Little Treasures, Life's Pleasures

Deal With It - Matty Healy

Plot: I had this idea where the reader is Matty’s plug and it seemed kinda cool so I’m running with it. Has a little bit of George Daniel. Also based on she way out but set around 2015/16 time.

Female reader

Warnings: Explicit drug use, Alcohol, Cocaine, Weed, Smoking, Swearing, Violence, Smut, Male & slight female dom

“There she is! Finally fucking made it,” Matty announced as he pulled me tightly into his side. I grinned, smelling the booze, cigarettes and cologne on him. He’d accosted me as soon as he spotted me walking across the crowded nightclub. It’d been booked for some fancy private party full of celebrities, and Matty had got me on the guest list. He pulled me toward the group of sofas in the corner, where the band and various others sat.

“Alright, get off of me you daft twat,” I joked, escaping from his grasp and ruffling his long curly hair. George stood from his spot at the table, standing in front of me with his arms open and smile lines in the corner of his eyes. I didn’t hesitate to fall into his embrace, my head only touching his chest as he towered above me. His arms looped around my back as he picked me up and I felt my short dress ride up.

“George! George my arse is out,” I warned him, laughing. Matty came up behind me to pull my skirt down and his band mate returned me to my feet. I felt my ears burning as George grinned down at me.

“How are you doing then? It’s been a while,” he asked, and I couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off my face. It was almost embarrassing how attractive I found him. Matty had introduced us at one of his parties and we hit it off over a spliff.

“Not too bad, whitey king,” I teased, earning a playful shove.

“Hey, hey, don’t steal her away. I’m the one who asked her here,” Matty interrupted, obviously upset at being left out of the conversation bubble. He swooped in, hooking an arm around my shoulder and leading me away from the group. “I’ll bring her back for you shortly, we have business to discuss first,” he announced cheekily, sending a wink in George’s direction, who didn’t look overly impressed.

“Matty, I didn’t even get to say hi to anyone,” I complained, squirming out of his grasp because I wasn’t entirely sure how it made me feel. Whilst George had been wearing cuffed jeans and converse, Matty seemed a lot more dressed up. He had on black trousers and a white shirt that was more draped over him than being worn, the top buttons undone. It suited him.

“You can see them later, now have you got anything for me?”

“You’re dressed smart,” I stated, ignoring his question. He rolled his eyes, but I could see him smirk.

“And you’re dressed hot, now where’s the coke?”

“Ey!” I scolded, smacking him on the arm as we reached the bar. “It’s here,” I told him, taking his hand and pressing the baggy into it. He thanked me, pocketed it and pressed a kiss to my cheek, slipping a some bank notes into my bag. Matty waved a hand at the bartender, a pretty young woman who came over immediately.

“I’ll get a whiskey and a…” he turned to me.

“Just a rum and coke.”

“A double rum and coke, and could you get a tray of shots to the table in the corner?” Matty asked her, pointing out his group. The bartender nodded, making quick work of our drinks and passing a message on to serve the rest of the band. Matty slid my glass over to me, knocking back his own drink alarmingly fast.

“D’ya need me to give you any money for that?”

“Are you kidding? It’s on a tab, now get that drink down you, you’re unnervingly sober,” he told me, linking his fingers through mine and pulling me through the bodies. He led me through to the hall and then stopped outside the women’s bathroom. “Hurry up,” he scolded, gesturing back to the untouched glass in my hand. I scowled at his bossiness, but did as I was told and knocked the drink back with a slight grimace.

“What are we doing hanging outside the ladies?” I asked him suspiciously, but he didn’t dignify me with a response, instead pushed through the door and hurried me into a toilet cubicle. I raised an eyebrow. “Well now I think that you’re really fucking weird, and I’ve been your dealer for over a year.”

“Do a line with me you muppet,” he quipped, pulling the baggy out his pocket. He got his phone out and cut two decent lines on the black screen. He did his first and then I copied him, covering my nostril and tipping my head back as I sniffed hard. Immediately the chemical petrol taste started a drip at the back of my throat. Matty looked up at me. “You’re the best, (Y/N).”

“It can’t be hitting you that quick, let’s go back.”

“Fine, let’s get another drink in you,” Matty decided for both of us. Although I wanted to go back and see George I figured a pit stop by the bar wouldn’t be the worst thing to shift the nerves.

By the time we stopped for a cigarette and got two Jägerbombs the drugs had hit my system and I knew it would be a terrible idea to go over and try to speak to the drummer. I felt a grin stuck on my face as Matty frantically talked my ear off, although I’d only half been listening. Instead, I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the dance floor, where the song Everybody Dance by CHIC was playing. His words were cut off as he raised his eyebrows in surprise, obligingly following me to the front where the DJ was. He chuckled, beginning to dance along with me. We were facing each other, stood quite close. His pupils were dilated, his hair falling over his face. Suddenly he stopped dancing, laughing at me instead.

“What? What is it?” I asked, feeling flushed and totally off my face as I grinned.

“You’re totally off beat,” he said, leaning close to my ear so I could hear him. Matty leaned back, first tapping the rhythm of the song onto my arms, then trailed his fingers down my forearms to catch my hands in his own, pushing them foreword and back so that we were dancing together, and putting my rhythm back on track. He wetted his lip as swayed to the beat. We shouted the words at each other, Matty at one point playfully spinning me around, his shirt now totally unbuttoned, showing his torso and tattoos.

“MATTY THIS IS YOUR SONG!” I shouted at him as all of a sudden Love Me off the boys new album started playing. He chuckled, looking almost embarrassed as his own voice came through the speaker.

“Oh god,” he complained, but he still humoured me with a short dance before we made our way back to the table, both feeling a lot more trashed than when we had first bumped into each other. Matty essentially deposited me with the others before he was off to the bar again. George welcomed me a spot on his lap as all the seats were taken and made quick work of settling his arms around my stomach with his chin resting on my head while Adam and Ross discussed the next tour they were due to go on.

“I was hoping you weren’t going to run off with Matty again this time,” George said, his hands moving to tug the skirt of my dress slightly down so my knickers weren’t on show. I felt my ears heat up red again at his comment. George seemed to be able to make me so flustered at his comments, despite the way he said them so calmly.

“Matty is Matty, he’s constantly dragging me off to do things.”

“What things?” George asked, hinting at the obvious.

“Cocaine mainly,” I deadpanned.

“That’s a bit naughty,” he teased, digging his fingers into my sides so that I squirmed. I spotted Matty making his way back to the table with a tray of drinks.

“George, you do know what I do for a living?”

“Yeah, I sussed it out,” he replied, pressing a kiss to my cheek as Matty wedged his way into a non existent seat between Adam and George.

“I bought us shots,” he announced. “Come on (Y/N), you’ll do a shot with me won’t you?” His voice was coming out testy, and as I looked him in the eye I noticed his pupils once again dilated. I frowned, noticing the way his mood had soured and hoped he wasn’t about to make it everyone’s problem.

“Sure, I’ll do a shot,” I appeased, tilting my head to look at George. “You?”

“Yeah, course,” he replied, moving his hands back to rest on my thighs while Matty grimaced slightly and handed shots out to the group.

“Fucksake Hann, I’m trying to hand you this,” he snapped at Adam when he failed to notice the drink he’d been offered.

“Fucking hell Matty, what’s got you so tetchy?” the guitarist asked, receiving an annoyed look.

“I’m not tetchy,” Matty responded unconvincingly.

As the night went on Matty’s move improved slightly, even if it was only after sneaking off to do more coke. It was a while before he went off into the party, him instead favouring hovering by me and George, occasionally dropping in arsey comments which were beginning to piss me off.

After Matty sloped off to the bathrooms again, I asked George to come with me for a cigarette. We pushed our way through the crowd and stumbled through the corridor to the outdoor smoking area; a large rooftop balcony overlooking West London. I leant against the railing, George coming to stand next to me.

“You got a light?” I asked, having left my bag inside. He nodded, patting down his pockets to find it, then ignited it, holding it out with his hand guarding the flickering flame as I lit my cigarette and then as he lit his. I took a deep drag.

“I have to ask you something.” He turned to me, his body slightly closer to my own. “Are you… Are you and Matty a thing?” George asked, before taking another drag of his cigarette. I let out a laugh.

“What? No,” I chuckled. “He’s a client, and probably a friend too now I think about it, but we’re not romantically involved.”

“Cool,” came George’s response. With that, his hand reached down to cup my cheek and I looked up at him curiously, but in the back of my mind I knew what was going to happen next. As his eyes flickered from my eyes down to my lips and back my suspicions were confirmed and he leaned down to kiss me, both of us unaware that there might be any potential observers. As his lips pressed against my own and our cigarettes smoked away, forgotten by our sides, I couldn’t help but feel a slight disappointment. The kiss was just… a kiss. Perhaps I’d set myself up for it, expecting fireworks just because I found the man attractive, but the truth remained that there was hardly a spark.

My thoughts were cut short however as a third party forced it’s way into the moment, in the form of Matty Healy. It took a moment for me to register George reeling away from me, another for me to comprehend that Matty had punted his best mate in the face.

“Matty! What the fuck?!” I heard my own voice exclaimed shrilly. George was stood back from the aggravated Matty, holding the side of his face in surprise.

“You two? Are you fucking joking me?!” Matty exclaimed, clearly fresh off one line too many. I rushed over to George, seeing to check if he was okay, but when I reached him he stepped away from me, a hurt look in his eyes as if I had lied to him about my relationship to Matty. I didn’t blame him. The way Matty was acting was as though I was his wife of four years, not his newly acquired mate.

“I’m going inside, you two should talk,” George said, a little coldly. He left quickly, not bothering to say anything else to either of us.

“(Y/n), I…” Matty began, obviously sensing that he might have done the wrong thing.

“I’m not speaking to you here, it’s too… public,” I told him. He reached out for my arm and I batted him away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I snapped, ignoring his shocked and guilty eyes.

“My hotel is across the street, we could talk there?” he suggested. I paused, thinking that that might be a terrible idea, but my head was fuzzy with booze and coke and I more than desperately wanted to sit down. I nodded, unable to speak incase I began yelling at him.

We walked in total silence, Matty stumbling slightly the whole way and me remaining at least two paces behind him, except for making sure he didn’t dart out into the busy London traffic. Eventually we made it to the hotel room; a large suite by the top of the building. Matty kicked off his shoes and I shut the door softly behind me before he walked past and fell down onto his stomach on the bed, reaching into the drawers.

“We could go for a spliff,” he suggested, a cheeky grin on his face, contrasting the stony look on my own face. I was gobsmacked at his complacency.

“Matty!” I scolded, and he sat up to look at me, leaving the skins and grinder on the bed. “What you did was not alright, in fact, what the FUCK were you thinking?” I began, all the frustration I’d built up finally coming out. He looked irritatingly surprised that we were still on the subject, likely from the drugs.

“I dunno, it was just wrong wasn’t it?”

“Wrong? What the fuck does that mean?”

“George shouldn’t have kissed you,” he continued, not really explaining anything. I stepped closer to him and he stood up to meet my height.

“Matty, what do you mean he shouldn’t have kissed me?” I said, my voice dangerously quiet.

“I…” Matty began, but he didn’t sound so confident now. “I didn’t like it. I dunno.” His eyes darted down to the floor. “I watched you outside being all lovey-dovey and I didn’t like it… so I… I hit him.”

“He’s your fucking best mate Matty! Why do you think you get to do shit like that just because you don’t like a situation? And you were watching us? How long was that little act of voyeurism?” I demanded, but this time Matty met my eye with a level of slight arrogance.

“See, this is why I like you. Only you would say a phrase like that.”

Before I even thought about it my hand had caught the side of his face. He put his own hand on the spot where I’d slapped him, looking at me slightly shocked. All of a sudden I couldn’t find the words to continue. Guilt hit me in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to do that.

Matty’s expression however had changed. His dark eyes stayed trained on my face, lips parted and I could hear him breathe slightly louder. For a second we both stood there, tension thick between us, in total silence.

“Matty I’m sorry I-” I began, but was cut off as he took my face in his hands and connect our lips, pressing his hard against my own and slipping his tongue into my mouth. I felt my heart rate increase at the excitement of his hands falling to cup the small of my back, pulling me into him. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me as my hands found their way into his tangled hair, fingers tugging at it as Matty let out a slight groan at the feeling. He spun us around, the backs of my knees pressing against the bed. I parted my lips from his, touching my forehead to his.

“Matty,” I began, and he let out a sigh even at me just saying his name. I tilted my head away from him, his hands holding me in place as my own dropped to rest on his shoulders. “I don’t think…”

“Please don’t stop this now, I think I might have I nervous breakdown if you stop this now,” he countered before I had the chance to voice my concern. I could hear the slight desperation in his voice as his hands gripped me slightly. “(Y/n), we can deal with the mess in the morning,” he added gently, his hand coming up to the side of my head as he knotted his fingers softly into my hair.

I considered it for a moment, but the thrumming deep within me and the way I could feel Matty stir against my thigh quickly made up my mind for me.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, connecting my lips to his again and running my hands down to unbutton his shirt. His hands snuck under the fabric of my dress that had been riding up all evening, gripping at my thighs. I let out a soft moan which made him pull away, looking at me hungrily as he took his shirt off.

“Get on the bed,” he instructed lowly, and so I kicked off my heels and shuffled back along the mattress. Matty’s eyes never strayed from mine as he crawled up towards me, running a hand down one of my legs only to lift my ankle, kissing along it softly, trailing his lips along the inside of my leg in a painfully slow manner. As he torturously made his way up toward my inner thigh I could feel myself get worked up, letting out a moan as he nipped my skin lightly. He hummed against my skin as his hands reached to pull my skirt up around my waist and his fingers hooked the sides of my underwear, making me lift my hips to help him remove them, but he didn’t. He lifted his head and moved up between my legs, slipping his tongue into my mouth. I nipped his bottom lip between my teeth and he let out a moan that seemed to surprise him.

Together we removed my dress, leaving me in my mismatched underwear; a black bra and lilac lace knickers. Matty pushed me down onto the bed, moving to plant wet kisses along my neck as he let his hips grind against me. Sick of the teasing I rolled on top of him, straddling his waist with his erection pressed against me. I reached around to unclip my bra, letting it fall to my elbows before removing it. Matty quickly sat upright, cupping my breasts as he kissed me again, and I ground against him, enjoying the feeling of his skin against mine. I brought my hands up to his chest, pushing him back to a laying position and making him look at me in total awe. I brought a hand up to cuff his neck, not choking him, but pressing my thumb into the side of his neck so I could feel his pulse increase as I rolled my hips slightly.

“Fucking hell,” he swore, his hands resting on my waist, pushing to try and deepen my movements. I leant down to leave another wet kiss onto his mouth, moaning into it when he bucked his hips up against my heat. I moved my kisses down his neck and chest, starting to unbuckle his trousers and pull them down his thighs. I paused my kisses for a moment just to get his trousers off, then placed the gentlest kisses to his stomach, ghosting over his We Are Kings tattoo and letting myself breathe over his skin, his hands once again tangling into my hair as I laced my fingers into the waistband of his boxers. I felt his muscles tense as I pressed a kiss to the crook of his hipbone. “You’re driving me fucking insane,” he murmured, tipping my head to face him with my chin between his thumb and forefinger. I grinned slightly, before placing one last kiss at the very edge of his underwear and then pulling them down, freeing him.I pumped his erection in my hand a couple of times, enjoying hearing the satisfied grunts Matty let out at finally being touched, and then I gently touched my lips to the head of his cock, Matty watching me intently the whole time, slightly sat up on his elbows. I hummed slightly, knowing he’d feel it, then pulled my lips away, sitting up.

“It’s quite late, maybe I should leave,” I said calmly, wanting to see his reaction. It was only a tease of course, I could feel myself dripping with arousal as I said the words. He looked at me darkly.

“Don’t you fucking dare, this might be the hardest my dick has ever been,” he warned, sitting up and grabbing my wrist.

“Hmm, okay. Will you say please?” I asked mischievously, knowing I was pushing it.

“Fuck off.”

“Fine then,” I responded, pulling myself out of his grasp.

“No! Wait!” he exclaimed, making me pause. “Please can you?”

“Please can I what?” I asked, definitely abusing my power now. Matty let out a pained groan.

“Please can you suck my fucking dick?” he requested reluctantly, but he couldn’t hide how desperate he was. I kneeled between his legs, placing another gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. I didn’t bother teasing him further, just took his length into my mouth, pushing it as far as I could handle. Matty let out a groan at the feeling, resisting the urge to buck his hips up further into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the head and then sunk my mouth back down, repeating the process again and again until Matty grabbed my hair and pushed me down, cumming into the back of my throat with a slight moan. When my mouth came off of him a string of saliva connected my tongue to his twitching cock. He sat up fully, grabbing me by my neck and pulling me to kiss him with his taste still on my tongue. I moaned languidly into the kiss, rubbing my thighs together to try and alleviate some of the throbbing. Matty’s hand trailed from my breast, across my stomach until his fingers brushed against where I needed him most. He hummed contentedly, feeling how wet my underwear was already. He didn’t break the kiss as he moved them aside, inserting two of his fingers into me and curling them up, making me gasp and grip at his shoulders. His lips trailed along my jaw while his thumb brushed my clit, soaking up the noises that spilled from my lips.

“Go lie down,” he instructed firmly, pulling his fingers from inside me and licking them clean. I blushed seeing the way my juices had dripped down his hand. I lay back with my head on the pillows, my knees together self consciously, but soon Matty parted them, not hesitating to lick a stripe along my heat. I shuddered at the stimulation, Matty hooking his arms around my parted thighs as he pushed his face down between my legs. I let out a unexpectedly lewd moan, covering my mouth with my hand. Matty reached up to pull my elbow, silently telling me that he wanted me to be loud. His tongue circled my clit, pressing down onto it and this time I let my whimpers be heard.

“Matty,” I gasped, quickly threading my fingers into his curls, pulling slightly and making him growl slightly. His grip tightened on my thighs as the pleasure built inside of me, causing me to close my thighs slightly around his head. His tongue flicked over my clit, warm and wet. His curls brushed against the inside of my legs. “Fucking hell,” I whined. “I’m really fucking close.”

To my frustration as soon as I said those words he pulled away from me, looking at my face while he lay his head on my thigh. He had a smug grin on his face.

“You bastard,” I cursed him, lifting myself up on my elbows. Matty pressed a kiss to my stomach and then sat up, wasting no time in pulling me into his lap, his erection pressing against my stomach. My hands quickly looped around his neck as his held tightly onto my hips. We looked each other in the eye, smiling like naughty teenagers while his thumbs rubbed circles onto my hip bone. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes, ghosting my lips against his until he darted forwards and caught my lip between his teeth, dragging it back and making me release a noise halfway between a giggle and a moan. I leant back slightly, looking down between us. “Did you get that just from going down on me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied lowly, before moving to press another kiss to my neck. As he moved his attention from one side to the other, I lifted my hips and let him press the top of his cock to my slick entrance. As I lowered my weight, he let out a load moan, and I felt his hot breath against my neck as his hands squeezed my sides. I rolled my hips up, moaning myself as he slid up inside of me. While my pace sped up, his hands dropped to hold my arse, his head tipping back and his lips parted. We gripped each other and panted, and I couldn’t shake the need to be impossibly close to him. As he grew closer his eyes darkened, and he pushed me onto my back, pounding me into the mattress. More heavenly moans tumbled from our lips, and as I grew closer I clutched at his back desperately.

It hit me unexpectedly, a wave of pleasure deep inside of me that made my back arch up into him, pressing our torsos together. Matty let out one final growl and finished inside of me as I clenched around him. He pulled me in for a tired, wet kiss, and as he pulled away I saw the satisfied grin on his face. He stayed on top of me, pulling his cock out and then planting more kisses all over my face, making me laugh as his curls brushed over my forehead.

“That was fucking amazing,” he told me softly, unable to stop the smile stretching across his face, which I couldn’t help but mirror. He rolled off of me, but still pulled me into his side. “Honestly, (Y/n), that might have been the best sex I’ve had.”

“It was pretty fucking good,” I agreed, sitting up and getting off of the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To the loo,” I responded, padding through to the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. As I sat down on the toilet seat I grabbed some loo roll to clean myself up, then went for a piss. After that I stood in front of the mirror, nude. My hair was all over the place, and my dark eye makeup had smudged, but my face was bright and glowy despite the state of the night. I tidied myself up a bit, took off as much of my makeup as was possible and returned back to the bedroom.

Matty was lying on top of the duvet still, stark naked and scrolling through his phone. He looked over at me as I emerged, putting his phone down. His eyes couldn’t help but cross my body again.

“I have to say, I’m glad you haven’t put your clothes back on,” he teased, and I rolled my eyes, but moved to join him on the bed anyway. Immediately he wrapped himself around me, his leg crossing over my body, and I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair again. His nose brushed my cheek and I could feel him breathe.

“I kinda like being naked,” I told him, fiddling with his curls.

“Oh yeah?” he questioned, but to my surprise he didn’t seem to be making any kind of dirty joke.

“Yeah. It’s such a vulnerable and intimate thing, but there’s a power in not caring,” I explained. Matty hummed in agreement. “I suppose it’s conditioned in us to see it as a very sordid thing, and that’s why it feels like a risk, but at the end of the day we’re the same people with or without clothes on,” I continued to muse. Matty pressed another kiss to my jaw, responding to me in a sleepy voice.

“That’s a good point.”

“Although, I am cold. I’m gonna get under the duvet,” I decided, trying to get out of his grasp. He stayed still, holding me in place. “Matty,” I complained. “Let me go, I’m cold.”

“You don’t feel cold,” he argued, nuzzling his head into the crook of my neck. I let out an exasperated sigh, but wriggled out from underneath him, getting myself comfy beneath the thick bedding. Matty let out an exasperated groan, but got under the covers next to me anyway, his arms pulled me back into him, and we chatted for a little while, until our responses grew slow and we both fell asleep.

The next morning I woke early, my head feeling heavy and my body hot. It took me a moment to figure out where I was, sitting up and taking in the sleeping man next to me. He looked calm, his brow relaxed and his hair a mess against the white pillow cover. I found my bag and checked my phone.

Hey (y/n), sorry about last night. You left your jacket at the party so I picked it up x

I groaned, guilt forming in my stomach at George’s message. I pulled myself out of bed, finding my bra and putting it back on.

“Matty,” I whispered, shaking his shoulder slightly to wake him. “Have you got any underwear I can borrow?” He groaned tiredly, rubbing his eyes and pointing across the room.

“Suitcase.”

I rummaged around in his case until I found a pair of clean boxers, pulling them on. Matty rolled over, watching me shuffle round the room to find my stuff, the duvet pulled up to his chin.

“They look better on you than me,” he pointed out, enjoying the early morning show. I wasn’t in the mood for it, however, not responding as I pulled my dress back over my head and grabbed my bag.

“Matty, I shouldn’t have done this,” I told him, pulling my shoes back on.

“You’re not leaving are you?” he asked, yawning. “We could go and grab breakfast downstairs first.”

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Fine, coffee then, don’t be difficult.”

The idea of coffee did sound tempting, but I pushed that thought aside.

“I’m not happy with this, okay? I’m still annoyed at you, last night doesn’t change that,” I explained. Matty sat up, the covers falling down to show his chest and shoulders.

“Take some money for a taxi then,” he offered, still acting flippant.

“I don’t want your money, I’m leaving, okay?” I told him finally, and with that I left, ready for the walk of shame ahead.

Virgin — (Part One - Connor x Fem!Reader - NSFW/18+)

Someone definitely requested more needy, touch-starved, virgin Connor… right?

Part 1 / Part 2

NSFW (18+) under the cut

Keep reading

hey! thank you for your services to thirsty fan girls everywhere 😂 are you able to write something for percy jackson where they’re maybe college age but they return to camp as counsellors with reader being head of apollo cabin, and just something smutty (preferably w face riding bc i saw your post through the logan lerman tag about wanting to do just that)

pairing: percy Jackson (18+ btw) x fem!reader

warnings: smut → face riding 

word count: 681

a/n: omg hahaha you’re very much welcome 😂 

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

requests for smut night are open💦!

smut night request guidelines are here✨!

smut night masterlist

the two of you giggle as you pull him into the cabin; fingers laced together with excitement, the heat on each other’s skin passing through onto the other. With even a second after Percy closes the door, he picks you up and you immediately wrap your legs around his waist. Both of you fall into harder fits of laughter as he drops you on the bed. 

It had been a while since you’d seen each other. College got in the way of casual meet ups, date nights became a rarity due to stress and frantically trying to meet deadlines. But finally, summer came and you were back at Camp Half-Blood in no time. 

Percy wastes no time in undressing you, already trying to hastily lift your shirt over your head. You help him and shake your head at his neediness. 

“Wait, I, uh, I wanna try something different,” percy sits back. His lips still swollen from the secret makeout sesh you had behind the trees after dinner. 

“yeah, okay. What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and uh, would you - maybe ride my face?” he asks, cheeks flushing a shade of red. 

You practically moan at his words, thinking how hot it would be. Cupping his cheeks, you pull him in for a kiss. He's surprised at your response, having not thought of any kind of response from you in his head before he asked. Percy lays back against the mattress, bringing you with him so you can straddle his waist. 

You shuffle out of your pants, dropping them by the floor near your shirt. Percy’s hips rock into yours with such need, it makes the both of you expel a sigh. While you trail kisses along his neck, his fingers find their way to your panties, teasing you so prettily as he circles his fingertip on your clothed clit. 

You gasp against his neck and rock against his finger, wanting to feel more of him. But when he continue to do nothing but tease you, you sit up and pull your underwear off. You plant a kiss on his lips before straddling his face, hands intertwining with his as he licks a stripe up your folds. 

“fuck percy, you have no idea how much I've missed this,” you moan, resting your hands back against his stomach as you lean back. 

“I can only take a guess,” he muffles a chuckle from between your thighs. 

“faster, baby, please.” the pleading and the whines only makes percy harder for you. His cock begins to strain in his briefs, his head swarming with previous memories of him fucking you. 

His tongue flicks rapidly on your clit, groaning against you at the sound of your gorgeous moans. that was one thing he would never get tired of; the way you’d moan and whine for him, the way you’d rock your hips with such need, the way you surrender yourself and are completely merciful to him. You are all for him. 

“you sound like you wanna cum, princess,” percy chuckles against you. His fingers kneading your ass and holding your hips down further on his mouth. You whine in response; the sensation bubbling in your toes and spreading all the way up your legs to your core. Your stomach tightens. Moans become louder - so loud, you have to cover your mouth with your hands to prevent anyone from hearing. This is still a camp full of people after all. 

Then, Percy does something he’s never really done before. 

He begins sucking on your clit. His arms lock around your thighs tighter, preventing you from wriggling around or moving. God, the way his mouth feels around you sends you into complete overdrive. 

You muffle a scream of his name into your hand, feeling your walls pulse as you cum. One of your hands steady themselves on his shoulder, the other beside his head, twisting and pulling at the bedsheet. 

You lift your hips from him, feeling too sensitive for him to continue. 

“what makes you think I’m done with you yet?”

no caption just him

Anything (König x Reader)

Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper. The altercation ends in your hospitalisation and when you've finally recovered, Price assigns the same man who destroyed you to teach you how to never let it happen again.

Requested by @sinnerburrito:

#68 Are you afraid of me?

A/N: I have no idea how we got here.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Forced Proximity || Enemies to ?

Warnings: Graphic description of violence, graphic description of injury and graphic language.

“You’re a liability.”

The words rang like a church bell. You were never one for petty violence but in that moment, after he’d so calmly said the words, you thought that you just might kill him.

“A liability?” You hissed, glaring at your superior like he’d grown two heads. “I’m a sniper, Sir, not a fucking ninja.”

The captain simply shifted his weight lazily, unfazed by your temper. He’d dealt with it many times throughout the years but it hadn’t bothered him because you weren’t inherently his. You were somebody else’s spitfire, under another unit’s command; but now you were part of the 141 and you needed to learn.

“Come on, Birdy. You know I’m right.”

Birdy.

You had Soap to thank for the name. ‘Snipers and birds both shit on people from above’. It wasn’t creative and honestly you could have thought of one hundred better names to offer, but once Ghost started addressing you by Birdy, it was set in stone.

When you said nothing, he continued.

“You can’t fight your way out of a wet paper bag,” he scoffed, swallowing a snort when your eyes widened. “Sniper’s need to defend themselves too, Birdy. You learnt that the hard way, remember?”

How could you not?

The knife wound had healed but the memory of it had not. Images of the hooded man wedging a blade into your shoulder flickered across your vision. Fists bearing down onto your jaw. Fingers wrapped around your throat.

A chill skittered across your skin.

“So, what’s your suggestion?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

When the corner of Price’s mouth quirked upward, you’d already begun to regret asking.

“Simple, really.” He shrugged, “someone’s gonna train ya.”

Your stomach dropped and a cold shiver traced the length of your spine.

“Who, Sir?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “Ghost’s not here. Everyone’s on leave.”

Price smirked.

“Not everyone.”

___

You felt nauseas.

Anxiety had your stomach in a death grip, and it was all you could do to not throw up. Pacing up and down the gym mats, you tried to cool your nerves.

There was only one person that had remained a complete anomaly to you and now he’d been given literal permission to beat the shit out of you.

Training.

You remembered what they loved to call ‘training’ at your old unit. You’d never been the fastest or the strongest, that was not your job. You were the one who could take make an impossible shot a kilometre away, but that’s not what ‘training’ entailed.

Your body ached at the memory.

There was a small noise by the doorway and your body stiffened. He was letting you know that he was there, his equivalent of a knock.

You both knew that he could have had you on your back whenever he pleased.

“König.” You acknowledged him as confidently as you could, turning to face the beast head on.

The giant stood in the doorway looking like the fucking bogey man himself.

“Birdy,” König inclined his head. Those dark, watchful eyes observed you from beneath his hood, taking in your visage. Heat licked the back of your neck and you began to sweat under his gaze.

He was clad in his usual getup from the waist down, the tactical cargo pants and the hefty boots being his barracks favourite. It was the hoodie that had caught you by surprise, you’d seen it a few times in passing, but up close it rendered you breathless.

“I didn’t realize you were staying with the 141,” you said, swallowing nervously as he stepped into the room, ducking his head to avoid hitting the frame above.

This was a sick, sick joke.

“My transfer was approved,” was the only explanation that he offered you.

You knew, logically, that what had happened between the both of you had been a misunderstanding. It was a communication failure on behalf of the brass that had almost gotten you killed but the idea of working with him, training with him, made your stomach drop.

König’s hands got to work removing his gloves and the memory of those fingers wrapped around your throat made you flinch.

You’d set up a sniper’s test atop the rooftop, watching the entrance of the building the 141 was infiltrating. They were going to flush out the target and send him running right into your line of fire.

No-one had been informed of KorTac’s involvement.

You’d heard König before you’d seen him, the dismantling of your trip mine giving you enough indication to roll onto your back to investigate. By then, he was already upon you.

You’d kicked the rifle from his hands but that was where your advantage finished. He’d dragged you by your ankles from your weapon, straddling your flailing body as he got to work. The knife he’d brandished stabbed into your flesh violently, and at first, you’d thought he only punched you.

Until the searing hot pain bloomed across your body and blood sprayed across his hood.

Those emerald eyes were wild and hard as he gripped your face over your balaclava. You couldn’t think to react, dizzied by the agony of knife he twisted into your skin. His palm covered the entirety of your features, fingers tight against your temples as he pulled your head forward then smashed it back into the concrete.

You thought your skull had exploded.

Fists ploughed into your jaw but it was as though you were numb now. Finally, his fingers were drawn to your throat, squeezing tightly as he leaned in. The cloth of his hood brushed against your battered body, filling the space between you as his lips pressed against your ear.

“Your fight is finished,” he hissed heatedly. Then König pressed down into your skin.

You don’t remember what happened afterward. You knew that he’d been called off by his chain-of-command just in time to stop himself from ending your life, but that was according to Soap.

You were in a coma for two weeks.

It took you months to recover.

And only once you came back to work, fit to fight and ready to go, had you discovered that König had applied to transfer into the 141 shortly after the incident. KorTac had offered him up to fill in your position while you recovered.

Not only had the bastard nearly killed you but he’d taken your place.

Now that you were back, he would lose his place as a sniper and be back to running with the team on the ground.

König watched you carefully from where he stood.

“You’re my instructor,” you said plainly, stating the obvious. “Price made you my hand-to-hand combat trainer.

“Ironic, isn’t it,” his voice came quietly from beneath the hood, a small snort following in suit.

You would have laughed had you not been so fucking terrified. You were about to take your place back on the team, a position this giant clearly wanted and now he was given the chance to put you back into the hospital with no questions asked.

You wouldn’t be able to do anything against him. König was a mountain of a man, a force to be reckoned with, and while he tried to make himself as disarming as possible it was implausible to hide that frame.

“Did you want to get started?” König asked, leaning his hip against the table beside him. He was so casual for someone who had nearly killed you.

“No,” you said simply.

“Are you not up for this?” König ventured carefully, pushing off the bench and taking a slow step towards you. Your heart thrashed against your ribs at his approaching figure and you forced yourself to stay still. “You still have bruising-“

“That’s what happens when someone shatters your fucking face, cunt,” you snapped, casting your gaze from his. You were hoping that he wouldn’t bring it up, everyone had danced around your condition for so long. No one spoke about how fucking ugly you looked as you tried to recover.

“It was an accident,” his voice was hard, almost bewildered at your sudden aggression. “We both paid the price for someone else’s mistakes.”  

“Don’t talk to me about paying the price, you fucker,” you snapped, shoving against his chest. König yielded a step and it infuriated you even further to know that he’d allowed it. “You got the fucking job you wanted, you got the transfer you wanted, you got the training you wanted. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-“

“You wanna know what I got?” You snapped, shoving him harder this time. König’s eyes narrowed and he snatched your wrists, holding them against his ribs to stop your assault. You continued anyway, walking his body backward until his heels hit the wall. “I got put into a fucking coma.”  

König’s gaze softened, his chest heaving beneath your hands. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your fists, you could hear his breaths grow ragged.

“I know,” he murmured, his fingers tightening on your wrists. “I was assigned to watch over your bed for those two weeks."

You stared at him for a long moment, sniffling and gasping for air after your rant. König lowered his head and his grip loosened.

“What I did to you…” he trailed off, unable to meet your gaze. How ugly must you have become that he couldn’t withstand looking at his own handiwork?

You turned around, hiding the hot tears forming along your lashes. You were so fucking ashamed by the terror gripping your throat, embarrassed by how much your image affected you. You hated feeling disgusting. You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you at all times it was suffocating you, they gawked and stared and whispered about how your 'pretty face was ruined.'

You began to understand why people wear masks.

“You ruined me,” you rasped. “And I couldn’t do anything to stop you.”

König was silent from behind you, mulling over your words. You couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by your outburst. He had stabbed you, shattered your skull, broken your nose and jaw and nearly snapped your neck- he deserved to listen to you yell at him at the very least.

Fingers slid over your shoulders, slowly turning you around to face him. You tugged against his hold half-heartedly, vision swimming beneath never-ending tears.

“Look at me, Birdy.” His voice was soft and pleading, his hand slowly moving to cup your bruised jaw. You froze as he manoeuvred you, forcing you to face him square on. König slowly lowered himself to rest a knee on the ground, leaving him still taller than you but closer to eye level.

With the hand that was free, he reached for his hood. You swallowed nervously as he carefully pulled it from his head, resting the cloth on his upright knee.

Dirty blonde hair lay splayed across his forehead, the length curling by his ears. Dark brows framed the emerald gaze that watched you intently, taking in your visage as you observed him. All of him.

The scars caught your attention.

Winding from his upper lip, across his eye and leaving a line through his brow, the winding length of damaged skin presented itself. There was another scar along the bridge of his nose that travelled across the width of his cheekbone and into his hair.

“Do I…” König trailed off, full lips parting as he mused over his next words. You stared in awe at the innocence of the freckles smattered across his features. “Are you afraid of me?”

You said nothing for a long moment, mesmerized by the features of a man that had haunted your thoughts for months. He’d been the centre of your existence for so long, the reason you ached and the reason you’d bled. König had plagued your every waking moment ever since the incident, and now he knelt before you. He was on his knees baring his vulnerabilities to you, knowing you could destroy him with it.

“Of course,” you whispered; your voice shaky as you met his gaze.

König’s expression became pleading, “then let me teach you how to beat me.”

His thumb lightly caressed your purple cheek, brows furrowed as he took in his handiwork. “Let me pay for what I’ve done by teaching you how to never let it happen again. And when you finally beat me, revenge will be yours and you may do as you wish.”

“Anything I want?” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

A wry, sad smile pulled at the corner of König’s mouth.

“Anything, mein vöglein.”

My little bird.

the sexual tension between me and unread books on my bookshelf

one having to sit in the other’s lap when space is tight and them both blushing like crazy over it With teammate Max please ❤️

a/n: I’m sorry if it’s too short but I just messaged my crush for the first time and don’t have the guts to check if he answered bc I’m a coward with rejection issues.

this doesn’t look very professional | Max Verstappen blurb

You hated the TikTok.

They should be banned from existence because they carried the existence of community managers, I ever eager marketing people whose ideas always involved getting dirty or things like that. Of course everyone enjoyed the semi formal conversation between Max and Daniel.

But now you wanted to disappear as you noticed only two small couches, one for Christian Horner and the other for you? For Max? It didn’t make any sense, of course this was scheduled and crew knew it was both you and Max.

Max was asking for a new chair or something, trying to use his firm charm that only he knew how to make it work, instead you were serious, lipa on a straight smile because you don’t recall this ever happening when Checo or Daniel were driving.

“Guys, I’m sorry but I have a meeting in fifteen minutes,” Christian checked his Tag Heuer. “Let’s get this done,”

“We can leave it for another day,” Max suggested and everyone, except you, denied his idea.

“We can make it look intentional, you can sit on top of Max’s lap and viewers will think you’re good friends, it’s a win-win,”

Before you could protest, Christian chimed in, saying it was a terrific idea.

Of course Max sat first. His body rigid and weirdly placed his arms on the armrests, making it clear he wasn’t touching you. His stance didn’t change when you sat on his leg, trying your best to not touch him and being almost on his knee, ready to run away

The interview started, you noticed Max’s body relax a little bit against you, which resulted in you very slowly making yourself more comfortable on his leg

But then…

The screen that contained a fan question from twitter was too long and your eyesight wasn’t that good. Forgetting you were sitting on your teammate’s lap, you inclined your body and losing balance.

Your face was ready to meet the ground and it wouldn’t be pretty; there’d be blood and maybe a broken tooth.

But you felt Max’s quick hands holding your waist tightly, very tightly.

Nobody said anything, they didn’t even laugh as your cheeks flushed, and Max’s squirming underneath told you he was just as red, suddenly the room feeling too small.

But his hands didn’t leave your waist for the rest of the interview.

tonight i feel like more

summary: dry humping. sub daryl (but he doesn’t know it) lets goo. awkward sex. probably ooc. they do everything but kiss LMAOO.

inspired by that one s2/3 panel where norman says if someone tried to kiss daryl he’d start crying cause he isn’t ready for all that. hasnt left my head since i watched it. title from digital bath by deftones

dry humping farm era daryl :( coming out to his secluded tent one night under the guise of checking on his injuries and your playful flirting gets too real too fast somehow. you’re both pent up from what feels like months of tension that you can’t even bother to shed your clothes— or maybe daryl just isn’t ready to cross that threshold yet— it doesn’t even matter because the moment you sit yourself on his broad lap and feel the hard, thick outline of him pressed against you through your clothes, you forget to care.

he’s instantly whining at the friction, ducking his head and using your neck to shield you from seeing how red his face has grown, how embarrassed he is that simply talking to you has made him so hard. you do it on purpose, talking to him in that sweet, endearing tone that you know drives him crazy. constantly teasing him with your eyes and touches until he scoffs off your advances. in your defense, the effect you have on him is just too addicting not to play with a little.

“aw, dar, don’t be shy.” you giggle out quietly, your soft arms coming to rest on his shoulders and intertwine behind his back. “look at me.”

the defiant grunt he lets out doesn’t have the same effect when it cracks with desire. like yanking the leash on a dog, you pull the hair at the nape of his neck firmly enough to send him into action. his pupils are dilated, but his eyes remain squinted stubbornly even as he does as he’s told.

“what? we gonna make out all night like a coupla teenagers?” he attempts to be snarky, but the nervous tremor in his voice betrays him.

“why, is that the farthest you’ve ever gone?” it’s half joking, half a genuine question.

from what you’ve heard, daryl had spent most of his life following merle around like a lost puppy pre-apocalypse. you wonder if any significant others had filled some of the space in between, and a part of you is jealous just thinking about it.

he snorts. “i ain’t no virgin mary, that’s for sure.”

well, that’s too bad. you could’ve really gotten off on being his first.

“oh, okay. so you know what you’re doing then?”

he’s silent, an unreadable expression on his face.

as if to prove a point, you grind down on his bulge with one fluid motion. daryl’s jaw falls slack and a barely there whimper tumbles out, eyes widening up at you with submission, vulnerability. it makes your cunt throb, makes you want to give him everything and make him beg for it at the same time.

“feels good, hm?”

“cmon, stop… stop playin’ around.” he huffs— grits out more like. as if using his voice while he’s in such a compromising position is physically paining him. you watch his eyes drift to your chest, which is quickly rising and falling with your synchronized pants.

“oh, you can do better than that, dixon.” you chide lightly. “what happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

“i… can you…” daryl sucks in a deep breath, his gaze lowering to the spot your groins are connected. “just fuckin’ move.”

you lean back, giving him a better view of the expanse of your torso, the way the strap of your camisole has started to fall down your shoulder. daryl seems to bite the bait, tongue darting out to gather the pool of drool starting to gather around his lip. it rings a laugh out of you.

“with that attitude, i should just go back inside. leave you all alone to take care of yourself.” you threaten. his response is immediate, as his large hands that were once gripping the blankets below him come to hold your waist in place with a bearish grip. waiting, you raise an eyebrow at him.

he looks off to the side. “p…please.”

it’s faint, reluctant. still, the rush of power he’s giving you makes your head spin. he’s realistically much stronger than you, could quickly take control of the situation without breaking a sweat with that advantage alone. but he’s choosing to let you lead, to do as you say. you can’t say it’s something you expected, but you’re not gonna complain.

your lips stretch into a grin, patting his cheek like one would a puppy. “attaboy. that’s what i thought.”

you can feel daryl’s cock kick at the praise, and it encourages you to buck down into it. you both moan at the same time, hands tightening around each other as you continue to slowly drag your cunt along his cock. the heat emanating from your clothes is blossoms in below your navel and traps you in.

“you like that, don’t you? doing what you’re told?” your hips slowly gain speed, hands traveling to perch on daryl’s shoulders. his muscles flex underneath your fingertips from exertion.

he does nothing but lowly whine in response, attempting to duck his head again.

“say it.” you push. “say it or i’ll stop.”

“fuck. yeah. i don’t know.” he grunts, his hips canting to chase your warmth. “i like hearin’ you say it.”

“that you’re being so good for me? letting me get off on your lap?” you tease meanly, lifting forward to talk in his ear. “that your cock feels like heaven right now and it’s not even out of your pants?”

the groan that emits out of him is followed by a frustrated sigh. daryl’s hands shakily run under your shirt, up to your waist. you can tell he’s unsure of his movements.

“you can touch me.” you allow graciously.

building up to it, his hands travel slowly. you almost start to believe he’s purposely teasing, but the clumsiness of it all makes you think otherwise. its like a dam breaks when daryl finally reaches your breasts, the fabric of your top bundling up on your chest. he squeezes hesitantly, then his calloused thumbs circle around your areola as your hips draw circles in his lap. daryl watches your nipples harden in unadulterated fascination, his breathing heavy. either he does know what he’s doing or he’s aimlessly exploring and just so happened to make the right move.

he looks up at you for permission and your nod is all he needs to lean forward, catching one of your supple titties on his tongue. it sends your back arching, nearly knocking him back onto the ground.

“fuck, yeah. just like that, baby.” you feel his spiky hair underneath your fingertips as you tug on the roots for stability, which earns a distinct noise from the man below you. the pleasure curling at your spine from his tongue spurs your movements on, beginning to hump into him with all your effort. his bulge keeps knocking against your clit in a way that has you on the verge of seeing stars. “feels so good, daryl.”

“oh, shit. y’gonna… i’m about to…” his voice splits on the last part and it makes your heart clench, disbelieving as you lift his head up to meet his eyes. sure enough, they’re glistening with unshed tears in the dim light.

“already?” your smile and voice are dripping with sympathy. “it’s okay, let it out. i want to feel it.”

you’re bound to have bruises from how hard daryl squeezes you when he releases. it’s a sight to be seen; his face twisting up, strong muscles bulging as he struggles to stifle the cry that’s ripped out of him. his hips drive up into yours, and you swear you can feel it paint his pants, his cum mingling with the damp spot you’ve left.

“you’re so sensitive. god, that’s hot.”

he’s too high on his orgasm to come up with a retort to that. to his surprise, you continue chasing your own pleasure, paying no mind to the fact that he’s rapidly softening. your hearts racing, body tingling with warmth as you reach the brink.

“wait,” his voice is watery. “s’too much.”

“don’t be selfish, dar. i’m not finished with you yet.” you’re breathless at this point, just barely expending the last of your mental energy to respond to his whines. “you can take it a little longer, can’t you?”

his head falls back, and you’re not sure if the noises come from his mouth are from pain or pleasure or both. he nods anyways, watery eyes flicking down to watch your supple tits bounce.

you squeeze onto his biceps. “you’re being so good. gonna make me cum so hard.”

daryl’s whining and squirming underneath you, fingertips piercing your thighs exposed by your shorts.

“you’re so pretty.” he sniffles, whispers in a way that seems subconscious. “how … how can i help?”

ironically that question, of all things, is what sends to the edge. your orgasm is wrung out of you, rippling through your body like a wave as you spasm on his lap. daryl’s noises rival your own in volume, the overstimulation becoming painful.

you both pant together as the last of the aftershocks fade.

“are you okay?”

“my dick is sore.” daryl says at the same time. his voice is raw, vulnerable.

“i’m sorry.” you giggle breathily, going to stand up. his hands hesitate in letting you go, but eventually he drops them to his sides again.

he scratches the back of his neck as you straighten all of your clothes out.

“where’d you learn to… talk like that?”

a smile makes its way back onto your face as you shrug. “you kinda just brought it out of me. seems like you liked it.” you pointedly glance at the large stain on the front of his pants.

“shit. gonna have to burn these in the walker pit. don’t want carol clutchin’ her pearls at me on laundry day.”

“nuh uh. save ‘em for next time.” you joke.

he squints at you again in true daryl fashion. his face is red and his hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat. the sight is almost enough to make you want round two right there and then. maybe with a little less clothes.

“ain’t gon’ be a next time.”

you snort, bending down to grab your forgotten flashlight. “right.”

he watches you unzip the tent, eyebrows pulled together pathetically. there’s definitely going to be a next time.

requesting for chishiya !! i dont really see anything abt him being flirty, so i'd LOVE to see smth like after the game with king of diamonds when he starts to open up yk, maybe chishiya had feelings for op when they were at the beach but never told them that cause he didnt >want< to feel that way, but after all that talk with kuzuryu he wants to change but doesnt rlly know how so he just starts flirting with op at any given chance basically :]] like calling them pretty and holding their hand/waist yk and maybe just dropping some "wanna makeout?" but its SO CLEAR that hes trying really hard and has no idea of what hes doing (that man does NOT flirt usually

I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH FOR THIS !!

I am a firm believer that chishiya is definitely a huge antisocial dork outside of the borderlands and with his partner, so this request hits home

"A" for Effort

Summary: God, who would've thought Chishiya Shuntaro could fail at something so gracefully—alternatively, the one where Chishiya tries flirting for once.

Genre: fluff, aib!au, ooc chishiya (he's a dork in this one)

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 1k

"You know, I can make a bomb out of that with enough batteries and wires." Chishiya mused, a hint of pride in his voice. You froze midway through your actions, the cola can you were holding suspended in midair, inches from your lips. "That's very cool of you, Chishiya."

"Yeah," he hummed. He slid his chair closer to you, making the old floor of the abandoned apartment creak. You'd be lying if you said his closer proximity didn't make your heart flutter.

Uncharacteristically, he slid an arm around you, seemingly aiming to land on the armrest on your other side. As soon as his palm hit the wood, it gave in with a sharp snap, making the blond jolt forward. His chin hit your shoulder, sticky soda liquid spilling as your arm jerked alongside it.

For a split second, he looked mortified, eyebrows raised slightly and his mouth agape. Quickly enough, he caught himself and slid back into his stoic expression. He cleared his throat, "I just have to cut that top part open. The wiring goes in and then the pull-ring after. It's really easy—I can teach you if you want."

His breath was on your skin, deep brown eyes burning into yours. When they're close enough, his eyes no longer looked cold nor judgmental. They were soft, gentle—they were windows to the vulnerabilities and brilliance hidden beneath his hard shell. His pupils seemed to dilate when he whispered, glimmering with wonder under the candlelight.

"You're really pretty."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Eyebrows raised, you let out a hum in surprise. What has gotten into him today?

"Sorry?" You couldn't help but smile. It was an awkward one, given how you were unused to interacting with him like this, but a smile nonetheless.

His arm was still around you, limply laying on the side of the chair before he decided to press it onto your waist. For the first time in his life, Chishiya's fingers trembled. He was praying you wouldn't notice the almost imperceptible way his fingers shook over the fabric of your shirt. You pretended not to notice.

"I think your lips are really pretty," he said as a matter of fact.

He didn't know why you were looking at him as if he just blew someone's head off. Truthfully, it wavered his confidence and he started to rethink his approach. You still hadn't said a word for you were trying to figure out if this was really happening, but he mistook this silence for rejection.

"I'll uh—" he moved away from you, standing up to go towards your makeshift bed of papers and pillows. The bed in the apartment came with questionable stains, and you were adamant about never touching it.

"Chish-"

"I'm going to sleep," he grumbled, frustrated at himself for failing at something he considered to be simple. Why was it suddenly so difficult to talk to you?

Whatever fire Kuzuryuu ignited in him has certainly dampened a bit. He felt defeated—stumped—that the perfect plan he concocted didn't pan out the way it usually would. He thought that now was the best time—he had just came off from beating a king, you found a place the King of Spades seemingly hasn't touched yet, and the both of you managed to unearth unexpired strawberry candies that actually tasted good. Today was supposed to be lucky.

He'd thought of all the variables, and processed the multiple backup plans he had up his sleeve, yet when that fucking armrest broke, they all went down the drain. He was curled up in a ball, back facing toward you. He didn't want you to see him in such an embarrassed—pathetic—state.

"Humans aren't formulaic," he thought.

Sighing, you stood up. You blew the candle, the resulting wisps of smoke trailing up towards the ceiling. Chishiya lay motionless, and if you weren't any wiser, you would've thought that he had actually fallen asleep already.

You sat crossed-leg next to him. The plastic of his earphones glinted under the moonlight, peeking through strands of bleach-blonde hair. You gently plucked the bud out and the blown-out bass of a heavy rock song greeted you. He tilted his head slightly in your direction.

You leaned down, bringing your lips closer to the curve of his ear. "I think you're pretty too."

For a beat, he was unresponsive. Then, he rolled onto his back, now facing you fully. His lips quirked up, giving you the smallest of smiles. He propped himself up on his elbows, cocking his head to the side. It's almost as if it was a challenge for you to continue.

"I don't know what got into you, but I do know that it gave me the courage to tell you this," you bit your lip. "I have feelings for you."

He cocked an eyebrow up, pleasantly surprised and almost in a teasing way. So the plan did work. Not in the way he thought it would, but it still came to fruition.

Your noses were almost touching. You wanted to close the gap, to meet his chapped lips that vaguely smelled of strawberries—he swore he wasn't using lip balm but you begged to differ. He was yearning for this as well. God, he was so mesmerized by you.

So pretty, so pretty, so pretty.

"If you're having trouble with getting the lid off, I can always help you with some pliers I found."

"What are you talking abou—is this about the fucking bomb again?"

He cut you off, finally pressing his lips against yours. Snaking his hand behind your head, he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. You still hadn't quite figured out the intricacies of his mind. His behavior was sometimes erratic—although he was calm and calculative, he can also be unpredictable and warm.

There was a multitude of thoughts running through your mind, the loudest one being the drive for the both of you to make it out, to survive. And without saying it, you knew he wanted the same thing.

No mourners. No funerals. Among them, it passed for ‘good luck.