back to Sevika’s voice, almost treating it like an audio, almost. You were tempted to say fuck it and pull your skirt and stockings down, touching your wet cunt. Biting on your bottom lip and sighing heavily, you shake your head. You weren’t in your own place, anyone could walk in the house, and this was during the time your mom would be getting home from work anyway.

You grip the chair’s handle, breathing through your nose as your mind starts to think about Sevika's sweet tongue rolling around your c-

Again, interrupted by something, your eyes widen and you groan dramatically. Pulling your earphones off and standing, tossing it on the chair, you walk up to the door.

Opening it, the words that were about to leave your lips cut off as you stare at your dream. Hair stuck on her forehead, her lips formed in a smirk and her black t-shirt had been a bit messy with oil. Her left short sleeve pushed up showing more of her muscles while her dog tag had been showing. She had on grey sweatpants, clearly coming off shift and tired.

“You’re gonna let me in or stare, pretty girl?” Her voice rasp yet smooth like butter, even though you knew it was a rhetorical question, it still felt as though it was just a statement.

And you obliged, opening the door for her and letting her pass through. “Mom’s not here yet.” You exhale, getting a whiff of her, patches of smoky sandalwood and chocolate pomegranate, her scent.

Looking around the house, Sevika’s eyes land on your figure. “Not every time I visit, I’m searching for her.” The steps she takes to you are slow but intentional. “Maybe, what I’m looking for is right in front of me.” Sevika purposefully whispers now that she stands in front of you.

Her body was so close you could almost feel it, and you wanted to. You blink a couple of times, your chest rising faster. “Talk to me, wanna know how your week has been.” She crosses her arms, flexing her biceps and you look. You could moan right there for her, you would do whatever she wanted you to do.

You gulp and look back at her eyes, those sweet grey with specs of blue in them. She tilts her head to the right, waiting.

You clear your throat and rest your hands in front of you. “Well, my week hasn’t been so extravagant. I’m just taking care of my friend's brother, that’s really about it.” You shrug and Sevika nods, humming, “Sounds hectic,” she grumbles and you shake your head. “Actually it’s pretty peaceful, he’s very relaxed and respectful plus I see him as my own little brother so it’s easy.” Sevika nods again, keeping her arms crossed.

Your eyes look down at it again, wishing she could tighten the grip just a bit. “So, what are you doing here?” You ask her, a sigh escaping her lips as you clasp your hands together.

“Work was a bit exhausting today, needed to see if I could get my mind off it.” She replies, turning around and you can see her back muscles even through her shirt. Walking to the living room, you follow behind. “Well-” Cutting you off, Sevika turns to you, a raised brow and her hands resting on her hips.

“This might come off a bit bold, but do you still smoke?” She questions, biting her bottom lip while she thinks. You nod, a bit shocked that she’s asking.

“I think all I have at the moment is a gram, if not it’s just roaches.” You explain to her and she nods, “That’s fine, I don’t care, just need something in my system.” You nod, watching her sit down on the couch. Figuring that’s your cue, you run upstairs into your room, going through your draw and finding your weed. Picking up your rollers lighter and bowl, you breathe out heavily as you reach your door.

“I’m really smoking with this woman, what the fuck is my life.” You whisper yell to yourself before heading back downstairs.

Reaching the first step, there you could see Sevika’s head resting back, eyes closed. Bracing yourself, you walk over, seeing her legs stretched out while her hands rest on them. You take the small bowl and place it down on the counter. Sevika leans back up, stretching her right hand out on the couch as she watches attentively.

Your ass is in her view, her eyes look up and down at you, taking in your beauty. Biting down her lip, you turn, blinking a couple of times and clearing your throat. “I’m done rolling yours.” You inform and she looks back at you, her smirk widening. “Thank you, pretty girl, such a good worker for me.” She rasps, making you shiver at her tone.

You nod, “just doing as much as I can.” You reply, mentally cringing at yourself and you look back at what you’re doing, rolling your blunt. “You’ve smoked blunts before?” You ask for clarification and she hums, “used to smoke these like crazy back in college, but that was way before I had gotten a serious job and had to look serious for the part.” She lets out, a groan escaping her lips, turning you all mush. You finish rolling yours, picking up your lighter, and sitting beside her, keeping space between you two. Flickering the lighter on, you place it against your blunt and then press it against Sevika’s.

It’s quiet in the house for the moment, you two taking your initial inhale, and enjoying it. Sevika coughs a little and you smile a little, a giggle escaping your lips which makes her smile at you. “What’s so funny?” She questions, eyeing you and you shrug. “Clearly it’s been a min since you picked up one.” You nod at the blunt and she looks down at it in her fingers.

“Yeah,” she then looks at you. “But I’m still a pro.” She whispers.

The tingles you felt from last night come right back, her eyes glinted something you couldn’t pick up. She pulls the blunt back to her lips, and you watch, doing just the same.

It’s quiet between you two, busy favoring the blunt. You and Sevika needed this, she needed it to cut the edge from work and you needed it to cut the edge of your mind. As minutes passed and the clock ticked from the grandfather clock, you turned to look at her.

Sevika watched you as you took another drag, the smoke curling through the air like a wispy serpent in the night.

Her gaze fixed on your lips, attaching itself to the blunt, how you round your lips into an ‘o’. She wondered how that look around her strap, how your eyes would look when she thrusts it down your throat. Would your eyes swell up or would you surprise her and take it like a pro?

Then, her eyes flicker to your thighs, her fingers tighten into a fists, the sight of your ripped stockings covering something so delicious. She bet your pretty lips were pressed up with your underwear and stockings. Then she thought about what type of underwear you had on. If it were a thong or not, either way, she wanted to pull them down by her teeth and watch your clit grow from teasing it for too long.

She fidgeted with her fingers, unable to tear her eyes away from you. There was a tension in the air now, a palpable energy that crackled between you like an electrical current.

Sevika’s heart was racing out of her chest now,  the sound almost drowning out the tick noises of the clock. She exhales, catching your attention. Shaking her head, your brows furrow.

“What’s wrong?” You ask softly, your eyes looking up and down at her, her sweatpants pulled down a little showing her boxers. “Nothing, pretty girl, just keep easing your mind.” She lets out, and you gulp. “You know I got a name, right?” You question, not like you wanted her to stop calling you pretty girl anyway.

Your sentence earns a smirk from her and she nods. “That right, pretty girl?” She pushes herself up a little to get closer to you and her scent mixed with the weed makes you feel delirious.

You nod, “Y-yeah.” You clear your throat and nod again and Sevika hums. “I know you gotta name, baby, and it’s one of the most prettiest things I’ve ever heard. But, I just can’t help myself.” She whispers, and your eyes dart down to her shirt. Her nipples get hard through it, which makes your breathing become a struggle.

And she knew.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She gets closer, whispering those words in your ears and placing her hand on your forehead, making you heat up.

“Nothing,” you stutter out and she chuckles, “nothing?” She hums, “Can’t be nothing when you’re becoming my little stuttering mess.” And that turns you on even more, you swear she’s doing this to test you.

You clear your throat and look at her, your sweet doe eyes looking right at the older woman. “Guess it’s not me that needs attention.” She whispers, her voice rasping but still so smooth. “Yeah, you need my attention?” She questions and you nod hesitantly.

Sevika smirks, “How can I help you, baby, what do you need me to focus on?” She mutters and you hold back a whimper.

The palm of her hand goes down to your neck, “right here?” Then brushes against your breasts, to your stomach, and starts to rub you. “Or right here? Which one, baby.” Sevika mumbles, her eyes staring directly at you.

Blinking, you doing a quick breathing exercise and take the bait. “Right here.” You whisper, pulling her hand back up to your breast, and you catch that glint in her eyes again. She nods and hums, smoking the rest of the blunt. “Fuck.” She whispers, and starts to hum, “Right there?” And you nod. “Hum, seems like something is covering it, baby.” She reminds you of your bra and you pout, “Yeah.” You stutter.

“Mind if I take it off you?” She asks innocently, yet you knew it was far from that. And you nod, Sevika smiles, taking the time to hitch your shirt up. Slowly, revealing your body, she clicks her tongue. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered to herself and you can’t help but feel weak in the knees all over again.

You knew this was wrong, hell she knew it too but who to say she had any shame?

She looks back at you and nods, and you nod back. Taking deep breaths as you feel her metallic fingers brush up against your stomach, making you flinch. She watches with widened eyes, admiring your every movement. Her fingers then find your bra strap, hooking it and pulling it down to let it fall. She looks at you once again, and you let out a sigh.

“Can you kiss me?” You ask desperately and she laughs, “Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.” Sevika gets to move closer to you, her fleshed thumb rubbing your bottom lip and smudging your lipstick even more.

The air felt thick and heavy with tension. Sevika’s thumb lingered on your skin for a moment longer than necessary, as if she couldn't bear to remove her touch just yet. Her fingers traced the line of your jaw, the softest of touches, but laden with meaning.

Your heads move slowly, inching closer to one another. Her eyes never left yours, your breathing was ragged, and small gasps erupting. She was so close now, closer than you ever imagined.

Sevika’s eyes darted to your lips, watching as they parted slightly to release a bit of smoke. She ached to kiss you, to feel the softness of your skin against hers, to taste that damn lipstick. But she held back, her restraint hanging on by a thread.

With a shuddering exhale, she closed the distance between you, her lips finally touching yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender.

Sevika’s hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer as she deepened the kiss.  Tasting like smoke, an intoxicating flavor that made your head spin. Her body pressed against yours, solid and warm, as she angled her face to kiss you harder, her tongue darting out to taste the sweetness of your mouth, tasting the cigarette and your lipstick.

Your right hand moved to Sevika’s head, making her groan softly in the kiss and pushing her body forward against yours. Her hand slid down to your waist, fingers gripping into your skin as she pulled you even closer. The kiss was hungry, she was hungry, frenzied, like a woman who’d been left astray from food for over a year.

Her body was pressed flush against yours now, the heat between you almost unbearable. She knew she should stop, knew that this could lead to nothing but trouble, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her hand moved across your body, her touch exploring every curve and contour as if she were sculpting a goddess.

Sevika’s teeth nipped at your lower lip, her lips then moving to your neck, trailing kisses along the sensitive skin. She wanted to mark you, to claim you, to make sure you couldn't forget this moment, forget her. Her body was pressed even closer to yours now, the hard ridge of her arousal unmistakable against your hip. Sevika’s hand snaked down your body, pulling you on her lap, her lips still against your neck, breath ragged and uneven.

She was lost in a sea of desire, her mind consumed with thoughts of you, of what she wanted to do, what she needed to do to satisfy the hunger that gnawed at her.

You felt breathless in the kiss, almost unable to keep up but you do, you whimper as she pulls your closer, smacking your ass. You feel the smirk against your lips, you could tell she wanted to laugh, not at you but because it itched a bit of her thoughts.

You pull away, lips now swollen and messed up lipstick. Sevika looks at you, her gaze dark and intense, her lips also swollen and stained with the remnant of your lipstick. Her chest is heaving, breaths coming in ragged gasps. She looks wrecked, debauched, and utterly captivating.

Her hand reaches up, thumb wiping away the smeared lipstick from your chin, the action gentle but undeniably possessive.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” She whispers and you stare at her, you didn’t want her to stop, no, you needed her to continue. She placed these thoughts in your head and she would be the one to bring them to life.

She took your silence as an answer and pulled your bra down, immediately attaching her lips around your left nipple, attacking your breast. All you could do is moan loudly for her, her tongue swirling around your nipple, feeling it become hard in her mouth while she sucks. This is what she dreams of, to feel and taste you, to put you in a place of no return.

Your pussy pulsated with your panties so close to being pushed into it. You wanted to feel something, your nipples were extremely sensitive naturally and her sucking didn’t make it any better. You continued to moan, playing in her hair as she continued to stare up at you. Sevika pulls her mouth away, spitting against it and watching it drip down to your stomach.

Coming to the next one, she does the same steps, sucking until you’re a moaning mess, grinding against her lap for friction. “ ‘Vika…” you whine and she giggles, spitting once again on your nipple, her thumb rubbing and twisting it gently. “Fuck, that’s my good girl.” She whispers, earning a breathy moan from you.

Sevika pulls your chin down, forcing you to look at her, for one moment she continues to stare, clicking her tongue before kissing you again. Picking up your shirt from the couch, she places one firm grip around your waist and stands, letting you wrap your legs around her tight for support. With one hand, and lips still kissing yours, she walks you upstairs to your room.

Slamming the door close with her foot, you pause and lock the door. You giggle as she kisses your neck, letting out whimpers. “Fuck, Sevika.” You whimper and she hums, tossing the shirt down on your carpet. Sevika puts you down gently on the edge of the bed, letting you watch her.

She steps back for a moment, her eyes taking in the sight of you, lying on the bed. She pulls her shirt off, her movements slow and deliberate as if she's putting on a show just for you. "You're so damn gorgeous," she lets out, her gaze never leaving your face.

You shiver and look away, looking up at your bed frame, feeling like you couldn’t handle her.

Sevika notices your reaction and a smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Don't look away," she mutters, her voice is soft yet commanding. "Look at me." She squats down untying her shoelaces, and kicking them off she stands straightly, continuing to look at you. Her fingers move to her sweatpants, pulling them down and exposing more and more of her toned physique, the scars from work on her chest and arms adding a more rugged appearance.

She gets closer and rests her hands on the side of your skirt, “May I?” She questions and you nod, “Yes.” You let out and she smirks, pulling your skirt and stockings down. She hums and licks her lips, seeing you in your pretty black undies.

Your legs bang repeatedly against the bed and she looks down, seeing your shoes still on. Being a sweetheart, Sevika takes your shoes on, keeping the socks on, figuring that’s what you’d like or feel comfortable with.

Her eyes bore into yours, searching for any hint of hesitation, but all she saw in your gaze was the same need that she felt growing inside her. "Say the word, and I'll stop," she says, her voice gruff but sincere. "But until then, I'm gonna show you exactly how much I want you." She gets closer leaning on top of you, and her hand slides down your side, tracing along the curves of your body. Sevika’s touch is both tender and possessive, her fingers grazing over your skin as if she’s learning every inch of you. "You're so goddamn addictive," she whispers, her voice raspy with desire. "I can't seem to get enough of you."

You feel breathless once again, and again once her lips attach to yours. She was between your legs, not putting all her weight on you as you both kissed, your right leg pushed up on the bed while your left foot stayed on the ground. Her lips continue to lock with yours, soft smacking filling the room.

Her lips move down to your neck, sucking on it as she earns moans from you, slowly her lips move to your stomach taking the chance to chaste kiss you. You whimper and whine, keeping your fingers in her hair. “More please.” You beg for her and she smirks, “I know baby, I know.” Sevika mutters and kisses your pelvis, looking up at you, a brow raises, “You want more, pretty girl?” She whispers and you nod. “How much more, baby, hm?” She talks sensually, her voice like caramel and it makes you weep.

I breathe, “W-wanna feel your lips on mine.” You let out, feeling a bit embarrassed and she smirks, “Gotta be more detailed baby, cause when you say lips I’m thinking of the ones I just kissed and the ones I haven’t gotten the chance to.” She sighs, leaning her chin on her palm and you sigh heavily.

“Ones you haven’t kissed,” Sevika’s smirk turns into a smile and she hums, “Good girl.”

Taking the hem of your underwear by her teeth, she pulls them down to your ankles, yanking them off and tossing them somewhere in your room. “Pussy so wet and I haven’t had my taken.” She lets out, really to herself and your eyes widen.

Sevika blows on your pussy first, wanting to tease and watch you break slowly. Then, her index finger runs against your slit, up and down, not pushing in yet. You breathe shakily, feeling your legs also shake with you a little.

“Such a pretty pussy, fuck I should’ve done this sooner.” She lets out, her eyes still stuck on your pussy, Sevika looks at you for one more chance to see if you would want to back out of this now, and still nothing. Her head dips down, tongue flattening, and starts to lick up slowly. You feel her breathing against your pussy, making you shake a little and shiver, moans escape from your lips, unable to control yourself.

You tilt your head back, back arching a little as she continues to suck. She’s doing this for your comfort first because she knew once you were, she would do this for her.

Sevika drags her nose down your slit, letting it slowly get wet by your throbbing clit. Pushing her head back up a little, her tongue drags making you twist and moan. “S’okay baby, I got you.” She whispers against your wet cunt, and she smirks, admiring how beautiful your pussy is.

“Prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” She sighs, her thumb starts to brush over your clit gently, watching you jolt. “Please, Sevika.” You whine and she hums, “Shushhh pretty girl, I got you.” She reminds and all you can do is nod.

She was so gentle with you, it almost made you cry.

And you can only gasp when she pushes her middle finger in your glaring cunt, not giving you a chance to catch yourself when she inserts her index. Sliding in and out of your cunt, she curls it just enough to make you moan loudly. Your jolt forward for a second, toes curling.

“Ah~” you gasp, becoming a babbling mess right before her, and that gets you a smirk from her.

“Your pussy is so tight, baby, gotta prep her first, mmh?” She cooes, spitting against your clit which takes you to the edge. Your eyes roll back as you feel her start to lick your clit, her fingers sliding in and out of you. “Breathe.” She reminds you, her breath airy against your cunt, making it tighten around her fingers.

“Fuck, fuuuck,” you whine, your toes still curling up, Sevika was nose deep and the tip of her nose pushed up against your clit repeatedly, making you feel even more sensitive. “Shit, please Sevika, I’m so sensitive!” You let out but she ignores you. You try and close your legs around her face, only to get a spit against your clit, rubbing down your folds, Sevika’s metallic hand pushes your left thigh open, sucking your folds and pushing her tongue in and out of you.

“Taste so fucking good, baby.” She grumbles, despite making you a babbling mess for her, you nod, forcing your eyes to stay open.

You moan louder, feeling her tongue move up and down against your clit while her fingers continued to push in and out, becoming soaked fast. You continued to gasp, squirming for her but tried your best to be a good girl and keep your legs open, and she knew you were struggling.

Sevika pulls away, staring at you, “You okay with another idea?” and you nod quickly, she chuckles and exhales. Sevika stands, moving on the bed now, moving to your pillow, she lays her head down on it, looking at you. “Come ‘ere.” She rasps out and you listen without question, you crawl to her, now in between her legs. You look down at her, her fingers rubbing your cheek.

“If you’re up for it, I want you to sit on my face.” She explains, your eyes widen, blinking a couple of times and she waits for your answer. “Y-you want me to?” You ask gently and she nods, “I do.” Sevika says seriously, she wasn’t smirking anymore, not even a small smile. She wanted this, as long as you did too.

You breathe in and out, nodding, Sevika lets out a sigh of relief and gets herself situated for you. You turn your body around, your back facing her as you hover over her stomach. “I’ve never, sat on anyone’s face before,” Sevika smirks at the confession and hums, her hands moving to your waist and helping you up to her mouth. “Glad to be the first.” She whispers you lean forward a bit, keeping your hands on the bed to keep you steady.

“I can go slow,” she mutters and you nod, “please.” You whine.

Her thumb runs down your cunt her breath lightly brushing against your folds that were dying to be kissed, hovering against it, your cunt twitches in need. Sevika licks your pussy lightly, allowing you to get used to it first. Once you do, you lean more into her mouth, finally feeling the warmth of her tongue instantly licking between your folds. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out loudly.

Pushing her tongue flat, your sensitive folds, you tasted so delicious and it only left her craving for more, needing more. Grey eyes stare up at you, watching you bounce lightly on her mouth, as moans escape.

“Be a good girl and fuck my face, baby.” She groans, her hands holding your waist as you continue to bounce against her mouth, moaning each time you feel her tongue. You stop bouncing for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her tongue licking up and down and pushing through your folds.

You start to rock yourself against her mouth, using her as a toy for your own sake. Her tongue continues to suck your slit, seeing how swollen it’s gotten, Sevika spits against it, twirling the tip of her tongue against it, making you moan and hold grip the bedsheets.

“Engh~ f-fuck, ‘Vika,” you whine, feeling yourself going weak by the second. Your pussy pulsating repeatedly as she continues to suck the air out of you. Suddenly feeling thick fingers, you moan as Sevika starts to rub your clit while sucking your pussy. You start to feel a heavy yet fulfilling sensation in the pit of your stomach, your lips turning into a pout, and you become whiny in seconds. Tears in your eyes as you continue to let her fuck your cunt, you tug on the bedsheets tighter, moaning even louder when you feel her nose brush up against your cheeks. Her tongue is lapping against your flaps and fingers at your entrance. You’re now stuck, becoming a babbling mess for her.

Tears start to fall from your eyes as you hear the sounds of her sucking against your pussy, not stopping to take a break or even breathe for a second. Sevika’s lips continue to smack against your pussy, fingers rubbing against your clit, making you overstimulated till you couldn’t think or see straight.

“I'm gonna cum, ‘Vika! Can’t hold it!” You squeal, feeling your cunt getting wetter and wetter, you were at this point you were squirting all over her mouth.

“That right, pretty lady?” Sevika whispers, your cunt being kissed by her pursed lips as a tease. Your eyes start to roll back a bit, nodding when you feel her sucking even more, her tip pushing and out of your g-spot repeatedly. The tip of her tongue working hard and making sure you feel everything. She watches you clench around nothing, you feel the buildup in the pit of your stomach starting, one that begins much before a storm breaks.

“If only you could see how pretty this pussy is.” She spats against it, watching her saliva mixed with your pre-cum drip onto her lips. “Prettiest cunt I truly ever seen.” She mutters and you gasp a whine for her.

You start to feel as if butterflies decided to make a place in your insides. “That’s it, baby, that’s it, such a good girl, you’re almost there.” She reminds you, keeping you positioned against her lips. You continue to cry, your tears falling to your breasts, as you bounce against her mouth, wanting nothing but to cum all over her. You could feel your pussy feeling gummy, you could feel your pussy wanting its release.

Your moans are a melody for her, ones she would never get tired of hearing.

“That’s it, baby. Oh, you’re such a good girl for me, you’re my good girl, baby.” She moans out, and you feel your tummy tighten up right then. Your cunt tightens and soon, pouring out with your cum, she’s drinking you like water, happily keeping you spread out on her with her fingers now pushing your ass open.

She’s practically grinning at the sight of your pussy finally reaching climax.

Your cunt, tired and extremely swollen continues to let more cum out for her, and she continues to suck. You pant heavily, and she follows, her breath becoming heavy but her mind still focused on you.

After you were fully done, you sighed heavily, sweat all over your face now. Before you can speak, your door knocks and your eyes widen, “Mom?!” You shout, Sevika stopping her movements underneath. “Yeah, hey, just letting you know I came back from work.” She says and walks away, going back downstairs.

A sigh escapes your lips and you pull off Sevika, turning to see her, your eyes widen at the mess you left. “Oh…wow.” You muttered and she laughed quietly, “You did amazing, baby.” She informs and you smile, coming closer to her. “Is there a way I can thank you?” You say seductively and she hums.

“There are ways.” She mutters, you grab a tissue from your bedside table and she cleans her face. “Like what?” You question as you watch her, and she smirks.

“Think you can moan quietly?” She asks with a smirk and you smile, letting out a giggle.

me shoving my dildo in her cause i will get her pregnant.

[00valentina-writes00]

GIRL LISTEN- this request is...strange kind of but bear with me.

What if we got sevika, ambessa AAND grayson (yes all together) x reader where they all pleasure the reader (maybe each other too?) I don't know I just can't get it put of my mind, I always see sevika x ambessa x reader and think to myself "gosh if only grayson was added in there too..."

ANYWAYS THE YOUR WORKS ARE JUST PERFECT ILY💌💗🎀

(Thank you for asking this)

♡♥︎Triple threat♥︎♡

Warnings: Fingering, strap on sex, rough sex, throat fucking, being passed around between Grayson, ambessa and Sevika.

You’re not sure how you ended up here—naked, drenched in sweat, spread out between three of the most powerful women in Noxus, Piltover, and Zaun.

Ambessa, Grayson, and Sevika. They don’t just want you; they own you, passing you between them like a prize, keeping you flushed and trembling, body wrecked with pleasure.

Grayson is the first to have you, holding you down with firm, calloused hands as she sinks two thick fingers inside you. She’s slow, methodical, taking her time stretching you open, whispering quiet praises against your ear.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” she murmurs, curling her fingers just right, pressing against that spot that makes your back arch. “So perfect when you take my fingers.

Ambessa watches from the other side of the bed, stroking herself—her massive strap slick with lube, waiting for its turn.

“She’s handling you well,” the general comments, voice thick with hunger. “But let’s see how she takes something bigger.”

Grayson smirks, but before she pulls away, she leans in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your lips. “Don’t keep her waiting, sweetheart.”

Then Ambessa is behind you, her hands dwarfing your waist as she lifts your hips, lining the thick head of her strap against your dripping cunt.

“Relax,” she coos, dragging the tip through your slick before pushing in slow, forcing you to stretch around her. “You can take it.”

You sob, body trembling as she sinks in deeper, splitting you open inch by inch. Her sheer size alone is overwhelming, filling you up until you’re shaking.

Sevika clicks her tongue from where she’s kneeling in front of you, the head of her own strap tapping against your cheek. “C’mon, baby,” she drawls, gripping your chin. “Suck.”

Your mouth is already watering as you part your lips, letting her ease the thick length past your tongue. She doesn’t force it—yet. Just lets you get used to the stretch before guiding more inside, groaning when you start to hollow your cheeks.

“Fuck,” Sevika hisses, eyes dark as she watches you work. “So pretty with your mouth full.”

Ambessa’s pace picks up, slamming into you hard enough to jolt your body forward, forcing more of Sevika’s strap into your throat. You gag, eyes rolling back, body overwhelmed from every angle.

Grayson, not content to just watch, moves beside you, pressing a soft kiss against your temple before her fingers find your clit again, rubbing slow, lazy circles.

“Think you can cum for us, sweetheart?” she whispers, voice warm, coaxing. “Be a good girl and soak Ambessa’s cock?”

You’re already there, body locking up, vision going white as the pleasure overtakes you. You sob around Sevika’s strap, thighs shaking as you clench around Ambessa’s cock, coming so hard your body collapses into the sheets.

They don’t stop.

Sevika chuckles, pulling out of your mouth to let you breathe. “Not done yet, baby,” she purrs, wiping a tear from your cheek.

Ambessa pulls out slowly, watching the way you drip down your thighs. “You can still take more.”

Grayson presses another kiss against your jaw, voice like velvet. “Let’s see just how many times we can make you cum”

[txttletale]

You know that not being white doesn't excuse you from being a participant in the imperial core, right? You live in England. You directly benefit from the suffering and labor of workers in the countries which England oppresses, you do actually have to reckon with that inherent complicity in the imperialist machine. What practical action have you taken to recompense those countries? Solely posting about theory infinitely on the internet while you enjoy your cozy global north benefits - regardless of whatever level of racism i'm sure you do experience in that life - and maybe donating to fundraisers sometimes is not good enough.

very odd ask. i'm not christian, i'm marxist. i don't think that the role of someone living in the imperial core is to, what are you even implying here -- loudly proclaim their own guilt while giving alms to the disadvantaged? it is to organize and militantly politically oppose the imperialist entities they live within & while that is something i do it is also something i don't post details about on tumblr to appease strangers. anyways i am in no way secretive or in denial about how i experience tons of privilege from living in the imperial core -- one of my most popular recent posts is about how i personally experienced an extremely black and white case of passport privilege protecting me from racism innit -- so this kind of seems like it's not coming from a place of good faith and is instead you having a whine at me because the sum total of your politics is encompassed within posting online and you assume mine is too.

[im-just-star-dust]

My therapist wanted me to get diagnosed Because i was so affectionate XD (among other things obviously)

Id hug her like every session, whether afterwards as a thank you or when im in it because its comforting and will help me calm down. She asked me once where i feel the safest in the world, and i didnt realize she ment an actual place so i said when my dad hugs me. I also said my mom and my friends, but my dad came first to mind cause hes bigger than me so a hug feels more safer and secure. My mom and friends also make me feel super safe so i said them too. She said shes never had someone answer like that, usually people say their room or something XD

Id also cry a Fuck ton. I cry soo easily its goddamn embaressing. "Do you have friends?" Yes :) "do you get along? What does friendship mean to you?" Idk bro xD being there for eachother? 🥺 being supportive 🥺🥺 idk man i just love them a lot 🥺🥺🥺😭😭 and then im crying cause they mean alot to me and idk how to be normal about it XD

👁👄👁

Anyways... i didnt know being emotional and affectinate were Signs, but i guess looking back now it makes sense 🤷‍♀️

No joke on my diagnoses report, in the notes it said "exessive crying over mundane topics, extremely sensitive to percieved judgment." BITCH... your right, but still omg 😭

Shout-out to the autistics who crave hugs. Shout-out to the autistics whose love language is touch.

And shout-out to the autistics who were denied a timely diagnosis because a misinformed professional thought you were "too affectionate" to be autistic.

You aren't any less autistic because of how you show affection. And you aren't nearly as rare as pop culture and outdated research would imply.

[heliosunny]

I've read a manhwa with the plot of MC being in a marriage of convenience with the ML in their first life and they work hard to make it work/feel like an actual marriage but the guy didn't give it much thought so they died and in their second life, the MC just decided to not focus on the guy but that somehow attracted the guy's attention

So that premise with Mydei (or Phainon, I just thought it suited Mydei more) where in reader's first life they had loved him and dedicated their whole being to him but they end up dying so in their second life they were more confrontational and willing to potentially piss off Mydei but that just had the opposite effect on him.

Bonus I guess if he remembers what reader did after a certain time and makes him fall harder (or go full on yan route idm)

Yandere!Mydei x Reader

[Artist]

You had loved him once.

It was a quiet, steady love, the kind built on careful devotion rather than reckless passion. A love that manifested in the way you always reached for his hand in public, in the way you made him pomegranate juice exactly as he liked it, in the way you handled every social obligation so he wouldn’t have to. A love that, despite being arranged, had been genuine on your part.

Mydei, however, had never given you much thought.

Your marriage had been one of convenience, a political arrangement that benefited both parties, nothing more. You knew that. You had known it from the start. But knowing didn’t stop you from hoping, didn’t stop you from trying to be someone he could come to love.

Yet you had tried.

You learned his preferences. You shielded him from trivial nuisances. You defended him against enemies in court. You ensured his home was warm when he returned, even if he never cared whether you were there waiting or not. You gave him everything you had to offer, even as your own needs went unnoticed, unfulfilled.

And then, one day, you died.

It was an illness, slow but inevitable. The kind that ate away at you little by little until there was nothing left to give. You had fought to stay by his side, to live long enough for him to notice you, to care. But as you lay on your deathbed, your body weak, your breath shallow, Mydei had stood beside you with the same unreadable expression he always wore.

“It’s unfortunate” he had said, his voice calm. “But there’s nothing to be done.”

He hadn’t held your hand. Hadn’t begged you to stay. Hadn’t even asked if you were afraid. And so you died, alone in a marriage that had never truly been shared.

But then, against all reason, you awoke again.

A second life. A second chance.

And this time, you wouldn’t waste it on him.

----

The first time you met Mydei again in your new life, he had the same detached expression, but this time, you weren’t the same.

“Oh. It’s you.” he said, mildly surprised.

You stared at him, deadpan. “Tragic, isn’t it?”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback. In your past life, you would have smiled softly, eager to please. Now, you met his gaze with all the warmth of an ice sculpture.

“You seem different.” he noted, as though observing the weather.

“Yes, well, dying does that to a person.” You crossed your arms. “But don’t worry, I’m not here to cater to your every whim anymore. I have better things to do.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a reaction so subtle you might have missed it if you hadn’t known him so well. It was funny. For the first time, Mydei found himself unsure of how to proceed.

Days turned to weeks, and you continued to avoid him as much as possible. When you couldn’t, you treated him with polite indifference.

“Here, I brought you tea.”

Mydei raised a brow. “Tea?”

“I just grabbed the first thing I saw.” You sipped your own drink with a smirk, watching as he hesitated before taking a sip. No more pomegranate juice, but you made no move to correct it. Let him suffer.

He gave you a long, unreadable look, then quietly finished the tea anyway.

You weren’t sure when it started, but Mydei began seeking you out more often. Not for anything important, just small, meaningless interactions that, in your first life, he would have ignored entirely.

“You’re busy” he observed one day, watching you pour over books in the library.

“You’re perceptive” you deadpanned, not looking up.

“I can help.”

You finally met his gaze, incredulous. “You? Help? With something that doesn’t benefit you?”

“I’m capable of generosity” he replied smoothly.

You scoffed. “Sure. And I’m the Empress of the Universe.”

To your growing unease, Mydei only chuckled, as if thoroughly enjoying the challenge you presented. If he had ignored your love in your past life, he now seemed intent on prying into your every thought in this one.

You weren’t sure which was worse.

What made it all the more complicated was that Mydei had no idea you had already lived and died once before. To him, this was just the first time you had ever looked at him with anything less than quiet admiration. And while he couldn’t understand what had changed, he was undeniably intrigued.

-----

The third prince’s birthday celebration was an unavoidable event. No matter how much you wanted to stay far away from Mydei, you were both expected to attend.

Dressed in formal attire, you entered the grand hall, carefully ignoring Mydei’s presence beside you.

As expected, the noble ladies flocked to him almost immediately, their voices sickly sweet.

“Mydei, you look as composed as ever” one simpered, lightly touching his sleeve. “Surely you must save a dance for me?”

“And me as well” another chimed in. “It’s not often we get to see you at these gatherings.”

You sipped your drink and turned away, uninterested.

Mydei, however, seemed less inclined to entertain them. His gaze flickered to you, watching your utter lack of reaction.

“You’re ignoring me” he murmured, stepping closer.

You didn’t even glance at him. “Congratulations, you’re learning.”

His lips twitched slightly, as if amused. “Are you jealous?”

You turned to him at last, offering the driest look you could muster. “If I had a single grain of salt for every second I cared, I wouldn’t even be able to season a meal.”

He chuckled. And you had the distinct feeling Mydei wasn’t going to let you ignore him forever.

Sensing your chance to leave, you excused yourself quietly and slipped away. You navigated through the bustling crowd until you reached the gardens, where the young third prince stood alone, watching the lanterns flicker above. You wished him a happy birthday, exchanged brief pleasantries before excusing yourself, intent on leaving before anyone noticed. Unbeknownst to you, Mydei had followed—watching from the shadows as you spoke to the young prince with a warmth you had never once given him in this lifetime.

The door shut behind you with a quiet click as you stepped into your quarters, letting out a sigh of relief. The evening had been long. You had done your part, made an appearance, and now you could finally shed the pretense of civility and rest.

You barely had time to unfasten the heavy jewelry weighing on your ears before there was a knock at the door. Your brows furrowed. It was late. Too late for someone to be calling on you unless it was urgent.

Still, you already had a sinking feeling about who it was.

“Enter” you called, bracing yourself.

The door opened, and sure enough, Mydei stepped inside. His usually pristine attire was slightly disheveled, his coat unbuttoned at the collar. But what truly caught your attention was the way he moved, slower, more deliberate, as if something was weighing on him.

He had never been one to drink, and yet, something about him seemed... off.

You sighed. “It’s late, Mydei.”

“You left early” he countered, shutting the door behind him. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—something quiet and simmering beneath the surface. “Without informing me.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to retire for the night” you replied dryly, turning away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“I saw you” Mydei interrupted.

You stilled. “Saw me?”

“With the third prince” he clarified, stepping closer. “In the gardens. You seemed… close.”

You exhaled through your nose. “He’s a child, Mydei. I was wishing him a happy birthday.”

“And yet, you looked at him with more warmth than you’ve ever spared me.”

You turned to face him then, brows arching. “Are you jealous?”

Mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied you. He took another step forward, invading your space, forcing you to tilt your head slightly to maintain eye contact.

“Would it matter if I was?” he asked at last.

You scoffed, stepping back. “No. Because it wouldn’t change anything.”

Mydei was a man of control. To be thrown off balance, to be met with resistance where he once found compliance, was undoubtedly foreign to him.

Good. Let him feel what you had felt all those years.

You turned away, signaling the conversation was over. “Go sleep, Mydei. We have nothing more to discuss.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, finally, he let out a quiet chuckle, a sound devoid of humor. “You truly are different now.”

You didn’t respond. Didn’t look back.

Because if you did, you might have noticed the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides. And you might have realized that Mydei was far from willing to let things be.

-----

Over the next few days, Mydei seemed to have an unusual amount of free time. His duties, which once kept him busy, were now seemingly cast aside. Wherever you went, he was there.

It started subtly: walking in step with you through the halls, his presence a quiet shadow. Then it grew bolder. Sitting beside you at meals, his knee brushing against yours and never pulling away. Standing behind you, fingertips grazing the small of your back under the guise of guiding you forward.

You would have ignored it, written it off as coincidence—if not for the way his touch lingered. The way he reached for your hand absentmindedly, as if it were second nature.

One evening, as you sat by the window, lost in thought, you felt it again, his hand, warm and steady, against your shoulder. A familiar presence, yet wholly unfamiliar in its intent.

“You’ve been avoiding me” Mydei murmured.

“I’ve been living my life” you corrected, not looking up.

His fingers curled slightly, almost as if to pull you closer, but he hesitated. “And yet, somehow, I find myself a part of it more than before.”

You turned to him then, meeting his gaze directly. “Perhaps you should ask yourself why that is.”

A smirk ghosted his lips, though his eyes held something heavier. “Oh, I have.”

You had tolerated it long enough. Mydei’s constant presence, his lingering touches, the way he hovered around you as if he had never been indifferent.

The final straw came when he followed you into the private study, an intimate space he had never once stepped foot in before. You slammed the book you were holding onto the table and turned to face him, irritation burning in your chest.

"Enough!" Your voice was firm, unwavering. "What exactly do you want from me, Mydei?"

He arched a brow, unfazed. "I would think that’s obvious."

You scoffed. "Obvious? You ignored me for years, treated our marriage as a mere obligation, and now—now you cling to my side like a shadow. Why?" Your breath hitched slightly, but you pushed forward. "Is it because I no longer chase after you? Because I finally see this marriage for what it is?"

A flicker of something passed through his eyes—something unreadable. He took a step closer, but you raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"No" you said sharply. "No more. This ends now. I want a divorce."

For the first time since his sudden shift in behavior, Mydei’s expression darkened. "You don’t mean that."

"I do." You met his gaze head-on. "I refuse to stay shackled in a marriage that was never real."

He exhaled slowly, as if reining himself in. "And what makes you think I'll allow it?"

Your fingers clenched into fists. "Because it’s not your decision to make."

"You truly have changed."

You didn’t back down. "And I intend to keep it that way."

His eyes lingered on you, calculating, something darker stirring beneath the surface. Then, as if making a silent decision, he took another step forward.

"Then let's see how far you’re willing to go" he murmured.

-----

Determined to push him into agreeing, you invited Duke Laurent, a respected noble and someone with a clear interest in you, to visit. If Mydei would not agree to divorce out of reason, perhaps jealousy would make him let go.

Just as you began conversing with the duke, Mydei’s arm suddenly snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You stiffened at the public display of intimacy, something he had never once shown before. The duke’s expression remained polite, though there was clear tension in the air.

Mydei leaned in, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear. "You think bringing another man here will make me release you?"

He turned his gaze to the duke, his expression composed but lethal. "You see, we are still very much married."

Before you could shove him away, he tilted your chin up and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the corner of your lips, just enough to make the moment scandalous.

"Mydei—" You hissed, shoving at his chest, but his grip remained firm.

Then came his final blow, spoken with a smirk against your skin. "If you truly wish to fulfill the divorce, then surely, as tradition dictates, our marriage must bear an heir first. Otherwise, it would be incomplete."

The audacity of it, the sheer arrogance—

Fury surged through you. Without thinking, you leaned in and bit his shoulder, hard enough to make him tense, hard enough to leave a mark through his fine fabric. Just hoping it'll make him let you go. He inhaled sharply, but instead of anger, something else flickered in his gaze. Interest.

His grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into your waist. "How intriguing" he murmured, almost amused. "You’re becoming more and more fascinating."

You could only glare, breathless with anger, as he leaned in even closer. "I’ve decided—I shall never let you alone."

That night, Mydei made his final decision.

You found yourself restless, pacing in your chambers, feeling trapped in a game you never agreed to play. The door creaked open, and you didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

"Leave!" you ordered without looking up.

Instead, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "You asked for a divorce. I gave you my terms," he said smoothly. "But I have a better idea."

You turned, narrowing your eyes. "I don't care for your ideas, Mydei. I want my freedom."

"And I want you," he countered effortlessly, closing the distance between you. "So, it seems we are at an impasse."

He reached out, tracing a hand over your wrist. "You see, I’ve realized something," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. "I cannot let you go."

"Then you will have to learn."

"No" he whispered, leaning in "I will simply ensure that you never wish to leave."

This was no longer a battle of marriage or freedom.

This was war.

Then, his voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "If you try to run, I will find you. If you seek another, I will ruin them. And if you deny me..." His fingers trailed over your throat, "I will make sure you have nowhere to go but back to me."

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Wouldn’t I?" The smirk on his face only triggered you more. "You forget, my dear, I am not a man who lets go of what is his. And you? You belong to me."

A slow, measured pause before he added, "So fight me if you must. Hate me, struggle, scream. But in the end, you will always return to me. I will make sure of it."

---

Another day passed. Nothing happened. Until-

You were sitting stiffly in your chambers, the weight of Mydei’s last words still pressing against your mind.

Mydei entered, once again without your consent.

A goblet sat before you, filled with deep crimson liquid—the rich, unmistakable hue of pomegranate juice. It was his favorite, something he drank often, something he had tried countless times to get you to enjoy.

“I had the servants prepare this just for you” Mydei said smoothly, swirling the liquid in his own goblet. “It would be such a shame if you ignored my gift.”

You hesitated, glancing at the drink. Something about his tone made you wary, but refusing would only stretch this moment further. You reached for the goblet, only for Mydei to intercept, his fingers ghosting over yours as he picked it up himself.

“Let me.”

His hand cupped your chin, tilting your head slightly. Before you could react, the cool rim of the goblet pressed against your lips, the sweet aroma of pomegranate thick in the air. The moment the liquid touched your tongue, warmth flooded through your body. A strange, numbing sensation curled through your veins, heavy and inescapable. Your limbs felt sluggish, the world turning soft around the edges.

Your breath hitched as your body betrayed you, sinking against the silk sheets.

Through your hazy vision, you saw Mydei standing by the door, watching. His expression was unreadable, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Rest well, my dear”

But he didn’t leave.

Instead, he moved closer, his fingers brushing against your cheek before he slid into the bed beside you. His arms wrapped around you, firm yet deceptively gentle, caging you against him. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, and in your hazy state, resistance felt… unnecessary.

“You’ll understand soon” he whispered, his breath fanning against your ear. “You don’t need to fight anymore. Just listen to me.”

Your thoughts wavered, slipping further into a fog. Your body felt too heavy to move, your mind too sluggish to argue. His presence, once suffocating, now felt… inevitable.

Through the night, he held you close, his grip never loosening. Each time your thoughts stirred, his voice was there, murmuring soft reassurances, reinforcing his presence, reminding you he was always there.

By the time morning light crept through the curtains, your mind was no longer as sharp as before. The idea of pulling away seemed distant, unnecessary.

He was still here.

His arms remained locked around you, as if this was how it had always been. His breath, slow and even, ghosted against the side of your neck, warm yet oppressive.

“Awake already?” His voice was low, thick with the drowsiness of someone who had slept well.

You swallowed, trying to shift, only to realize just how intimately entangled the two of you were. One of his legs had hooked over yours, anchoring you beneath the weight of him. His fingers, idly tracing over the fabric of your nightclothes, stopped just at your wrist, where his hold subtly tightened.

You were trapped.

“I need to get up” you muttered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Mydei didn’t loosen his grip. If anything, his arms curled around you more securely, pressing you deeper against his chest. “You don’t, actually,” he murmured. “Stay.”

Something in his voice made your stomach twist. There was no plea, no request, just the quiet certainty of a man who had already decided what would happen.

“I have things to do” you tried again, frustration slipping into your tone. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t I?” Mydei interrupted lazily, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you properly. His hair was slightly tousled, falling over sharp eyes that gleamed with something unreadable. “You haven’t been well. I think it’s best if you rest today.”

“I feel fine” you lied, pushing against his chest.

He caught your wrist easily, his thumb pressing against the rapid beat of your pulse. “Do you?” His smile was slow, knowing. “You still look dazed. You’re warm. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were falling ill.”

Mydei had always been perceptive, dangerously so. And in this moment, with your thoughts still sluggish, you knew you were at a disadvantage.

“Mydei,” you tried to keep your voice steady, “what did you do?”

His grip on your wrist didn’t waver, but his expression softened into something almost… fond.

“I’ve merely helped you see things clearly.” His fingers traced over your knuckles before he lifted your hand, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your palm. His lips curved against your skin. “You always try to run. You make things so difficult for yourself.”

“You drugged me.”

Mydei sighed, tilting his head as if mildly disappointed. “It was just a little something to help you relax. To stop you from making rash decisions.” He leaned in closer, his nose grazing against your cheek before his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “You wouldn’t want to make any rash decisions, would you?”

A surge of unease coursed through you, your body screaming to move—to fight. But your limbs still felt leaden, and Mydei knew it. He had planned for it.

“I thought we had an agreement” you gritted out. “You can’t keep me here like this.”

“What do you mean by 'keep you'? You’re mine, my dear. You always have been.”

Your breath hitched as he finally released your wrist—only to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him properly.

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

pt3

What's wrong with me?

After a while you rush downstairs, excited to tell everyone all about your trip and how fun it was.

You're excited to tell them all about how smart you are and how Liz Allan is considering you for an internship!

You're excited to tell them about how you and your friends didn't get in trouble and how most of the class was uninterested other than you!

You're excited to tell them about how you're so thankful for this trip!

You're excited to tell them how you even learned about Ozcorp!

You're so excited to tell everyone about how you were asking so many questions and how you even got to meet Liz Allan at all!

You find Tim on the couch watching TV while also on his phone.You ran up to him and sat next to him on the couch.

"Hey Tim!" you started rambling about your trip and your friends, not noticing him giving you a stink eye. You weren't the most observant person.

In the middle of you talking about how your friend tripped while you guys were learning about their projects, he got up and left.

"Hey, where are you going?" you asked while tilting your head.

"I need to do something, homework came up," he said, not even looking at you.

You knew he was lying.

Well, you tried...

Next up, you tried to tell Dick.

He was in Bludhaven, so you could only text him.

You've probably texted him over a million times, and he's probably only replied, like, twice.

You wish you could say "That's just how he was with everyone!" but you know it's not true. You can't lie to yourself like that.

You've seen how he treats everyone else.

How he treats Damian the way you wish you were treated by him at his age.

How he goes out to hang out with Tim.

How he checks up on Jason.

None of which has ever been done with you.

He never replied to your text, he has always had your notifications silenced anyway.

You tried telling Bruce, but he was busy trying to figure out a case. He didn't mean to ignore you! he was just..busy..like always.

There isn't much to say, other than how you're not sure this is how fathers are supposed to treat their kids.

When you were younger, you saw how your friends dads treated their kids like they were the light of their life.

And the truth was that they probably were, unlike you.

You tried telling Alfred, and he did listen! ..but he had to go help Bruce and Tim so he had to leave mid-conversation.

Duty calls.

You tried talking to Damian, but all he did was tell you you were "pathetic for being excited over something so trivial". Before sharpening his katana in an intimidating way.

You backed off.

Last but not least, you tried telling Jason.

You got excited and started jumping in place while talking about it only for him to shoo you away and yell at you for interrupting him while he was reading.

You froze and teared up when you got yelled at, you tried hiding it but even he noticed.

You stayed in your room the rest of the day.

You tried playing your guitar to calm you down only for you to break a string somehow.

Yikes. Today is not your day.

By dinnertime, you were starving.

You forgot to grab breakfast while trying to talk to the others, and you were crying when it was time for lunch due to Jason yelling at you.

You went downstairs to eat with everyone, eyes still puffy and red from crying. You were hungry.

While walking downstairs, you could hear everyone laughing and chatting together.

As soon as you appeared in the room, it went silent and the room got tense.

It stayed that way until you left.

You finally got to your room.

You don't understand.

What's wrong with you?

Your body? Face? Your hair? How you speak? How you dress?

They keep you guessing.

What's wrong with you?

Could it them?

It's probably you!

Why won't they just listen for once?!

It's clear you want them near you, you need attention, you need them.

You feel yourself start crying again.

"Please don't ignore me." you whisper to yourself.

Suddenly the room is spinning, you feel like you're melting, and everything's wrong with you!

The bite itches, it burns, you just wanna sleep, you're well rested, you feel like you're melting, why can't it stop?!

Everything's going wrong!

You're tired of them! Tired of Dicks dumb excuses on why you two could never hang out! Tired of Jason's constant pushing you away! Tired of Tim always leaving you! Tired of Damian always attacking you, verbally and physically! Tired of Alfred always defending everyone but you! Tired of your father dismissing you!

You wanna cry. You wanna cry and scream and hit something.

Maybe you should stop trying. You're the only one who cares.

You can't keep pretending you're fine.

You've decided to stop caring about them.

You think you deserve better.

You aren't sure.

You don't think you'll ever be.

Who are you really?

oml this is kinda bad...

guys trust in future chapters i WILL be including more of the spider stuff🙏🙏🙏 its on its way

everyones prolly ooc i dont know what im on about

guys pls sned asks and stuff and interact its wjat keeps me goimg 🙏

also should inpost my series on ao3 question mark

taglist: @bath1lda @mariadvorak

[harrysfolklore]

hi! i have a little bitch blurb request - piastri sis is on painkillers after a minor surgery or after being at the dentist and while carlos is taking care of her she says things she never would’ve DARED to say out loud - even about the fact she’s been infatuated with him longer than she’ll ever admit 😋

this was so fun write 😭😭 i love my little bitches so much

"Carloooooos," you slur through a mouth full of gauze, reaching blindly for him as the nurse wheels you out. "I missed you. Did you miss me? I was asleep but I missed you."

"Yes, mi amor," he tries not to laugh as he helps you into the car. "I missed you too."

"Your face is so nice," you pat his cheek clumsily. "Like... so symmetrical. Are you real? Maybe I'm dreaming."

He buckles you in carefully. "I'm real."

"Prove it," you demand, then immediately start giggling. "My mouth feels like clouds. Do clouds feel things, Carlos? Are clouds sad?"

"I don't think so-"

"We should ask Lando," you say seriously. "He knows about clouds. He's British. It rains there."

Carlos bites his lip to keep from laughing as he starts driving. You're staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes.

"Your hair is so fluffy," you reach for him, missing completely. "Like a lion. My lion. Did you know lions mate for life? Are we lions, Carlos?"

"Eyes on the road, eyes on the road," he mutters to himself in Spanish, fighting a smile.

"Oh! Spanish!" you perk up. "I know Spanish! Te... te something. What's the word? The love word?"

"Te amo?"

"YES!" you try to clap but miss your hands together. "Te amo! I love you SO much. Like... like more than pizza. And I really love pizza. I think I love you since the first time I called you a stupid little bitch."

"I'm honored-"

"But shhhh," you stage whisper. "Don't tell Carlos. He'll get a big head. His head's already perfect though. How is it so perfect?"

"Mi amor, I am Carlos."

You gasp dramatically. "No way! Since when?"

"Since birth, I think."

"Birth!" you suddenly look devastated. "I wasn't there for your birth! I missed baby Carlos! He was probably so cute. With tiny baby abs."

He can't hold back his laugh this time. "I don't think I had abs as a baby."

"Lies," you poke his arm, missing twice. "You came out of the womb with a six-pack. And perfect hair. And that smile that makes me want to take off my-"

"Okay!" he interrupts quickly. "How about some water?"

"Water is boring," you pout. "You're not boring though. You're exciting. Like racing. Vroom vroom."

He hands you a water bottle anyway, helping you drink without choking.

"My hero," you sigh dreamily. "Saving me from death by water. We should get married."

He nearly swerves. "What?"

"Yeah! Right now! Call Lando, he can be the flower girl. Oscar can be the ring bear."

"Ring bearer?"

"No, ring BEAR. He has to dress as a bear. It's traditional."

"Since when?"

"Since right now. I just decided. I'm very smart, Carlos. The doctor said so."

"Did he?"

"Mhmm. He said..." you scrunch your face in concentration. "Actually I don't remember. But I'm sure he did. Because I am smart. Smart enough to date you. HA! Take that, Instagram models!"

"What Instagram models?"

"The ones that slide into your DMs," you try to look stern but your numb face isn't cooperating. "I see them. With their perfect teeth. Well guess what? I have no teeth now! I win!"

"You still have teeth, mi amor. Just minus the wisdom ones."

"Wisdom..." you gasp. "Carlos! Am I going to be stupid now?"

"No-"

"Quick! Ask me something smart!"

"Like what?"

"Like... what's your favorite color?"

"That's not really a test of wisdom-"

"BLUE!" you shout triumphantly. "See? Still smart! And your butt looks really good in blue. Like REALLY good. Science fact. I used to stare at your butt when I pretended to hate you."

Finally, you reach home. Carlos helps you out of the car as you ramble about his "science butt" and whether lions know about race cars.

"Time for rest," he says, laying you on the bed.

"No," you grab his shirt. "Stay. Protect me from the tooth fairy. She's a thief, Carlos. A professional thief."

"I'll protect you," he promises, sliding in beside you.

"My hero," you mumble, already drifting off. "Hey Carlos?"

"Yes?"

"If we have babies, will they have wisdom teeth? Or will they be born wise? Like little wise lions...Or wise little little bitches."

You fall asleep before he can answer, drooling slightly through the gauze.

And Carlos can only smile.

[sillywizardinthewoods]

I am the token straight man, I know what he thinks this means. I suck at this sort of thing, which I think makes me a subject matter expert because this guy also clearly sucks at this sort of thing.

Disclaimer: I know the correct thing to do when seeing a young woman alone at a restaurant is to ‘mind my own gosh darn business’, not that my social anxiety would let me try this anyway. I also know that what he refers to as ‘traps’ are in fact reasonable reactions to creeps. A good rule of thumb is that pickup artists are wrong about everything and any video evidence to the contrary is staged.

Crucially, there’s a picture of a woman attached to the original tweet he’s responding to that has been cropped out. I reckon this makes a bit more sense if we could see the picture, but I’m making some inferences based on what he wrote.

Complimenting her manicure is a very safe compliment in that it’s hard to take the wrong way or be offended over, and asking about the cross earrings is just a setup for the religious pickup line, and a possible conversation starter if this guy is anti-smalltalk. Saying he used to believe in angels but the devil is a fallen angel is him saying he’s just gotten out of a rough relationship (his ex being the angel who fell and caused him to stop believing). This very specific fantasy woman wearing cross earrings with a perfect manicure is also drinking apple juice*. Asking if angels drink apple juice is therefore a way to imply he’s hoping she could be the angel who restores his faith, but is prepared to accept no for an answer.

*Possibly beer or cider, I don’t have the image but I’m making an educated guess. It’s more likely beer or cider (can’t speak for everyone but if I’m in a restaurant and have the choice between cider or apple juice, I’m picking cider every time), but I’m guessing our wannabe Casanova has Opinions on what is appropriate for women to drink, saw a yellowish liquid in a glass, and made an assumption.

The two traps are an attempt at a compliment that makes someone uncomfortable and comes across as a catcall, which he avoids by complimenting her manicure, and by coming on too strong by insisting that she is an angel, which he avoids by instead asking her if she’s an angel.

I’m going to finish my critique by pointing out that while this whole opener is a red flag, if I’m right about this then he actually mentioned his toxic ex girlfriend in the second sentence he spoke to this poor imaginary woman, which is honestly a worse red flag IMO. Rookie mistake tbh.

This has got to be the most incomprehensible thing I’ve ever read this is a reply to a dumbass pick up artist twitter thread but it sounds like a riddle that you’d be given 3 chances to solve before getting thrown in the gallows

[rebelssvy]

kiss it better. ✧.*

bakugo x reader ·˚ ༘

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

summary: making out with hot frat boy baku at a collage party, in a closet. no sex or heavy petting, just really hot making out and lots of dirty talk.

thinking about, frat boy bakugo. despite all your efforts to not be here, your new roommates dragged you to this party. you had zero interest being here and zero intention flirting with anyone that came your way. sexually frustrated and maybe a little tipsy wasn’t a willing combo for you. it wasn’t until you bumped into a sweaty back that left you cursing under your breath. what shocked you more was the response you got in return. a line of curses that had your mouth wide open. this guy messed with the wrong girl and that was for- fucking sure.

“excuse me?” you said craning your neck up to the guy, tapping him on his shoulder to make him face you.

“you got a fucking problem?” the sassy blonde replied to you, now fully aware of your presence. turned around facing you, arms crossed in anger.

“your my fucking problem asshole.” mocking him with each syllable, you stocked towards him. you were at a physical disadvantage but that wasn’t stopping you. no, not when this guy is making you already bad night, worse.

without another word you were now being dragged through the halls, brushing up against people against your will. this random man had you in his grip, tight but not loose enough for you to slip through his fingers. if you wanted to you could’ve fought your way out of his hands, but a part of you wanted to see where this lead. notices in his handsome face and muscular tone when he turned around. this was a battle worth fighting.

the hard surface of the door against your back brought you back from your imagination, he had you cornered in this random room. wait. it was closer to a closet. you really didn’t have anywhere to go. his huge frame trapped you, you now got a better look at him. you realized you weren’t gonna run anyways he was just to gorgeous.

breaking the silence, he started-“listen, i’m not gonna let some pretty random girl ruin my party.” you gasped at his words, they were simple, but his tone was harsh. “so when we leave this closet your not gonna be out there looking so upset. your gonna act like your having a good time. got it?” he finished.

“you think i’m pretty?” you asked toying with him. the scowl on his face seemed permanent.

he tugged at his shirt collard, clearing his throat before saying, “yeah but it doesn’t matter how pretty you are with your fuck ass attitude.” you laughed in his face as a reply.

“you think i have a bad attitude? fuck off, you are clearly so much worse then me!” you said through giggles.

“just shut up oh my fucking god.” he groaned while his hand flew to his hair.

“make me.” you pushed yourself up, onto your tippy toes. testing him to see what type of guy he was you flushed at your own behavior.

without another word, his hand found the back of your neck and you were pulled against the man in front of you. his lips finding yours with fastness. the kiss was rough, teeth clinking against each other. you gasped when you felt his hand move from his spot on your neck, to its new position on your waist. pulling your body harder against him your lips now worked in rhythm, the harshness was now seductive. sloppy and wet.

slowly, he parted away from your lips, his hands never leaving your body. you grabbed onto his shoulders for balance. slightly lightheaded as you stumbled back.

“you could be a problem for me.” he said through hot breaths, himself also regaining composure.

“oh really tough guy?” before you could laugh farther, he silenced your laughing in his face buy laying his lips back on yours once again.

“stop arguing with me like a good girl and be fucking quiet.” he mumbled against your lips, his words making your mouth part. his tongue ventured into the new space taking the opportunity to catch you off guard. the two of you getting very hot and bothered now, fighting for dominance.

dry humping each other you caught his groans in your mouth. pulling apart he moved away from you slowly.

through rushed breaths, he said “if you feel the same way i feel about you meet me upstairs in five minutes. room 12, it’s my room.”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

thinking bout a hot HOT part two.

the part two is up!!! check out my master list