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killerplink · 10 days ago

Text

MENACE

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Plot: You're loopy on anesthesia, full of dramatic declarations and clingy affection, and Jason's just trying (and failing) not to laugh through it all.

Words: 5,7k

CW: medical mention (minor), anesthesia shenanigans, reader is unhinged post-op, Jason is suffering (lovingly) and enabling nonsense, fluff, chaos, and clinginess ahead

Jason's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, booted foot propped against it, waiting for you to wake up. The hospital room is quiet except for the faint beeping of machines, and he's been here for the past hour, scrolling through his phone, glancing at you every few seconds. You'd just finished a minor surgery—nothing serious—but they'd put you under general anesthesia.

The nurse had warned him earlier, smirking like she knew a secret. "She might be a little... loopy when she wakes up."

Jason had grinned. "Yeah? Can't wait."

Now, seeing you stir, he straightens. His arms uncross, phone slipping into his jacket pocket. Your nose scrunches adorably, lashes fluttering, and he feels his heart melt. Soft. Warm. Fuck, you always do this to him.

Then, your eyes crack open, hazy and unfocused. You blink at the ceiling, slow and confused before your gaze shifts toward him. Squint. Head tilt. Brow furrow.

"Who... who the fuck are you?"

Your voice comes out raspy, accusatory, like he just insulted your entire bloodline.

Jason blinks. "Uh��"

"Stay back, asshole!" you slur, flailing your arm in his general direction, though it moves more like a limp noodle. You look so fucking ridiculous and adorable that he's already smiling. "My man—he's gonna beat your ass if you try any funny shit."

Jason loses it. He presses the heel of his hand to his mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter. "Doll," he manages, "I am your man. It's me, Jason."

Your eyes widen like he just dropped some wild conspiracy theory. Like he just told you aliens exist. "Nuh-uh," you shake your head, which only makes you dizzy. You grimace, blinking slowly. "Nope. My man's way hotter."

He chokes on a laugh. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," you huff, trying to cross your arms. One arm folds across your chest; the other flops uselessly to the side. "He's got these arms, you know? Big. Like... huge. Probably can lift a car. Or me. Definitely me. And—and his back? Broad. Biteable—"

Jason's grinning ear to ear, having the absolute time of his life. "Biteable, huh?"

"Yeah," you nod emphatically, wobbling. "And his hands... oh my God—" you pause, eyes going comically wide. Then you lean in, voice dropping to a stage whisper that's definitely not quiet, "Wait. You're kinda hot too."

He snorts. "Thanks, doll. Appreciate it."

You glance around like you're telling a state secret. "Don't tell my man I said that, though. He's crazy possessive. Like, one time? A guy winked at me and Jay was ready to commit murder. I kinda liked it, though."

Jason raises a brow, amused. "Sounds intense."

"It was so hot, bestie, God."

He wheezes. Bestie. You called him fucking bestie. He's biting his lip to keep it together, but it's a losing battle.

"Yeah," he nods, lips twitching.

Then—oh God—you gasp, dramatically clutching at the blanket. "Wait." Your eyes narrow. "Did you say your name's Jason?"

Your jaw drops. "Holy shit. Are you... Jason? Like... my Jay?"

"Been tryin' to tell you that for the past five minutes, baby."

You stare at him, processing, blinking real slow, brain cell working overtime. "No fucking way."

Jason's grinning like a damn fool. "Yeah, way."

You mumble, eyes raking over him, "Damn, I scored." Like you just won the lottery. "How the fuck did I pull you? Look at you. You're like... a Greek god. Or—or one of those guys in romance novels. With the abs and the smolder." Your gaze drops pointedly to his chest. "Do you have abs? Wait—of course you do."

Jason chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand reaches out, brushing hair back from your face. Gentle. "You're somethin' else, doll."

Your voice goes all soft, eyes big and hopeful. "You think I'm pretty?"

His expression shifts, still amused, but warmer. Softer. "Gorgeous."

You gasp like he just handed you the moon. "No, you."

Jason laughs, shaking his head. "Thank you, baby."

"Wait—" you squint, suspicious again. "How do I know you're not lying, huh? What if you're just pretending to be my boyfriend to steal my organs?"

Jason tilts his head. "Doll, you just had surgery. If I wanted your organs, I'd be late to the party."

Your gasp is scandalized. "Oh my God, you're funny too?"

He's wheezing now, hand covering his face. "Guess so."

You beam at him. "I love youuu."

Jason's heart skips, just for a second, soft and unguarded. He lets out a breathy laugh, leaning in to kiss your temple. "Love you too, pretty girl."

"Wait—" you pause, eyes narrowing as suspicion creeps back in. He watches you, already bracing himself. You tilt your head, lips pursed in deep, dramatic thought. "Do you have a dick?"

He freezes. His hand, halfway through smoothing back his hair, just stops. Blinks once. "Uh... yeah?"

"Big one?" Your voice is loud—way too loud for a hospital room—and you look at him like you're interrogating a suspect.

He lets out a laugh, scrubbing both hands over his face, dragging them down like this can't possibly be happening right now. "Jesus Christ—yeah, baby. Big one."

You nod sagely, like you just solved a great mystery. "Knew it," you lift your chin, all proud and smug. "Knew I had good taste."

Jason's still laughing when the nurse walks in, holding a clipboard and looking completely unfazed. Probably seen worse, but then you point at him, arm swaying like you're aiming at a moving target.

"That's my man," you announce proudly, eyes wide, volume cranked up to eleven. "He's got abs and a huge dick. Just thought you should know."

Jason damn near doubles over. He slaps a hand to his knee like an old man trying not to wheeze in public and shakes his head, face flushed with a grin that just won't quit.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, under his breath but not low enough.

The nurse, bless her heart, doesn't even flinch, just adjusts her glasses and gives Jason a slow, knowing look over the rims like, Good luck with that, buddy.

He meets her eyes with a long suffering sigh. "You have no idea."

Eventually—finally—they give the green light to go. Jason grabs your clothes from the chair beside your bed, holding them up like, Okay, how do we make this happen without you fallin' off the planet. You, meanwhile, are giggling like you just heard the funniest joke in the universe.

He tries to help you slip into them between your giggles and half hearted attempts to convince him you can totally dress yourself, which... no, you can't. Your limbs are floppy, coordination nonexistent, and at one point you try to put your jacket on like pants.

"I got it," you insist, swatting at his hands. "I can dress myself. I'm a grown woman."

"You literally just tried to put your jacket on like pants," he deadpans, not even fazed anymore.

"I was experimenting," you huff, as if you're inventing a new fashion trend.

Jason shakes his head, lips twitching, and carefully helps you into your clothes, guiding your limbs like you're made of overcooked spaghetti. Every few seconds, you lean on him, touch his face, giggle like you're seeing him for the first time. It's cute. A little dangerous. Mostly cute.

By the time you're dressed—barely—Jason has to scoop you up like you're nothing, one arm under your legs, the other behind your back. You're already melting into him, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket.

"I can walk," you protest faintly, though you're nuzzling into his neck like you've already decided this is your new permanent home.

"Sure you can," he says, carrying you like it's second nature, voice laced with amusement. "And I'm Batman."

You squint. "No you're not. You're too hot."

He snorts and keeps walking. When you reach the exit, he sets you down gently, one arm still wrapped around your waist just in case. You sway a little but grin at him, eyes bright as you beam up at him like he hung the stars.

"Wait—wait—" you stop dead in your tracks, pointing at him like you just had the most groundbreaking realization. "You're telling me I get to go home with you? The hot guy with the abs and the massive dick?"

Jason snickers, biting his lip to keep from losing it again. "Yup."

You light up like Christmas morning. "Best day ever."

In the car, you're curled up in the passenger seat like a sleepy cat, legs tucked underneath you, head lolled to the side against the window. Your eyes are drooping, breaths slow and even, but somehow—somehow—your mouth just won't shut up.

"Hey... hey, Jason?" Your voice is soft but persistent, slurred like you've had a few too many drinks.

Jason glances over, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on your thigh. "Yeah, doll?"

You blink at him, slow as molasses, then mumble with complete sincerity, "I wanna bite your abs."

Jason laughs, head tilting back slightly as he shakes his head. "Maybe when you're not high off your ass."

You pout like he just told you Santa isn't real. "You're so mean. But like... hot mean."

He snorts. "Hot mean? The fuck does that even mean?"

You nod, very serious. "Yeah. Like... the morally grey love interest in books. The one who kills people but also gives good cuddles."

"I'm flattered, baby."

"I have great taste," you add, smug.

"Yeah, you do," he mutters under his breath, grin tugging at his lips as he navigates the streets back home.

By the time he pulls into the driveway, you're half asleep, face smushed against the window, leaving a foggy patch of drool that you will not be happy about later. Jason parks, turns off the engine, and gently taps your thigh.

"C'mon, pretty girl. We're home."

You make a noise—something between a groan and a whine—but let him help you out of the car. His arm wraps securely around your waist, guiding you toward the front door as you shuffle along like a sleepy baby deer, legs wobbly, coordination completely gone.

Then you gasp, loud and dramatic, eyes going huge as you step inside. "No fucking way."

Jason raises a brow, kicking off his boots. "What now?"

"We live here?"

You fling your arms out to gesture at the living room, nearly tripping over your own feet. Jason catches you without missing a beat, steadying you with one hand on your hip.

"Have for over two years, baby," he says, amused.

"Shut. Up," you gasp, smacking his chest—which, of course, does absolutely nothing because the man is built like a brick wall. He just grins, letting you flail. "This place is like... like a Pinterest board! Look at that couch!"

Jason snickers. "Well, you picked it."

Your jaw drops. "No, I didn't."

"You did," he insists, guiding you forward, but you plant your feet, refusing to move as you stare at the couch like it's the Mona Lisa.

"Wow," you breathe, nodding solemnly. "I really have excellent taste."

Jason chuckles, steering you toward the couch, but you stop dead again, eyes locking on the kitchen like you just discovered Narnia.

"Oh my God, is that a fridge? In my house?"

He wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut. "Yeah, doll. Most places have those."

You tug on his hoodie, wide eyed and breathless. "Does it have snacks?"

"Loaded with 'em," he says, still laughing.

Your mouth drops open. "Holy shit."

Jason's dying. Like, actual tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he leans forward, hand on his knee, shoulders shaking. "You're somethin' else right now," he manages between laughs.

On the couch, he eases you down gently like you're made of glass, tucking a blanket around you. He's careful, patient—too patient—especially with the way you're blinking up at him with those sleepy, half lidded eyes.

But as soon as he pulls back, you reach for him, hands grabbing at his hoodie like a needy little gremlin. "Nooo," you whine, voice petulant and soft, "come snuggle me."

Jason chuckles, low and fond, shaking his head. "Jesus," he mutters, but he doesn't hesitate.

He sits beside you, big arm looping around your shoulders so you can immediately curl into his side, cheek pressed against his chest like you've found your ultimate comfort spot.

"Better?" he asks, warmth bleeding into his tone.

You nod, eyes fluttering closed for about... three seconds until they snap open with sudden realization. "Wait," you straighten up, finger jabbing at his chest. "Can I see your abs?"

Jason's head falls back as he laughs, voice rumbling beneath you. "Baby—"

"Pleaaase?" you clasp your hands together in full desperation mode, eyes wide and pleading like you're auditioning for a soap opera. "I need it. For... science."

He snorts, but his lips twitch into a smirk, utterly amused. "For science, huh?"

"Yes," you insist, nodding emphatically. "Your abs have to be like... art. Like those Greek statues. Or—or a washboard. People could do laundry on them."

"Laundry," he echoes, raising an eyebrow. "That's the analogy you're goin' with?"

"Don't judge me," you huff, poking him again. "C'mon, show me the goods, hot stuff."

He shakes his head, grinning like an idiot, but reaches for the hem of his hoodie anyway, lifting it slooowly, like he's intentionally teasing you. And there they are: those stupidly perfect abs, all taut and defined and glorious. It's like a Michelangelo sculpture just came to life in front of you.

You gasp, awed. "Oh my God."

"What," Jason teases, "never seen 'em before?"

Your jaw drops. "Not in HD like this." You gawk, eyes shamelessly glued to his stomach like it's the eighth wonder of the world. "Oh my God," you whisper. "Look at you. I could bounce a quarter off those things."

Jason laughs, so fucking amused, but then, you lean in and bite him. Hard enough to surprise him, but not enough to hurt. Mostly.

Your teeth sink into the firm line of his abs, just above his waistband, and you feel the way his muscles twitch beneath your mouth. He jerks slightly, breath catching, a half laugh, half groan tumbling out of him.

"Did you just—"

"Mmmph," you mumble against his skin, still nibbling. "Tastes like... safety and violence."

Jason loses it. Like, actually loses it. His laughter booms through the room, shoulders shaking, abs tensing beneath your mouth, which only makes you giggle harder.

"You done yet, doll?" he manages between breaths, hand rubbing soothing circles on your back despite the utter chaos you're causing.

You pull back, eyes sparkling, face the picture of innocence. "Never."

Jason just grins, shaking his head as he gathers you closer, like holding you can somehow contain the tornado of ridiculousness that you are. "You're insane," he murmurs against your hair.

"And you looove me," you sing song, smug as hell.

His arms tighten around you, voice dropping to something softer, something real. "Yeah, I do," he says quietly. "So fuckin' much."

After a while, he convinces you to head to bed, because you're getting sleepy as hell, and Jason doesn't even bother trying to make you walk. Not after you nearly face planted into the couch two minutes ago. So, like the absolute hero he is, he just scoops you up, arms solid and warm around you.

"Whoa—" you gasp, eyes wide as he lifts you effortlessly. "Oh my God, I'm flying."

"Not flying, baby," he chuckles, adjusting you in his hold. "Just me carryin' you like the princess you are."

"Damn right I am," you mumble, immediately melting into his chest. You reach up, fingers lazily threading through his hair, playing with the white streak you love so much. "Your hair is so cool, Jay," you sigh, eyes half lidded. "Like... like a sexy skunk."

Jason snorts, almost tripping from how hard he's laughing. "Sexy skunk? That's new."

"It's a compliment," you insist, rubbing your cheek against his shoulder like an affectionate cat. "Skunks are cute."

"They spray people, doll."

"So do I when I'm drunk," you quip, then gasp, as if you've just had the most brilliant idea. "You should let me braid it."

Jason glances down at you, brow raised. "Yeah? Think I'd rock pigtails?"

"You'd rock a trash bag," you yawn, completely sincere. "God, you're like... a big, warm tree," you sigh contentedly, snuggling closer, face smushed against his hoodie. "Can I climb you?"

He loses it, laughter rumbling deep in his chest. "Anytime, pretty girl," he promises, heart so fucking full he could burst.

And you? You just sigh happily. "Best boyfriend ever," you mumble, already half asleep in his arms.

Jason presses a soft kiss to your temple, grinning like an absolute sap. He tucks you in, smoothing the blanket over you with all the care in the world, but you immediately grab his hoodie, fingers curling into the fabric like a gremlin staking its claim.

"Stay," you mumble, tugging him down toward you. "Need your... your tree warmth."

Jason chuckles, soft and fond, eyes crinkling as he lets you pull him in. "Gotcha, baby," he murmurs, sliding under the covers beside you.

His arm finds its way around your waist, drawing you close until you're molded perfectly against him, face pressed to his chest. His warmth radiates through the blanket—solid, safe, home.

Your fingers drift up, tracing the strong line of his jaw, slow and aimless. "How the fuck did I get you?" you whisper, gaze hazy and adoring.

Jason's heart damn near stops. "Pretty sure I'm the lucky one," he says, voice low and sincere.

You huff, squinting at him like he's personally offended you. "Nope." Your finger pokes his cheek. "I'm lucky. You're like... like Batman but hotter," you pause, brow furrowing in deep thought. "And you don't brood as much. Except when you do. Which is also hot."

Jason laughs, that deep, rumbly sound vibrating against you. "Jesus, doll..." he presses a kiss to your temple, lips lingering. "Go to sleep."

"Make me," you challenge, voice muffled against his hoodie but brimming with mischief.

He smirks, gaze dipping to yours. "Don't tempt me."

"Too late," you sing song, grinning up at him like you own the world.

And Jason—completely gone for you—just shakes his head, smiling like a lovesick idiot. "God, I fuckin' love you," he mutters, tucking you in closer.

Your eyes flutter shut, content beyond words. "Love you too, sexy skunk," you mumble, already slipping toward sleep.

He loses it, quietly laughing into your hair. "Unbelievable," he whispers, but his arms never let go.

Jason's lying beside you, scrolling on his phone, thinking you're finally dozing off—his arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest, the slow rise and fall of his breathing lulling you both into peace—when you suddenly jolt upright, wild eyed, like you just remembered you left the oven on in a past life, and stare at him like he's the answer to every unsolved mystery.

"Show me your dick."

Jason chokes on his own breath, the phone in his hand nearly slipping right out of his grasp. He twists to stare at you like you've just set the curtains on fire. "What—"

"I can't sleep until I see it," you whine, clutching his forearm with both hands like it's a lifeline, eyes wide and imploring. Your grip is dramatic—desperate—like you'll perish without dick visuals. "It's for my mental health, Jay."

He huffs out a stunned laugh, deep and disbelieving, dragging a rough palm down his face as if that'll somehow help him process the situation. "Baby—"

"No." You sit up straighter, finger pointed like you're delivering a sermon. "I know you said it's huge. But I just... I need to see how that's supposed to fit in me."

Jason tilts his head back with a groan, but the corners of his mouth twitch upward, lips tugging into that crooked, dangerous smirk you always fall for. He's shaking his head, biting back a laugh, clearly trying to act like this is somehow a normal conversation.

"You're outta your mind, pretty girl," he mutters, voice husky with humor.

"I'm suffeeeriiing," you wail, dramatically flopping onto the bed like this is the end of your goddamn rope. Your wide eyes lock on him, shimmering with tragic sincerity. "You don't care about me."

He snorts, his big hand stroking lazily down your back in a gesture that's both comforting and amused. Then, without breaking eye contact, he leans back and shoves his sweats down in one smooth motion—no hesitation, no shame. And there it is. Thick. Veiny. Heavy looking. His dick flops against his thigh, and even soft, it looks like a weapon.

You gasp so hard you nearly inhale your own tongue, one hand flying up to slap over your mouth like you've just witnessed either a miracle or a war crime. "What the fuck."

Jason smirks, far too smug. "Happy now?"

"No." Your gaze refuses to look away, like it's hypnotizing. "How is that your soft dick? That's like... a fifth limb."

His laughter bursts out of him, low and from the chest, eyes crinkling with pure delight. "You done gawkin'?"

"I need to poke it," you blurt, because logic has left the chat.

He snorts, "Knock yourself out, doll."

So you poke it. And then, because you lack self control, you poke it again. "It's so... squishy," you marvel, brows furrowed in serious scientific inquiry. "Like a stress ball. But very intimidating."

Jason's crying laughing, wiping a tear. "Glad my dick's got layers."

Your hand flies to his bicep, clutching it like you've just remembered something deeply troubling. You stare up at him, scandalized. "Wait... have you seen me naked?"

He grins, eyes sparkling. "Plenty."

"My boobs?" you press, scandal turning to morbid curiosity.

"Yeah, baby." His voice dips, fond and teasing.

You pout, lips sticking out in the most tragically adorable way. "You like them?"

Jason's grin softens at the edges. He brushes a loose strand of hair from your face with a knuckle, his touch slow, warm, and far too gentle considering your current topic. "Love 'em. Perfect tits."

"What about my pussy?" you ask, zero filter, zero shame.

He smirks, voice dropping to that dangerous, low register. "Fuckin' gorgeous."

Your breath catches, but not because of the compliment. Your eyes drop, and that's when you notice it. His dick. Getting hard.

Your eyes widen in horror. "Wait—why's it growing?"

Jason doesn't even try to hide his smug grin. He leans back on his elbows, relaxed and shameless, cock thickening by the second between his thighs. "Natural reaction, baby."

"No—stay down!" you wave at it like it's a misbehaving dog, hand flapping. "I didn't consent to this!"

Jason doubles over with laughter, clutching his stomach as he wheezes. "It doesn't listen, sweetheart."

And it just... keeps getting bigger. Slow and steady, like it's proud of itself. Like it has ambitions.

You gape in real-time horror, voice pitching up an octave with every word. "How is it bigger? That's—that's a literal weapon."

Jason throws you a look that's equal parts amused and smug, lips curved in a wicked grin. "What can I say? You're pokin' me, talkin' about your pussy... kinda hard to stay calm over here."

You narrow your eyes at his dick like it personally betrayed you, jaw dropped in righteous disbelief. "I knew you were a menace."

He just winks, cocky and unrepentant. "Guilty as charged."

With an exhausted groan, you flop back against the bed, limbs sprawling dramatically. One arm slings over your eyes like you're in mourning. "I can't believe I've taken that. Multiple times."

You lie there in stunned silence for a beat, like you've just relived every toe curling, pelvis shattering experience in vivid HD and need a moment to grieve.

Jason leans over, resting one elbow beside your head, and presses a warm, teasing kiss to your cheek. "And you love it."

"My insides probably don't," you wail, throwing your other arm out like you're grieving your own pelvic floor.

He just laughs, the kind that rumbles from his chest, shaking both of you as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. "Go to sleep, doll."

"Not with your monster dick out," you grumble, peeking from under your arm like it's personally offended you.

Jason smirks, unhurried as he pulls his sweats back up, not breaking eye contact. "Better?"

"No," you pout, your lip sticking out like a spoiled brat. "Now I'm just thinking about it."

Your tone is downright accusatory, like he's the villain in a Shakespearean tragedy and you're the betrayed heroine.

Jason just grins, looking far too satisfied with himself. "Can't win with you."

"Nope," you agree, completely unrepentant.

You roll over, facing him, bright eyed and grinning despite the anesthesia haze, like you've just remembered the most pressing question of your life. "Hey."

Jason grins back, warm and so gone for you. "Hey, doll."

Without missing a beat, you poke his chest, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Be honest, what's my pussy feel like?"

He blinks, visibly short circuiting, because what the fuck. "What—"

"My pussy," you repeat, completely unfazed, grinning like you just asked about the weather. "When you're fucking me, what's it feel like? Like, warm? Squishy? Like a marshmallow?"

Jason drags a hand down his face, a groan escaping him, somewhere between exasperated and thoroughly entertained. "Jesus, baby—"

"No, I need to know!" you insist, dead serious, like you're interviewing him for a documentary.

"You're unbelievable."

"Tell meeee," you whine, tugging at his hoodie like an impatient child demanding candy. "Is it like... a heated blanket? Or, like—like warm apple pie?"

That does it. Jason laughs so hard he has to sit up, hand over his face, his whole body shaking. "I'm not comparin' your pussy to pie, baby."

"Oh my God," you gasp, scandalized. "Do you like it?"

"Baby—" he starts, helpless, but you're on a roll.

"Wait," you pause, eyes narrowing. "Have you ever fucked my ass?"

Jason chokes, visibly malfunctioning. "What—no! You'd definitely remember that, baby."

You squint, suspicious. "Are you sure?"

Jason grins, "Pretty damn sure."

"Would you?" you press, wide eyed, like you're discussing weekend plans. "Fuck my ass, I mean."

Jason scrubs both hands down his face, wheezing like you're trying to kill him. "Jesus Christ—"

"I mean," you continue with a shrug, gesturing vaguely behind you, "it's just there, you know? Like, a spare hole."

Jason's crying, wheezing so hard he can't breathe. "You did not just call it a spare hole—"

"I did," you shrug, unapologetic. "Deal with it."

There's a beat, but then you perk up, eyes thoughtful. "Wait—do you like my boobs more or my ass?"

Jason grins, recovering. "Both. Best of both worlds."

"Pick one," you demand, pouting.

Jason chuckles, already knowing this is a trap. "Ass."

You gasp, hand over your heart. "Traitor!"

He's still laughing when he pulls you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest and pressing a kiss to your hair. "I love your tits, baby, but your ass is perfect."

"I can't believe I'm competing with my own ass," you grumble, but you're smiling, head resting on his chest.

Jason just smirks, "Your ass wins every time."

"Wait... have you ever jacked off thinking about me?"

He laughs, his chest rumbling, head tilting back for a second before he looks at you with that boyish grin. "Obviously."

Your eyes widen. "When? Details!"

He smirks, lips quirking up like he's thoroughly enjoying this, and honestly? He is. "One time you wore those little shorts—couldn't help myself."

You beam, triumphant. "I knew those shorts were slutty."

You slap his chest, totally pleased with yourself, while Jason just grins and shakes his head, looking at you like you're the most beautiful disaster he's ever seen.

Then he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and lingering."You're somethin' else, baby."

You sigh dramatically. "You love it."

He grins, voice low and fond. "Damn right I do."

There's a beat of silence, only for your eyes to suddenly narrow like you've just remembered something crucial. "Wait—what's my pussy feel like?"

Jason laughs, a full bodied sound that makes his shoulders shake. "Still on that, huh?"

"Yes," you insist, grabbing a fistful of his hoodie like this is a life or death situation. "I really need to know."

His grin turns downright wolfish as he leans in close, his voice dropping to a rough, teasing murmur. "Like heaven, baby—warm, tight, perfect."

You melt instantly, a dreamy sigh escaping you as your head tips back. "Ugh, I'm amazing."

Jason just laughs again, utterly charmed, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. "You really are."

Your brows furrow hard, the kind of serious concentration usually reserved for nuclear codes or advanced calculus. Honestly, you look like you're about to solve world hunger or invent clean energy. All while laying half draped over your man, high on leftover anesthesia and horny on main.

You pause dramatically, blinking slow like your brain is buffering.

"Do you ever just... slide in," you begin, voice low and reverent like you're narrating a nature documentary, "and think, damn, I'm the luckiest bastard alive?"

Jason huffs out a laugh, his eyes darkening immediately, a slow burning heat building as he leans a little closer. "Every fuckin' time, doll."

His voice is rough, quiet, like the confession costs him something. But his gaze? Pure devotion. Hungry and sweet all at once.

You hum, nodding slowly, absorbing that like it's gospel. But then your eyes flare again, round and shining, and your mouth opens like you've just uncovered another secret of the universe.

"Wait—have you ever..." you trail off, blinking slowly. "Like... fucked me so good I cried?"

Jason's grin turns filthy, the kind of slow, wolfish smile that's got intentions. "Yeah, baby. More than once."

Your jaw drops. You gasp like you're scandalized by your own body. "No. Way."

"Way," he deadpans, but there's so much warmth tucked behind the tease, his thumb stroking idly at your hip where his hand rests. He looks at you like you're the best part of his day. Like you're it. Because you are.

You stare into the void for a moment, nodding solemnly, the weight of your own greatness sinking in. "God," you mutter, clearly awed, "I'm such a slut for you."

Jason bursts out laughing, loud and sudden, and has to wipe a hand down his face like he's physically overwhelmed by you. "Not complainin'," he gets out between chuckles, shaking his head like you've absolutely wrecked him. Because you have.

You look so proud of yourself it's almost criminal. But of course, you're not done. You're on a mission now. Your gaze sharpens again, locking onto him with laser focus. "Wait—have you ever thought about bending me over the kitchen counter?"

Jason's laughter tapers off like a record scratching to a stop. His smile shifts, darker, filthier, his eyes gleaming with that sharp edge of want that never quite leaves him when you're around, "Every damn day."

You nod like you've just confirmed a long held theory. Full smug. "I knew it."

You finally—finally—snuggle closer to him, cheek pressed against his chest, arms tucked between you like you're absorbing his warmth. Jason's still grinning like an idiot, phone in hand because yeah, he recorded all of that. No way in hell is he ever letting you live it down.

But when you shift, sighing happily, he chuckles and finally puts his phone away, ending the recording. His fingers card through your hair, slow and soothing. There's a beat of comfortable silence. Then—

"Jay?"

Your voice is muffled by his hoodie, soft and sleepy, and it damn near melts him.

"Yeah, baby?" he murmurs, gaze dropping to you.

You tilt your head up, puppy eyes in full force, lips in a sleepy pout. "Promise not to leave me?"

Jason's heart fucking stalls. He looks at you—really looks at you—tousled hair, heavy lids, clinging to him like he's your whole world, your expression all soft and hopeful and a little scared. And maybe it's the drugs talking, but the way you say it? It hits him right in the chest.

His first instinct is to tease—you make it so easy—but something about the way your voice shakes, even just a little, stops him cold.

"I'll have to think about it," he says anyway, because he's him, and he gives you a crooked grin.

You shrug, unbothered. "I think that's fair..." you yawn, voice hazy and soft. "I mean, you're so big and strong and hot, and I'm just... here."

Jason laughs under his breath, but then you frown, a little crease forming between your brows. There's this tiny hitch in your voice that makes him pause. You seem so genuinely upset, and yeah, you're high as a kite, but the sadness is real enough that it tugs at something deep in his chest.

"Hey," he whispers, already moving. With zero effort, he pulls you on top of him, your body melting against his as you nuzzle closer. "I was just kiddin', baby." His hands find your back and stay there, warm and steady. "I'm not leavin' you. Ever. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever, alright? I'm right here. You're stuck with me."

You melt into him instantly, like his words alone are enough to anchor you. Your nose nudges the crook of his neck and you breathe him in like he's home. "Okay..."

Your breath is warm against his skin, and Jason closes his eyes, holding you tighter. Like if he loves you hard enough, the fear will never touch you again. There's a long pause, and he thinks you're asleep, until—

"Jay?"

He lets out a breath, lips brushing the crown of your head. "Yeah, doll?"

You shift slightly, still draped over him like a sleepy cat, and murmur, "Can we eat cheese for dinner?"

Jason goes still for a second, shoulders twitching from the effort not to burst out laughing. His hand doesn't stop moving on your back, steady and gentle, but his mouth curls into the fondest smile. He bites his cheek. Hard. He doesn't want to shake you while you're so relaxed, so peaceful.

"Yeah, baby," he manages, his chest trembling with restrained laughter. "Whatever you want."

"Mmm..." you mumble, words slurring with exhaustion. "I love cheese... I think I love you too, but cheese... God."

That's it—Jason loses it, quietly wheezing into the quiet of the room. His chest shakes beneath you, but he keeps his movements gentle, one hand splayed on your back, the other tangling in your hair.

"You're somethin' else," he whispers, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.

You don't reply. You've already drifted off, breaths evening out, your body completely relaxed against his. Jason just lies there, staring at the ceiling, his heart full to bursting. You're ridiculous. Beautiful. Small. Chaotic. Feral. And somehow the softest, sweetest thing he's ever held in his life. And damn if he isn't so fucking gone for you.

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solxamber · 6 months ago

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Trash Novel Chronicles - Stealing the Plot for Drama || Jamil Viper

The book you've been looking forward to turns out to be a piece of crap, and you have the bad luck of getting pulled into it as the villainess. So you decide to steal the main character's show, just for sport.

Series Masterlist

It’s your birthday, and you’re over the moon. You’ve been frugal, cutting out fancy coffee and takeout for weeks, all to splurge on this one, glorious, limited-edition novel from your favorite author. The packaging is pristine, the book jacket glimmering like a beacon of literary greatness. Today is the day. You’ve built this moment up for weeks—you’re practically vibrating as you sign for the delivery.

You tear into the package like it’s Christmas morning, clutching the book to your chest, grinning ear to ear. You settle in with a cup of tea, your coziest blanket, and crack open the book, fully expecting your soul to ascend to a higher plane of literary enlightenment.

It takes precisely three pages for your entire existence to collapse. This is bad. So bad, you can feel your spirit shriveling. Your entire life is a lie.

The book is like a train wreck—every sentence is a mangled piece of steel, but you can’t look away. Tears start forming in your eyes, not from emotional depth, but from sheer despair. It’s like the author forgot how to write in between winning their last award and releasing this... dumpster fire of a novel. But you’re not a quitter. You’ve made it this far—you’re not going down without a fight.

You turn the page with trembling hands, determined to push through.

The plot is standard—heroine is a saintess (yawn), love interest is the Duke of the North (ugh, of course), and the second male lead is the Prince (because originality is apparently dead). But then the villainess shows up. Finally, some promise. You grip the book a little tighter—maybe this will be it! The saving grace! The villainess is the queen of high society, beloved and powerful, absolute girlboss vibes. She runs everything with an iron fist and sharp wit, but then…

Then it happens.

The heroine’s hair comes loose. The villainess, in a rare moment of kindness, gently points out that her hair is falling out of its bun. And what happens? Does she get thanked for her thoughtfulness? No. No. The heroine goes, “You must be jealous of me,” and everyone agrees.

What. The. Hell.

You blink once, then twice. Is this…is this supposed to be a serious plot point? The villainess, this badass social queen, gets ostracized for suggesting a quick touch-up? Is this a joke? You flip back a few pages. Surely, there’s a mistake. Maybe you missed something. You didn’t miss anything. This book missed you with anything resembling logic.

So now, this powerful woman, once the queen of high society, is branded as jealous and bitter. She’s exiled from everything she’s ever known, her entire life crumbling because the heroine’s fragile ego couldn’t handle a little advice. And she’s not even the worst part. No, because guess what?

The only person who stays with her through it all? Her fiancé, Jamil Viper. Jamil, a baron she helped rise to the position of Duke, the man she loved, is by her side while everyone else abandons her. The romance potential is there. It’s right there. You’re practically shaking the book at this point.

And what does the author do with this beautiful setup? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The villainess, broken and misunderstood, alienates herself from Jamil. She pushes him away. And then—just to really twist the knife—she dies alone.

You drop the book onto your lap, staring at the ceiling. Infinite romance potential, wasted. You can feel your soul leaving your body. Jamil could’ve saved her. They could’ve had it all. But no. She dies alone, unloved, in the most tragic yet pointless way possible.

And that’s when it happens.

Something absurd. Something so stupid, it feels like divine punishment for buying this book. Maybe it's the way your body tenses in sheer disbelief at the plot; maybe the universe decides to play its cruel hand, but you feel a sharp pain in your chest.

Suddenly, the room spins, and your vision goes black. As the world fades around you, your final thought isn’t about your family, your friends, or the countless dreams you had for the future. No.

Your last thought is:

“Really??? On my goddamn birthday?”

And then, you die.

You wake up, stretch, and feel… odd. You glance at your hands and freeze. Your nails aren’t chipped? Your cuticles are trimmed? In this economy? You sniff the air. Lavender? Something’s very wrong here. You sit up and take in your surroundings. Ornate tapestries, a bed so massive it could host a small nation, and a freaking chandelier.

Oh no.

First thought: Have I been kidnapped? But hold up—what kind of kidnapper does their victim’s manicure? You wave your polished hand around like it's suddenly sprouted five extra fingers. This is definitely not normal.

And then your gaze lands on the giant, gilded mirror at the side of the room. You stumble towards it, ready to face the worst, and when you see your reflection, the realization knocks the wind right out of you.

“Fuck my life… I’m the villainess.”

Panic mode: activated. But then you pause, staring at your impossibly gorgeous reflection. No need to lose your shit just yet. You've read enough of these novel-turned-isekai tales to know the drill. It’s bad, yes, but it could be worse.

You’re not the heroine, which means less plot armor, but you are rich. Villainess rich. The kind of rich where you don’t even know how much a loaf of bread costs anymore. There’s power in that, right?

Alright, you just need to avoid the male leads like they have the dragon pox or something equally contagious and unattractive. If they even sneeze in your direction, you’re running faster than a Black Friday shopper in a sale.

Best course of action? Stick to your fiancé, Jamil Viper. He clearly liked the original villainess in the book, and you’re betting you can use that connection to survive this ridiculous plot.

Oh, and because this novel’s plotline literally killed you, you’re taking the queen of high society title back. Out of spite. It’s petty, but who cares? You're gonna be shady, throw aristocratic shade like you’re handing out party favors, and maybe casually humiliate the heroine for fun. She can't be that saintly.

But before anything else? Shopping.

You are now rich in a fantasy world, and you are not going to waste this opportunity. First order of business? Find a dress so stunning it could make a commoner drop dead on the spot. The kind of outfit that makes peasants weep and enemies tremble.

As you stride to the wardrobe, you can't help but feel a little smug. Sure, you're the villainess, but damn, you're gonna be a well-dressed one.

Your first shopping spree as a villainess. And not just that—there are maids! You stare at them wide-eyed as they begin dressing you in silks and satins, and you can’t help but think, “Holy shit, I have maids now.”

They fuss over you with a precision that can only be described as obsessive, tieing ribbons, adjusting jewelry, and brushing your hair like it’s a rare silk. You check yourself in the mirror, and honestly? Damn. The heroine's got nothing on you.

You twirl, and every inch of you screams hot and dangerous. It's like the universe is apologizing for killing you off with that god-awful book by giving you this absolute glow-up. You’re feeling unstoppable, like you could bench-press societal expectations and then strut away in heels.

But then your butler approaches, bowing as if you’re some untouchable deity. “My Lady, your fiancé, Lord Jamil Viper, has arrived to see you.”

Wait, what? Jamil is here? THE Jamil?? The only person with an ounce of brain cells in that trash fire of a novel? The one man who actually made sense? Please let him be hot.

You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself. God, I hope he looks exactly like he was described.

When the doors open, you nearly pass out on the spot. Correction. He’s hotter. Infinitely hotter. If Jamil Viper was a fire hazard in the book, in person, he’s a full-on inferno. You’re almost thankful you died just so you could see him. He greets you, and his voice? Sexier than advertised. You’ve hit the isekai jackpot.

Without a second thought, you grin, loop your arm through his, and drag him toward the carriage. You’re already imagining the two of you showing up to the next ball in matching outfits, causing hearts to break and jaws to drop. Jamil is a little confused by your sudden enthusiasm, but like a champ, he just goes along with it.

As the carriage rolls down the cobbled streets, you casually drop, “By the way, I’m done moping about being ostracized by high society. I want revenge on the heroine.”

His eyes darken, and there’s an unmistakable gleam in them. He leans back, smirking. “Good. I hate the Prince anyway. The number of problems he caused me while I was trying to rise through the ranks? I’d love nothing more than to ruin them both.”

And you? You’re in. Oh, you’re so in. Why not? Why not when Jamil Viper looks so attractive while plotting the downfall of others?

He pauses his scheming for just a second, looking at you with a rare softness. “Thank you… for recognizing my talents. I wouldn’t have had the chance to even think about insulting a prince if you weren’t by my side.”

Your heart does a little flip, and you take his hand in yours, a silent promise forming in your mind. You’re going to make the original villainess proud. You’re going to destroy the heroine.

For what this book did.

And also because, well… revenge is sexy when Jamil Viper’s involved.

You both stride into the store, ready to make a statement. But, of course, because the universe is a petty comedian, there she is—the heroine, acting like she’s never seen a price tag before. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly accept such an extravagant gift!” she gushes loudly enough for the entire store to hear.

Meanwhile, the Duke—Mr. "I-have-no-emotions"—is doing his signature act: standing there, looking aloof, but you can tell he’s mentally calculating how impressed everyone is supposed to be.

Jamil doesn’t even need to speak. You both share a glance, a silent conversation filled with mutual disdain. "These people suck." It's not even a question. It's a fact.

“I’ll take everything here,” you say suddenly, your voice loud enough to cut through the heroine’s overly sweet prattling. The shopkeeper’s eyes widen as they hurriedly approach, unsure if they heard you correctly.

“Everything?” they stammer.

You nod casually, like buying an entire store’s worth of clothing is a daily occurrence. “Yes, everything.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see the Duke’s facade slip for just a moment—his cold mask cracking ever so slightly as he glances at you. The heroine looks like she’s about to choke on her own words. You flash them a bright, borderline condescending smile. "Oh, I hope I didn’t interrupt something. You were saying?"

Jamil steps closer, his hand resting on the small of your back as he coolly adds, “Also, we’d like matching outfits. Something… striking.” His tone is as indifferent as ever, but you can feel the smug satisfaction radiating off him.

The heroine looks utterly flustered, her hands fidgeting as she glances between you and the Duke, who is doing his best to act unbothered. But you can tell he’s silently fuming, his pride taking a serious hit.

Jamil leans in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “A power couple move? Bold. I approve.”

You grin. “I thought we’d show them how it’s really done.”

A short while later, you and Jamil emerge from the dressing rooms in outfits that would make gods weep with envy. You glance at yourselves in the mirror, and wow. You two don’t just look good—you look devastatingly unstoppable. The kind of couple people would kill to look like in their wildest dreams.

The heroine looks on with wide eyes, clearly trying to mask her jealousy, while the Duke’s cold expression cracks further, his irritation almost palpable. He probably thought he was the only one who could pull off the whole “I’m-rich-and-powerful” vibe. Sorry, buddy. You’re just not in the same league.

Jamil gives you a rare, genuine smile, one that’s laced with quiet triumph. “Not bad,” he says casually, though his eyes linger on you a moment longer than necessary.

As you step out of the store—victory sealed—you take Jamil’s hand without thinking, your mind already moving on to your next move. “Now,” you say, eyes focused on the road ahead, “about that revenge plan. I’m thinking we start by—”

But as you plot and scheme, you don’t notice that Jamil isn’t looking at the road. His gaze is on you—quiet, intense, and filled with something deeper.

"Whatever it is," he murmurs, "I'm in."

Power couple goals, indeed.

The ball is here, and, like any self-respecting villainess, you’re not about to let the opportunity for chaos slip by. If you’re going to be stuck in the plot of a novel, might as well make it entertaining, right?

As your maids fuss over your dress, they spill some of the hottest gossip yet. Apparently, the prince? The one who’s always preening like a peacock and acting like he’s too good for everyone?

Yeah, he got caught trying to serenade his tutor’s cat—and failed. He’s tone-deaf, and worse, the tutor is furious because the cat’s been hiding in her curtains for days, traumatized. You nearly choke on air.

“Oh, this is going to be a biblical shitstorm,” you murmur, your eyes practically sparkling as you imagine the carnage that’s about to go down tonight.

By the time you meet Jamil outside, you’re practically vibrating with excitement. And speaking of Jamil—holy hell. He’s standing by the carriage in a sleek, dark suit, looking all brooding and mysterious like he was custom-made to steal hearts.

"Wow," you say, openly staring at him. "You’re killing me right now. How are you real?"

Jamil shifts, tugging at his collar like he’s trying to downplay how good he looks. “Stop,” he mutters, his face ever-so-slightly flushed, but the tiny smile tugging at his lips gives him away.

“No, seriously,” you press, circling him with an exaggerated critical eye. “Is this what ‘stunning’ looks like in person? I need to know because I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“You’re impossible.” He shakes his head but doesn’t make eye contact, probably because he knows he’ll crack. But he’s smiling, and that’s all the confirmation you need.

When you arrive at the ballroom, it doesn’t take long before you spot Kalim. He’s practically bouncing with excitement, waving as if you weren’t already heading his way.

"You guys look amazing!" he cheers, pulling both of you into a hug before you can protest. He’s so enthusiastic, you almost forget you have a mission. Almost.

You lower your voice conspiratorially. "Kalim, did you hear about the prince?"

He blinks. “No? What happened?”

Jamil side-eyes you like he knows exactly where this is going, but he doesn’t stop you. He’s in on this. “Well, apparently, our dear prince has been… spending some quality time trying to serenade his tutor’s cat.”

There’s a pause, then Kalim’s eyes widen in shock. “WAIT, REALLY?”

You and Jamil barely manage to suppress your laughter. Kalim just broadcasted that to half the ballroom. Mission success.

From there, you and Jamil strategically split up to mingle with the nobles, making sure the gossip spreads like wildfire. Every time someone asks, you pretend to hesitate, then whisper it to them like it’s the juiciest secret in the world. By the time the prince arrives, the entire ballroom is buzzing with whispers.

You grab two drinks and take your spot in a corner where you have the perfect view of the incoming storm. Jamil joins you, leaning casually against the wall, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. “I’d say we did well,” he says softly, as you hand him one of the drinks.

“Too well,” you say, grinning wickedly. “I can’t wait to see how this plays out.”

The prince enters, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone is staring at him like he just walked in with toilet paper stuck to his shoe. The imperial family follows behind him, sensing that something is off, but they keep up appearances, declaring the ball open.

Then, the dancing begins. And oh, the rejection. The prince approaches lady after lady, only to be turned down one by one, each with some flimsy excuse. You’re cackling into your drink at this point, nearly spilling it as you watch the absolute carnage unfold.

And then—oh, this is the best part—the heroine finally arrives, blissfully unaware of the prince’s latest scandal. She’s practically glowing as the prince, desperate and clearly not understanding the situation, asks her to dance. She accepts with a delighted smile, preening at all the attention she thinks they’re getting.

The whispers intensify.

Jamil watches, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I’m impressed," he murmurs. "That spread faster than I expected."

"Never underestimate the power of pettiness," you reply, clinking your glasses together.

Across the room, the king’s aide is whispering something to him, and the poor man looks like he’s just aged ten years. He shoots a glance at the prince and then at the heroine, his expression screaming “I can’t believe I have to deal with this.”

Then comes the final nail in the coffin. After the dance, a group of younger noblewomen approaches the heroine, and she’s clearly expecting them to fawn over her for dancing with the prince. But instead, they absolutely rip into her. “How could you dance with him after what he did?” one of them demands, while another makes a snide comment about the cat.

The heroine, bless her heart, has no idea what they’re talking about and stumbles over her words, trying to defend herself. But she just makes it worse. Within minutes, she’s in tears, running from the ballroom in a dramatic scene worthy of an award.

The Duke—her Duke—chases after her, looking like he’s reconsidering all his life choices.

You’re laughing so hard now that you’re practically leaning on Jamil for support. "This is better than I could’ve ever hoped for," you gasp, wiping away a tear.

Jamil chuckles softly, his gaze focused entirely on you. “Glad you’re having fun.”

“Oh, I’m having the time of my life,” you reply between giggles, clutching his arm. "But seriously, this is gold!"

Jamil smiles, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he watches you. "Whatever you want to do, I’m in." His voice is quiet, but there’s a sincerity in it that makes your heart skip a beat.

And you know, with him by your side, this is only the beginning.

The quiet clatter of quills and the shuffle of paper fill the room as you and Jamil work side by side. It's supposed to be a normal afternoon—just the two of you getting through the absolutely thrilling task of making plans to merge your estates after your marriage.

Riveting stuff. But there’s a certain coziness to it, like you’ve finally settled into this life together. A faint smile tugs at your lips as you glance at Jamil, whose attention is currently fixed on a particularly dense contract.

He glances up, noticing your stare. “Do you want some tea?” he asks casually, already reaching for the bell to summon the butler.

You nod, and in moments, the butler arrives, bowing politely before leaving to retrieve the tea. But as the tray comes in, Jamil pauses, scanning the selection like he’s some kind of beverage connoisseur. He frowns—frowns—and turns to the butler. “Get the other blend. The one she likes."

The butler stutters for a second, then hurries off to fix the apparent blasphemy of tea serving. You’re too amused to even process how sweet the whole thing is.

“Did you really just send him back to get another blend?”

Jamil shrugs, not meeting your eyes, focused instead on stirring the exact amount of sugar and milk you always put in your cup. “You prefer it this way,” he says, his tone nonchalant, but there’s a softness to his expression.

And you’re just sitting there, heart doing weird flips because—he noticed. He’s been watching you, memorizing the tiny details like how you take your tea. Your chest warms as you realize just how deeply he pays attention to you, even in the most mundane things.

“You’re so—” you start, but then you stop yourself, realizing you’re dangerously close to getting all gooey and sappy. “Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

He shoots you a deadpan look, but the corners of his lips twitch upward. “You’re welcome.”

You laugh, sipping the tea he prepared exactly how you like it, the moment stretching out in peaceful harmony. That is until—

THUD.

You nearly spill your tea as Jamil suddenly launches himself away from his desk, eyes wide in utter horror, looking as though someone just told him he’s been forced to join a Kalim-led dance troupe.

“What—what happened?” you ask, a little alarmed.

He doesn’t answer, instead standing stiffly a good five feet from his chair, eyes fixated on something on the floor. You glance over, curious, and there it is—a massive spider, just chilling on his desk like it’s there to collect taxes.

You stare. He stares. The spider doesn’t move, but the tension in the room could cut steel.

"That thing could eat me," Jamil mutters under his breath, still rooted to the spot like a cat who just saw a cucumber.

You take a deep breath, rolling up your sleeves with all the confidence of someone who has faced worse, like nobles who talk about land taxes at dinner parties. “Alright, let’s do this,” you mumble to yourself.

Grabbing a piece of paper, you march toward the eight-legged horror with all the grace of someone about to tackle a dragon. There’s no elegance, no finesse. You scoop up the spider—your hands a bit shaky—and march over to the window, tossing it outside with a not-so-dignified “Go in peace, demon.”

There’s a beat of silence as you wipe your brow, feeling like you’ve just saved the world. When you turn around, Jamil is staring at you like you’ve just descended from the heavens, all in slow motion, with angelic choir music playing in the background.

“What?” you ask, still catching your breath.

“I was going to handle it,” he says, but the way his voice wavers betrays the fact that he absolutely was not. He glances away, still avoiding the spot where the spider used to be.

You raise an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you were. I bet you were gonna make friends with it too.”

He opens his mouth to argue but then just chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re something else.”

You walk over and bump his shoulder lightly. “And you’re lucky to have me. Spider exterminator extraordinaire.”

Jamil finally lets out a real laugh, the sound filling the room in a way that feels warm and right. When you both settle back into your paperwork, there’s an undeniable sense of something more growing between you, a feeling that neither of you says out loud, but is there nonetheless.

You look over at him again, your heart feeling too big for your chest. He meets your gaze and smiles, the unspoken affection hanging between you like a comfortable silence. Whatever’s coming next in your future, you know one thing for sure—there’s no one you’d rather handle paperwork (or spiders) with than him.

It was a fine day for chaos, and you had a brilliant, absolutely ridiculous idea: a dance competition. The heroine was boasting loudly again, this time about her “dazzling” ballroom skills, fluttering around like a pigeon trying to impress the Duke. You leaned over to Jamil, raising a brow.

“I bet I can make her regret that,” you whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Jamil sighed, eyes flicking over to the heroine, who was twirling like she was the queen of the ball already. “You really want to stir this up?” he asked, his voice dripping with his usual calm exasperation.

“Absolutely. It’ll be hilarious,” you said with a grin. “Just trust me.”

“Those are usually your most dangerous words,” he muttered, but the little twitch at the corner of his lips told you he was more than ready to see how this would play out.

You sauntered up to the heroine, who was mid-spin, nearly knocking over a servant carrying a tray of wine glasses. “Oh my, such grace!” you exclaimed, voice layered with just the right amount of false admiration. “You must be the best dancer here. How about we make it a little more interesting?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, clearly sensing a trap but too vain to back down. “What are you proposing?” she asked, puffing up like a puffin in a tutu.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, just a little friendly dance-off. You, me, the floor. We’ll let the crowd decide who’s the real star of the ball.”

The Duke, standing behind her, snorted, clearly thinking there was no way his precious heroine could lose. You could practically hear his thoughts: What could go wrong?

Jamil, now standing at the edge of the growing crowd, looked at you with an expression that screamed Why are you like this? You shot him a quick wink.

The heroine smiled smugly, already envisioning her inevitable triumph. “Fine,” she declared, loud enough for the entire ballroom to hear. “But don’t cry when you lose.”

Oh, sweetheart, you thought, grinning like a Cheshire cat. You have no idea what’s coming.

The music swelled. The crowd parted, forming a perfect circle around the two of you. The heroine began her routine, performing a series of twirls and steps that were technically fine but lacked any real flair. She was all stiff arms and forced elegance, like a bird trying to pretend it was an elegant swan but failing spectacularly.

“Wow, she’s… uh, something,” you heard Jamil mutter from the sidelines, barely able to contain his laughter.

When it was your turn, you decided to dial it up to eleven. You started off slow, a simple waltz that quickly escalated into an absurd series of moves that defied both logic and physics.

At one point, you grabbed a nearby tablecloth, twirling it like a cape as if you were part ballroom dancer, part magician. The crowd was gasping and laughing all at once. You even threw in a couple of exaggerated backflips—just for dramatic effect, of course.

Jamil, still trying to remain composed, was leaning against a pillar, shaking his head with a mix of pride and disbelief. “This is insane,” he muttered, but you caught the faintest smile playing at his lips. He was definitely entertained.

The finale? You did a sliding split across the marble floor, popping up dramatically at the end to a round of thunderous applause. The heroine, meanwhile, looked like she had swallowed a lemon. Her face was pale, and her jaw had dropped halfway through your performance and never quite recovered.

“Not bad for a warm-up,” you said casually, dusting off your sleeves. “Want to go again?”

The heroine stammered something unintelligible, while the Duke shot you both a venomous glare. You, however, were far too busy basking in the crowd’s cheers to care.

Jamil approached, his expression unreadable as he handed you a glass of wine. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, though there was a mirth in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“I know,” you replied with a smirk, taking the glass from him. “But you love it.”

He let out a small, reluctant chuckle. “Unfortunately.”

As you took a sip, the heroine stormed off, dragging the Duke behind her, muttering something about “cheating” and “unfair advantages.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“You realize you’ve just made yourself the villain of the entire evening, right?” Jamil remarked, glancing around at the nobles, who were still talking animatedly about your performance.

“Good,” you replied, a glint of mischief in your eyes. “Villains always have more fun.”

Jamil raised an eyebrow. “And what are you planning to do next?”

You gave him a sly smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll challenge her to a sword fight next?”

Jamil’s eyes widened. “Please don’t.”

You just laughed, leaning into him. “Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly.”

He sighed but didn’t push you away, clearly resigned to whatever madness you had planned next. As the two of you walked away from the scene, hand-in-hand, the nobles whispered behind you, wondering just how deep your relationship ran, how formidable of a pair you truly were.

But all Jamil cared about in that moment was that you were smiling beside him, radiating with confidence and joy. He didn’t care if the heroine hated you or if the Duke was sulking somewhere in the corner. As long as he had you, the rest of the world could fall into chaos.

And honestly, with you around, it probably would.

You gave Jamil a quick glance, noticing the soft, adoring look in his eyes, and nudged him playfully. “Hey, stop looking at me like I’m your entire world.”

“Too late,” he shot back, the smallest smile on his lips.

“Ugh,” you groaned dramatically, but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he added, leaning in just a little closer, “you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, taking his hand. “Let’s go cause more trouble.”

The plan had been perfectly crafted. You and Jamil had spent hours scheming, laughing at the thought of humiliating the Duke during the archery and horseback competition.

Your excitement grew with every passing minute as you imagined his arrogant face faltering. But when the Duke not only kept his composure but nailed each target while galloping on horseback, you felt your competitive spirit surge.

There was no way you were going to let him win. Not today.

So, of course, you went all in—because why wouldn’t you? Leaning into your impulsive nature, you urged your horse into a full-speed sprint, adrenaline surging through your veins.

And then, because you’re apparently half-crazy, you decided standing on your saddle while your horse bolted forward would be the best course of action.

The world slowed as you drew your bow, the wind whipping through your hair. You could hear the crowd’s gasps, see the Duke's smug expression turning into something more surprised, and feel Jamil's tense gaze on you. In that moment, you released the arrow.

Bullseye.

The crowd erupted into shock and awe, but you were too busy grinning like a complete idiot to care. You dismounted with all the grace of someone who just pulled off a dangerous trick, your steps light as you practically skipped over to Jamil.

"Did you see that?" you beamed, heart still racing. "I totally nailed it—"

But instead of matching your excitement, Jamil’s expression was stormy. His usually composed features were twisted in a way you hadn’t seen before—part fear, part anger, and all worry. Without warning, he grabbed your shoulders, his fingers digging in just a little too tight.

"What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was sharp, laced with panic. “Are you out of your mind? You could’ve gotten hurt, or worse!”

You blinked, surprised. “I… I was trying to win?"

“Trying to win?! You were trying to break your neck!” His grip tightened as he almost shook you, frustration evident in every word. “That wasn’t worth it. Nothing is worth risking your life like that!”

It dawned on you then that he wasn’t just mad—he was terrified. You reached up slowly, cupping his face with both hands, and his expression softened, though the storm in his eyes didn’t fully dissipate.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, the wind knocked out of you by just how much he cared. “I got carried away. But hey—” You grinned a little, trying to lighten the mood. “I looked cool, right?”

Jamil groaned, exasperated, but the corners of his mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though his grip on your shoulders relaxed. His forehead dropped against yours, and for a moment, the world around you melted away. It was just the two of you, breathing the same air, sharing the same space.

“I know,” you whispered back, closing your eyes. “But you love me for it.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, his hands slid down to your arms, his touch lingering as if grounding himself after the scare. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, his breath steadying as he leaned into you. It was such a sweet, unspoken moment, and you felt your heart swell.

All around you, whispers started to spread like wildfire among the nobles.

"Oh, they're perfect together."

“They’re like something out of a romance novel.”

Meanwhile, the Duke—who had watched the whole display—stood fuming, while the heroine, eyes narrowed, looked like she was seconds away from throwing a tantrum. But you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way Jamil was holding onto you, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“Let’s go,” Jamil finally whispered, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was softer now, more relaxed, though still tinged with concern. “No more dangerous tricks. Promise me.”

You smiled softly and nodded. “No more. I promise.”

He huffed, clearly not entirely convinced, but he let it go. You leaned against him for a moment, basking in the warmth of his presence, completely oblivious to the fact that half the noble court was watching the two of you with admiration—or that the other half was stewing in jealousy.

As you both walked away, hand in hand, it was clear that whatever plan you and Jamil had originally devised, the real victory was this: him, you, and the world falling away as the two of you found something far more precious than winning a competition.

The nobleman’s sneer was so potent you could practically taste it in the air. “Ah, yes,” he drawled, looking down his nose at Jamil. “Nouveau riche, how quaint. No matter how much money you accumulate, you’ll never have the refinement or bloodline of true nobility.”

Jamil stood there, bored as ever, giving the man about as much attention as one would to a pesky fly. But you? You were vibrating with the sheer intensity of your rage. And then you heard it—her.

The heroine chimed in, her voice drenched in faux sincerity. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? The Duke has been managing the North so well—keeping everything running smoothly for years. Not everyone has the skills required for such a delicate task.”

Your eye twitched. Oh no. Oh no.

Jamil had been single-handedly keeping the kingdom’s economy afloat, using his brilliance to ensure food and resources flowed into the North during the harsh winters. He had done more in the span of a few years than these fools had done in their entire blood-soaked lineages. And this… this… buffoon had the nerve to look down on him?

The Duke, sensing the incoming storm, began discreetly tugging at the heroine’s sleeve, but she was as oblivious as ever. The prince, bless his spineless little heart, looked like he was ready to faint from second-hand embarrassment.

And that was your breaking point.

You stepped forward, a smile that could only be described as a harbinger of doom plastered across your face. “Oh, dear,” you cooed, your voice as sweet as poison. “Did I hear you correctly? You think the Duke is managing the North?”

The heroine blinked, clearly not catching the danger. “Well, of course! He’s—”

“Managing to exist in the North without Jamil’s trade routes, maybe,” you interrupted sharply, turning your gaze to the Duke, who now looked like he wanted to crawl into the nearest hole. “You should be on your knees, thanking Jamil for saving your people from starvation every winter. But no, please, continue on about how ‘delicate’ your situation is. Maybe you’ll convince yourself one day.”

“How dare you,” you snapped, your voice rising as you turned to the heroine. “And you. Sitting here, all wide-eyed and clueless, nodding along like you understand the gravity of the situation. You wouldn’t last a week managing a pantry, let alone a region.”

You didn’t give her a chance to reply before turning your sights on the nobleman. “And you,” you started, eyes narrowing as you stepped closer, “talking down to Jamil like you’ve ever lifted a finger to actually do something useful. Do you think your bloodline is going to rescue you when your estate crumbles from your own incompetence? If you spent half as much time working on something productive instead of sneering at people better than you, maybe you wouldn’t be such a leech on society.”

The nobleman’s face went red with anger, but before he could sputter a reply, you had already turned to the prince.

“And as for you,” you said, fixing him with a look of pure disdain. “What exactly is your contribution to this little scene, hm? Standing there, wringing your hands like a wet sponge. Do you have any idea what Jamil has done for your kingdom, or are you too busy polishing your tiara to notice?”

The prince opened his mouth, but no sound came out. It was glorious.

You turned back to Jamil, who was watching you with an amused but unreadable expression. “We’re done here,” you said, grabbing his arm and marching out of the room without a backward glance.

The carriage ride back was thick with silence, the weight of your outburst pressing down on you. Jamil hadn’t said a word, but you could feel his eyes on you, sharp and calculating. You kept your gaze fixed on your hands, guilt creeping up your spine.

“I— I didn’t mean to make it look like you couldn’t defend yourself,” you started, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a rush. “I just couldn’t stand the way they were talking about you—”

Before you could finish, Jamil’s hand gently tilted your chin up, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. It wasn’t soft or tentative—no, it was a kiss that made your heart race and your mind go blank.

When he pulled away, you were breathless. “I found it hot,” he murmured, smirking.

You blinked, utterly thrown off by the confession. “What?”

He kissed you again, slower this time, and when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispered.

You let out a shaky laugh, still trying to process everything. “I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice full of emotion.

Jamil’s eyes softened, and without another word, Jamil swept you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly in a bridal carry as the carriage pulled up to your manor. He carried you inside, past the stunned servants, and straight to the bedroom, where the door closed with a soft click behind you.

As he laid you gently on the bed, you could only smile up at him, the weight of everything melting away in the warmth of his gaze.

And for once, the world beyond the two of you didn’t matter at all.

The scandal erupted at the royal ball like a badly timed burp during a quiet opera.

The heroine—bless her, she meant well, but her foot was permanently lodged in her mouth—had done the unthinkable. You and Jamil watched from across the ballroom as she stood before the fae delegation, attempting to “honor” their centuries-old traditions.

But instead of the elegant gesture of goodwill she was supposed to offer, she made a noise that can only be described as an awkward impersonation of a dying goose and proceeded to bow backwards.

That alone wasn’t even the worst part.

“Oh no,” Jamil whispered under his breath, eyes wide with disbelief as he took in the scene. “She’s about to—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the heroine reached into her dress and produced… a bouquet of mushrooms. Not just any mushrooms. The fae’s sacred mushrooms, rumored to be foraged under the light of a blood moon and infused with mystical properties.

She shoved them at the fae emissary like a child offering wilted flowers to a stranger, and then—oh gods, why—she patted his head.

Dead silence fell across the ballroom.

The emissary, who had remained calm despite the bowing fiasco, now stared down at the mushrooms with a look of profound insult and horror. His fellow fae were vibrating, their wings fluttering ominously, as though on the verge of launching an interdimensional war over a bouquet of fungi.

You snorted, barely containing your laughter. “She’s done it now.”

Jamil, ever the diplomat, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you know what those mushrooms symbolize to the fae?”

“No, but I’m assuming it’s not ‘Congratulations on your promotion’ or ‘Get well soon’?”

“Death,” Jamil muttered, casting a glance at you that screamed please don’t laugh. “She just handed them a bouquet that says, ‘I wish for your demise and the utter destruction of your family line.’”

At that, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. A small laugh escaped before you slapped your hand over your mouth, trying—and failing—to keep your composure. Jamil shot you a warning glare, but even he looked like he might break. The absurdity of it all was too much.

The fae emissary spoke, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “This is an outrage. We demand recompense for this offense.”

The king and prince rushed over, trying to smooth things over with promises of reparations, apologies, anything to keep the fae from turning the court into a smoking crater. But the damage was done. The fae delegation was livid, and rightfully so. There were whispers of broken treaties, wars brewing, diplomatic chaos that would take decades to resolve.

And who did they turn to for help?

You and Jamil, of course.

Later that evening, as you lounged comfortably in your private manor, feet propped up on an ottoman, there was a frantic knock on the door. You exchanged a look with Jamil, who was reclining next to you, casually sipping his tea as though the kingdom wasn’t on the brink of a magical apocalypse.

The door swung open, and the king, the prince, and a handful of stressed-out nobles barged in, their faces pale with desperation.

“You two!” the prince bellowed, his voice barely keeping it together. “You’ve dealt with the fae before! Fix this!”

Jamil didn’t even look up from his tea. “No.”

The prince blinked. “Excuse me?”

Jamil sipped again, then casually set his cup down on the table. “I said no. I’m done. We’re done.”

You nodded, not even bothering to hide your amusement. “I think the heroine has this under control. She’s doing great.”

“She insulted the fae. She gave them a bouquet of death mushrooms!” the prince cried, waving his arms dramatically like a man in the throes of a panic-induced breakdown. “They’re going to declare war!”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you quipped, grinning.

The king, who had remained uncharacteristically silent, took a step forward, his eyes pleading. “Please, for the sake of the kingdom…”

Jamil sighed deeply, finally turning his attention to the royal mess in your doorway. “We’ve dealt with more than enough idiocy for one lifetime. How about this? You let the heroine finish what she started. If she can bungle her way into this disaster, surely she can find a way out.”

The prince spluttered, incredulous. “But you—”

“Nope,” you interrupted, standing up and stretching lazily. “We’re officially on vacation. Jamil, pack the bags.”

Jamil stood with a casual grace that belied the utter chaos unfolding behind him. “Already done.”

The king’s jaw dropped. “Vacation?! Now?! The kingdom is on the verge of collapse!”

You grabbed your coat and slung it over your shoulder with a smirk. “Well then, I’d suggest you start learning how to negotiate with the fae. Maybe start by not giving them death mushrooms.”

With that, you and Jamil strolled out of the manor, leaving the baffled royals standing in your doorway like confused children. The sound of the prince’s sputtering protests faded behind you as you made your way down the garden path, the night air cool and refreshing against your skin.

Jamil chuckled beside you, his hand slipping into yours as you walked. “Do you think they’ll manage?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you said with a laugh. “But we deserve this. Let them figure it out for once.”

“And maybe…” you paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “Maybe we should make it official while we’re at it.”

Jamil stopped in his tracks, turning to look at you, his brows lifting in surprise. “You mean… get married?”

You smiled, leaning into him. “Why not? We’ll be far away from prying eyes, just the two of us, in the summer hours. It sounds perfect.”

For a moment, the world stood still. Then Jamil’s lips curved into the softest smile you’d ever seen. “I think that sounds perfect too.”

And so, you and Jamil left the court and its catastrophes behind, fleeing to the countryside like two fugitives on the run from royal idiocy. The villa you’d chosen was perfect—nestled in the hills, far away from the fae, the heroine, and the ridiculous drama that followed her like a bad smell.

The first morning, as you lay in bed next to Jamil, sunlight streaming through the open windows, he turned to you with a grin.

“So, what now? Do we just… hide out here forever?”

You shrugged, pulling him closer. “Why not? We can start a goat farm. I’ll name all the goats after the people we hate.”

Jamil laughed, burying his face in your neck. “A herd of royal goats. Perfect.”

And somewhere, in the distance, the kingdom probably crumbled. The heroine probably insulted more magical creatures. But for once, it wasn’t your problem.

You and Jamil had found peace in the countryside.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d throw a wedding in between all the goat naming.

The days that followed were blissfully quiet, each one blending into the next in a haze of sun-soaked afternoons and peaceful nights. You and Jamil fell into an easy rhythm—waking with the sun, wandering through the countryside, sharing meals beneath the open sky. It was simple, and that simplicity was a balm to both your souls.

The court sent letters, of course—pleading, begging for your return. But each one went unanswered. The Fae situation had likely escalated, the heroine’s blunder growing more disastrous by the day, but it wasn’t your problem anymore. Let them sort out the mess. You and Jamil had something far more important now—a life of your own making.

One evening, as you sat together on the porch of the villa, watching the sunset, Jamil leaned over and whispered, “Do you think they’ve figured it out yet?”

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “That we’re never coming back?”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes.”

“They’ll figure it out eventually,” you said, your voice light, but filled with certainty. “But by then, we’ll be long gone.”

And you were. Far from the court, from the games of power and politics, from the endless demands and expectations. You had found your own path, one where the only thing that mattered was each other.

In the end, the kingdom survived. The heroine, somehow, managed to blunder her way through the Fae negotiations, though the details remained hazy in the few letters you received from old acquaintances. The Duke, as always, remained by her side, a constant fixture in a world you no longer had to care about.

But as for you and Jamil? You stayed in the countryside, living in the warmth of each day, far from the reach of courtly drama. And when the summer finally faded into autumn, you knew, without a doubt, that you had made the right choice.

Together, you had built a life out of love, quiet and unassuming, but richer than anything the court could have ever offered. And in the end, that was more than enough

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

The next one is Floyd!

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #jamil #jamil viper #jamil viper x you #jamil x you #trash novel chronicles

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natalievoncatte · 25 days ago

Text

They didn’t know Alex was watching them.

She was the only one awake- Kelly was sleeping in near silence, her breath tickling Alex’s throat, as her head lay pillowed on Alex’s chest. After the reception had formally drawn to a close, the core group, the Superfriends, had all moved on to the sprawling mansion that Lena had generously rented for them to inhabit for a few days before Alex and Kelly left for their proper honeymoon.

Alex was the only one awake. They’d all be tired and hadn’t even finished the drunken game of monopoly they’d begun for old time’s sake. Kelly had changed out of her wedding dress and Alex out of her suit and they lay curled up on a loveseat beside the crackling fireplace. Nia and Brainy were in a similar state on the couch. Between them all, Kara’s little doggie monopoly piece remained where it had last landed on Park Place, forcing her to declare bankruptcy and, of course, end up ceding all her deeds to Lena.

The game was essentially over at that point and everyone knew it, so the drinking began to lubricate the passing of stories and telling of tales. A second buzz in the same day always hit harder than the first and everyone fell asleep where they sat, except Alex.

She had a sick terrible feeling in her stomach, not of regret surely, but a dread she had trouble explaining. It finally hit her as she watched the firelight dance across Kara’s features.

Something had changed. Something was over, a page turned to a new chapter. One where, Alex somehow knew, their lives would no longer revolve around alien insanities and mystical calamities. The world was settling, shuffling back to the state it was in before Kara caught that plane all those years ago and announced herself to the world.

A more normal time, calmer, changed perhaps in many ways but just… life.

Now that Alex was at the threshold with her toes curled back from it and unsure if she was ready to cross, she felt a little loss. Her future was looking less superheroic and more soccermometic; Kelly had her two-thirds of the way convinced to reactivate her medical license and join a practice. When everyone talked about their futures the sounded mundane, even Kara was more excited about her big new job and chasing her dreams.

Wait.

Alex was wrong. Kara was awake, she was just so utterly entranced that one might be misled into thinking that she was merely dreaming.

Kara and Lena somehow ended up in a wide chair together, curled up in a tangle of limbs, wrapped in Kara’s cape as a blanket. Lena was tucked in under Kara’s chin on Kara’s lap, clearly in a deep, peaceful sleep.

Kara, however, was very much awake. She held Lena in a particular way, at once shockingly gentle and fiercely protective, making a fortress of her arms. Kara was intently focused on her chair-mate, either staring at her with the most pitiful expression of fear and anxiety or nuzzling her nose into her dark curly locks and sighing.

Alex frowned, unsure what to do or say. Her sister looked pained, as pained as Alex had ever seen her. She knew for a fact that she and Lena weren’t fighting- they spent more time together than ever now; it had started with them effectively splitting their time between their respective apartments but over the last couple of months had shifted to Lena, for all intents and purposes, shacking up with Kara. They spent no more than one night in ten apart and of those nine they were together, eight seemed to be at the loft.

Whenever Alex set foot inside, Lena was simply there, for no special or particular reason, the two of them just sharing the same space casually and naturally.

So why did Kara look so broken?

“Hey, kiddo,” Alex whispered. “Why the long face?”

“I can’t talk about it now.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“You guys didn’t have a fight or something, did you?”

Kara was quiet for a time.

“I think I waited too long.”

“For what?” said Alex.

“Don’t you know?”

Alex furrowed her brows, watching intently. Lena stirred, perhaps nudged towards consciousness a little by their murmured conversation and the urgency in Kara’s soft voice.

Then it hit her. Indeed, it struck her like a physical force. Kara looked down at Lena again and Alex gasped at the realization, wondering how the hell she had missed this, of all things.

She’s seen Kara smitten before, like she’d been with Kenny or the fuckboi from the dickhead planet. That was different. That was not this. Kara looked at Lena like she might not be able to breathe if she let her out of her sight.

Oh. Oh shit.

“We’re all moving on with our lives,” Kara whispered. “Taking new jobs, getting married, starting new careers. What happens when she’s too busy for me, Alex? When she finds somebody else and wants a real family and a real life and not… whatever we’re doing? What happens when…”

Kara must have noticed, her incredibly unfair super senses alerting her even before Alex noticed that Lena was awake, her blue eyes dark and soft in the flickering light.

Total silence fell over the room; all Alex could hear was Kelly breathing against her.

“I have a real family, Kara,” Lena said, softly. “They’re right here. You’re right here.”

“Lena?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lena said, lifting her head gently from Kara’s face. “Ever. I promise.”

They stared at each other for long heavy moment and said nothing. Kara’s eyes were so soft, her gaze so heavy with love, beyond love, adoration, almost worship. Lena gave her a little smile and looked up at her through her lashes.

“Oh for fucks sake, will one of you just goddamn do it already?” Alex blurted.

To her surprise, or maybe not, it was Lena who crossed the gap, who sealed the deal. She was the one who kissed Kara but in moments it didn’t matter who started it, and Kara simply stood and lifted Lena with superhuman ease and was already carrying her up the stairs.

Silence again fell on the room.

“Querl,” Nia said, from the couch.

“Yes?”

“You’re from the future.”

“Indeed.”

“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh come on!” Nia snapped.

“I’m trying to sleep,” said Kelly, prompting Alex to snort.

Finally, they all did.

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the-fyre-flie · 1 month ago

Text

Some more Billy Batson as a normal Justice League member as a kid HCs, mostly school related stuff hehe.

Billy frequently gets assigned Watchtower duties. And by that, I mean routing calls, managing the space station, and being the alarm in case things go wrong. This means a lot of being alone in space in a mostly empty floating hunk of metal doing nothing but telling heros they have backup coming or redirecting them to Batman because their problem is out of his pay grade. While doing all of this, I can imagine him sitting cross-legged in a giant chair doing online classes. (Bruce signed him up. He can accept his adoptive son risking his life, but he refuses to raise another drop out).

Billy, on Zoom with his teacher: No, Mr Smith, I am not in a space station. I swear.

Hal: *floats by outside the window, doing repairs on the Watchtower*

Billy:...its a green screen...

*the Watchtower suddenly lurches to the side as Hals distant yelling about "STUPID FUCKING SPACE JUNK" is heard*

Billy: a very realistic green screen...

Billy actually really enjoys being able to do online classes in space. His favorite spots to work in the Watchtower change every few weeks, but most of them have gained a few chairs/tables/blankets once other heros notice. His top 3 would be the main control room, one of the smaller meeting rooms, and the observation deck. On multiple occasions, heros have walked into a completely dark meeting room to find Billys face lit up by a screen as he shushes them (he's in the middle of testing).

Billy, groaning: Gosh dang it... my counselor wants a parent teacher conference...

Bruce, brow furrowed: Why? You have high grades.

Billy: Apparently, leaving mid exam to save the southern hemisphere from an alien invasion doesn't count as an excused absence...

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fazedlight · 2 months ago

Text

Tradition

Something had changed.

Lena could sense it, in the kisses and the small touches, in the way Kara would watch her in the mornings as Lena slowly woke. Her girlfriend had grown more pensive, looking at Lena with curious eyes - a touch of stress on her brow.

“Are you alright?” Lena murmured one morning, as Kara brushed a stray lock of hair behind Lena’s ear.

“Yeah,” Kara said, pressing her lips briefly against Lena’s, “Just thinking.”

---

Lena tried to let it go.

There was no real worry inside her. It did bother her, an itch somewhere in her mind, that Kara was holding something back. But this wasn’t like before - there was no fear or loneliness or distrust. She knew she loved Kara; she knew Kara loved her. That was all that mattered.

But she was certainly curious.

Luckily, there was always work to do to distract herself. Running the Foundation, tweaking experiments in the Tower, being a voice in Kara’s ear when the hero went out to fight. Plenty to keep herself busy in the day, before she and Kara went home at night. She could be patient.

It only took a few weeks for Kara to say something, on the couch one evening. “I promised you I would be open with you,” Kara said.

Lena glanced up, reaching her arm across to give Kara’s hand a light squeeze. “I promised that too.”

“What if I’m not supposed to be?”

Lena frowned curiously. “Kara, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing bad,” Kara emphasized, “I just- I don’t understand Earth romance. We didn’t have that on Krypton. Parts of it are still a little alien to me.”

“Okay,” Lena mulled, trying to understand, “We can- we can talk about it? We can slow down-”

“I don’t want to slow down,” Kara said emphatically.

“What do you mean?”

Kara eyed Lena for a moment, then glanced down to her lap, shifting shyly. “If you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, shouldn’t you talk about it first?” Kara asked, “Shouldn’t they decide that together? How do you make it… a surprise?”

Oh, Lena thought, her heart fluttering lighter as she realized the source of Kara’s concern, she wants to propose.

It brought a smile to Lena. She wants to propose…

Lena leaned forward, brushing her lips to Kara’s, trying to soothe the blonde’s confusion. “We’ve talked about our lives together,” she murmured against Kara’s lips, “What we want to do, how we want to live, what it will be like to grow old. Those are the things that are important to me.”

She could feel the tension in Kara’s body dissipate, as Kara wrapped her arms around Lena, kissing her back. Lena felt herself melt into Kara’s embrace as the ardor grew, leaving thoughts of the future for some other time.

---

“Could I fly you somewhere?” Kara asked one Saturday night.

Lena looked up from the couch, where she had settled in to read a book after dinner that evening. She took in Kara’s expression, watching as the blonde fidgeted shyly. Oh, Lena thought, trying not to smile, “Sure.”

Still in her pajamas - not that she minded - Lena and Kara went out to the balcony. “I’d like to blindfold you first,” Kara said shyly, and Lena nodded. The scrap of cloth went around her eyes, and she felt as Kara’s hands directed her closer, before Kara scooped her up into her arms.

She wondered how far Kara would take her, but she didn’t ask. The cool breeze of the night was a welcome relief from the warm day, and they quickly found themselves descending.

Still blindfolded, Lena felt as Kara gently set her on the ground. Blankets?, Lena thought, now sitting somewhere outside, feeling the warm and fuzzy bedding against the palms of her hands, when did she set this up…

The blindfold lifted from her face.

Lena looked around. She was indeed in a nest of blankets, giving her cozy warmth on that cool night. Her eyes drifted to the Irish pastries and wine near her feet, two glasses sitting neatly next to one another.

She glanced up, gasping softly at what lay ahead - a lake, blanketed in night, with an array of trees and stars behind it. The reservoir, she realized, recognizing their picnic spot as one she and Kara had been to a dozen times before. A place that had grown fond to them, despite their terrifying first night there.

“When I came to Earth,” Kara said nervously, kneeling next to Lena, “Everything was new, and strange. People talked about all sorts of beliefs, different types of magic. There were so many cultural practices, so many languages. It felt like I landed on hundreds of planets at once.”

Lena placed a gentle hand on Kara’s arm.

“I didn’t understand romantic love,” Kara continued, eyes glancing up to meet Lena’s, “But I started to feel it, fragments of that spark, figuring out what it meant. And then I found you, Lena. And I realized something important - that Krypton had hidden more than one type of magic.”

Lena smiled, already feeling the sting of tears in the corner of her eyes, emotion bubbling up in her chest.

“This was the place I realized it,” Kara said, looking out to the reservoir. “I was holding you above this lake, and I realized I could never let go.”

Kara hesitated, turning back towards Lena as a hand drifted to a pocket, and Kara pulled out a small black box to present to her girlfriend. “Lena Luthor,” Kara said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Lena said, realizing her voice was thick with unshed tears, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Kara’s lips, “Yes, yes, yes,” she said over and over again, as Kara kissed her back, as the two pulled each other close.

When they finally broke apart, Lena laughed, as Kara struggled enthusiastically to get the ring box open, before finally sliding the ring on Lena’s finger.

Kara leaned forward again, brushing her lips one last time on Lena’s. “I hope I did that right,” she murmured.

“Darling, this was perfect,” Lena whispered back.

#supercorp #mel writes ficlets

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kissthesunandmoon · 29 days ago

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Cellmates by proxy (Yautja x f reader SMUT MDNI)

Part 2 here!

(You were abducted by an intelligent unknown species who wish to study other forms of intelligent life, due to limited space however you are forced to share a cell with none other than a Yautja. You earn his respect which turns to fondness, which turns to more when your ovulation shifts your hormones.)

Being abducted by aliens was nothing like how they depicted it in the movies, there was no beaming light that pulled you from your bed, no flying saucer that engulfed you, no tiny bug eyed men with grey skin and bulbous heads. You had simply set your alarms, snuggled up under your covers and fallen asleep in your bed as you did every other night. It was routine. What was not routine however, was what greeted you when you finally awoke.

It was the lights that stirred you, so bright that they infiltrated even your closed eyelids. Then the feeling of being without your blanket, you had reached for it still half asleep but of course it wasn’t there, instead your hand brushed against a cold floor. You slowly opened your eyes, still feeling groggy and confused, however the instant realisation that you were clearly not in your room sent a surge of adrenaline into your body bolting you upright.

The room was bright and sterile, you felt your heart stutter in your chest as you attempted to process your surroundings. Where the hell were you? You practically jumped to your feet walking forward to press your hands against what appeared to be a white sealed door, you could see the line in which the two halves met in the middle and attempted to pull it open with your hands. It was a futile attempt, a cheap shot at that.

You could feel your breathing quicken as panic was setting in, and just when you felt this situation couldn’t get any worse, you heard something from behind you. From the back half of the room which for some reason you had neglected to check, erupted what sounded like a low animalistic growl. Shit. That couldn’t be good.

You turned slowly and just as soon as you did, you stumbled backwards, your back hitting the sealed doors. Sat against the wall at the other side of the room was, something, it had a body very similar to a human but with almost reptilian skin, and you could see plenty of it considering all it wore was a loin cloth. As your eyes travelled up, they fell on its face, deep predatory eyes and mandibles which clicked and chittered occasionally under your scrutiny, you could see what appeared to be dreads which dangled down, laying against its shoulders. Across its neck was what appeared to be some kind of metal collar that looked to you like some form of shock collar. Considering its body, you could only assume that it was male, whatever it was.

You felt your chest heaving, could hear the blood pumping in your ears, and feel your legs trembling underneath you. Whatever it was, it stared back at you. You swallowed feeling your mouth go dry, opening your mouth you let out a breath you didn’t even realise you had held before speaking “Where am I?” Was all you managed with your shaking voice. He didn’t respond, he just stared at you.

After about an hour, you had moved to sit on the wall next to the door, too terrified to go near him as he continued to just sit in silence. Finally the door opened and in came your apparent captures, you had never seen anything like them. They looked how you would imagine the offspring of a human and some kind of jellyfish, humanoid bodies with nearly transparent skin, they seemed to absorb the colour of the room as they entered.

They took you that day from your shared cell and into some kind of medical room, they poked and prodded you, weighed you, measured you, took blood from you and inspected you from head to toe, although you were grateful that they never made you remove any clothing. Afterwards, they shoved you into a shower room with a bag full of human toiletries where they allowed you to clean yourself before you were escorted back to your room. Of course, he was there when you returned, his eyes studied your body as if trying to determine just what they had done with you.

This routine continued for the next few days, they took you every single day, studied you for an hour or so, made you wash yourself and then brought you back to your cell. You had stopped resisting by now, you never got your way, they would simply drag you out with rough hands, or you would be convinced by the idea of a warm shower. You hated them with every fibre of your being, but it just wasn’t worth the fight. Never once did they attempt to take your roommate, apparently these beings feared him too. You wondered if they had tried in the past and he had reacted in a way which had earned him the collar, you had never seen him in action but from his stance alone you could guess that it would have ended in blood shed. Perhaps they had bitten off more than they could chew abducting him, you on the other hand were nice and docile. You were no longer scared of him however, you didn’t mind sitting near him now and you finally felt safe enough to sleep around him. Although you could feel his watchful gaze on you constantly, but you reminded yourself that If he wanted to hurt you, he would have done it by now. He had still not spoken a word to you of course and you weren’t even sure if he could, but you didn’t mind, it was a comfortable quiet as you tried to adapt to your new reality.

—————————

On the third day they came into your cell around mid day, bringing both yourself and your roommate some food. It wasn’t good food by any means, but it was food nonetheless, they set yours down in front of you before moving towards him. You watched them, they were acting unusual today. They looked almost nervous, exchanging glances between them before moving towards him, and that’s when you saw it. One of them, behind its back, was holding a syringe, a big one. It placed the food down in front of him trying to act as nonchalant as possible, your eyes widened as you saw its grip tighten, its thumb moving to the end of the syringe ready to plunge it into him. You figured they must have been trying to sedate him, so that they could finally study him as they did you.

The collar allowed them to keep his behaviour at bay, but no amount of shocks could convince him to leave that room with them. You didn’t have to intervene, it wouldn’t make any difference to you. But you were cursed with something that none other in the room inherited, humanity. You had come to terms with what they did to you, after all they never did anything too invasive to you. But even you would not want to be completely unconscious around them. And as you saw that disgusting creatures arm twitch, you lurched forward almost involuntarily, your hand wrapping around its rubbery skin. It whipped round to face you, dropping the syringe in the process which rolled across the floor and directly in front of him. His eyes flickered towards it, and then back to you, with that creatures wrist still locked in your hand.

Before you could even speak it brought its other hand up and with its fist gave you a strike right across your face, a hard one at that. You stumbled backwards with a sharp gasp, falling to the floor. You brought your hand to your face feeling blood trickle from your nose, running down your face and to your neck. Before you could even wince at the sight, your cellmate stood, grabbing your attacker by his neck and smashing his head open against the wall. They shocked him with a simple flick of a button, and by the roar he let out, the voltage must have been extremely high. Not that it mattered, that thing was already dead, a crumpled mess on the floor. The others grabbed you by your arms ready drag you out of the room, perhaps to punish you, but he lunged forward startling them enough to let go and scamper out of the room, the braver ones staying only a moment longer to drag out the dead body of their friend with them. You felt his eyes on you as you stayed crouched on the floor, trying to cup your nose, the pain had completely dulled your senses. The whole ordeal had happened so fast, in a matter of seconds, you barely had time to process any of the events that had just unfolded. He came to you slowly, not wanting to frighten you, and took your face between his hands, tears and blood running down it. He helped you wipe off the blood and analysed your injuries, your nose wasn’t broken thankfully but you both knew you would be sore for a while. As he looked into your eyes, you saw something gentle behind them and for the first time, he spoke. “Why?” Was all he asked. You couldn’t believe that this whole time not only could he understand you, but could speak to you. You didn’t dwell on it however. You could taste the blood in your throat, and trying not to spit any out you replied “It was going to hurt you” he just stared at you once again.

—————————

It had been two weeks now in this place, and you and your cellmate had bonded significantly since you had saved him from being drugged and he had finally spoken to you, not long after your incident he had told you his name, T’orak. He never said it out loud, but he felt a great deal of respect for you for defending him, and also a little shameful that he hadn’t noticed the creatures intentions, if he had you would have never had to have intervened, and he could have saved you the pain and blood loss. After that you two slowly began to speak about anything everything, he told you about his species and their customs, his home planet and his “brothers” who he claimed would be on their way for him by now. You spoke of yourself, of course he already knew a lot about humans, but he was always interested in hearing about you. He had also become far more protective of you, your captures were no longer allowed to touch you at all, at least not within your cell. He had killed for you once and he would do it again.

He was starting to grow quite fond of you indeed, and one day when they had taken too much blood from you making you far weaker than you had been, he had held you. Without a word he pulled you sideways into his lap and let you rest, without question or protest you allowed yourself to curl into him and drift off, when they tried to take you the next day he simply gave them a warning growl as you slept against his strong chest. They didn’t challenge him, not after they had witnessed just what he could do. It was funny, his kind always valued strength and courage, however in your vulnerable states he felt increasingly drawn to you, that urge to protect you had festered deep within him. And you had started to enjoy his company more than you would like to admit as well, his protectiveness over you was comforting, and a little alluring.

—————————

On this particular morning when you awoke, you knew something was up with you. You felt warm, even warmer than this room typically made you feel. Your breasts were slightly tender, and on top of everything, your libido was through the roof. You were confused for a moment, trying to wrap your head around what was happening to you. Then you had a thought, you calculated how long you had been here and aligned it to your cycle. This was around the time you should be ovulating. Fuck. The hormonal changes had hit you like a truck out of nowhere, and you could feel it. You tried to ignore it, to force it down, but you could feel it building within you. Sitting around with nothing to occupy you was only making it worse, you needed a distraction, or a remedy. It was starting to make you feel uncomfortable how aroused you were slowly becoming. You felt relieved when they came to take you, at least their irritating curiosity with you would distract you, and a shower would surely help? Wrong. The hot shower on your skin only made you feel worse, so much worse.

When you returned to your shared room you had sat slightly further away than you usually did, a little embarrassed by your own primal feelings. Especially around a male, a male outside your own species no less. He watched as you fidgeted, trying to get comfortable, his lingering eyes certainly offered you no relief. “You are restless today” he began, his voice snapping you from your thoughts. “Did they hurt you again?” There was something to his tone, a glint to his eye that told you that if you said yes, collar or not, severely outnumbered or not, he would rip out as many throats as he could before he fell.

You shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek slightly. “Do not lie to me little ooman, you are clearly distressed, did they do something?” You just shook your head again, I mean how could you tell the dangerous alien that you shared a room with that you were overrun with hormones that were turning you on. However, he was clearly not satisfied with your answer as he stood, moving towards you. You backed yourself further into the wall, “I’m fine I swear, they didn’t do anything-“ you were cut off when he crouched down grabbing one of your wrists. Subconsciously you pressed your legs together, he noticed, his eyes studied you for a moment before you saw them fill with rage. “Did. they. touch. you” he asked motioning to your thighs pressing together. “what? No? NO they- they didn’t do anything I swear” you replied after realising what he was insinuating. He still wasn’t satisfied, wrapping his large hands around your calves he gave you a tug towards him, and then he began throughly inspecting you. Checking your body for marks, bruises, anything that would explain your discomfort.

The entire time you continued to struggle against his grip, attempting to swat his searching hands away. You wriggled so much that you ended up flat on your back on the floor with him practically on top of you. Unsurprisingly, this little game of his was not helping your condition, now frustrated, he decided to just pin your wrists on either side of your head, leaning down to look at you. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or-“ he cut himself off with an inhale, and then another one. Oh god, could he scent you?

You tried squirming harder, he removed his hands from your wrists and used them to pin your hips stopping you from moving. “Your pheromones smell different” you didn’t say anything, but continued to try to struggle away from his grip. He pinned you harder now. “You are….in heat?” You could hear your heart drumming in your ears, but there was no use lying to him, he knew. “No! Well…kind of? I’m just ovulating, I’m fine” He let out a sound you hadn’t heard from him before, a deep rumble, almost like a purr. “I see, and this is causing your discomfort, you are wanting” you would have denied it, but it wasn’t a question, and it also would have been a lie. God this was embarrassing. “It’s nothing, really, it will pass” he studied your expression for a while “interesting, your kind handles this sensation with much higher composure than the females within my own, they would have demanded my cock by now”

His words stunned you momentarily, forgetting briefly how blunt he was, you didn’t even know what to say and so instead you just continued to look up at him, waiting for him to let you go. Instead however he moved himself further down your body. “Wait- What are you doing?” You asked watching his descent until he parted your thighs, sitting between them. “I can sense your discomfort ooman, your arousal is causing you great frustration, I can help ease it.” You blinked at him for a moment, your lips parted but no words came out. “With your permission of course, if you tell me to stop, I will obey” he said softly, looking at you. You knew you shouldn’t entertain this, you should tell him to stop, but that ache between your legs was only growing with his words, you couldn’t even deny that you wanted it. After a few moments of your silence, he reached to hook his fingers in the band of your pants, pulling them down before reaching up and removing your top at well.

He didn’t shy away from your body, letting his eyes soak up every inch as he spread your legs again. He purred. “Do I have your permission?” You barely even registered what he was saying before you felt yourself nodding, and without another second, he took the underside of your thighs in his large hands, putting your legs on his shoulders and lowered his head to you. He started gingerly licking you, and then once he allowed himself to taste you, he let out a low growl before pressing himself into you, his tongue exploring you skill-fully. You let out a breathy moan as you felt your back arch, your hips pressing yourself into his mouth. He brought his hand up to press on your stomach, holding you still, his other hand on your thigh. “Oh fuck, you’re good at this” you let your fingers intertwine with his dreads, holding him to you. But by how he was lapping you up, you didn’t think you’d even be able to pull him off.

His tongue caressed your clit, before sliding to explore inside of you, he had now moved both of his hands to hold your hips, helping you roll them into him. You could feel his mandibles digging into your thighs, but you didn’t mind, if anything you found it added a delicious pressure to them. He pulled away momentarily to look at you from between your thighs, “when my brothers come for me, I may have to bring you with me, I have grown fond of you little ooman, and now I will crave this sweet pussy every day” you whimpered at his words, and you knew that you would crave him every day. “When we are on my home planet, I will mate you, provide for you, protect you and eventually breed you” and with that he was back down devouring you. You felt your legs begin to shake, and he felt it too. He pulled you impossibly close against his mouth, bringing you closer, the room was filled with your pants, moans and the wet sounds of his tongue against you. With one final roll of his tongue, you felt your muscles tense as your orgasm crashed down on you, your head tilting back and your body arching, he continued to lick at you until you were whimpering and moving away from his mouth.

Before you could even regain your composure you felt him lift your hips again, he had removed his loin cloth and was waiting for your consent once again, you nodded. He began pushing himself in, the stretch was like nothing you had ever felt before, it set your nerves alight and numbed them all at the same time. Once he was half way in, his large hand came to rest next to your head, and you clutched onto his forearm to ground yourself. You panted wildly, partly due to the pain, partly due to the pleasure that was building with each inch he pushed into you. It took a few minutes, but eventually he had managed to push himself completely inside of you. He hooked your leg on his hip, looking down at you. And then he began to move, your jaw went slack at the first grind of his hips and his name rolled off your tongue. He growled at the feeling of you, rocking himself in and out of you at a pace that was dizzying. Locking eye contact with him you asked “did you really mean that about-“ you were cut off by a brutal snap of his hips choking a moan from you, before you continued “about me being your mate?” He slowed his hips for a moment, leaning down closer “I have wanted to make you mine since you took a fist to your face for me”.

(I hope that you all liked this one as much as you liked my last one. This is part 1 and is mainly just a back story/gentle ease in. I will be making a part 2 in which reader and T’orak go to yautja prime and become official mates, and YES there will be lots of mating and more graphic SMUT than in this one, this was just the taste test, a free sample of you will ;) )

#predator x human #predator x reader #yautja x human #yautja x reader #fanfic #predator #yautja #yautja smut #smut #monster fucker

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celestiamour · 9 months ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ the "dying" wolverine ]❜

ft. logan howlett x gn! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ taking care of logan when he’s sick┊0.8k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, established relationship

➤ author's note: i’m feeling like shit so i’m making him suffer with me

what part of regenerative healing don’t you understand? it’s impossible for him to get sick in any capacity as his immune system is stronger than the adamantium in his body, so feel free to read any of the other logan fics written by all the amazing writers on this platform!!

but let’s say that he somehow contracted a special bug that managed to get past all that and managed to make him fall ill, requiring you to take care of him while wade goes on a mission to figure out what’s wrong with him…

this headstrong two-hundred-year mutant who can take stab wounds without flinching and is an invincible tank in battles will be the whinest son of the bitch. he always lets his guard down around you, but he’s the most vulnerable and immature that he’ll ever allow himself to be around anyone since he can’t remember the last time (or if he has ever in his life) felt so shitty. shivering despite being feverish and covered up in blankets which just made him sweaty and uncomfortable, an itchy nose that wouldn’t sneeze when he needed it to, coughing his lungs out every two minutes— it’s so alien to him.

when you finally show up to look after him, he’ll have uncharacteristically big puppy eyes as you gently place your hand on his forehead to gauge how bad it is. “how are you feeling, lo?”

“i feel like i’m going to fucking die.” there are several discarded tissues and water bottles overfilling the nearby trashcan, but it was clear that he had no idea how he was supposed to make himself feel better and suffering.

“i can tell,” you chuckle at how dramatic he sounds and it makes him frown, but he’s just so thankful that you’re here to take care of him (he doesn’t exactly trust al to do it, that woman is a bit too mysterious and cryptic for him, and the medicine she offered smelled funny even to his dulled senses). “let me go make you some soup.”

he doesn’t want you to leave at first because your cold skin feels so good against him, but he’ll lightly doze off for a bit now that he’s more comfortable and feels safer. don’t expect him to stay asleep for long though, he’ll get up from his little while you’re in the middle of cooking chicken vegetable soup to wrap his arms around you and rest his head on top of yours until you finish.

“why are there barely any vegetables in the fridge? i could only find half a carrot and wilted celery.”

“i don’t think anyone here eats that stuff.”

“logan, you need to eat your greens— all you guys do, how are all three of you in such good shape then?!”

“eh.”

he can’t make anything more complicated than butter noodles, wade sets nearly everything on fire, he feels slightly guilty eating the food made by an elderly blind lady when he’s already freeloading at the moment, and constantly ordering take-out becomes expensive. you’ve given some food in tupperware for him to eat up, but it isn’t quite the same. as if being sick didn’t make him miserable enough, he’s so fucking pissed that he couldn’t properly taste your freshly-cooked food and will make it known.

you scoff that it’s just soup and pour it out in a bowl for him to eat, but you’ll quickly find yourself spoon-feeding him. yes, his hands still work with perfectly fine motor functions. no, you’re not passing up the opportunity to baby him while he rolls his eyes (he’ll grunt at most and doesn’t say a word of protest, claiming that he’s merely allowing it since he’s too tired to fight with you over it and very glad no one could see it happening).

“here comes the airplane~”

“i’m a grown-ass man, don’t be ridiculous.”

“a grown-ass man without an ounce of whimsy in his life, open your fucking mouth and eat.”

this is one of the lower points in his life where he doesn’t quite understand why this is happening to him yet, so you obviously have give him as much affection as possible! keeping a cold glass of water nearby and a wet rag to dab on his face, he rests his head upon your thighs and you swear that you can hear him purring like a kitten. there’s not better pillow than his lover, soft, warm, and full of love as you hum a song to lull him to sleep.

“let’s get married one day…” he not sure how that slipped past his lips, it might be the fever talking for him, or the fact that he’s completely relaxed without any tension in his muscles and feeling himself falling in love all over again when you smile so sweetly at him

“okay, but you need to sleep and get better first.” you place a gentle kiss on his forehead until his eyes slowly drift shut, “i love you, logan.”

#📜. her works #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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multific · 1 year ago

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Constellation

Wolf Yautja x Reader

Summary: You loved living alone in your cottage. You moved out to be alone for a reason, you hated people, and you wanted to be left alone. And you were alone until a certain pair of eyes started following you.

You saw the news on the TV.

Aliens.

And yet you ignored it.

You tried to live the life you wanted for so long as best as you could.

For as long as you could.

You still took care of your land, fed your animals and did your daily chores as usual.

You did see a couple of ships pass over your home but nothing more.

You have never seen an alien. Only on TV.

It appeared that they were fighting.

Then the government decided to nuke the city to kill both aliens.

It looked like it was the end of it all.

But little did you know, for you, it was only the beginning.

You had a feeling that you were being watched.

The feeling not quite leaving you alone. You tried to look. You walked around your land, in the woods, nothing, no one.

Could it be that you were becoming more and more paranoid? Could it be because of isolation?

You were imagining things.

Until one evening, when you heard noises inside your house.

Loud distinctive noises of someone walking around.

Fear struck you.

You couldn't move out of bed. You just laid there, blankets up to your chin as you were shaking. Your heart beat out of your chest as the door to your room opened.

The person was huge, way too tall for a human, they had to dodge under the door to move in.

Then, came a clicking sound.

This is when you realized, this was no human.

There was a God damn alien in your home!

You knew you couldn't do anything. This thing could tear you apart in a matter of seconds.

You pretended to be asleep, hoping it would leave.

It watched you for a minute or two, which for you felt like an eternity before it left.

After the alien creature left, you rushed to see how it got in.

All doors and windows were locked from the inside. But you surely heard its footsteps moving into the woods next to your home.

You were utterly confused.

How did it get in?!

Why did it get in? What did it want?

It didn't take anything, it didn't hurt you, so what could it want?!

For the upcoming days, you didn't sleep.

The thing came every night, sometimes late in the night sometimes earlier. It just stood there and did nothing.

By the third time you were considering asking it what did it want. Or staying awake to see how it would react.

But you were too afraid.

Then two weeks later, as you were leaving your home, the skull of a deer with antlers was on your porch. It was placed there delicately, facing the door so you wouldn't miss it.

You were sure it was the alien.

Was this its sign to show you that it could kill you? You already knew that.

You took the skull and left it on your porch. You thought if you ignored it long enough, it would get tired and just leave you alone.

But it didn't.

The next day, another animal skull was placed on your steps. Looked to be a cat or a dog.

Then, something like a fox and finally, a wolf skull.

You began to have quite a collection. But you didn't understand. Was this thing trying to intimidate you?

It was working.

You just refused to leave because you spent your life building this place into a home.

But, was your life worth staying?

It showed that it could easily kill you.

But then why was it hiding?

Why did it already kill you and take what it wanted?

What did it want?

--- 2 months ago ---

Yautja prided themselves if they died during a fight.

It was the most honourable death they could ever ask for.

He fought many xenomorphs. One even left its scar on him.

And yet, now as he was fighting, he survived.

He got back on his ship and left, but his ship got damaged and it broke down in the woods.

Wolf had to fix his ship so he could go back to Yautja Prime.

On his way to find some materials he could use he stumbled upon a farm, he knew some humans lived out in the wild in their houses, away from other humans.

He hid behind a tree and observed, trying to figure out if this human opposed any danger to him.

The first time he saw you was when you took care of your crops.

He concluded that you were nothing but a harmless little human.

And yet, for the next two weeks, he found himself watching you. He sat up on the tree and watched you all day and fixed his ship all night.

He walked around your crops, looking at everything.

To him, it was clear that you were a provider. Much like the females on his planet, you took care of food while the males hunted.

But you had no male. Which was quite interesting to him.

How come no male humans wanted you as their mate?

One night, he got brave and decided to go inside the house while you slept.

He checked your home and found nothing of interest besides you.

He watched as you slept.

He stood there for hours, watching you.

You were so different from him, yet so similar.

You preferred to be alone, much like him.

You didn't have a mate, much like him.

He liked you. Which was extremely rare for him. During his life, he never looked for anyone like he did for you.

And so, he made his decision.

He will court you, win you and bring you back to his planet.

It was a simple plan for him.

And so, the first skull was placed on your doorstep.

You yawned as you got out of the bath, heading to the kitchen for some water before heading to bed, you stopped in your tracks.

It was here.

It was standing right in front of you. It was huge and grey and green and tall and... and you nearly fainted.

You knew you couldn't fight this thing.

You had no chance against it.

It raised its hands and pulled its helmet off, revealing its face.

This alien looked a lot like the one you saw on the TV once.

The one that fought the other.

You noted the scar on its face as it made a clicking sound. It started to walk towards you, you backed up into the fridge.

It raised its hand and placed a palm against your cheek. You looked into its eyes for the first time.

And somehow, you felt calm.

It made you calm down.

He made you calm down.

"What do you want?" you asked, hoping he would understand.

But he just made the same clicking sound as he did before.

"Why did you leave the skulls?" you asked and he moved his hand to the armour on his wrist and pushed a couple of buttons.

"Gi-fts." said a very broken robotic voice.

"Why did you leave me gifts?" you watched as he pushed more buttons.

"Gifts for Mate."

"Mate?" you asked and he nodded. Realization hit you and you realized, he was leaving you gifts so that he could court you. This must be an alien custom. "What are you?"

"Yautja."

"What's your name?"

"Wolf." the machine seemingly translated his name, but it was okay. "Your name?"

"My name is Y/N."

He nodded again.

"I want to take you to my planet. So we can marry." your eyes widened.

"Marry?"

"Strong female," he pointed at you, "Strong male." you would have assumed that he would have some issue having to marry you, wouldn't they only marry their own?

"Give me time. Two months. T-Then I will go with you." what were you saying? Why did you say that?! You didn't want to go! But you had no other options! This... Wolf clearly would get what he wants.

Maybe... those two months will be enough for you to get used to the thought.

Maybe those two months will be enough for you to grow some form of attachment.

Maybe... hopefully.

For the next two months, he stayed with you in the house.

The first week there was a lot of rain and storm so you were inside.

Most of the time you just kept looking at him or watched TV. He didn't speak, but he did notice the skulls you put up above your fireplace.

It filled him with pride, it meant you liked his presents.

That you accepted his courting.

For the upcoming days you cooked for both of you, since you weren't exactly sure what food he liked, you tried steak with potatoes. You can't go wrong with that.

And you didn't. He enjoyed it very much. Then the next day, he brought you cut meat, from where you were afraid to ask.

But you did cook everything that he brought to your home.

And he ate it all.

He still watched as you slept.

But instead of panicking, you found yourself enjoying having him there. He made you feel safe and you found that you wouldn't be able to fall asleep without him in the room.

You woke up each and every morning more and more comfortable in his presence, which did make you worry.

Turned out, you didn't hate company, you hated human company.

Wolf being the big alien that he was tried his best to be careful around you. He followed you everywhere, he watched you and learned.

He learned a lot about you from just watching you in the woods, but now, now he knew even more.

He saw the way you worked, how gentle and delicate you could be. But he also watched you chop up wood, showing that you can be strong when need be.

He liked it.

He was proud to pick such an amazing Mate.

It was the last day, two months had gone by and his ship was ready, he was ready.

He entered your house and found you in the kitchen, you looked out your window as if trying to memorize everything. But when you realized that he was behind you, you turned and smiled at him. A gesture he wished he could give back.

"I'm almost ready." you said with a heavy heart, but you were also ready to leave and be with Wolf, see where that path would take you.

And you felt ready for the adventure, it scared you but you felt ready.

You just wanted to remember this place.

You looked back out the window when he came up behind you, standing behind you, you felt his huge body but you didn't feel scared.

It felt good.

He felt safe.

He was a good two heads taller than you.

You didn't say a word as you turned around and looked at him. You really looked at his scar and his eye. You knew he still could see with it, but his vision wasn't the best on that one.

You could also assume that one of his... mandibles was missing. It's place is still present.

You wished you could ask, you wished he could tell you. He lowered himself, allowing you to reach his face as you reached up and ran your fingers down his scars.

You wished you were there to help him, you could have eased his pain.

And, just like that, you were ready.

--- 3 years later ---

Yautja Prime was very different from Earth.

Yautja were very different from humans.

You learned that Wolf was quite the loner. His name fit him very well.

He preferred to be alone in his home, working on his ship or head on a mission for a hunt.

He liked being with you.

You two were very similar.

You didn't enjoy the company of others, but you enjoyed having the others around.

On your wedding night, Wolf told you how Yautja found their mates.

He also told you about true mates. Which is what you would call soulmates.

He explained how he felt as if you two were true mates and you didn't agree at the time, but now you did.

Spending your last three years with him, you can confidently say that you are in love with him.

You only feel complete when he is there.

And from what he told you, he felt the same. You wore the necklace he gifted you with pride.

And you waited for him every day when he was away on a hunt. He always came back victorious with many gifts.

He proved his worth to you as a male and a Mate.

And so, you never once regretted coming with him. Even if you were nervous in the beginning.

He made sure you had a warm bed, filled with furs.

Every night he came to the bed, he held you close to him, keeping your smaller body close and safe.

You slept with the confidence of having him there. Knowing he would protect you if anything was to happen.

Not like anything ever did.

You found yourself not missing your old life.

The view you spent so much time trying to memorize, long forgotten.

All because of him.

You woke up every morning in his arms.

His body wasn't warm nor was it cold. But the feeling of his skin under your fingers always lets you know that he was there.

And you couldn't ask for more.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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geneviveleocardius · 4 months ago

Text

sevika’s journey to motherhood

wlw

sevika never imagined herself in this situation—married, settled down, and now about to be a mom. when you first talked about having a baby, she hesitated. not because she didn’t want it, but because she wasn’t sure she deserved it. but the moment she saw the positive result, she swore to herself she’d give you and the baby the world.

she keeps her affection low-key but constant. she isn’t one for big, dramatic gestures, but you’ll notice the way she starts keeping healthier snacks in the kitchen (even though she complains about how boring they are), how she always carries an extra blanket for you on the couch, or how she’s suddenly interested in researching baby stuff online (though she grumbles about the “stupid forums”).

sevika makes sure the apartment is baby-proofed well before you even hit your third trimester. you laugh when you find her arguing with some handyman she hired about how “these outlet covers are trash,” but she’s dead serious about making the place safe.

she’s not outwardly soft, but her actions speak volumes. she doesn’t say much when you’re feeling nauseous or exhausted, but she’ll quietly rub your back, hold your hair, and bring you water without needing to be asked. she also won’t let you lift a damn thing once your belly starts to show.

during your pregnancy, she works fewer hours, despite hating to take time off. she doesn’t say it’s because of you, but it’s obvious. “can’t trust those idiots to handle things while i’m gone,” she mutters, but she’s home almost every night for dinner now, something she rarely did before.

when she feels the baby kick for the first time, she freezes. you tease her for looking so stunned, but you can see the emotions she’s trying to hide. later that night, you catch her resting her hand on your belly while she thinks you’re asleep, a rare, unguarded moment of pure tenderness.

once the baby is born, sevika is more hands-on than you expected. she’s a natural at holding them, rocking them to sleep, and she insists on taking over night shifts when she’s home because “you’ve been through enough already.”

she’s fiercely protective of both you and the baby. the moment someone so much as raises their voice in your apartment, her glare alone could silence them. “this is my family,” she says firmly. “no one messes with that.”

despite her gruff exterior, sevika is surprisingly gentle with the baby. she talks to them in a low, soft voice while changing their diaper or feeding them, and you’ve caught her humming under her breath while holding them in the rocking chair.

her favorite moments are when the three of you are together. whether it’s a quiet evening on the couch or a rare weekend where she doesn’t have to work, she’s happiest when you’re all there, safe and content. she’ll never admit it out loud, but it’s the most at peace she’s ever felt in her life.

sevika has always liked adding glitter to her cigars—it’s a strange but oddly charming habit. but once you’re pregnant, she quits it cold turkey. “i don’t want that stuff getting anywhere near you or the baby,” she says gruffly. she even starts avoiding wearing heavily scented cologne, just in case.

sevika’s biggest fear after the baby is born is accidentally hurting them with her prosthetic arm. when you hand the baby to her for the first time, she hesitates, staring down at her mechanical hand like it’s an alien thing. “what if i’m too rough? what if i hurt them?” she mutters. it takes a lot of reassurance—and a quiet, heartfelt moment when the baby grabs one of her fingers, metallic and all—for her to start trusting herself.

when you suggested the reciprocal IVF method, sevika had a moment of vulnerability. “you really want my kid growing inside you?” she asked, voice low, almost disbelieving. the idea of combining your DNA with hers made her feel more connected than she could put into words, though she didn’t say that outright. after the procedure worked, she was in awe—and also ridiculously smug. “looks like we make a good team,” she’d say with a smirk, though you could see the pride in her eyes.

sevika teases you mercilessly about your cravings but secretly loves indulging them. she’ll grumble about how ridiculous it is to find fresh strawberries at 2 a.m., but she’ll still show up with a basketful. when you catch her snacking on the leftovers, she’ll just shrug and say, “figured i should see what all the fuss is about.”

you weren’t the only one nesting. sevika pretended she didn’t care much about decorating the baby’s room, but she’d come home with little things—a mobile, a soft blanket, even a tiny stuffed animal that looked suspiciously like the one she used to have as a kid.

she wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it, but you found her poring over baby books late at night. “i’m just checking something,” she said gruffly, shutting the book when you walked in. but you noticed her making mental notes about things like swaddling techniques and babyproofing hacks.

when your contractions started, sevika was unshakable—or at least she tried to seem that way. she held your hand through every step, though you could see the tension in her jaw. she hated seeing you in pain but didn’t leave your side for a second. when the baby finally arrived, she was speechless. the only words she managed were a low, reverent, “you’re amazing,” as she held your hand tightly.

sevika takes postpartum care seriously. she makes sure you’re eating, sleeping (as much as possible), and not overexerting yourself. “you’re not doing this alone,” she tells you firmly. she’s the type to massage your back after a long day or remind you that it’s okay to cry when things feel overwhelming.

the first time the baby laughed was because of sevika. she was making a silly face—completely out of character—and the sound of the baby’s giggles was enough to make her stop and blink, caught off guard. you swore you saw her eyes get a little misty, though she’d never admit it.

despite her rough exterior, sevika starts creating traditions for your little family. movie nights where she insists on holding the baby, cooking dinner together (she’s surprisingly decent in the kitchen), and quiet mornings where she lets you sleep in while she takes the baby for a walk.

when you both take the baby out for the first time, sevika is on high alert. her eyes scan every stranger, her body instinctively positioning itself between you, the baby, and the crowd. she even growls at someone who bumps into the stroller. “relax,” you whisper, but you can’t help feeling a little safer with her there.

sevika isn’t the type to get overly sentimental, but she does think long and hard about what the baby should call her. eventually, after some quiet reflection, she decides on “mama”—simple and solid, just like her. she likes the sound of it, and the thought of her kid calling her that makes her chest tighten in a way she can’t quite explain.

as for you, she insists on “mommy” (or whatever variation you prefer). she thinks it fits your nurturing nature perfectly and secretly loves the idea of hearing the baby call you something soft and sweet.

when the baby starts babbling “ma-ma” first (completely by accident), sevika acts casual, but you can tell she’s beaming with pride inside. still, she’ll tease you if “mommy” comes out soon after. “guess they love us both equally,” she says with a smirk, though you can see the softness in her eyes.

#arcane #league of legends #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika league of legends #wlw post #sevika x reader

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sweetbuckybarnes · 2 months ago

Text

Spencer's Family

Summary: The team finds out what Spencer did on his sabbatical.

Inspired by a post, I saw about how, in the one episode we're going to see Spencer in, they meet his wife. I took it and ran.

1k words

After finally closing the case, Penelope practically demanded they go see the new place Spencer had bought a few years ago. Once he agreed (begrudgingly), the BAU tech was literally vibrating in her seat.

Spencer had picked out a small-town house on the edge of DC, a train ride away, but the small town had shops, schools, and parks for an all-around American family.

He unlocked the door, making his way in first, summoning his team in with a nod of his head.

It seemed like a lovely home for a nearly mid-40s man.

However, there was something that caught Penelope's attention. It sounded like there was someone (possibly more than one) in Spencer's living room.

"Spencer," Penelope hisses. "I think there's someone in your house."

Spencer raises an eyebrow and makes his way into the living room without his gun raised. "It's just my wife and stepdaughter," he says over his shoulder.

"Stepdaughter?" Came from Tara and Luke.

"Wife?" Whereas this came from Penelope, Emily and JJ.

The last anyone had heard from Spencer about his love life was Maxine, and judging by the voice - this wasn't Maxine.

The group hurried after Spencer, seeing a young girl - possibly around the age of 5, maybe 6 - with her arms wrapped tightly around Spencer's neck. The little girl was an absolute chatterbox. She hadn't stopped talking since the moment he set foot in the living room.

However, the woman they were more interested in was Spencer's wife. Who was sitting on the sofa, giggling at the pair in front of her; a blanket was thrown over her lap, and some sort of embroidery was now abandoned at her side.

"-and then Tony stuck a pencil up his nose!" She giggled.

"Why did he do that?" Spencer asked the little girl, taking a seat on the sofa and pulling her into his lap.

Just as she was going to explain why, she burst into more giggles, Spencer looked over at his wife for a possible explanation. "Apparently Arthur dared Tony to do it."

"Ah! You'd think after the incident with the Magic Marker, they'd know not to dare Tony to do things."

Spencer's wife shrugged her shoulders. "Now you're here, I'm going to take a nap."

Before Emily could question why his wife was going to take a nap, she got herself out of the little nest she had made for herself. Protruding from her abdomen was a baby bump. A pretty big baby bump.

"Reid, you're going to be a father?!" Luke exclaimed, earning himself a rather harsh glare from the little girl (who now obviously sees Spencer as her dad). "Again..." he trails off, correcting himself under the child's gaze.

"Has she been giving you any hassle?" Spencer asks, ignoring Luke's question (or many of the genius didn't hear him), as his hand rested on the bump, a large smile growing on his face told the team the baby was probably moving. JJ still remembers when she was expecting Henry, and when she got Spencer to feel her bump on time, he mentioned how it felt alien-like.

"Well, she's happy now her daddy's home," his wife comments.

He looks up at her. "Have you given any more thought to going on maternity leave yet?"

The team watches as she rolls her eyes. "As I told you before I left, I'm completely fine; the semester doesn't finish for another 3 weeks."

"Your due date is in 4 weeks, Y/N! I know you feel you have a duty to your students, but I think even they would agree you should be at home."

"They would only agree because they don't want to see me go into labour whilst I'm at school."

"What's labour?"

Both Spencer and his wife, who they now know is called Y/N, look down at their daughter. The wife looks at her husband. "Can you-"

Spencer leans over and presses a kiss to her temple. "I'll deal with this. You go take a nap."

She sighs happily. "Lifesaver, I don't know what I would do without you."

"And you won't have to," he replies, giving her a kiss. "Go take a nap."

After a spirited conversation with his stepdaughter about childbirth and babies (that was appropriate for a 5-year-old), she happily went back to her colouring book, which was neat and tidy, with every scribble kept firmly within the lines - she was more like Spencer even though they don't share blood.

Penelope plops herself down on an open chair and stares at Spencer like she has seen a ghost. "A wife, a stepdaughter, and a baby on the way?" Spencer nods, reaching over to run his fingers through the little girl's hair (who they now know is called Betty).

"You're excited to have a little sister, aren't you Betty?" Spencer asks, watching her blonde hair bounce around her head.

"I gets to help Mommy and Daddy take care of her!" She replies, the excitement bursting out of her.

Emily looks over at Spencer. "Are you ready?"

Spencer looks away from Betty for all of a second to smile at Emily. "I don't think I've been ready for anything more in my life," he turns to Betty. "Have you come up with any more names for your sister?"

Betty coming up with names for her little sister was a way of her having a part in her little sister's life before she even gets here.

However, this time, Betty only had one. "Willow."

18 days later...

Just as Penelope hung up the phone on Emily, her personal phone pinged in her purse.

There was a notification from Y/N. In a picture from a hospital room, Y/N sat in the bed, cradling a bundle; Spencer sat at her side with Betty in the middle of them, the evidence of tears having rolled down the little girl's face.

Meet Willow Penelope Reid, born 5:37am, 6 pounds 9 oz; mom and baby are well. Oh, and Betty has asked Spencer to adopt her!

Penelope was crying when she called JJ. "Hey, Garcia."

"Y/N had the baby, and my name is the baby's middle name!" Penelope cried, and before JJ could say anything. "And Betty wants Spencer to adopt her!"

JJ smiled softly. "Well, we will have to go visit them once they are out of the hospital and settled in at home."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x wife!reader #criminal minds fic

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lomlhwa · 6 months ago

Text

in the stars (c.bg)

pairing: alien!beomgyu x abduction victim!reader

preview: scientists didn't even know aliens existed until like, a week ago. now here you are on one of their ships being taken to their planet to repopulate their species.

tags/warnings: fem reader, monster cocks!beomgyu, two cocks, beomgyu has three eyes idk, tentacles...., his arms have suction cups, marking, oral (m.receiving), aphrodisiac use, knotting (?), breeding, dacryphilia, pet names (baby, my salvation, pretty girl), biting, praise + degradation, bulge kink, overstimulation, kinda subby beomgyu, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampies obvi

trigger warnings: abduction, forced aphrodisiac consumption

wc: 3.2k

song recs for this fic: e.t by katy perry

a/n: my goodness

walking through the forest near your house has always been calming for you. the peaceful quietness of the forest after dark is something you longed for all day. today was no different. a long day at work had you heading for the forest as soon as you got home. you gathered your flashlight, blanket and a sweater and locked your car. leaves crunched under your shoes as you disappeared deeper into the thicket.

the light of day disappeared quickly as you wandered deeper and deeper. by the time you found a spot to lay your blanket, the stars were starting to appear. you placed your fluffy blanket down on the ground softly, laying down to watch more stars litter the sky. this activity was something that had begun to be advised against. the discovery of aliens had made most people scared to be outdoors for long periods of time.

you, however, were in denial about this supposed alien life that had been discovered. it felt like weird timing that you couldn’t put your finger on. therefore until you saw one with your own eyes, you wouldn’t believe anything about the aliens. the stars sparkle in the sky as the sky reaches its darkest state. you ponder on the extraterrestrial life that has finally shown itself. would they ever really invade earth? you wondered how the world would react to this kind of attack.

you shake your head. the aliens aren’t real, there’s no invasion to worry about. the government just wants to make up a distraction for some scandal. you raise your arms to rest them under your head, admiring the beautiful sky. your eyes lock onto a star that seems much brighter than the rest of them. but not in a ‘northern star’ way, but in an unnatural way. you rise and sit cross legged, tilting your head in confusion. it almost seems like it’s getting bigger or, like, approaching you.

you stand up and stare up at the light. you realize that it is, in fact, approaching you. the light gets bigger and bigger until a beam of light appears in a circle on the ground. it seems like the light is searching for something. you stand in place like a deer in headlights before deciding to get out of there. you leave all of your things where they were and start running. your quick movements seem to have alerted the light and it starts chasing after you. you run as fast as you possibly can, your legs working overtime. your foot catches on a branch and you come tumbling down onto the ground.

the light settles onto you, the harsh wind from some kind of aircraft sending leaves and twigs flying. before you know it, your body is being lifted off the ground. you thrash around, trying to escape. before you know it, you’re reaching the source of the bright light. you see some sort of door open before you lose consciousness.

____________________________________

you come to, the lights of a bright, white room blinding you. you squint, adjusting to your surroundings. your eyes struggle with the lights, the room feeling ten times brighter with the harsh fluorescents. your eyes settle on a dark figure in the corner of the room. the figure seems skittish, avoiding your gaze. “hello?” you say, your voice breaking. it feels like you had been screaming, but you have no memory of anything since being lifted into the air.

your eyes adjust to see what looks like a person in the corner. you can see the person fiddling with their hands. “h-hello, human,” he responds. he sounds like he has some weird accent that you can’t place. he wanders closer to you, and you can finally get a better look at him. you know immediately that this is one of the aliens you were so in denial about. his arms up to his elbows are a dark purple and so is his nose and the tips of his ears. it’s a beautiful shade but also very inhuman. he also has a third eye sitting in the middle of his forehead, between his other two eyes. his inner arms up to his shoulders were adorned with small suction cups like an octopus. other than his obviously alien-like features, he looks relatively human. he has a pretty, dark wolf cut and two of his eyes are brown, despite his third one being a bright yellow. he has pretty, pink lips and flushed cheeks. he looks so nervous to be near you, despite being the one who abducted you.

you try and get up out of the chair you’re in and find your legs to be strapped down, along with your wrists. “please, stay calm, don’t fight the restraints,” he speaks again, his eyes darting all over the room. anywhere but you. “why are you doing this? please, let me go. i won’t tell anyone about this,” you plead, worried your life is in the hands of this being. “i’m not g-going to kill you,” he explains. he almost seems more scared than you are. “i need your help.” you furrow your brows, confused. “for what?” you ask, tugging on your restraints again. “my people… they’re going extinct. there are no females left on my planet,” he trails off, his eyes staying glued to the floor. “i chose you to help me with… repopulation.”

your eyes widen so much that you’re worried they might pop out of your head. “repopulation!? no, no, no, i can’t help you with that,” you smile awkwardly, not knowing how to even react to this information. “i’m human and you’re… what are you? and who are you?” you ask, looking him up and down. “i’m beomgyu and i’m from venus. i’m a verenok,” he explains, as if it was nothing to you. as if you would understand. “okay, my point still stands. i’m a human and you’re an alien. how am i supposed to repopulate your planet if we’re of different species’?” you do your best to gesture at yourself, despite beomgyu not even looking in your direction.

“w-we don’t have to be the same species. i just have to… uh…” he trails off and scratches the back of his neck nervously. “you have to what?” you ask, worry filling your tone of voice. “i have to knot you,” he blurts out. you look at him, confused. you had no idea what that meant but you can only assume it’s some sort of mating thing. when he scans your facial expressions, he panics and adds more to his statement. “it’ll feel so good, i promise. i have this pill to give you that will prepare you. it’s an aphrodisiac,” he reaches into the pocket of his pants and holds up a medium sized pink pill. before you can respond, he walks over to you and forces your mouth open. he drops the pill down your throat, followed by a syringe of water that seemingly came from the same pocket.

he looks at you with guilty eyes, seeming to immediately regret his decision. “i’m sorry. i just really, really need your cooperation. i’ll be back in a bit once the pill starts working to see how you feel,” he explains before scurrying away and out the door. you open your mouth to call out to him, but it’s too late. you settle into your spot on the examination table you were currently strapped to. an aphrodisiac? did he seriously just force a sex drug down your throat? all you could really do was wait, either for him to come back or for the meds to kick in.

much to your dismay, the meds kick in long before beomgyu returns. you’re writhing on the table, your whole body burning. you clench your thighs together, desperate for any form of friction. you sweat profusely, your clothes sticking to your body disgustingly. “beomgyuuu,” you call out for him, you body basically begging for the man who had previously promised you sex. you begin to border on crying, your core so desperate to be touched. “gyu, please come back, i know you can hear me. i’ll help you, i promise. please,” you plead, your back arching and relaxing repeatedly.

the door on the other side of the room opens and beomgyu pops his head in. “you’ll help me?” he asks, and you nod immediately. “yes! yes, please beomgyu. i’ll do anything, just please touch me,” you pull at your restraints, trying to get at him. beomgyu reaches into his pocket and suddenly your restraints are released. you’re quick to scramble off the exam table and crawl over to beomgyu who had slightly migrated into the room. you rest on your knees and place your hands in a praying position. “please, please, i need you to fuck me,” you beg. your eyes trail down from his eyes to his crotch that you’re eye level with. “i need you in my mouth, beomgyu, please.” beomgyu looks down at you with a shocked, but lust filled expression. “o-okay. go ahead, human.”

your mouth waters as you pull his pants down. your jaw drops when your faced with two giant, purple cocks. you barely know what to do with yourself at this discovery. you had had an inkling that he would be purple down here, considering the coloring of other parts of his body. “so pretty,” you mumble before connecting your mouth to the cock that sits below the other one. you wrap your hand around the one that isn’t resting in your mouth. beomgyu sighs in relief, his eyes crossing in pleasure. he staggers, his hands connecting to your hair. he strips himself of his shirt, revealing tentacles that sit on his ribcage. they’re long and seem to be able to elongate themselves. they move and wiggle down to your neck, wrapping themselves around and tightening ever so slightly.

the bulge in your throat moved deliciously under his tentacles, his instincts taking over and tightening around your throat more to feel it better. you choke and cough around him, sinking your mouth further down to take more of him. your hand moves swiftly while stroking his other cock, making sure he feels the most pleasure you can offer. you feel some of the suckers on his tentacles attach themselves to your neck. they make a slurping noise when sucking against your skin, leaving dark purple circle marks on your supple skin. you dig your nails into his hips, finding that his legs are purple up to mid-thigh.

you do your best to take the entirety of his length down your throat, but it’s physically impossible. beomgyu whimpers and whines every time you make an effort to take more of him down your throat. “okay, okay, fuck, i don’t think y-you want my cum down your throat,” he moves to push your head away from him and you pull him back. “gyu, please, need it,” you beg, giving the tip of his lower cock kitten licks. you take him back into your mouth and bob your head faster. you use your hand to jerk his other cock at the same speed, your body aching for him to cum for you. “please, please,” you chant, pleading for what you need.

beomgyu’s breath gets caught in his throat as he finally finishes, his cocks releasing cum down your throat and on your face. your whole body shakes, the feeling of him getting off to your pleasure making you feel like an animal. you remove your mouth from him and swallow to the best of your abilities. you lick your hand and do your best to collect the semen from your face and shove it into your mouth. you find that his semen is very different from that of a human man. it’s sweet and kind of tinted purple. you almost feel hungry for more to consume. you look up at beomgyu and find that he’s still painfully hard. “get back on the table,” he demands. the tone of his voice completely shifting.

you scramble to get yourself back to where you had started. beomgyu follows you just as quickly. as soon as you settle down on the examination table, beomgyu hooks his fingers under the waistband of your pants and strips your bottom half. your legs spread on their own, inviting him between your legs. the tentacles from his ribs slither to your core, one of them teasing your hole and the other finding your clit. he leans over you to connect his mouth with yours, kissing you with almost bruising force. he lifts your shirt over your head and discards it somewhere else in the room. he wraps his arms around your waist, the suckers on his arms squishing against you and sucking like his mouth would. you can feel that you’ll end up with hickies all over your body, your body turning a similar shade to beomgyu. “you look prettier like this, my salvation. you’re my color now.”

he presses firmly against you, his arms holding you in place, his cocks brushing your entrance deliciously. he peppers your face and neck with kisses while his tentacles move to wrap around your breasts. they attach and detach from your skin, leaving dark marks in their wake. “you can t-take both, right?” he asks as he moves one hand down to align himself properly. in your delirious haze, you find yourself nodding desperately. you were sweating and whining, your hole begging to be filled. “you’re acting like a bitch in heat, are you sure you’re not one of us?” he chuckles and you can do nothing but buck your hips against him.

he squeezes the tips of both cocks together, doing his best to at least make the initial stretch less unbearable. you’re soaking wet and desperate, so you couldn’t care less how much this was going to sting. beomgyu shoves into you at an agonizingly slow pace, but it makes your brain absolutely go numb. it takes him probably a good couple minutes to fully bottom out at the speed he’s going. when he finally does, there’s a very obvious bulge in your lower stomach. your jaw hung slack as your body desperately tried to adjust. “so big… so good…” you mumble, lifting your head to look down between your legs and admire the way you look spread open. your eyes then trail up to beomgyu’s face and you’re met with the most beautiful sight.

the alien between your legs had his pretty bottom lip caught between his sharp teeth, his own eyes also admiring the way he disappeared into you. you could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open, the pleasure overtaking him. his cheeks flushed a dark pink, seeming to be in disbelief that he had actually managed to get inside his human captive. “fuck, baby, you’re sucking me in like a good girl. i knew you’d be the perfect candidate,” he brushes a hand over the bulge in your stomach before using his arm to hold himself up over you. he runs his purple tongue over his fanged teeth, before scanning your body.

“need… please move,” you plead, clenching and unclenching around him repeatedly. finally, he draws his hips back, before slamming into you. you cry out immediately, the feeling being such an intense mix of pain and pleasure that your nerves have no idea how to react. you feel like your whole body is on fire, the aphrodisiac working its magic to make your body desperate for more despite being filled with two cocks. you grab him by the nape of his neck and connect your mouths, desperate for as much contact as possible. he wraps his arms around you again, placing them meticulously so that he fills the empty space on your torso with more dark purple and blue marks.

he thrusts into you with so little mercy or care for your human state. he folds you in half, connecting his suckers to the backs of your thighs to keep you in place. his tentacles slither away from your chest and down to your core. one connects a sucker to your clit and the other forces its way into your hole along with his cocks. “gyu, fuck, need to cum,” your eyes burn with tears as your orgasm comes hurdling towards you like a train. “oh, my perfect salvation,” he mumbles against your mouth. “you can cum, but i’m not gonna stop. have to breed you,” he runs his tongue over your bottom lip as he finishes speaking before kissing you once again. your orgasm crashes over you and your whole body trembles in his hold. he holds you down tighter, your body beginning to fight against him from overstimulation.

“oh, don’t fight it, pretty girl. you know you want more. you’re practically bursting at the seams,” he taunts you. he removes his mouth from yours before connecting it to your jugular. your legs shake and try desperately to close, but his strength is much more than yours. he kisses the side of your neck before sinking his teeth into a seemingly specific part of your neck. “mine, mine, mine, all mine,” he mutters. his possessiveness over you has you inching closer and closer to a second oragsm. he can feel you tensing again, and it’s perfect timing. “gonna knot you this time, baby. it’s gonna feel a little weird, but it’ll ensure that you’re impregnated.”

you nod despite the fact that none of his words had actually registered in your brain. the tentacle that had been wriggling around inside you pulled itself out. as you came, you felt his cocks get impossibly bigger inside you. as the bases of his cocks swell and plug your hole, his whole demeanor changes. his previously mostly dominant behavior completely. he unsticks his arms from your legs and lets them rest on his hips. he leans on his elbows next to your head and strokes your hair. he looks at you like he’s never loved anyone more than you. “you’re perfect. i couldn’t have picked someone better, my salvation.” he swells inside you more and more, and you feel like you’re going to explode.

finally, you feel him filling you to the brim with his cum, and you can almost feel that he’s filling you directly in your womb. the experience has you feeling drunk. your eyes cross and you drink in the feeling of him finally filling you up. your body is exhausted and it’s almost like his knot was the antidote for the aphrodisiac you had taken. he slowly pulls out of you, a glob of cum following him. he pants, wiping his forehead with his forearm. “okay, i’m gonna go get you some clothes and a towel, and then we begin our journey back to venus.”

you raise your hand to your neck, feeling the mark of his teeth in your skin. your brain comes to an understanding that you are, in fact, his. you don’t mind all too much. “i’m sorry, i’ve never knotted anyone before. it’s a sacred practice that we’ve now shared,” beomgyu explains as he cleans you up and helps you put on robes similar to his. “um, we are mates forever now though.” you shrug, hopping down from the table. “that’s okay. i like you,” you smile and wander around the room. “i’m y/n by the way, since you never asked for my name.” you walk back over to him and admire his stature next to you.

“ready to go home?” he asks you, and you nod. “let’s go home.”

#lomlhwa #txt #tomorrow x together #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu smut

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