#what do you mean war is messy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slater-baby · 2 months ago

Text

Money Shot

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

Tags - Squirting, voyeurism, toys, mentions of breeding

“Simon?” Price calls from the head of the boardroom, arms crossed in deep contemplation, “What do you think? Is it feasible?”

“Feasible? Sure,” He glances at the tactical plan with a minute shake of his head, “Advisable? Not so much. I mean, that structure is...what? Three, four meters? Unless the drop point is on the fuckin' roof, there’s no way the cunts won’t see us coming.”

“Hm,” Price grunts, running a hand through his beard. Around the boardroom, various members of the congregation shift in their seats.

“What about…” Gaz begins, and then, Simon hears it.

BZZ.

“Goddamnit,” he whispers beneath his breath, leaning forward in his chair to pull his phone out of his pocket. Just recently, he’d installed a set of cameras about the house and porch.

‘Just for extra security, love,’ he’d told you. Since you moved in with him—and what with your name now written into his will—his time away on deployment and in the office had become…a liability, to say the least.

On a good day, Simon didn’t like to leave you by yourself. But for extended periods of time? When he couldn’t so much as pick up the phone to send you a text?

His fried nerves had all but demanded it. The cameras were his only failsafe. His only means of connecting with you, even when you were oblivious to it. In his mind, when he was deployed to some desolate war zone, slumming it in drafty safehouses, sustaining himself on MREs and cigarettes, then just seeing you quiet and content in your usual place on the sofa, flipping through a book or doing a face mask, would be enough to tide him over.

Though, he’d failed to consider just how goddamn annoying the notifications would soon become.

Hurriedly, he glances at his phone under the table, halfheartedly listening to the meeting.

‘MASTER BEDROOM - MOVEMENT DETECTED,’ his phone so helpfully supplies him.

He scowls.

Movement detected. Yeah, right. Just like the other twenty times it’d told him that in the past hour alone. He digs his index finger into the ringer switch, but just at that moment, another notification comes.

And with it, another…And another…And another….

‘MOVEMENT DETECTED’

‘MOVEMENT DETECTED,’ it says to him yet again, as if he were an idiot too dull to even read.

“MOVEMENT DETECTED!! INTRUDER ALERT!!!” It seems to screech, “GRAB YOUR GUN, SOLDIER, THE DAY ISN’T OVER YET!!’

Annoyance climbing by the minute, Simon hurriedly flicks through his apps, all too eager to return to the meeting at hand. Within seconds, he’s staring at the grey display of your sparsely lit living room.

If anything, it’s a bit messy, but hardly remarkable. The TV is on, some soapy romance show still rolling in the background. There’s a pillow on the floor. The cat is lounging in a flickering patch of dying sunlight. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He switches to the kitchen. Nothing but the hum of the old fridge greets him. And in the dining room, it’s a similar story. So, attention wavering with every word that Kyle speaks, he angrily flicks through the porch cameras and straight to the master bedroom.

And that’s when he hears it.

The smallest, weakest little voice…

“God, Simon…”

At the sound—barely audible over the noise of Price’s lecture—his heart rate spikes.

Physically, he can feel his blood rushing, nerves shredding themselves to pieces as he hurriedly presses the rotate button on screen. Slowly—almost as if to taunt him—the janky camera begins to turn. And with every second longer he has to wait, darker possibilities begin to flood his synapses.

You’d fainted.

You’d fallen.

You’d broken a bone.

Or, perhaps the very worst, he’d find someone else standing over you.The exact reason he’d installed the cameras in the first place.

He waits with bated breath, practically unblinking, until he finds the source of the movement. The blankets atop the bed jostle, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees your familiar form swathed in pillows and fluff. Safe, warm, and most importantly, alone.

“Simon…” you say again—voice strained. Almost as if you were…crying?

Again, he glances at Price. The man is distracted, going on about the MTC once more. Surreptitiously, Simon looks back down at his phone, confused.

Were you sick? Laid up in bed with a fever?

No, somehow that didn’t feel like the right description. Last month, when you’d caught the flu, you could hardly stand to sit still. Simon practically had to chain you to the bed just to force you to get some decent rest.

Then, what could it be?

Did you miss him, perhaps?

At the thought, his chest warms. In all his years of service, Simon never had someone to miss him. He had his friends, sure, but they were his home away from home, the family he’d never known he’d find. Off service, however, before he’d met you, home wasn’t warmth. It wasn’t happiness. It wasn’t dear to his heart. Hell, it was little more than a house, with a sofa and television.

But when you came along….

You, with your shining eyes, witty jokes, and unending support…

He’d never known that the most precious gift a man could receive is someone to come home to at night and to miss him when he leaves in the morning.

Fondly, he looks at his phone screen, hardly listening to the meeting at hand.

Within your cradle of old blankets and sheets, you shift, a whimper escaping your mouth. It echoes in the grainy speakers of his phone, and he hardly even thinks to lower the volume…

That is, until you move again, and the blankets fall down.

One of your arms pushes the blankets down, and suddenly, Simon has an eyeful of your bare tits. Naked, shining with sweat, and nipples raw from being tweaked.

Instantly, his eyes go wide, and he jolts forward to hide his phone in the shadow of the conference table.

Not crying. Definitely not crying, his brain rambles, watching as the curve of your breasts squish into the mattress as you twist beneath the sheets. The flimsy fabric, threadbare after so many long nights together, wraps around your legs like a vice.

And that is exactly when he sees it.

Your back arches way from the mattress and your entire body thrums with electricity, hips moving fast and hard, every roll just as desperate and jagged as when you slide into his lap during movie nights, unbuckling his belt before he can even think to open his mouth.

“Fuck!” You nearly scream—and Simon literally flinches, hurriedly whipping his head around to look at the other men.

“Simon?” Price suddenly questions, “You alright? Was that your phone again?”

“Um,” he begins tactfully, clearing his throat, “Yeah—just m’girlfriend walkin’ in front o’ the camera again.”

“Oh,” Price nods, “She doing alright? Haven’t seen ‘er recently.”

“Yeah—she’s…” he huffs, blindly rapidly down at his phone where you writhe against the sheets, fingers thrusting between your thighs.

“She’s doing…great,” he manages, swallowing thickly when you reach a hand up to squeeze your bouncing tits.

“Well, give ‘er my regards next time you talk to to ‘er.”

“‘Course, sir.”

“Now, back to what I was saying about the perimeter…”

With that, Simon holds his breath for a few torturous minutes. However, when the other men continue on as if nothing had ever happened, he surreptitiously leans back in his chair…and looks down at the phone again.

His hearing fades to nothing but a distant buzz, pulse racing in his chest, like his heart might explode at any moment. And even though he’s muted the volume, he swears he can hear your moans ringing in his ears, vibrating in his very bones.

In the black and white video, you throw your head back against the pillows, hips jumping so hard the flimsy sheet falls down to your ankles. And soon enough, he can see every part of you. The softness of your heaving stomach, the sweat against your cheeks, the delicate shine of slick between your sweet folds…

Your entire body tenses, and undoubtedly you cry out again. He already knows what you’re saying, even if it’s all but silent in his hands.

His name.

You’re there, needy and alone, a wet spot between your legs on the sheets, shouting his name like there was any hope of him actually hearing it—as if there was any hope of him finding you, filling you up, and giving you what you truly need.

At that thought, pride wells up in his veins, hot and bubbling. And before he knows it, his blood is rushing south at an alarming rate.

“Please,” he can imagine you begging him, “Please….Please, Simon, just a little. Just the tip…”

You’d say it with heat in your cheeks and a pout on your lips, wrapping a shaky hand around his hip so that he couldn’t pull back, so that he couldn’t tease you any longer. You’d whine and whimper, tears gathering in your eyes, as you weakly pulled him forward, just enough to wrap one of those precious hands around his leaking cock.

You’d guide him forward like that—in a way he couldn’t deny—and you’d sit there, batting your eyelashes, sliding your wet cunt over the tip of his condom-covered dick, like that might tempt him just enough to take it off…to fuck you full and hard, until he was leaking out of your fluttering pussy and into your ruined panties.

He bites his lip.

You’d begged him before. On your knees, kissing the head of his cock. On your stomach, pushing your ass up against his hips. With your face buried in the pillows, nearly sobbing for it.

“Just once, Simon. Please—I promise. Just a little bit. Just the tip,” you said every time—as if those words made the act any better.

And, god, Simon wanted it. He wanted it so, so badly. To feel the warmth of your body, the heat of your bare skin against his own…to feel your pulse thumping between your legs as he fucked his cum right into the seat of your very womb.

So far, you hadn’t manage to take him raw just yet. If not because he had the patience of a Saint, then for the fact that your doctor kept rescheduling your birth control appointment.

Yet, looking at you now…

He breathes in low and deep, watching as your legs shake, toes curling.

The sheets fall off the bed.

And with another cry, you pull the dripping dildo from between your legs, curling your thighs together in absolute ecstasy.

Jaded, he looks at the damned toy. A cheap replica of his own cock. You’d given him a mould on Valentine’s Day—mostly as a joke…until next deployment came around, and you all but begged him to do it.

He still remembers how ridiculous it felt, looking down at your satisfied smile while you licked him clean afterwards, merely as a ‘thank you’ for all his hard work.

Beneath the shadow of your dangling calves, he can see the promise of your dripping cunt tucked between your sweet thighs. Desperate, wet, and wanting…

He scowls.

Pills, doctors, and implants be damned. If Simon had it his way, you’d be filled and sated, womb swollen with his seed, evidence of all the love he had yet to give you. It’s a tempting thought—one that nearly drags him into his mind once and for all.

However, a sudden movement on the camera catches his attention.

The toy is still in your hand. Strings of slick drip off of it and onto the flat of your thigh. With your other hand, you spread your abused folds, barely able to pull them back with how wet you’ve become. Impatiently, slide two of your trembling fingers into yourself, head tossing against the pillows.

“Please,” he swears he can hear it, “Please, please, please—”

You thrust into yourself ruthlessly, flecks of slick flying just at the movement. God, the sound of it must be nothing short of obscene. He can only imagine.

Your offhand tightens around the shaft of the dildo, and this time, when you tense up, the movement is so utterly enrapturing he swears he can see drops of saliva spill over your lips. You yank your hand out of yourself. Your stomach flexes. You yell into the bare room.

And that—that is when he sees it.

Suddenly, a rush of slick squirts out of your cunt and onto the bed, hips flinching as you soak through the sheets beneath your ass. Fuck, even through the horrible quality of the film, he swears he can see the walls of your pussy clenching, opening up around every wash of rushing liquid.

It splatters over your thighs, makes your toes curl into the sheets. The fabric sticks to your skin as you continue to ride out the waves of your orgasm, and when you reach a hand down to rub over your swollen clit, little spurts of it squirt over your naked body in time with every press of your fingers.

Before he even knows it—before he can feel ashamed for it—he’s rock hard against the fly of his jeans, cock pulsing beneath the fabric as he watches you lay panting and flushed in a puddle of your own cum.

“Yes,” he sees your mouth move, cunt still dribbling onto the bedsheets, “God, yes…”

Hands positively shaking, you lift the toy again, clumsily rubbing your ruined pussy over its shining length.

And, god, he’s helpless to imagine himself in its place. Helpless but to imagine himself between your legs, covered down to his knees in your shining spend. Fuck, it’s intoxicating, and it hits him harder than any drug he possibly could have taken.

Listlessly, he looks at your beautiful face through the film grain…

“Simon,” you whisper to yourself, lazily rubbing your cunt against head of that stupid toy, “Simon…”

Easily, he gets lost in it.

Lost in the sound of your voice saying his name.

Lost in the heat of your expression.

Lost in the need he feels welling up inside of himself…

Lost in the feeling of his hand palming over himself, hidden by the shadows of the looming conference table.

“Simon?”

The sound of his name—and in the voice of a man no less—makes him jump in his seat. On reflex, he closes his phone.

“What?” He answers cluelessly, slapping his hands down on the surface of the table, like he hadn’t just been thrusting into his own hand mere seconds before.

“I asked you what you thought about it,” Price jammers on, oblivious.

“About what?” he says.

At that, Price raises an eyebrow.

“About the risk assessment results. Y’know…what we’ve been talking about for the last five minutes.”

“Risk assessment,” he uselessly repeats, “Yeah. Well, I…”

Price scrunches his face, glancing between his asinine powerpoint and Simon’s covered face.

“Have you been listening?” He huffs, sounding bored.

“Of course,” he clears his throat, hurriedly absorbing the information on screen, “It’s just—I had a question about that. Must’ve left me for a second there…”

“Uh-uh,” Price glances at his wrist watch.

Simon swallows, cock pulsing rapidly in his pants. He scoots his chair in closer to the table.

“If we go in via the rear entrance, then—then I think would should recruit at least one more person for overwatch. Y’know…At the height of the lower wall, I think it might be possible to put a man on the roof. As—as contingency.”

“Sounds fine to me. You think they’d have a decent shot?”

“Well…” he blinks emptily, “At that angle, I think that...”

The clock continues to tick.

Soap yawns at the other side of the table.

Price looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else than here.

And Simon…

God, his mind is still stuttering, heart racing with adrenaline.

Distracted, he’s stuck on where his phone lies innocently atop the table…and what he knows is happening just beneath the cover of its black screen.

3K notes · View notes

s4svnn · 8 days ago

Note

First sexy time after oob!jk and aj reunited plsss

Control

Summary: You hated to admit it but the existence of your boyfriend alone was enough to make you horny, so when he was so distracted with work that he wasn’t making any advances on you, there was only one way to get what you wanted - you needed to make him lose control.

Pairing: F1 racer Jungkook x reader

Genre: fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/content tags: unprotected sex, rough sex, riding, back shots, orgasm denial, impregnation kink, sub + dom dynamic, degradation kink, oral (f+m receiving), spanking, mirror sex.

When Jungkook told me he was staying in London with me instead of going back to Canada, I was over the moon. And when he surprised me with a freaking penthouse and asked me to move in with him? I swear, I almost blacked out from excitement. More time together, more late-night cuddles, more waking up next to each other—it sounded perfect.

But then reality hit. And by reality, I mean Jungkook. Shirtless. All. The. Damn. Time.

It didn’t matter what time of day it was—morning, afternoon, middle of the night—he was allergic to fabric from the waist up. Just abs, tattoos, and sweatpants slung dangerously low on his hips. And to make matters worse, he wasn’t even doing it on purpose. No teasing, no smug looks. Just existing in all his ridiculously sculpted glory like it wasn’t the most unfair thing to ever happen to me.

At first, I tried to be normal about it. “It’s fine,” I told myself. “You’ve seen him shirtless before.”

Yeah, but I hadn’t lived with it. Hadn’t been ambushed by the sight of him casually sipping his morning coffee with messy bed hair, tattoos flexing as he stretched. Hadn’t walked into the living room only to find him doing push-ups because apparently, that’s what he does when he’s bored.

And to top it all off? The man was busy. So busy training for his upcoming matches that he barely had time for me. It wasn’t that he ignored me—no, he still kissed me, still pulled me onto his lap during movie nights, still curled around me in bed like I was his favorite thing in the world. But when it came to, uh, other activities? Yeah. That wasn’t happening.

At first, I was patient. I told myself he was just tired. But as the days passed, my suffering increased. My boyfriend was the human embodiment of temptation, parading around half-naked while I was practically feral. And he had no clue. None.

I was nearing my breaking point.

So, when I walked into the bedroom one night and found Jungkook standing there, fresh out of the shower, damp hair falling into his eyes, abs glistening under the warm lights… I knew I wasn’t making it out of this alive.

“Babe?” he said, tilting his head when he saw me frozen in the doorway. “You good?”

No. No, I was not good.

And if he didn’t do something about it soon, I was going to lose my mind.

I swallowed hard, forcing a smile onto my face. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m just gonna… take a shower.”

Jungkook nodded, running a towel through his hair, completely unaware of the absolute war raging inside of me. “Okay,” he said casually, turning back toward the dresser like he wasn’t the reason my entire body felt like it was overheating.

I spun on my heel and practically fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind me as if that flimsy piece of wood could somehow protect me from my own thoughts.

The moment the water hit my skin, I let out a deep breath, trying to relax. Trying to wash away the tension. This is fine. This is nothing. You just need to cool down. Literally.

But the second I closed my eyes, he was there. The way he’d been standing in the bedroom just now—fresh from the shower, hair damp, muscles flexing with every little movement. His tattoos, dark and intricate, wrapping around his arms, his shoulders, his chest. The way the water had still clung to his skin, little droplets running down his abs—

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, my fingers twitching at my sides. Maybe… maybe I could just—

I exhaled slowly, letting my hand drift lower, the warm water making everything feel softer, more intense. I tried to focus, to chase the feeling, but it was useless. No matter what I did, my mind kept circling back to him. To Jungkook. To the man standing just outside this door, completely unaware of what he was doing to me.

Frustration curled in my stomach, making my movements frantic, desperate—until suddenly, I knew. It wasn’t going to work.

Nothing was going to work.

Not without him.

With a frustrated groan, I slammed my hand against the shower wall, resting my forehead against the cool tile as I tried to steady my breathing.

This was officially the worst.

Because now, not only was I still aching, but I also had to walk back out there and act like I hadn’t just attempted—and failed—to relieve myself while thinking about my own boyfriend.

Kill me. Just kill me now.

Taking a deep breath, I shut off the water and grabbed my towel, already dreading the moment I had to face him again.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my skin still flushed from the shower, my eyes dark with frustration. This wasn’t working. I needed a new strategy.

And suddenly, an idea hit me.

A very reckless idea.

Normally, I’d bring my clothes into the bathroom and change in here, avoiding any unnecessary… distractions. But tonight? Tonight, I didn’t care. No, actually—I was counting on it.

I grabbed my black lace two-piece set—the one I knew Jungkook loved—and slipped it on, adjusting the delicate fabric until it sat just right. Then, I reached for my cocoa-scented body oil, pouring a generous amount into my palms before smoothing it over my skin, starting from my legs and working my way up.

My hands glided over my thighs, my stomach, my arms—every inch of me gleaming under the bathroom lights, the sweet scent wrapping around me like a second skin. By the time I was done, I looked dangerous. And I felt it too.

The towel I’d wrapped around myself earlier? Straight into the laundry basket. No backup plan, no safety net—just me, my frustration, and the sheer audacity to walk back into that bedroom like this.

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and pushed open the door.

Jungkook was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone, completely oblivious to the storm that was about to hit him. His damp hair fell messily over his forehead, his jawline sharp under the glow of the bedside lamp. He still hadn’t put a shirt on—because of course he hadn’t. Just sweatpants, hanging low, exposing the sharp V-line that was already my weakness.

He didn’t even look up at first. But then, as I stepped fully into the room, his thumb froze mid-scroll.

And then he looked up.

I watched as his gaze trailed over me, slowly, deliberately. From my bare legs to my oiled-up skin, to the black lace hugging my curves perfectly. His jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

I smirked. Got him.

The air was thick—whether from the heat of my shower or the shift in energy between us, I wasn’t sure. But I could feel it. The weight of his gaze pressing into me, the way his movements seemed to slow, like he wasn’t sure whether to speak or stay silent.

Good. Let him wonder.

I made a show of walking over to my dresser, pulling open a drawer with practiced ease, pretending to search for something important. In reality, I didn’t need anything. I just wanted to make him wait whilst I was bent over giving him a full view of my backside.

Because if there was one thing Jungkook hated, it was being teased.

Still, I said nothing. Just took my time, moving with slow, deliberate care as I picked up my hairbrush and dragged it through my damp strands, the rhythmic strokes filling the tense silence. I could feel him watching me, I could almost hear the way his jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin.

I fought the smirk threatening to curl at the corner of my lips.

"You're really gonna act like I’m not here?" His voice finally cut through the silence, low and edged with something between amusement and irritation.

I blinked, finally pausing my movements, as if I’d only just realized there was another person in the room. Slowly, I turned my head in his direction, my expression blank, eyebrows slightly raised in feigned confusion.

"Hm?" I murmured, tilting my head.

Jungkook leaned back against the bed frame, arms crossed over his chest, eyes locked on me with an intensity that would have made anyone else squirm. But not me. Not tonight.

"I said—" He exhaled sharply, licking his lips as if trying to keep his cool. "You’re really gonna act like I’m not here?"

I frowned slightly, as if deep in thought, then looked around the room as if searching for something. Then, with the most convincingly oblivious expression I could muster, I turned back to him.

"Oh… were you talking to me?" I asked innocently, blinking up at him.

The muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Don't do that," he warned, his voice lower now, more controlled.

I shrugged, returning my focus to my hands as I massaged the last of my lotion into my skin. "Do what?"

I could tell he was biting back his frustration, but that only made my game more fun. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, casually scrolling as if he truly wasn't worth my attention. The air between us was practically crackling now, thick with a tension neither of us would acknowledge—yet.

But I knew Jungkook. And I knew he wasn’t the type to be ignored.

He wouldn’t just sit there and take it.

And that was exactly what I was counting on.

Jungkook was silent for a beat, but I could feel it—the shift in his energy, the way his patience was thinning by the second.

I scrolled idly through my phone, tapping at the screen as if completely engrossed, while in my peripheral vision, I saw him shift his position, one hand running through his dark hair. A habit of his when he was trying—and failing—to keep his composure.

He exhaled, slow and measured. "Alright, bet."

I didn’t react. Didn’t look up. Just kept pretending he wasn’t there, despite the way I could feel the weight of his stare burning into me.

Then, before I could even process his next move, my phone was snatched clean out of my hands.

"What the—" My head snapped up, eyes narrowing as Jungkook leaned back against the bed, holding my phone above his head like it was nothing.

"So now you see me, huh?" His voice was smug, his lips curling into a lazy smirk as he spun my phone between his fingers. "Thought I was invisible a second ago."

I folded my arms, leveling him with an unimpressed stare. "Give it back."

He raised an eyebrow. "Make me."

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play?

I let out a slow breath, tilting my head as I considered my next move. Then, with zero hesitation, I crawled onto the bed, reaching for my phone. But Jungkook, being Jungkook, was already one step ahead, shifting just out of my reach, his smirk deepening.

"Try harder," he challenged.

My frustration flared, but I kept my expression neutral, deciding I wasn’t going to play his game—I was going to flip it.

So instead of lunging for my phone again, I sat back on my heels, brushing a stray strand of hair over my shoulder, acting completely unbothered.

"Fine," I said coolly. "Keep it."

That caught him off guard. His smirk faltered for half a second, his grip on my phone loosening slightly. "What?"

I shrugged. "You clearly need it more than I do. Enjoy whatever you find there." I dragged my gaze over him slowly before turning away, sliding off the bed with a nonchalant grace that I knew would get under his skin.

Jungkook didn’t move at first. He just stood there, watching me, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip like he was debating his next move. But the look in his eyes told me he’d already made up his mind.

And then, just as I was about to turn away, he grabbed me.

One strong hand wrapped around my wrist, the other settling on my waist as he turned me around, backing me up until my legs hit the edge of the bed. My breath hitched, but I refused to show any reaction. I just stared up at him, my chin high, daring him to do something.

Jungkook let out a slow exhale, his grip firm but not rough. His eyes roamed over me, taking in every inch, like he was deciding exactly how he wanted this to go.

Then, his voice dropped—low, steady, completely in control.

"Get on the bed."

I blinked, heat prickling up my spine at the way he said it. Not a question. Not a suggestion. A command.

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Excuse me?"

Jungkook’s jaw ticked, and in response, he leaned in, his hand sliding from my wrist to my hip, squeezing lightly. "You heard me," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. "Get on the bed."

A slow, deliberate silence settled between us.

I could have fought him on it. Could have tested him a little more, dragged this out just to make him work for it.

But something about the way he said it—the way his voice dipped, the way his grip tightened just enough to remind me that he wasn’t playing anymore—made me decide against it.

Without breaking eye contact, I stepped back, the backs of my knees pressing into the mattress.

Then, still moving slowly, I climbed onto the bed.

Jungkook watched me the entire time, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek, like he was pleased. Like he had been expecting me to obey.

I sat back on my hands, one leg bent, the other stretched out, watching him carefully. "Happy now?"

Jungkook let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers flexing at his sides. "Not yet."

Then he took a step closer.

And just like that, the game had changed.

Jungkook’s smirk didn’t fade as he hovered over me, his bare chest inches from mine, heat radiating between us. His hands skimmed my thighs, firm but slow, his touch setting fire to my skin.

"See?" he murmured, his lips so close to mine I could feel his breath. "I knew you couldn’t lie to me."

I refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, but my body betrayed me—my breathing uneven, my pulse racing beneath his touch.

He noticed. Of course, he did.

His fingers traced higher, his thumbs pressing into my hips as he pulled me closer, our bodies flush against each other now. My breath hitched at the feeling of his skin against mine, the warmth, the tension so thick it was almost unbearable.

Jungkook tilted his head, his lips barely grazing my jaw, trailing down—slow, deliberate, teasing.

"You act tough," he murmured, his voice low, rough. "But the second I touch you…"

His hands slid up my waist, fingertips ghosting over my ribcage, and I had to fight the urge to arch into him.

"You go back to being a slut for me," he finished, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just beneath my ear.

A quiet gasp escaped me before I could stop it.

Jungkook smirked.

"That’s what I thought," he murmured against my skin.

I exhaled, fighting to stay composed, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as his touch traveled, inch by inch, making me burn for more without a single word spoken.

“You’ve got this way of acting like you’re in control," Jungkook murmured, leaning in, his lips brushing against my ear. "But I know better."

I barely held it together, my body reacting instinctively, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me unravel.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his gaze searing. “So don’t worry,” he added with a hint of mischief in his voice. “I’ll make sure you feel it.”

If you had told me an hour ago that I’d be at Jungkook’s mercy, I wouldn’t have believed you for a second. The version of me standing in the bathroom, all glazed up, thought she was going to have complete control over her boyfriend. But now, looking at the present situation, I can see just how delusional I was..

I was now sitting on the floor, my legs tucked underneath me, feeling a rush of vulnerability as Jungkook stood over me. The weight of his presence was overwhelming, his figure towering as he looked down at me with an intensity that sent shivers through my body. His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently at first before pulling me closer, his grip firm and possessive. With a deliberate, slow movement, he guided my mouth, making sure every inch of his length was covered as he moved me back and forth. The control he held over me was undeniable, each motion timed perfectly, leaving me breathless and at his mercy. I could feel the heat radiating from him, and despite the haze in my mind, I couldn’t deny how thoroughly he had taken charge of the moment.

"Good girl," he breathed, his voice low and thick with desire. As his pace quickened, his hands gripped me tighter, urging me on. "You take me so well," he continued, the words dripping with approval. The rhythm between us grew more frantic, and he could feel every subtle movement I made in perfect sync with him. I gagged as he continued his relentless pace, shoving me forward as he pushed his hips further into my mouth with more force, tightening his grip on my hair to keep me in place as he used me to chase his own high.

Once he released himself into my mouth, he tilted my head back, his eyes locking onto mine with a cold, unwavering stare. 'Swallow it,' he demanded, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. I paused, staring back at him, my lips curling into a mischievous grin, as if daring him to push further. Then without warning, his hand shot out, tightening around my neck, pulling me in so close I could feel his breath on my skin. His gaze burned into mine as he growled, his voice low and full of authority, 'Swallow it, Aylah. I won’t repeat myself.”

With no more hesitation, I swallowed, feeling the pressure of his gaze intensify. His grip remained firm on my neck, his eyes never leaving mine as I processed the sharp command hanging in the air between us. The taste lingered on my tongue, and I could feel the weight of the moment, each second feeling like a challenge he was daring me to meet. Then without warning, he gripped me tightly, lifting me effortlessly off the ground and tossing me onto his shoulders. My body was suspended for a moment, disoriented, before my legs instinctively wrapped around his neck. The shift in position was swift and commanding, my hands instinctively grabbing onto his hair to steady myself as my heat came in direct contact with his face.

For a brief moment, he stood there, silent and still, as if waiting for something. Then, slowly, he began to exhale warm breaths directly into my core, each one caressing my skin with a heat that seemed to grow more intense with every passing second. The soft, steady warmth made my body react instinctively, heat pooling in places I hadn’t expected as I arched into his touch. I could feel the subtle curve of his lips as he smiled against me, a smile that was tinged with satisfaction, clearly pleased by my response. After a brief pause, his voice dropped to a low, almost dangerous tone. “You don’t deserve this,” he murmured, each word deliberate and heavy with meaning, “after the stunt you pulled.” There was a pause, just long enough to make my heart race, before he continued, his voice darker and laced with authority, “But you’re lucky I’m patient, I’ll leave your punishment to later.”

Before I could fully process the weight of his words, I felt the fabric of my thong shift as his hand moved with precision, pushing it aside to expose my wetness to him. The air around me seemed to still for a moment, every inch of my body acutely aware of the shift in the atmosphere, as his tongue moved slowly and deliberately in a long, lingering stripe across my core. I found myself momentarily frozen, a mix of surprise and anticipation rushing through me, my breath catching in my throat. Yet, despite the effect his touch had on me, he continued without hesitation, completely unfazed by the way my body reacted. He dipped in further, his movements growing more urgent as he devoured me with an intensity that felt almost desperate. It was as though he'd been starved for so long, his actions frantic, as if he feared that at any second I might slip away and he'd never have this again.

He paused momentarily, his lips brushing lightly against the skin of my thigh as he pulled back just enough to catch his breath. His eyes, heavy with satisfaction, met mine, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You taste so fucking good,” he said, his voice low and rich with appreciation, as if every taste was a revelation. He then shifted his stance, harshly throwing my back against the wall, as he forced his face further in between my legs, gripping my thighs with increased pressure. His hands strong and assertive pulled me closer, guiding my movements with a firm control, I couldn’t help but release a soft, breathless moan caught in the intensity of the moment. But before I could completely ride out my high he pulled away dropping me onto the bed without hesitation.

I let out a soft whine, my breath shaky as I propped myself up on my arms, struggling to steady myself. My voice was a mix of confusion and frustration as I looked at him. “What gives? I thought you said I was off the hook.” My words hung in the air, a little pleading, but more curious, as I tried to make sense of the shift in his demeanor." He smirked at me, his eyes glinting with that familiar, teasing intensity. “I didn’t say you were off the hook, I said I’d leave your punishment to later” he replied, his tone playful yet firm, as if reminding me that the game was far from over.

I glared at him, my eyes narrowing as my body stiffened in defiance. I refused to give in easily, the challenge burning within me. But as I met his gaze, I saw the determination in his eyes—unwavering, unmoving—and I knew that resistance was futile. With a reluctant, heavy sigh, I began to turn agonizingly slow before his hands reached out grabbing my thighs to hoist my ass up and against him, as he pushed my head down to lay flat on the bed. Suddenly, his hand shot out again and gripped my hair, yanking my head back with a sharp pull that jolted my neck. His face was inches from mine, close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath. His voice was low, filled with an edge of frustration. “Stop acting like a little bitch, and do what I say,” he growled, his words carrying a weight that was impossible to ignore.

I pushed my ass into him, desperately trying to gain some form of touch, but his grip tightened, holding me in place. A smirk spread across his face, his eyes glinting with amusement as he stared at the evident stain my wetness left on his sweatpants. “Treating you like a slut turns you on, noted.” Before I could even get the words out to tell him to hurry up, his hand came down with surprising force, the sound of it cutting through the air with a loud, stinging crack that resonated between us as I jolted forward. The impact sent a shockwave through my body, the sharp sting on my ass lingering long after the sound faded, leaving the tension in the air thick and almost palpable as I moaned out at the sensation.

At my lack of response another sharp slap landed on my ass, this one even harder than the first, leaving an imprint of his hand on me. He started massaging the spot where his hand had landed, the pressure of his fingers working into my skin, as he dropped his fingers in between my legs dragging them up and down my folds to collect my slick before dipping his fingers into his mouth, “You’re so responsive.” I let out a soft whine, feeling my patience wear thin at his actions. “Jungkook, please,” I said, my voice laced with a hint of desperation. He leaned down closer, a playful smile tugging at his lips as his body laid flat against my back, his abs digging into my behind, “Please what, my love?” he teased.

I spoke again, my tone dropping slightly “Fuck me.” He paused for a moment, leaning in closer as if listening intently, only to tilt his head and raise an eyebrow, acting completely oblivious to what I had just said. “Hmm?” He leaned in even further, a playful smile curling at the corners of his lips. “I didn’t quite catch that.” he teased, his tone light. “Could you speak a little louder, my love?” His eyes twinkled with mischief, and I could tell he was enjoying the moment far more than I was. Then with newfound confidence I spoke more angrily “hurry up and fuck me you prick,” but unfortunately he didn’t react in the way I expected, instead he pulled me backwards by my neck, his pants long gone as he forced me down onto his length pulling me to sit flat on his lap, his legs in between mine as the sudden intrusion caused me to cry out. “Talk to me like that again you bitch, I dare you.” he spoke lowly, his anger radiating off him.

I let out sharp breaths trying to adjust to the feeling but Jungkook didn't allow me to do so, instead he grabbed my hips harshly pushing me up and down against him, bringing his mouth to ear before whispering “you wanted to be impatient, so this is on you.” My breathing quickened as his pace became more relentless, the sound of skin slapping against eachother filled the quietness of the room, as he thrusted into me whilst dragging my hips down to meet his brutal actions. The intensity of it all led to me inadvertently clenching around his length, causing him to push me down so that I was layed flat against the bed as he took me from behind, watching my ass clap as he pushed harshly into me. I moaned out at the sensation urging him to carry on as he grabbed onto the skin of my ass dragging me backwards, his nails dinging into my skin as he spoke clearly amused by my reaction “You like that, you like being a slut for me?”

“Y-yes go h-harder, fuck.” At that, he smirked, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. Without a word, he stopped moving, his hands gripping my waist with firm control. In one smooth motion, he turned me on the bed to face the floor-to-ceiling mirror that reflected both of us. I found myself suddenly face-to-face with my own dishevlled reflection, yet my gaze remained locked with his through the mirror. He stood proudly behind me, his presence commanding, a contrast to the vulnerability that seemed to radiate from me as I was bent down before him for him to as he pleased with me.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and deliberate, the words piercing the silence. “You see that?” His voice was calm, yet there was an edge to it that made my heart race. “I’m in control, don’t ever get that twisted.” His eyes burned with a quiet authority as he spoke, making sure every word sank in, before he continued his relentless pace forcing my head up to watch him through the mirror. His hand gripped the back of my neck tightly urging me to watch as he used me for his own pleasure, leaving marks all over my body as he claimed me entirely with his actions. “I want you to watch,” he said, his words carrying weight as he subtly emphasized the command. His eyes stayed fixed on me through the reflection, never wavering, as if reminding me to stay present in the moment, fully aware of everything happening between us, “You’re mine you understand.”

“Y-yes—” I cried out overwhelmed by the feeling of his length pounding into me as I felt myself nearing my release. I watched as his expression shifted, the corners of his mouth curving into a satisfied smile. The change was subtle, but unmistakable—he seemed pleased, the tension in his features easing as he spoke clearly content with my response, “good girl, now take me like the slut you are, take all of me.” I cried out again as I felt him release inside of me, his pace not faltering even in the slightest as he sped up throwing me into a state of overstimulation, his voice looming over the sounds of my moans, “You’d look so good carrying my child, fuck, imagine that.” His voice only edged me further as I clenched around him cumming for what felt like the hundreth time as he filled my mind with more impure thoughts, “Shit, you like that don’t you, the idea of being filled with my cum, have me put a kid inside you.”

I gasped at the seriousness of his words, my mind turning off as I welcomed the idea of bearing his child, completely possessed by his alluring tone. Then with a few last thrusts his movements came to a halt as he laid down against my behind, his length still inside me as he kissed up my back, "I love you. I love you so fucking much," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. The words hit me like a rush, and without thinking, I turned my neck slightly to face him, my breath catching. "I love you too, babe," I whispered in return, the sincerity of my words clear. Then, without hesitation, I kissed him, matching the raw intensity of his previous actions, our connection deepening with every second. I pulled away slightly, resting my forehead against his, letting the moment stretch out just a bit longer. A smirk tugged at the corners of my lips as I gazed up at him, teasing, "So, impregnation kink?"

He blinked, a sudden flush creeping up his neck, and quickly turned his face away, trying to hide the red on his cheeks. "Shut up," he muttered, clearly embarrassed. I raised an eyebrow, amused, then leaned in just enough to catch his eyes. "To be fair, I'd be lying if I said I was opposed to the idea." The blush deepened, his face turning even more red, as he stumbled for words. "W-what?" he stuttered, his voice betraying his unease. I smirked, feeling the teasing spark between us. "But you're going to have to put a ring on me first, Jeon," I said, my words playful but laced with absolute seriousness.

At that, he broke into a wide grin, his face still flushed. He kissed me all over, his lips soft and insistent, a promise in each touch. "I will, I will I promise," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity, as his hands gently cradled my face as he kissed me again. “I love you.”

886 notes · View notes

codenamethebird · 4 months ago

Text

God I have so much to say about Melinoe's characterization, and the fasinating implications about her future arc/the overarching plot of hades 2. I want to make a larger think piece with pictures but for the moment I'm just going to focus on this one specific thread.

In the wake of the Prometheus reveal, she has a slew of convos about his motivations for siding with Chronos, and the gods basically all go: this is his vengeance for us punishing him a tad cruelly. And Nemesis is like, yeah the gods 100% deserve it. But Meli's responds that he must have more motivation than just vengeance, it can't just be that. But when Prometheus explicitly goes, 'I'm doing this because the gods are horrible to humanity and I love humans,' she basically goes, no he must be lying. That motivation is both too pure, but also humans kind of suck why would you care about them?

Mel's humanity hot takes deserve it's own essay (Ms I think Humans should have never gotten fire and are better when they are dead), and I just want to focus on the former for now. She can not comprehend that Prometheus is fighting the gods for noble reasons. It just does not make sense to her. Mel's world is so black and white. She doesn't understand the nuance of the situation, and the thought that the gods might be actually in the wrong doesn't even get close to crossing her mind.

It's a fascinating (and horrifying) result of her upbringing. Of the constant state of war and the very convenient big bad that is Chronos, the evil monster who stole her family. If she accepts that his side isn't completely evil, that they might even be right in some (even many) respects, she would have to grapple with her whole life. Everything she believes would be thrown into question, the literal thing she was training her whole life for.

She can't have Prometheus fighting for a noble cause, because he fights for Chronos whose the Bad Guy tm. But he also can't be fighting for something as simple as vengeance, because that would also mean she would need to really think about what he's angry about. If the punishment was truly so unnecessary cruel.

When talking to Odysseus about Prometheus, when Ody's saying how much he respected him for stealing the fire despite knowing the consequences, Mel says that it was the price to be paid for breaking Olympus's decree. To her, Olympus's rules are sacred and ultimately good. Unquestionably. Prometheus broke the rules with intent, so to her, why would he be so angry at the consequences? Especially if he knew because of his power they were going to happen.

So he must have another reason, some secret machiavellian plan that drives him. Except as I already said, it brings her right back to him doing it for humanity, which she also can't accept. Because that would be admiting that the gods did something wrong to humans. She twists herself into knots to justify her worldview, and it's fascinating! She's so messy I adore her.

Please Supergiant please the final surface boss has to be a human pleeeaaasse (preferably a living one). Or at least have one (or more) show up in some other capacity. Mel needs to come face to face with the other side and have it utterly destroy her worldview.

And/or have (Pan)Dora betray her for Prometheus, that would also be very fun haha.

#hades 2 #hades 2 spoilers #hades game #melinoe #Prometheus #hades #she just! tears into her #this girl can fit so much isolated child soldier trauma in her #with a dash of autism and being one of the ruling class to really have it blow up #i adore how messed up she is!#how everything that breaks her simple worldview she either brushes aside the importance of it #or just totally ignores it #ill admit while ive always liked her #i did prefer Zag as a protagonist #but now i think if supergiant pulls this off and gives her the character arc she deserves #im going to prefer her #shes just so flawed and blah ive gone on long enough haha

893 notes · View notes

oopsiedaisydeer · 9 days ago

Text

ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ, ʟɪᴋᴇ, ᴍᴇꜱꜱʏ

friends to lovers, messy, slow burn, awkward intimacy, sexual tension, kissing, tension, confusion, longing, intense emotions, best friends, implied oral sex (m!receiveing), hesitation, unspoken desires, teasing

based of this request by @sturnslutz !

word count - 1.9k

The thing about being best friends with you is that Matt’s constantly caught in this weird in-between space, where he’s not sure if he should be reading your smile as something casual or… something else.

Today’s one of those days. You’re sitting on the couch, barely watching the movie, and you’re too close… so close that Matt can feel the heat from your skin, the way your hand brushes his when you reach for the blanket. It’s a simple gesture, no big deal, right? But his chest feels tight, and his heart’s doing this weird thing where it skips a beat, then races to catch up.

You probably don’t even notice, or if you do, you act like it’s nothing. Just you, being you, sweet and unbothered. But he’s not unbothered.

Matt hates how his brain fixates on every little thing… your laugh, the way your hair falls over your shoulder, how you move like you’re unaware of the effect you have on him. Every second with you is a war between wanting to lean closer and wanting to retreat.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. You’re his best friend. You’ve been through everything together, and he can’t afford to mess that up.

But then.

“Matt,” you say softly, leaning a little closer, like you’re searching for something in his eyes. Something he’s not sure he’s ready to give in to. His breath catches, and he’s momentarily frozen, unsure if he should answer or just keep staring at you like a damn idiot.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?” You sound so casual, but your voice… there’s something there, something that makes his stomach twist in knots. And he knows you don’t mean anything by it, but he’s this close to losing control.

“I’m fine,” he manages, the words coming out way too fast, too panicked. His hand twitches at his side, but he holds it still, trying not to look at you, trying not to notice how your eyes linger on his.

He’s known you forever. You’re comfortable. But right now, nothing about this is comfortable.

It’s like… he’s waiting for something to happen. Something that he can’t predict. Something he doesn’t want to happen but also doesn’t want to stop. He’s so damn confused.

Your fingers brush his hand, this time deliberately, and his entire body freezes. The touch lingers for a fraction of a second too long. And in that instant, everything he’s been fighting against, the wanting, the longing, the goddamn frustration, hits him full force.

He doesn’t move. Your fingers trail the tendons in his hand, slowly, delicately. The air between you thickens, and he wonders if you feel it too.

Then, suddenly, you look at him again, and it’s not the casual glance you always give him. It’s something different. Something more eager. Like you’re begging him to make a move.

For a second, Matt wonders if he’s imagining it. If he’s just seeing what he wants to see. But then your fingers tap against the back of his hand, the lightest pressure imaginable, and it’s like his brain short-circuits.

He should say something. Laugh it off. Move away. But he doesn’t. He just sits there, letting the weight of the moment sink into his skin, letting it press against his ribs like an ache.

Your eyes don’t leave his. They flicker down, just for a second, just enough to make his breath hitch, and suddenly, the movie is nothing, the room is nothing, and all he can focus on is the way you’re looking at him.

His fingers twitch beneath yours. And then, god, he’s not sure who moves first. Your knee knocks into his, your hand shifts against his wrist, and suddenly, he’s leaning in before he even realises he’s doing it.

It’s slow at first. Hesitant. His forehead nearly brushes yours, his breath warm where it ghosts over your lips, and it’s-

It’s too much.

Something snaps.

One second, you’re barely touching, and the next, he’s kissing you like he’s starved for it. Like all the tension, all the frustration, all the nights spent overthinking have finally boiled over.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and he groans. Quiet, but desperate. His grip tightens on your waist, on the soft fabric of the hoodie you stole from him weeks ago, and he barely has time to process the fact that you’re kissing him back just as hard before you’re shifting, moving, climbing into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Messy. It’s so messy. The way your fingers pull at him, the way his hands slide under your hoodie, the way your breaths come faster, sharper, mixing with his in the space between kisses.

This is so past the point of no return.

But the thing is… Matt doesn’t care. Not anymore. Not when your mouth is on his like this, not when your body is pressed against him, not when every second feels like unraveling something he’s been holding onto for way too long.

He knows he should stop. Ask if this means something. If this will change things. If you’ll regret it.

But when you pull back just enough to look at him, lips swollen, mouth open, eyes dark, breathing hard, fingers still tangled in his hair, he doesn’t ask.

Because you don’t look uncertain. You don’t look like you regret it.

You look like you want more.

And Matt gives it to you.

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t overthink, doesn’t hold back. His hands slide higher, fingers skimming along your sides, feeling the way your body moves beneath his touch. His brain is foggy, all scrambled signals and static, but one thing is painfully, irrefutably clear.

You. You feel so good.

You shift in his lap, pressing down in a way that has him sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. His hands tighten, grounding himself, grounding you, but it does nothing to stop the burn traveling through his veins. He’s never been like this, never let himself want this much, and it’s overwhelming. How much he needs you right now.

Your hands cup his face, pulling him back into another kiss, and it’s even messier this time, deeper, hungrier. Your teeth graze his bottom lip, and he groans, the sound slipping from his throat before he can even think to stop it. You react instantly, fingers fisting in his hoodie, tugging him closer, like you crave the way he’s unraveling beneath you.

It’s dizzying. The way you feel, the way you taste, the way you’re completely consuming him. His hands can’t stay still… palms sliding over your thighs, up your back, pressing into every curve, every inch of you he can reach.

“Matt,” you whisper against his lips, and fuck. His name. His name in your voice, like that, breathy and desperate… it nearly sends him over the edge.

He leans in, mouth trailing along your jaw, down your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin, and your breath shudders, fingers digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, doesn’t think. Not when you’re arching into him like this, not when you’re tilting your head, giving him more space, not when your nails scrape along the back of his neck in a way that makes his entire body burn.

But then.

You make this sound, this little gasp, and it’s like slamming on the brakes at full speed.

Matt’s heart stutters. His hands freeze, his lips still against your skin, his brain catching up to what the hell he’s doing.

What the hell are you two doing?

His breathing is ragged, his grip still firm on your waist, and you… you’re staring at him, lips parted, pupils blown wide. You look wrecked. And god, he must look wrecked too.

His throat feels tight. “I…”

But he doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to make sense of the way everything just exploded between you two, how he went from second-guessing everything to nearly devouring you in the span of a few minutes.

Matt swallows hard, eyes flickering over your face, your lips, your expression… like he’s trying to memorise this moment before it slips through his fingers. His breath is uneven, his chest rising and falling too fast, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back.

You don’t want him to.

Your fingers trace the hem of his top, slipping underneath, palms pressing against his stomach, feeling the warmth of his skin. He tenses under your touch, sucking in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into it, his hands flexing against your waist like he’s trying to ground himself.

His head tilts back slightly, and god, he looks so good like this. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, struggling to keep his breathing steady. You can feel the weight of his gaze when he looks back at you, like he’s searching for something, like he’s waiting for permission he doesn’t need to ask for.

And then you’re shifting, sliding off his lap, your hands trailing down his torso, slow and deliberate. He stiffens, his fingers twitching where they rest on your thigh, and you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches, the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

“Wait…” His voice is hoarse, like he’s trying to catch up with what’s happening, but he doesn’t actually stop you.

You glance up at him, eyes heavy-lidded, fingers tracing the waistband of his sweatpants. “Do you want me to stop?”

Matt lets out a shuddering breath, his hands gripping the couch like he’s trying to ground himself. He shakes his head, almost too fast, and when he finally meets your gaze, his pupils are blown wide.

“No.” His voice is barely above a whisper, rough and breathless. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good.” A small smile tugs at your lips, almost shy. “I wanna take care of you.”

His hands twitch at his sides, like he doesn’t know where to put them. Like he’s fighting some internal battle, caught between letting this happen and stopping you before he completely loses himself. But you don’t give him that chance.

You settle between his legs, eyes locked onto his, waiting for something…hesitation, a second thought, any kind of resistance. But Matt just looks at you, jaw clenched so tightly you think it might shatter, hands gripping the couch like he’s holding on for dear life.

And then you touch him.

His head drops back against the couch with a groan so low, so strained, that heat pools in your stomach instantly. His hands finally move, fingers threading into your hair, hesitant at first, then desperate.

You take your time, teasing, testing, watching every reaction…how his breath stutters, how his fingers tighten, how his thighs tense beneath you. He’s unraveling right in front of you, and it’s intoxicating.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, voice wrecked, half a laugh, half a plea.

You glance up, meeting his eyes just as his grip falters. “Don’t be shy, baby.”

He looks at you again, tilting his head in confused adoration.

You smile, a breathless, teasing grin. And then you whisper, “I want it to be, like, messy.”

creds to rose for the divider! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: erm. i hope u like it alexis.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @recordeeznuts @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 comment to be added to my main (non-au) taglist!

cya soon !!

586 notes · View notes

acoazlove · 13 days ago

Text

A New Place | part five

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: A couple of weeks after your conversation with Azriel, your mind won’t let you sleep. what happens when the person on your mind can’t sleep either

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff ? maybe?

─────────────────────────

Eyes flutter open, blinking a few times to reorient yourself. Adjusting to the dark room. You turn your head towards the windows, dark. Still nighttime.

With a heavy sigh, you heave yourself out of bed. Waking up hasn’t been such a task since you were human. Living in that cabin—if you can call it that. Waking up back then was simpler.

But since you left your sisters and the rest of their family, you can’t bring yourself to care if you don't get out of bed ever again.

Pulling the covers off of you, sliding out of bed. Your feet meet the chilled floor while making your way blindly into the bathroom. Turning on a dim faelight.

Everything about your apartment is old, and worn down and you used to think it gave it character, made it unique. But as you look at the light you can’t help but wish it was the old cabin. Life was easier back then, no fae, no wars, no monsters, no evil kings or cauldrons, but most of all, you had your sisters. Of course you were all on the verge of starving or freezing to death. You don’t miss that.

Despite the fighting, you were all closer. Now everyone’s gone their separate ways and have their own families and partners. You don't have any of that. That thought breaks you from your reverie, turning to the mirror hanging above the sink. The edges are slightly rusted and the frame is a bit scratched.

Locking eyes with your reflection, you cringe. Dark shadows under your eyes, hair messy and frizzy as if you hadn’t brushed it in days, shoulders tense with undercurrents of your strained emotions. You look exactly how you feel. Tired.

Ignore it. A small voice in the back of your mind. You turn the tap and splash water on your face. There’s no going back to sleep so might as well do something.

Turning back and entering your bedroom, heading straight for your wardrobe. Putting on the first thing you grab. Staring in the mirror for a moment too long, you grimace once again at your reflection. How long had you looked a mess? Your friends would tell you if you didn’t look okay. Right?

With a heavy sigh, you exited your room. Passing the kitchen—you’re not feeling well, you’ll eat later, you tell yourself—and go straight to the front door, grabbing your coat as you glance at the clock on the wall by the door. 4:00 am, no wonder everything’s so quiet.

Without another thought, you slip out the door. You can’t be in that apartment for another moment. Shoving your hands into your pockets, you decide to clear your mind and go for a walk. Because walking down dark streets at 4:00 am is totally normal.

You miss the small shadow slipping under the door, following you. A second one going in the opposite direction, away from you.

─

Meandering down the streets of The City of Starlight, your thoughts wander despite trying to clear your head.

Wandering to a certain shadow-wielding Illyrian. Your conversation had been two weeks ago now. You wanted to talk to him again. or at least just see him.

You huff. Where had that thought come from? I mean he was kind enough to go for a walk with you and listen to you rant.

But he hadn’t exactly offered to be the company you’d seek out, but you’ve been lonely. You’re not sure if you’re ready to forgive your family just yet. You want to, but you won’t reach out first. They need to put in the effort for once.

Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly you should think—there are a few fae still wandering the streets. Maybe they were in your position too. Can’t sleep, and might just need to clear their mind, and get some night-chilled air

The Court of Dreams. It honestly doesn’t feel like it. You don’t feel like you’re dreaming. Nor had any of your own dreams had come true. It felt more like a nightmare.

Alone. All because your family forgot your birthday. You think bitterly. But then again, the more you think about it, you find more reasons that had been chipping away at your patience with them. It just happened to explode into a huge freakout on your birthday. The last straw.

They probably thought you were being overdramatic. You kick a small stone on the ground in front of you at that.

─

Tossing and turning, wings shifting uncomfortably, azriel grunts as he clenches his eyes shut. Trying to get some sleep for once, only for it to be just out of reach.

It’s like his mind was in overdrive—every thought shifting to another even more unwanted one—making him restless, which in time made his shadows restless. The main issue was that they weren’t telling him what was wrong. he doesn’t like that.

Finally, as his body relaxed and he was so close to falling asleep a new shadow joins the mix. Immediately slithering across his bed until it reached his ear. The information he received had him shooting up from where he had been lying down, and every last ounce of tiredness drained from his body.

She’s going for a walk. He glanced out his window. With how high the moon was in the sky he gathered that it was around four in the morning-

Why are you going for a walk at this time?

With a huff, knowing he won’t be able to sleep at all now, he pulls the blankets off him at the same time as sending a few more shadows to follow you, to make sure you’re okay and not in any danger of course.

Azriel hasn’t been able to get the conversation he had with you either. Well, it was more him listening as you spoke your mind, plus him apologising a few times and getting some of his thoughts out there. Or maybe it was just you in general. He can’t quite figure it out.

Now that he was out of bed he realized he didn’t actually know what he was planning to do with the situation. You’re going for a walk at four in the morning. You won’t want company. Besides, he already sent a few shadows. That should be fine.

The rest of Azriel’s shadows whirl around him, still agitated. Wanting him to do something, but still not telling him what. A long-suffering sigh leaves him, as he turns to look at his leathers, which are hanging over the back of the chair at his desk—thrown there after a long day—then back to the window.

He’s been staying in the townhouse since his last encounter with you, to make it easier for you if you want to seek him out and don’t want to see the rest of the family. Which you haven't. Why would you?

He also has a better view of the streets of Velaris from here. Which is why he sees a figure walk down the street, heading towards the sidra. Though he can’t see their face, he doesn’t need confirmation to know who it is. The posture, the way your shoes scuff when you walk while in thought, the way your hair falls with your head down.

Nevertheless, a shadow snakes up his arm, to his ear. Sad. Confused. Angry. Guilty. Lonely. The last word repeats over and over.

Azriel’s features contort into a frown. Watching as you disappear from view, having turned a corner. And without a second thought, he put on a change of clothes—deciding that if you do see him, his leathers possibly might make you uncomfortable, might think that there’s some kind of danger—opening up the balcony doors, stepping out and launching into the starry night sky. Following the direction you went, keeping a decent distance.

As he catches sight of you once again, slows down, descending to the ground. Landing as silent as he could for a massive Illyrian male.

Azriel steps into the shadows, trying to stay out of view and give you space.

He stands there feeling slightly awkward suddenly. Never has he felt that way about watching his family. Confused and caught off guard he misses the way his grip on his shadows loosens, most of which scramble their way over to you.

Already reaching your feet before he finally realizes, much to his horror. Frantically trying to yank them back to his own body.

─

Your train of thought is interrupted by small shadows softly brushing against your ankles before, slinking up your legs and entwining with your fingers. A soft smile curves your lips, as a scuff sounds from behind you.

“Hi Az.” your voice is soft. Looking over your shoulder, at the same time as he steps out from his hiding place. And even though it’s dark and void of any street lamp where you are, the stars and moon light his face enough for you to see the pink tinge to his cheeks. The sight brings you far more enjoyment than it should.

“Sorry.” he mutters lowly, watching the shadows almost reluctantly untangle itself from your fingers and body, returning to their master. “They have a mind of their own sometimes.”

Your smile widens ever so slightly, “It’s okay,” turning back to your beautiful view of the sidra, shimmering like the stars above. “I like them. They’re good company.”

Azriel blinks a few times, dumbfounded by your admission. You like them and think they’re good company. Not many think so. A lot of people perceive them differently. Not inherently scary, but wouldn’t consider them good company.

After a long moment he gathers himself. “Would you-” he stops himself mid-sentence, mouth snapping shut before the full question is out. But rather than running in the other direction like he assumed you would, you turned to face him, “Yes, I would like company Azriel.” That certainly caught him off guard.

You aren’t quite sure where the confidence came from. Cheeks tinting pink, gaze darting back to the sparkling sapphire river. You don’t even know if he was going to say that.

Right as you prepare yourself to leave, utterly mortified, his dark figure enters your peripheral.

Shoulders still stiff from the previous embarrassment you look out the corner of your eye. Thanking the mother when you see that his attention is elsewhere.

Your gaze casts downward, suddenly feeling awkward, you clear your throat, causing the Shadowsinger's attention to shift back to you.

Shifting between your feet, turning your head slightly to glance at him, “Uh…” Unsure.

You watch a shadow crawl around from his shoulder to his ear. a twitch between his brows at whatever information he had been given, before evening back out. Body turning fully toward you. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Your eyes widen marginally. “No!” you say all too quickly, rubbing a hand down your face. “No, I’m just not-” gaze meeting hazel, “I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to go for a walk?” Voice quieter than before, “Rather than just standing here.” Trailing off.

His wings twitch at his back, you barely catch the movement, before he gives a gentle nod. You give him a small smile before whirling around, and heading back through the streets of Velaris. Azriel and his shadows follow closely behind before coming up next to you.

The walk settles into silence. Not awkward like before. Comfortable. That’s something you’d noticed about Azriel from the moment you first met him in the human realms. He always let others talk and listened intently to every word. Contributing to the conversation only when needed.

Your thoughts drift to every interaction with him. He’d always been observant and encouraged conversations with you. Wanting you to feel comfortable. Similar to what happened with Elain a long while ago. Except he’s never had any romantic feelings for you. He was just being polite. Just as he is now.

You ignore the turn in your thoughts. Weird. And your destination is only a few steps away. The bridge above the sidra. The place you come to when you really need some kind of white noise to clear your head.

You lean forward, over the bridge peering down at the broad sparkling river. Almost mirroring the beauty of the stars above. You feel Azriel settle next to you on the bridge. Twist your head to look at him. He’s looking up at the sky, shadows swirling contentedly around his shoulders and wings.

You take a moment to look at him. Really look at him. You always knew he was handsome, would have to be blind not to. But in the moonlight, he’s stunning. The way his dark hair falls over his forehead, shadows cast over his eyebrows, his other features highlighted. His hands resting on the bridge wall, the lighting illuminating the ridges and crevices of his scars.

Just in the corner of your vision, you see the sun starting to rise, pinks and oranges, painting the previous starlit skies. It was views like these that make you wonder what the other courts are like. The Night Court obviously has exceptionally beautiful night skies, the stars so clear you might think one could reach up and touch them.

But then there were The Dawn Court’s dawn skies. A customer at Benny’s Bar once told you that when the sun rose in dawn it was one of the most breathtaking views one could see, that you had to see it at least once in your immortal life.

The Day Court had some of the most incredible libraries filled with immense knowledge. Something you’d like to see and explore at least once too.

The seasonal courts had to be amazing as well, you hadn’t heard too much about them except Mor saying how much she loved The Winter Court because of her best friend and how beautiful the snow is, and briefly of Summer from when Varian is around with Amren. And Spring, well Feyre and Rhysand don’t like talking about The Spring Court, so you never asked. The same goes for The Autumn Court.

You feel a cool brush of Azriel’s shadows against your hand, pulling you from your longing, wrapping around your wrist almost as if to comfort. You let out a heavy sigh, your walk must have been longer than you anticipated. Originally just hoping to clear your head, and tire yourself out before going back to sleep.

You have work anyway. Early shift, which is fine, you get to finish early in turn.

Turning to the Shadowsinger, “I should head home. I have work earlier today.” You fiddle with your fingers, not wanting to to head back to your apartment just yet. Back to the tavern. You haven’t talked to your coworkers much since the inner circle dined at the tavern.

Azriel gives a small nod, watching your features for a few moments before speaking, “Would you like me to walk you home?”

without hesitation you give him a nod in answer. “yes please.” Your answer soft.

He gives you a gentle smile before turning with you to leave.

─

Standing at the bottom of the stairs to your apartment you run a hand down your face. Azriel is quiet behind you. You huff, spinning on your heel to face him. Trying to find the words to what you want to ask him.

He’s patient as always, features kind. Allowing you to sort through your thoughts.

Inhaling sharply, you open your mouth, then close it again. Frustrated, you just blurt it out instead, “Would you like to do something once I finish work today?”

Azriel’s brows raise fractionally, and your face heats up. “of course only if you’re free, or even want to. If you don’t want to that’s okay-“ You pause your rambling when you see the subtle smirk curving his lips.

“What?” You cross your arms over your chest. He huffs out a laugh. “You didn’t even give me a chance to answer,” keen eyes, observant as ever, see you shifting from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable from the lack of an actual answer. “I would like that. I’ll come by and you can decide.” Voice more quiet than before.

You give him a curt nod, happy with the response, turning toward your stairs once more, stopping at the top step, looking over your shoulder to the Shadowsinger, “Thank you az.” At the tilt of his head you continue, “For just… showing up, I guess. I appreciate it.” Smile at him and slip through your door before he can reply.

Azriel stares at the closed door for a few long moments before heading back to the townhouse. His shadows far more calm now. Interesting.

─────────────────────────

a/n: Hi guys, I’m so so sorry that I took so long to post this but I was in a really bad writing slump and had other stuff going on in my life. I’m better right now and am planning on writing more. I know this isn’t the longer part that I asked you about but I just wanted to get this out, and it would’ve taken longer to come out. i’ve already started the next part as well. next week I probably won’t update just because I’m going to Australia with my sister for a week but you never know. Anyway I edited this but there still might be some mistakes. I love you all and thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoyed. <3

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader angst #azriel angst #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar #a new place

412 notes · View notes

rosyblooom · 10 months ago

Text

the set up | op81 smau

PAIRING: oscar piastri x fem hamilton!reader SUMMARY: oscar and y/n practically act like a couple, but they swear they're just a couple of besties. so some of the grid devise a plan to force them to call it what it is once and for all A/N: i love sad endings, i can't help it🫣 but here u go <3 (pls don't cry lol)

Instagram

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, nellarosee, and 164,885 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername happy birthday bestie!!! 🩷🤍🩵

view all 1,309 comments

username I'm crying what's with that random kangaroo pic at the end💀

yourusername huh?? that's just oscar and his big arms, silly! username i- you did not LMAO

danielricciardo Bestie, husband, boyfriend all have the same meaning, I see

yourusername WRONG ! bestie is what i'm gonna make heidi demote u to if u don't zip it! then u can kiss those husband dreams of urs goodbye 😘 danielriciardo If it's anything like what you and Oscar have got going I have no complaints 😁 username oop y/n were you silent or silenced?🎤

oscarpiastri Was that kangaroo really necessary?😐

yourusername it's not a crime to be aussie AND show off ur gains at the same time babes x

username "bestie" smh... imagine how tired we are 🫤 imagine how tired we are of it

(liked by lewishamilton, landonorris and charles_leclerc + more)

username why did nearly the entire grid like this?? they're so messy🤣

username HAPPY BDAY OSCARRR🎉🧡

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, alex_albon, and 478,002 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri Couldn't ask for a better date to keep me company at all these events 👍

view all 3,041 comments

username since you brought up date could i propose the actual act of dating?😏

landonorris Me too!! logansargeant Me 3 🙋‍♂️ danielricciardo **4

alex_albon The way I thought those were wedding pics and it didn't even surprise me

yourusername and if I say, when I saw the news that u crashed ur car and stole logan's, it didn't surprise me, then what?😇 logansargeant Now why am I in this... alex_albon WOW username that was sooo nasty omfg😭

username the first pic is literally giving wedding ahhh I wish

yourusername anything for my best friend <33

oscarpiastri :) username ohh y'all are pissing me off

lewishamilton Just best friends??

yourusername not u too 🙄 lewishamilton Some older brother wisdom: don't fight the inevitable. When you know, you know, and I firmly believe deep inside you know what I mean. yourusername not reading allat x

Instagram

oscarpiastri posted to his story!

[ caption: ☀️☀️😴 ]

[ tagged: yourusername ]

Instagram

eveythingf1wags

liked by username, username, username and 8,006 others

eveythingf1wags Y/N Hamilton was spotted in Monaco with Oscar and the Piastri fam, enjoying lunch together! Later on, they both posted pictures to their stories, soaking up the Mediterranean sun on a boat.

view all 152 comments

username 'everythingf1wags' but y'all are posting this man's bestie i-💀💀

username have you seen the way they act tho? could've fucking fooled me like??? username no bc you're so right😭

username if they marry do u think it'll be y/n piastri or oscar hamilton tho??🧐

username **WHEN GIRL❗️

username "just friends" my ass smh

username manifesting they finally fall in love soon🕯️

username same babe 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

username the way it's literally giving meet the family omg 😍

username enough with the fucking slow burn i need them to kiss like yesterday😩

Instagram

landonorris posted to his story!

[ caption: hugging like you're going to war when it's just blind dates is a choice lol ]

[ tagged: oscarpiastri, yourusername ]

oscarpiastri posted to his story!

[ caption: She says I clean up well but have you seen her? 😍 ]

[ tagged: yourusername ]

Instagram

charles_leclerc posted to his close friends!

[ caption: I think we did it guys ]

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, lilymhe and 394,029 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername just like and keep scrolling i don't wanna hear it 🔫🙂

view all 4,099 comments

mclaren Congrats🎉🧡 (about time)

lewishamilton Welcome to the family, brother

oscarpiastri Wait, I thought I was already part of the family😅 yourusername lewis istg i'm about to slash your tyres username lmaoo y/n's hands are rated e for everyone i'm cryin💀

oscarpiastri The only one I had in mind❤️

yourusername 🥹🤍 username you guys are so freakin cute 🤧

username LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOO💃💃💃

landonorris @/carlossainz55 run me my money

carlossainz55 Sent 🫡 yourusername blocked x

username you don't understand how much i needed this omg😭😭😭

danielricciardo See how nothing's changed between the pictures they used to post together and these?

yourusername see how nothing's changed in ur points since the start of the season and now? 😋 username ouch. should've just sat there and kept scrolling babe lmaooo

alex_albon Mission accomplished I'd say

charles_leclerc 🍻 maxverstappen1 🍾🍾

0:10 ㅇ──────────── 2:06

1K notes · View notes

aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

Text

Yan!Parents Daemon/Rhaenyra Targaryen Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Are these headcanons good? I don't know, but I hope you like it!! Forgive me for any mistakes ;) 🩵🤍

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, overprotection, mention of death and murder, unhealthy platonic relationships and messy writing.

❝🐉pairing: platonic yandere!daemyra x gender neutral!reader.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were looking forward to the arrival of their first child. Daemon already had two daughters and Rhaenyra her three precious boys, but they were very eager for the first fruit of their marriage to be born.

The day Rhaenyra gave birth to you was one of the happiest memories of her life. The pain of childbirth was excruciating, but when she could hold you in her arms, it was all worth it.

Daemon actually sobbed when he held you for the first time. You were so small, so innocent and so perfect. He swore to himself that he would do anything to be good to you. You would be loved and adored forever.

They are both extremely overprotective and possessive over you. You are their child, you belong to them, so you should not associate with anyone they do not approve of.

Any friends you may have will be investigated by Daemon and if he finds anything that displeases him, that friend will disappear from your life. He is not objective, if that person's great-grandfather was an bastard, for example, that means they will never be good to you. And you deserve only the best.

Rhaenyra not only agrees with this, but encourages her uncle-husband's actions. You are her baby, the most precious person in her life and she only wants the best for you. She will give you the best, she knows what is good for you. After all, mom always knows best, right?

Your older siblings would also have developed their own obsession with you, encouraged by their parents. It didn't take long for the Velaryon brothers and Daemon's daughters to become completely attached to you.

You were not only your parents' obsession, but also your siblings, meaning you can bet no harm would be done to you. You were spoiled and protected, the apple of everyone's eye in Dragonstone.

Whatever you want, you will have. Rhaenyra and Daemon are completely soft when it comes to disciplining you, just one puppy look and they will forget everything. You are their child, you could do no wrong in their eyes.

Everyone is instructed to spoil and protect you, the servants, the guards and your brothers will do so willingly too.

Daemon is very possessive, he feels entitled to you because you are his child. He will kill anyone who looks, says, or even breathes wrong at you. There's no way he's going to let anything happen to you.

Rhaenyra is more controlled, but she is still a dragon and you should never mess with a dragon's offspring. She loses all her senses, her reason when something happens to you. Even if it's a paper cut, she will go into a frenzy of rage.

Any love interests or suitors will also be dealt with quickly. They won't allow you to get married, no one will ever be good enough for you.

If something were to happen to you, gods be good, for the true fury of the Targaryens would be revealed. They will burn, kill and destroy everything in their path for you. All that matters is you, the war will be forgotten by you.

And when it was just ashes and the smell of blood and death was in the air, they would be satisfied. Daemon and Rhaenyra will go to extremes for you. You are their baby and no one, absolutely no one, can change that.

Daemon and Rhaenyra will not lose anyone else, not their child. And when the war for the Iron Throne begins, you would be locked in and protected the entire time. Your parents love you and would do anything, but they don't know boundaries or privacy. It doesn't matter, after all, they are your parents.

#hotd #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #asoiaf #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #yandere asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yan!mom Rhaenyra targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen #yan!dad daemon targaryen #headcanons #yandere headcanons #x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #yandere daemyra #yan!parents daemyra

2K notes · View notes

sleepingdiaryzzz · 3 months ago

Note

yandere!Conner kidnapping reader after she rejects him😔

(I'M HAPPY YOU'RE DOING WELL<3)

Yandere connor Kent x reader

Conner Kent was used to losing things—control, stability, even his sense of self—but he didn’t think he could lose you. Not after everything. You were the only person who didn’t look at him like a walking science experiment or a Superman knockoff. You didn’t ask him what it felt like to have two dads who didn’t care enough to stick around. You didn’t treat him like a weapon in waiting, either.

You just saw him, the way no one else did.

And for someone like him, who had spent his entire existence clawing for meaning, that sight was everything.

So when you said no, when you told him you didn’t feel the same, it was like a fist to his gut. He played it cool, shrugged, tossed out some half-hearted "No big deal," before walking away. But inside, something cracked open. Something dark.

Because rejection wasn’t just rejection—it was abandonment. And Conner Kent had been abandoned enough for one lifetime.

When you woke up, the room was dimly lit, with the faint smell of leather and motor oil clinging to the air. The bed beneath you was soft, but the weight of an unfamiliar blanket felt suffocating. You blinked against the hazy light, your brain sluggish as it tried to make sense of where you were.

The faint sound of music hummed in the background, something low and grungy that vibrated through the walls. You tugged at your wrists and realized, to your growing panic, that they were tied—not tightly, but enough to keep you from slipping away.

"Morning, sunshine," came a voice from the corner of the room.

Your head snapped toward it, your heart lurching as you spotted Conner leaning against the wall. His leather jacket hung off his broad shoulders, and his arms were crossed over his chest, muscles taut beneath his white t-shirt. His face was unreadable, but there was something dangerous in the way his blue eyes caught the light.

"Conner?" Your voice came out small, shaky. "What the hell is going on?"

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Relax. You’re safe. Isn’t that what everyone wants to hear?"

You struggled against the restraints, your panic mounting. "Safe? Are you kidding me? Let me go!"

He pushed off the wall and sauntered toward you, his boots heavy against the floor. When he stopped beside the bed, he crouched so his face was level with yours.

"Yeah, that’s not happening," he said casually, his tone almost bored.

Your stomach flipped. "Conner, this isn’t funny! You can’t just—"

"I can’t just what? Take care of you? Make sure no one hurts you? Because guess what? I’m already doing a better job at that than anyone else ever could."

"You call this taking care of me?!" you snapped, tears welling in your eyes. "This is insane!"

His jaw twitched, and for a second, you saw the cracks in his cool exterior. "What’s insane," he said quietly, his voice low and sharp, "is thinking you could just walk away. Like I’m nothing. Like I don’t—" He stopped himself, exhaling harshly. "Do you know how many people have walked out on me, [name]? How many times I’ve been left behind like I didn’t matter?"

Your breath caught as you saw the raw, unguarded pain flicker across his face.

"But you?" He continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You were different. You made me feel like I was more than just some half-baked clone. And then you threw it all away like it didn’t mean anything."

"Conner, that’s not—"

"Save it," he cut you off, standing abruptly and running a hand through his messy black hair. "You don’t get it. You don’t see what I see. But you will. I’ll make sure of it."

He turned back to you, his smirk returning, though it was laced with something darker now. "You’ll thank me eventually, you know. Once you realize I’m the only one who gives a damn about you."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, your fear and anger warring with the flicker of pity you couldn’t quite suppress.

"Conner," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. "This isn’t love. This isn’t how you treat someone you care about."

He froze for a moment, his expression hardening. Then he scoffed, shaking his head. "You don’t know what love is," he muttered. "But don’t worry. I’ll teach you."

And with that, he turned and walked toward the door, his boots echoing in the small room.

"Get some rest," he said over his shoulder. "You’re gonna need it."

The door closed behind him with a resounding click, and you were left alone, the weight of his obsession settling over you like a heavy chain.

(A/n: sorry for the wait! I've been writing all day, my hands are aching there's like 15 asks edited in my drafts 😭 TYSM FOR THE WORRY though you don't need to, im fine😛 but not today.. This is my last post before I go to a short hiatus, maybe for 1 or 2 weeks? Either way, I'm not gonna post for awhile because of mental health issues, exams, and chirstmas. Merry Christmas everyone!!)

#yandere dc #yandere connor kent x reader #yandere connor #yandere superboy #yandere superboy x reader #yandere superman #superboy x reader #yandere dc x reader #😺– request #dc x reader #yandere connor x reader #connor kent x reader

370 notes · View notes

little-jana · 3 months ago

Text

"Three Times is a Charm"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: awkwardness?, sweet kisses, use of y/n

Words: 3,5k

Summary: Meeting Spencer Reid was like stumbling upon a rare book—unexpected and thrilling. Our paths crossed not once, not twice, but three times in the most peculiar ways.

I didn’t mean to end up at that bookstore. It wasn’t on my list of errands, and truthfully, I didn’t even know it existed until I spotted the faded sign hanging above the shop door: Old Tomes & New Beginnings—Clearance Sale. There was something irresistible about it, the promise of stories hidden in dusty corners. My car could wait, and my to-do list wasn’t going anywhere. So, I pushed the creaky door open and stepped inside.

The air inside was pleasantly warm, and the aroma of vanilla candles mixed with the familiar scent of old books. I could almost hear the stories whispering to each other, nestled in their places on the wooden shelves. A small bell chimed as the door closed behind me, announcing my arrival. The shop was a maze of tall wooden bookshelves, most sagging slightly under the weight of the books they held, their spines worn from years of handling. It was the kind of place that invited you to stay for hours, to get lost in forgotten pages and dusty memories. And that's exactly what I did. I wandered, my fingers trailing along the spines, occasionally pulling a book down and skimming through its pages before deciding to leave it behind.

Then, my eyes landed on it: Pride and Prejudice —not a rare edition or a first printing, but a well-loved copy with a faded cover and yellowing pages. There was something about it that felt inviting, as if it had been waiting for me to pick it up. I reached for it, standing on my tiptoes, trying to stretch my fingers far enough to grasp the spine. But the stack of books around it was precariously arranged, and as I nudged it, the entire tower of books began to shift.

"No, no, no!" I muttered under my breath, trying to stabilize the pile, but it was too late. The books tumbled one by one, crashing to the ground with a series of loud thuds.

"Are you okay?" a voice called from behind me.

I froze, looking over my shoulder to see a tall, slightly disheveled man crouched down, his hands already gathering the fallen books. His brown hair was messy, and his glasses perched on the edge of his nose as if they might fall off at any second. He was dressed in a cardigan that looked like it belonged in an old library, and his slightly awkward but genuine expression caught me off guard.

"I think so," I said, still kneeling. "Though it seems the books have declared war on me."

The man smiled faintly, then held out a hardcover to me. "Here," he said. "This one seems to have missed the fall."

I glanced at the title. It was Pride and Prejudice. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "You have good taste."

"Jane Austen is a classic," he said, a little too earnestly. "Not to mention a master at subtle social commentary. And Mr. Darcy’s arc... Well, it’s iconic."

I raised an eyebrow. "You really are a fan of Austen’s work, aren't you?"

He looked slightly embarrassed but managed to maintain eye contact. "Guilty as charged," he said. "I’m Spencer, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Spencer," I replied. "I’m [y/n]." We exchanged a polite smile, and he moved to help me collect the remaining books. Once we were both standing, I found myself glancing back at Pride and Prejudice, wondering if I should buy it, but I didn’t want to seem too eager.

"You know," Spencer said with a slight hesitation, "I think Pride and Prejudice is the perfect book for someone who wants a little bit of everything. Romance, wit, social critique..."

I looked at him with a playful smile. "You’ve clearly done your homework."

"I suppose I have," he replied, looking sheepish.

Before I could say anything else, he gave a quick nod. "Well, I should probably leave you to the rest of your book shopping. Enjoy the rest of your day."

As he turned to leave, I couldn’t help but watch him disappear down one of the aisles. There was something about him—something intriguing, something different.

---

A week later, I found myself standing in line at my usual coffee shop, juggling my phone, keys, and a to-do list. It was a Monday morning, and the place was packed with people trying to start their day. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans and baked pastries filled the air as I anxiously checked the time on my phone, wondering if I’d make it to my meeting on time.

As I finally reached the counter to pick up my drink, I turned to make my way to a nearby table. That’s when I collided with someone. My coffee cup slipped from my hand in a perfect arc toward the floor.

"Watch out!" I cried, but it was too late. The hot coffee splashed across the table, narrowly missing the man standing in front of me.

He quickly stepped back, raising his hands in an attempt to shield himself, but the damage had already been done. I froze for a second, staring at the coffee stain spreading across the table.

"Oh no, I’m so sorry!" I exclaimed, feeling my face flush with embarrassment.

The man bent down and grabbed a napkin to start mopping up the spill. I blinked. There was something about this scenario that felt... familiar.

"Twice in one week?" I asked, still stunned. "Are you following me, Spencer?"

He looked up, his eyes widening in shock. "No! I swear, I’m not stalking you!" He paused, looking around at the busy café. "I mean, I do come here often, but I don’t think it’s quite the same thing."

I couldn’t help but laugh, the awkwardness of the moment suddenly lifting. "Same here. But I guess we just keep running into each other."

He gave a sheepish grin. "Maybe we’re just... fated to meet by accident."

I gestured to the table behind me. "Do you want to sit with me? It’s the least I can do since I’ve made a mess of your morning."

Spencer looked a bit hesitant but then shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

As we sat down and chatted, the conversation turned from the coffee mishap to our work. I learned he worked for the FBI—profiling, specifically—and was part of a team that investigated serious crimes. I couldn’t help but be impressed. His intelligence and passion for his job were evident in the way he talked about his cases, even though he seemed more humble than I expected.

We exchanged stories about our favorite books and movies, discovering that we had quite a few shared interests. Despite his shy demeanor, Spencer’s intelligence and sense of humor shone through. I found myself laughing more than I had in a long time, and before I knew it, hours had passed.

“Looks like I’ve kept you from your plans,” Spencer said, glancing at the clock and looking a bit guilty.

I waved him off. "No, I’m glad we talked. Let’s do this again sometime."

As we parted ways, I found myself secretly hoping that I’d bump into him again—preferably without any coffee mishaps. Gladly, we got to exchange numbers.

---

Two weeks later, Spencer invited me on a spontaneous picnic. I was hesitant at first; after all, Spencer wasn’t exactly the type to suggest spontaneous outdoor activities. But when he mentioned his favorite park and that he'd packed us both lunch, I couldn’t say no.

We met early on a Saturday morning, the sun barely peeking over the trees. Spencer had a basket in hand, looking as if he’d stepped straight out of a vintage romance movie. His cardigan, now unbuttoned, fluttered slightly in the morning breeze. He had a nervous energy about him, which I found endearing.

“I may have overpacked,” he said, setting the basket down next to a picnic blanket.

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s in there? Enough food to feed an army?”

“Well, no. Just enough food to feed two people who might be hungry after talking about random trivia for hours,” Spencer replied with a smile, clearly amused by his own self-awareness.

We settled down on the blanket, the sounds of the park around us—children laughing, birds chirping, and the distant hum of traffic—mixing with the peaceful vibe of our little picnic. Spencer unpacked the basket, revealing an assortment of sandwiches, chips, and fresh fruit.

“Did you make all this?” I asked, impressed by the spread he’d laid out.

Spencer flushed slightly. “Well, I mean, I don’t cook a lot, but I thought sandwiches would be simple enough. The fruit is from a local farm stand.”

“You’ve got good taste,” I said, picking up a sandwich. “You sure you’re not a secret chef?”

He laughed. “I think my talents lie more in... making the perfect cup of coffee and identifying obscure book quotes. Cooking’s not my thing.”

“I’m not complaining,” I said, taking a bite of the sandwich. “Everything’s delicious.”

For the next few hours, we talked about everything and nothing. We shared little-known facts—Spencer told me about his favorite historical figures and how fascinated he was by World War II espionage. I laughed and chimed in with my own trivia, telling him about random facts I’d read in articles or heard in podcasts.

Every so often, I’d glance over at him and see how deeply he was listening, his full attention on me. It was a quiet, comfortable feeling—one I hadn’t realized I needed in my life. I hadn’t had many deep conversations with people outside my closest circle, but with Spencer, it felt effortless.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park, we packed up the basket and sat together for a few moments longer. It wasn’t about rushing to the next activity but savoring the peacefulness of the moment. Just us, sharing a space without the pressure of anything else.

“You know,” Spencer said after a while, his voice quieter now, “I think I could get used to this.”

I looked at him, heart swelling with affection. “Me too. I’m glad we did this.”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling under the fading sunlight. “Maybe we could make it a regular thing,” he suggested, and I felt the warmth of his words settle inside me.

“That sounds perfect,” I replied, squeezing his hand, and for a moment, I couldn’t help but feel like everything was finally falling into place.

---

From that point on, our meetings became a little less accidental and a lot more intentional. We made plans to see each other every weekend, enjoying more quiet moments, long conversations, and shared laughter. Spencer’s nervousness faded as he became more comfortable around me, and I couldn’t help but fall even harder for him.

One day, after another one of our cozy park picnics, Spencer turned to me with that signature smile that always made my heart flutter.

“I think we’ve made it a habit,” he said, his voice light and teasing.

“Yeah,” I agreed, squeezing his hand. “A really good habit.”

We both leaned back against the blanket, the soft rustling of the trees above and the golden glow of the setting sun casting a warm light around us. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between us, but it was the kind of silence that spoke volumes. I could feel the closeness between us growing stronger, like something was just waiting to happen.

Spencer’s gaze lingered on me, and there was a softness in his eyes that made my heart skip a beat. He seemed almost hesitant, his lips parted slightly, like he was debating something in his mind.

Without saying anything, I slowly leaned in, my heart racing, and before I could second-guess myself, I brushed my lips against his. It was gentle, like a quiet promise, and for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just him and me, the cool breeze, the sound of our breathing, and the feeling of everything clicking into place.

When we pulled away, I saw the same warm, amused smile on Spencer’s face. He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“That was... nice,” he said softly, as if he was surprised by the simplicity and sweetness of the moment.

I smiled, my cheeks flushed. “Yeah. It was.”

“I think this might just be my favorite habit of all,” he whispered.

I leaned in again, this time not hesitating, and kissed him once more—this time a little deeper, a little more certain.

As we parted again, I felt like the world had shifted in the most beautiful way. With Spencer, everything felt natural, easy, like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

We settled back into the blanket, hands intertwined, not needing to say anything else. The sun dipped lower in the sky, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like time was slipping away. It felt like we had all the time in the world.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #mgg #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fandom #criminal minda imagine #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

326 notes · View notes